“I’m not unaware. I just don’t feel it.” I shake my head, not sure what to tell her. “Is that wrong? Am I fucked in the head?”
She tilts her hand side to side. “On a scale from zero to Anders Bash, no, you’re not too fucked in the head.”
I’m beginning to understand why so many people think my dad’s middle name is a curse word.
Hedy takes a deep breath as she looks me in the eyes. “To be able to kill without personalizing it is a rare skill, one that can’t be taught. The United States Armed Forces has tons of operators who can kill when absolutely necessary, but they require heavy-duty therapy.”
“Do you think that’s because they’re frequently ambivalent about the lives they’re taking?” I ask. “Because I wasn’t ambivalent.At all. They were trying to kill us, so we had to kill them first. Easy math.”
“That is a very good point. There are a lot of questionable orders given, which would create ambivalence. But even when somebody deserves it, when taking them off the map is a net good for humanity, killing another human is hard.”
I tap my fingers on the table. “I guess it’s a combination of my fathers’ weapons training and the way my brain processes things. I was dropped into the situation and immediately knew how to handle myself, without any angst to go along with it.”
“That’s true. The way your brain worksisunique. But then you went after Whitaker.” She taps the table. “That was proactively going into dangerous territory with the intent to kill, which is a much different thing than simply being dropped into a bad situation.”
“Is that an indication of psychopathy?” I think about Silas.
Hedy wrinkles her nose, seemingly unconvinced. “It’s entirely possible that this falls somewhere on the scale of psychopathy, but I don’t think so.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Unless you’re masking all of the time, you seem to have access to all your emotions. You’re very loving with your family, you seem to be starting something really special with your boyfriend.”
“I don’t think I’m masking,” I say, unable to help the grin splitting my face.
“What’s the smile about?”
I flush. “I just like hearing other people call Truett my boyfriend.”
Hedy holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You aredefinitelythe son of Anders Bash.”
“And Omar Bash,” I say quietly.
It’s her turn to smile. “And Omar Bash.”
I eat a bit more of my lunch, and she sits there, observing me.
“Why do I feel like I’m a test subject?”
“You are, kinda. I’m wondering about what kinds of nature vs. nurture tests we can run on you and your sister.”
“Oh great.” I throw my napkin at her, laughing. “This is how you end up in some nefarious lab, ten stories below the ground in a liquid solution, having your genes experimented with.”
She looks off to the side, zipping her lips with a dramatic gesture.
We laugh and she reaches forward, grabbing my hands. “You don’t have to say yes to any of this. You’re my nephew in all but DNA. So, if you’re not interested, that is perfectly fine, and I’ll continue to be your Aunt Hedy. But, if you want to see where we can go with this…abilityof yours, I’d like to walk with you down that path.”
I think about it for a few moments, then find her eyes again. “My priority will always be the charity work. But if I can help take bad people off the map like my dads? That seems like a family tradition I wouldn’t mind carrying on.”
Her grin takes on a sort of feral quality. “I’m excited about bringing you onto the team. There’s more to tell you, so I want you to think on it, but I’m gonna have you come out to Wimberley next weekend and we’ll talk it through.”
“I have a tiny home build on Saturday, but Sunday is good.”
“Actually, I was aware of that,” she says, tapping her phone. “You’re already scheduled for Sunday.”
I’m surprised, but not.
“Something tells me this is going to be fun.”
“So, what do you think about me going out to Wimberley tomorrow?” I ask Truett as we pull into the parking lot for the tiny house build.
“I don’t know if we’re at a point where my opinion shouldmean that much,” he says, glancing over with a thoughtful expression.
