Chapter 42
The night sky flashed like a strobe light for several seconds, revealing on either side of the road bony trees with arthritic branches, brittle grass and weeds browned long ago, and barbed tumble weeds rolling across the Santa Ana foothills.
Creo bit his cigar and took in the sky with interest, his head bent forward while driving.
Sharon thought he might be reflecting on how the firmament appeared similar to his prized rave temple.
Laif shielded both his eyes with his right hand.
She was still in the back seat. It was just as well. She didn’t want to sit anywhere near Creo. She did wish Laif were in the back with her though. He could use her comforting.
Thunder boomed.
He flinched.
She reached over the seat and placed her hand on his shoulder. He put his free hand over hers. She kissed it.
Creo shook his head.
“What?” she asked, irritated.
He kept shaking his head.
She squeezed Laif’s hand.
Creo blurted, “When will you face the truth, truth-teller?”
He didn’t answer.
She felt he didn’t need to. He didn’t have to justify his fears to anyone. “When are you going to stop bugging him about weaknesses?” she retorted.
Creo sucked his cigar, burning the end bright red, and belched out white smoke which hit the front window, bounced down toward the air vents, and then was propelled back into her face by the current.
She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face to dissipate the cloud. “And why do you have such a disgusting habit? Don’t you know smoking is bad?”
He cracked his window open more.
His silence angered her. It was smug, as though he knew it all and didn’t need to respond. He probably believed he was above everyone else, not needing to grow from other people’s knowledge and experience.
“It’s a Cuban.” He waved it in the air. “It’s got this sweet taste on the tip. Smoking it is like nothing else.”
“It’s disgusting. It’s got polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons in it.”
Creo kept shaking his head.
“How do you like it? Someone confronting you on your weaknesses.”
“I always enjoy a chance to grow.” He sucked deeply on the cigar again, more careful to blow out the window this time.
“All right, then.” This was an opportunity he was giving her that she wasn’t going to pass. “You’re more like your parents than you’d like to admit. You believe you’re doing the right things, being moral, yet really are off-track.”
“This isn’t the best time to grow,” said Laif weakly, right hand still covering his eyes.
Creo took another drag. He looked as calm and placid as a lazy lake on a quiet morning. “Maybe.”
“You want Laif to face his weaknesses because you’re too afraid to face yours, and by pushing him, you feel that compensates for your cowardice.”
He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, letting the tip linger by his lips, then pushed it out the crack above the window for a moment so the ashes would blow off behind the Montero. He brought it back inside, drawing squares in the air with the fresh red end. “You’ve quite a head on your shoulders, young woman. Have you thought that you’re focusing on my faults so that you don’t have to face yours?”
She liked it better when he was silent. Him and his damn red hair sticking straight up, looking like his damn Cuban cigar with the kindling end, turned her blood hot. She held her tongue, not wanting to let out what was just underneath.
“You feel you have failed your clients.” He kept making infuriating squares with the burning end. “You want to control the situation because you feel out of control. You believe controlling me gives you some power.”
“That’s ridiculous! I’m not controlling you.”
She could see the corner of his mouth creep into a smile.
Lightning flashed through the sky.
Laif peeked through his fingers and suggested, “Maybe we should be focused on the road rather than discussing such deep topics.”
She squeezed his other hand and asked Creo, “How am I controlling? And how did this all become about me? I thought we were talking about your weaknesses.”
“We all share weaknesses.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sucked his cigar. He watched the road unblinkingly.
Now he was back to being silent. It seemed he knew just how to respond to get Sharon angrier, as though he strategically planned his responses. Of course, she knew this couldn’t be true. No one could be that quick on his feet, even if he were psychic. Could he?
She released Laif’s hand. She felt words boiling inside her. She could no longer contain them. “I do not share your weaknesses. I would never fight against good! It makes me sick the hypocrisy inside you.”
“Can we drop this?” Laif interjected.
Ignoring him, Creo asked, “How can you be so sure? We’re all human. We all have the capacity for every human weakness. Every sin. Surely as a student of human behavior, you understand this?”
“Oh, I understand, all right,” she responded. “I understand that some people’s weaknesses are sicker than others’. The fact that you can’t even see you’re wrong, that you’re similar to your parents, shows how sick yours are.”
He stuffed his cigar into the ashtray. She thought she detected worry in his eyes, slight shakiness in his movement. “You’re not following the flow of conversation, young lady.”
“So now who is controlling?”
Her bubbling anger seemed to have splashed onto him. He bit at his upper lip, then quickly stopped as though self-conscious and picked up his Cuban again, jabbing it into his mouth.
Laif pleaded, “Look, we’re all together now, working toward the same goal. Let’s keep that in mind.”
“I’m not controlling.” Creo pulled on his erect red hair. “I was merely stating an observation.”
It began to rain lightly, ticking against the roof like a clock on a time bomb. Laif moaned and brought his jacket over his head to cover himself. Creo looked at his friend and appeared as if he might shout, but looked back to the road instead. They drove in silence through a valley with a river flowing alongside in the opposite direction they traveled.
Finally he mumbled to Laif, “You look pathetic.”
She defended, “Hey, shut-up.”
“How’re we going to battle great evil with a scared boy?”
She felt bad for Laif and gave him a hug through the seat that separated them. She could feel his heart beating fast in her arms. She scorned Creo, “Why don’t you just focus on yourself, Mr. bad-man?”
“Please,” Laif implored through the jacket material, “let’s not fight.”
“We’re not fighting. We’re growing, like Creo said. And Creo needs to grow a lot.”
“Speaking of growth, what about yourself, missy?” His cigar was shaking in his mouth as he spoke, ashes spilling onto his legs. “You keep trying to save children because of your failure to save your sister. When will you mature and recognize your neurosis?” Smoke curled around his ears. “They’ll play on this, you know. Evil roots in weakness.”
She never told Creo about her sister. Laif couldn’t have told him either. She had been with Laif the entire time he was with Creo. Maybe when they connected hands and hummed, they shared thoughts psychically. She didn’t like Creo knowing about Marlene. That was private and personal information. He wasn’t on the lawn that day. He didn’t live in her family. He didn’t understand. He could never understand.
She found herself unable to speak at the moment, submerged in feelings of hurt and emptiness. Her sister had been too young for death. She wished with all her heart she could have traded places with Marlene.
Finally, she managed to say, “How can saving children be wrong?”
“It can when it’s neurotic.”
“I’m not being neurotic. I’m being human. It’s kind and good. If you knew anything about that, you’d understand. But I guess since you’re coming from a cold heart, you wouldn’t know, would you?”
“Don’t project your feeling of badness onto me, young lady. That’s your fear, not mine.”
“And why don’t you talk straight and follow my questions? Why do you need me to follow your questions all the time? Can’t you face yourself?”
“I’ve faced myself for a millennium. You have no idea what I’ve been through and what I’ve seen. You should speak with more knowledge before you let loose careless words.”
“And why is that? Can’t you handle wisdom from a babe? Age doesn’t claim wisdom in everyone it takes.”
“Let’s stop this nonsense!” Laif yelled through the jacket material.
“Stop what?” Creo protested. “Stop growing? You of all people should treasure growth, but you hide, fear digging into your spine, trying to stop our growth because of your fear. Well, you stop it. You just stop!”
He braked the car hard, and almost went into a skid on the wet road. He pulled over to the muddy shoulder beside the river, which carried small rocks, sticks, and leaves in its liquid embrace.
Despite Laif’s head still covered by his jacket, he turned to Creo. “You guys aren’t growing. You’re just trying to hurt each other.”
“Is that how you see it?” Creo’s arms swung animatedly in the air, knocking the cigar out of his mouth onto his leg, quickly picking it up. “Evil will be indulging in our weaknesses tonight. This is just a playground compared to what we’ll face in less than thirty minutes. And you don’t have the slightest desire to work out your rain-phobia.” Creo rolled down his window and stuck his head out. “Well, I’ve news for you. It doesn’t look like the weather is getting any better. It actually looks like it’s developing into a downpour.”
“I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” he said, turning away from Creo.
“Pathetic.”
She didn’t defend Laif this time. She was beginning to see some sense in Creo’s twisted logic. She didn’t like seeing his side, but she was. How was Laif going to protect himself, let alone two children? They might have to watch like a child, the extra burden threatening their goal. It might have been easier if he had stayed back at her apartment and waited.
They sat in the parked car, cold air drafting through Creo’s window, rain spotting his pink sweatshirt sleeve, Laif hiding under his jacket with his arms folded across his chest, Creo looking dead ahead at the road, Sharon turning to the river that flowed in the direction they had traversed, nonstop like time, quickly passing.
She wished she could travel back into the past, when things were simpler, just dealing with biological parents and foster children, rather than the fate of good and evil and the many lives that would be affected by the outcome.
Did Creo have a point? Were they ready for this, or were they traveling to their deaths?