Tony was home. I lugged Stump in her box up to the door and knocked.
He looked like he’d been waiting for me. He wore baggy gray sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked tired. I felt bad because apparently I’d kept him up.
“I’m sorry,” I said as soon as I came through the door. “Viv and I thought we’d go talk to Stephanie for a while.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is she okay?”
“Sure, she’s fine.” I carried Stump into the den and set the box on the floor. “I think I scared ten years off her life, but she was fine when I left there.”
He stared at me a second.
“She’s fine, really. She wasn’t expecting anyone to come up there and she’s on edge because of everything that’s happened, so…” I shrugged. “But she was back to work when we left there.” Maybe I would leave out the part about the police coming.
Tony nodded and reached over to scratch Stump’s ears. Stump moaned and shifted under his hand, so he dug in a little more and cruised his hand down her neck – or where her neck would be if she had one – and down her shoulders.
Stump looked worshipfully up at him and tried to thump her leg. Doing so made her lose her balance, and she rolled back up like a Weebil and licked his hand.
See, the thing was, Stump was a really good judge of character. She was a better one than I was, as a matter of fact. She knew who she could trust. She liked Les and Frank, and she was a little more reserved around Viv. But she always growled at the man who came to read the gas meter, and he was a creep who gave me lascivious looks every time I saw him. One time a few months ago she flat-out hated this new girl who moved into Trailertopia. I thought the girl was really cool, and I got all excited about making a new friend, until one day she stole the money I’d left in the sugar bowl on my kitchen cabinet. That was how I ended up losing my phone and having to go completely cellular.
Right now Stump was looking up at Tony like he was the answer to every prayer she’d ever prayed. That evidence probably wouldn’t convince Bobby, but it went a long way with me.
We moved back to the kitchen, and I set Stump’s box on the floor at my feet. If I were home, the box would have gone back onto the banquette table, but I had the strangest feeling that Josephine Solis would somehow, some way with that hairy eyeball of hers, find out.
“I guess I should tell you I scared Stephanie so bad she called the police.”
“You…what?”
“She was wearing headphones and didn’t hear me come up.” Even while spilling my guts I wasn’t going to tell the part about me sneaking up on her. I would confess that to God and God alone. “She saw me out of the corner of her eye, and she thought I was an intruder –” Yep, I left out the part about her saying I was a hulking man, too – “and she called the police. They were there in like thirty seconds. They’re keeping a close eye on her.”
His jaw twitched, but as always his face remained totally in control, totally neutral. “Well, that’s good to know.”
“I swear she was okay. She was just on edge, and I scared her so she called the police. They did their job very well.”
He nodded. “Okay, fine.”
“You’ll be calling to check on her later, won’t you?”
“Within the next five minutes. I was going to pretend to go to the bathroom.”
“But since I’ve already figured it out…” I tilted my head toward the phone on the kitchen counter.
He kept the call quick. I smiled when he hung up. “Feel better?”
“About that, yes.” He laughed. “You’ve always been…interesting to have around.”
I scooted back and got comfortable in the corner of the banquette. I really liked that thing. It was stylish and functional. I liked saying the word, even just to myself in my head – banquette banquette banquette.
I felt a little woozy, I realized. Maybe I needed to lie back down for a while, but I didn’t. Instead I smiled at Tony. “You’re so polite. ‘Interesting’ is a better word than irritating, or pain-in-the-butt, or just plain horrible.”
“You were never horrible.”
I looked at him for a moment. “Of course I was. The whole thing was horrible. You did your very best to make it work, while I did everything I could think of to make it not work. It’s okay, Tony. I’ve learned that being dishonest with myself just gets me more of what I don’t want.”
I remembered what Les kept telling me about being a new creature in Christ. He said that when I was born again, I was literally a new person. Sometimes I didn’t feel like a new person; actually, most times I felt like the same old screw-up I’d always been. Les insisted it didn’t matter how I felt; the Bible said I was a new creature and so it was a fact. I wanted to believe that. I really wanted to.
“I’m a Christian now,” I said. I felt a little goofy saying that. Okay, a lot goofy. I was cool, I’d always been cool and the kind of person who would laugh right in the face of someone who said, “I’m a Christian now.” Of course, I would be a Christian now. That’s what people do when they’ve screwed up too hugely to fix things themselves.
Except with Tony, it felt safe to say. I knew he would be happy for me.
He was. His face lit up and he reached over and squeezed my knee. “I knew there was something different about you!”
“Oh, that’s just the forty pounds I’ve gained.”
He laughed and stood up to hug me. “No, it’s not. It’s you. You’re different.”
“Well, I’m sober too. I haven’t had a drink in a hundred and fifty-two days.”
“Outstanding. A miracle.” He wasn’t trying to be funny, either. He squeezed my shoulders and sat back down.
“Yeah, well…” I shrugged. I thought about making some smart remark like, “Well, it’s no Virgin-Mary’s-face-on-a-piece-of-toast, but…”, but that would be crass, so I only thought about it. “That’s really the only explanation for it, isn’t it? It’s a miracle.”
Tony leaned forward and cocked his head. “What is it?”
I shrugged again. “It’s nothing.”
He raised a brow. “You know, you’ve never been as good a liar as you thought you were.”
I sighed. “It’s just…I don’t know. You’re a Christian. Do you ever feel like…” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know how else to say it. Do you ever feel like you might have been sold a bill of goods?”
He had the nerve to laugh. I’d opened up about one of my deepest concerns and he laughed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean about this whole new birth, new life, everything’s coming up roses stuff.”
He clicked his tongue. “Well, I’m Catholic. The coming up roses part is probably for Protestants.”
I rubbed the bruises on my throat. “I just really thought things were going to be…different. Better. Like people wouldn’t break into my house, and I wouldn’t have to drive a pickle-mobile.”
He blinked, but didn’t ask.
“Les told me that when the Holy Spirit would come into my heart and would transform it. I would be made new, and I’d be filled with joy, and I’d always have the – the –” I mimicked Les’ booming voice, “The Great Comforter with me, whatever the heck that means. Where was this Great Comforter when the guy was sitting on my stomach shoving my head into the wall? Where’s the Great Comforter when I’m feeling like a complete screw-up who’s never going to get it right? I mean sometimes, Tony, I have to tell you, I feel like one of those poor salmon swimming upstream, except at least the salmon actually get somewhere for all their trouble. I keep leaping out of the water over and over again and flopping around for all I’m worth, but I’m at the same stupid spot in the same stupid river – and no matter how hard I work I’m always going to end up right there. I thought it wasn’t going to be like this anymore when I was born again. I didn’t want to get born again as the same person.” I took a deep breath because I was beginning to see spots. “Sorry. I hadn’t meant to say all that. I’m really kind of woozy from the pain meds.”
“What did you think it was going to be like?” He leaned forward in his chair, his brown eyes intense on mine.
“Just better.”
“Better than what? Better than it was, or better than this?”
“Both. I mean, I think I had realistic expectations. I didn’t think everything would actually be coming up roses all the time. I can see that life is still life and bad things still happen sometimes. But I thought more good stuff would happen, and I thought, even when it didn’t, I’d have…” How could I explain it? “I wouldn’t feel so alone all the time. I’d feel like I had someone in my corner, someone on my team, and even if things sucked every once in a while, it wouldn’t be so bad because I wouldn’t be alone while things were sucking. And even if I didn’t have, like, you know, the great love of my life, I would have love in my life. And that would make all the rest of it bearable.” I made a face. “I don’t think I’m explaining it very well.”
“I think you’re explaining it very well.”
“Les promised me in that jail cell that the spirit of the living God would be alive inside me and that I would actually be able to feel a difference.”
“And when was this?”
I didn’t really want to talk about that part, even if this was Tony, who had seen the very worst of me and still wasn’t totally repelled, but there was no going back now, and he probably already knew the statistics even if he didn’t know the details.
“A year or so ago, in the county jail. I’d just gotten another DUI. Les came up to talk to me. He does that – goes to the county jails around here and out to the prison and talks to people about God. Witnessing, he calls it. I was sitting on that cold metal bench thinking about how there was really no point in my even being on the planet, all I ever did was hurt people and screw things up. I knew there was no way that my life was ever going to amount to anything, even if I got out of that mess and didn’t go to real jail.” I hugged my arms around my waist and remembered that night. I’d had low moments before, but that night was different. “I was drunk, but not drunk enough to escape reality. I faced the facts. I was a loser. A mistake. I always had been – neither of my parents had wanted me, and my grandmother barely tolerated me. The way I saw it, I had two choices. I could accept the fact that I was a loser, get comfortable with it, and just drink myself to death because that was what was going to happen eventually, anyway. Or, I could not live the rest of my life.”
Tony nodded slightly, remaining silent.
“And then I heard this voice beside me, saying, ‘There’s another choice.’ I looked up and there was this guy standing over me, bald, holding this ratty-looking Bible.” I remembered that first meeting and almost started to laugh. There I sat, drunk and depressed, my life a wreck, my hair bleached and ragged, my makeup smeared off, my clothes wrinkled and stained, and even then one of the first thoughts I had was that Les should just shave off those few straggly hairs he was clinging to on the top of his head. He diverted my attention quickly, though.
“He had started talking to me about how there was another way to live, one that didn’t involve jails, and struggling, and always being out of control, always being disappointed in myself and always finding myself on the losing end of things. He told me there was a way to start over fresh, with a clean slate. I could take all the mistakes I’d ever made and make them go away forever. I could be a new person.”
“That must have sounded pretty enticing to someone sitting in a jail cell.”
“Oh, believe me, it was. He could have told me I had to donate a kidney and I would have gladly done it on the spot. I mean, be somebody else? Have all my mistakes completely erased? That was a heck of a deal. Then he started talking about Jesus.” I shook my head and winced. The more I talked, the weirder I felt. Maybe because it was getting late, and I was woozy from the drugs. Maybe because of the situation and the weirdness of the last few days. Sitting at the banquette across from Tony, I remembered that morning a year before afresh, but from a different perspective.
“I was irritated at first. I mean, Jesus, seriously? Religion is for gullible losers, right? For the close-minded and simple, grasping at delusions. But then he told me about his life, before he got – got saved, as he called it. He had been as messed up as I was. More, maybe. He’s an alcoholic, too, and he had done time in the state pen for armed robbery. He held up one of those check-cashing places with a gun, can you believe that? I can’t believe it, but he said it was true. Then these people had come to the prison and talked to him about becoming a follower of Christ, and he had said this prayer, and…”
I tried to find words for how I felt that morning, listening to Les, but my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. But it had seemed…real. Powerful. Les wasn’t like a shouting, fire-and-lightning-bolt televangelist. He was just solid. Convinced he’d tapped into a power, convinced there was a true before and after, and he was living the after.
“Well, he made it sound really good. Like an instant, dramatic change. New person, inside and out. While there I sat, so tired of being me I couldn’t even think straight. I was a loser, and I wanted to be gullible for a change.”
“So what happened?”
“I said the prayer Les told me to say. I decided if I was going to do it, I was going to do it all the way. Go all in. So I did.”
“And how did you feel?”
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “I remember feeling scared. Relieved. Like I was relinquishing control, and that part was terrifying, but it was a good thing, too. I didn’t know what was coming next, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull it off, whatever it was. But I also felt hope. I had another chance.” I shook my head and opened my eyes. “I kept waiting for that joy to fill me, to feel that overpowering love of the Holy Spirit that Les kept talking about, but…” I shrugged.
“But you did feel hope. And just before that you were completely hopeless and not sure you wanted to live.”
I nodded. “That’s right. I did feel hope. But Tony…don’t get offended, but I feel the same thing when I see a really good infomercial. You know, the kind that promises to change your life with this diet and exercise video or this big rubber ball or this money-making scheme or whatever.”
Tony stared at me and his jaw twitched. He was quiet for a long time. I thought I’d finally done something to make him never forgive me when he shook his head. “You’re one of a kind, Salem. What exactly is it you’re wanting?”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t even know anymore. Something. Something that tells me that I really wasn’t just a gullible loser after all, that I’m not grasping at delusions. Something to show that it’s real. Not just, you know, the Emperor’s New Clothes or something.”
“And a feeling would do that for you?”
I stopped. “I think so. Wouldn’t it?” I was a little confused now. What else was there, besides a feeling? What would it take, for me to truly know it was real?
“Taking your friend’s word for it – Les? That won’t do it for you? Taking my word?”
I thought about it. “Apparently not,” I finally said. “The thing is, I think it could, up to a point. I mean, it has, right? Taking Les’s word for it seems to have gotten me to this point. It could get me sober. But Tony, nothing but genuine, actual power is going to keep me sober. Life is just too hard.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head.
Once again I had forgotten I didn’t have the worst problems in the room. “I’m sorry, Tony, I know you have other things on your mind –”
He stood, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s okay, I’m glad we’re talking about this. Let me get a book right quick.” He moved into the living room to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and tilted out a few books, then opened up a couple more and browsed through them before he found what he was looking for. He brought it back to his seat.
“I’m sure being a Methodist you’ve already heard this story many times, but don’t you think that’s what John Wesley was talking about?” He flipped through a few pages.
The name sounded familiar. “Is that your lawyer?”
Tony looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “John Wesley? The founder of the Methodist Church?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah. That John Wesley. Sorry, I’m just a little tired.” And clueless. I knew I had heard something about John Wesley at some point. The founder of the Methodist Church, huh? Probably I should know all about this guy. Lucky for me I hadn’t had to pass any kind of test to be a Methodist.
“I read this book about different letters he’d written. Early in his preaching career he had some major doubts, just like you’re talking about.”
“And he was a preacher?”
Tony nodded quickly, warming to the subject. “Yes. He knew what he was supposed to be feeling, but he didn’t feel it.” He shrugged. “He had doubts. Major ones.”
“And yet he started an entire denomination?” Wow. That seemed…I didn’t know. Deceptive or something.
“Yes. Obviously, there was a turning point in there. And it came at this meeting…” He ran his finger through a couple of paragraphs. “Yes, here, at Asbury. You’ve probably heard about Asbury before. Something happened at that meeting, and he said in this letter to his brother, ‘My heart was strangely warmed.’” Tony held the book out so I could read it. “His heart was strangely warmed. He felt something, Salem. Something real. Physical. Something that made him different. And from that point on his ministry was different.” He handed the book to me. “I don’t think it’s so unusual, Salem, what you’re feeling. This guy had the same problem, and he struggled with it. He knew something was missing. But he kept pursuing it, and it came to him. Profoundly.”
I fingered the book, and let that drift around in my mind for a couple of minutes. “Why would something be missing? Did I not do something right?”
Tony shook his head. “Salem, I have no idea. I’m no expert. My faith has just…” He shrugged again. “It’s just always been there.”
“You know more than I do. You’re a better Methodist than I am, and you’re Catholic.”
“I don’t think God’s so much into splitting hairs. He’s not going to withhold something important because you said the wrong word or didn’t bow the right knee. Whether you feel it or not, He loves you.”
“But I don’t feel it.”
“But it’s there,” he insisted. “God didn’t start loving John Wesley at Asbury. John Wesley started feeling that love at Asbury.”
I thumbed through the book. “Does it say anything in here about what happened that night to make his heart get strangely warmed?”
Tony laughed. “I don’t think so, but if you do a little research maybe you could find out.”
I read a couple of paragraphs and the words swam in front of me. I tried to hide a yawn, but it got completely away from me.
“You’re tired, Salem. Why don’t you go to bed and we’ll talk about it tomorrow?”
“Thanks.” I stood and tucked the book under my arm. I turned to go, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, Bobby Sloan is convinced you’re going to strangle me in my sleep. You’re not going to, are you?”
He shook his head. “Not planning on it.”
“I didn’t think so. Stump’s a good judge of character, and she seems to trust you.”
Tony smiled. He had a very nice smile. It was hard to imagine he would kill anybody. It was hard to even imagine that a few hours ago I’d wondered if I was safe with him.
“Sleep tight, Salem.”
I carried Stump to my room and put the book on the nightstand. What a weird day. What a weird conversation. I lay down and pulled the covers up to my neck. Old John Wesley wasn’t feeling the love, either. Why did that make me feel better?
Stump whined and I looked down at the floor. “You’re going to have to sleep down there tonight, babe,” I said. “This is how we act when we’re company – like you’re a pet. I know it stinks, but that’s the way things are.”
Stump had very expressive eyes. They seemed to say, “Remember when I was the only one who wanted to be around you? Remember when you were lonely and sad and I was there licking your hand and making you feel okay again? Remember how you thought you’d either die or go back to drinking if it weren’t for me, keeping the loneliness from swallowing you whole?”
I lifted her up into the bed with me. “Don’t tell anyone. And don’t pee on Tony’s sheets.” She’d never peed on mine, but still, it didn’t hurt to keep the expectations clear.
I picked up the book Tony had given me and thumbed through it. His heart was strangely warmed, huh? That sounded like Les talk.
Maybe I just wasn’t trying hard enough. My enthusiasm, I had to admit, had taken a direct hit from all my unanswered prayers lately. My phoned-in efforts were not apt to get me a strangely warmed heart. I was much more likely to get a good case of heartburn from overeating Tony’s cooking.
The whole thing was depressing. I didn’t know why Les’s experience was so different from mine, but I guess that fell under the “God works in mysterious ways” category. God had selected him for special work, so maybe He’d poured on the power a lot thicker than He had for me. It was obviously up to me to make up the difference, so I didn’t hold out a whole lot of hope that I’d ever get to that warm heart. How about a strangely lukewarm heart, God? What can you do with that?
I fell asleep feeling overwhelmed and a little depressed, but safe, at least. That went away, though, when a noise outside my window woke me some time later.
Stump growled low in her throat and tried to stand up, her nose pointed to the window. She stumbled in the covers but stayed hard on point.
I bolted up and was on my feet before I came fully awake, shifting back and forth between the door – which would take me to Tony – and the phone on the nightstand – which would bring me the police. Tony was quicker but probably unarmed. The police would bring firepower, but they’d take a few minutes. While I was deciding, I heard a spew of foul language in a familiar voice.
I plastered myself against the wall and edged closer to the window. After a few seconds of hearing more cursing and stumbling around, I gritted my teeth and ripped the curtains back.
“Viv! What in the world are you doing out here?” I shoved the latch on the window and opened it. “I almost called the police on you.”
“I keep telling you, it wouldn’t be the first time. It wouldn’t even be the first time today, in fact.” She scowled down at the ground. “I changed my mind about you staying married to Tony. The man has an honest-to-goodness garden gnome back here. And it attacked me.”
“It’s a guard gnome.” I leaned out the window. “What are you doing that you couldn’t come to the front door?”
“I had an idea and I didn’t think waking Tony with it would be the smart thing to do.”
“And waking me would?”
“I keep thinking about that weirdo guy with the storage place. Whatever he’s hiding is the key to this whole thing.”
“Ricky Barlow. What makes you think he has anything to do with this?”
“He’s the one thing that doesn’t add up. Everyone else has a reason for acting the way they do. Sylvia is defensive and secretive because her son hasn’t exactly exhibited the best behavior.”
“True. She’s always been quick to jump to his defense, bail him out of the scrapes he’s gotten in to.”
“So it’s not really a big mystery that she didn’t want to talk to us about Lucinda. If she talks about Lucinda and Rey, then she talks about how badly Rey treated her. And Stephanie told us everything she could think of to tell us. And obviously Tony’s been more up front than anybody else would have been. But this guy…he made no sense at all.”
I nodded. We’d been through all this right after we saw Ricky. “So what does it mean?”
“I’m not sure. But I think we need to investigate him a little further. If you remember correctly, he was the last person we talked to before you were attacked.”
“Of course I remember!” I snapped. “Maybe that’s why I’m not so hot to go investigating him in the middle of the night.”
“But what if he’s the one who holds the key? What if he’s the one who actually killed Lucinda Cruz and the police are so far from him they’ll never even look in his direction?”
“What if we go after him and get ourselves killed in the process?” I hated to be a wuss, but being attacked in my own home hadn’t set well with me.
Viv stood there in Tony’s garden and gave me a funny look. Finally, she patted her hip. “I’ve got a little protection.”
I felt my eyes bug. “You what? You brought a gun?” The last word squeaked out.
“Just a little one. For protection. Probably we won’t even need it.”
“Probably. Probably?” I threw up my hands and spun around.
“Oh, chill out.”
I took a few fortifying breaths and leaned on the windowsill, talking through my teeth. “Do. Not. Tell. Me. To. Chill. Out! I’m trying to stay safe. You should do the same.”
“I am safe!” Viv slapped her hand against her thigh and screwed up her face. “That’s the whole problem! I’m so safe I’m practically dead. Salem, you don’t know what it’s like, living in that mausoleum with all those old people. Day after day having to maneuver around their walkers and wheelchairs and the nurses with their medicine carts. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, honestly, but those people are just hanging around waiting to die! I don’t care what the brochure says about a place for active seniors, it’s a holding tank for the almost-dead. Their lives are over; they’re just hanging out till God calls their number. Salem, I’m not done living yet.”
She leaned her hands on the windowsill and I noticed a shine to her eyes I’d never seen before. Good heavens, was she going to cry on me? I had no idea how to handle it if she did.
“I’m not old, Salem. I know I look old, and if you look at my birth date you’d think I was ready for the grave, but I swear on the inside I’m not a minute older than you are. I’m not ready to hang up my towel yet. I’m not through with excitement and adventure. Salem, I’ve danced with the Rockettes in Times Square. I’ve dealt blackjack to Dean Martin. I cut the ribbon on the first McDonald’s in the state of Oklahoma. Okay, that last one was lame, but still, I have led an exciting life. In all my life, I’ve been up and I’ve been down, I’ve been on the edge of complete poverty, and I’ve been sitting in hog heaven. But until now, I’ve never, ever been bored.” She shook her head and for just a second she looked older than anyone on earth. “Salem, what’s the biggest challenge to your sobriety? Stress? Dealing with money and job and people?”
“Mostly, yeah. Except those days when I just want to taste it. That’s the worst of all.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s the worst. When you just want a taste and nothing else will do. But for me, in the day-to-day challenges, I don’t have a lot of stress. Boots left me with enough money and with smart enough people to take care of the money that I don’t have to stress about much. Whatever I don’t like, I don’t have to deal with if I don’t want to. But Salem…my challenge every day is flat-out boredom. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to sit and wait for my number to be up. I’m not ready to give up. I’m not even ready to slow down. And every day I think, well, what the hell difference would it make if I have a drink? What if I drink an entire fifth of Wild Turkey every day of my life? I’ve got nothing else to do.”
I’ve always been a sucker for a sob story. Guys found that out early on, and I handed out a lot of pity comfort before I caught on that I was being used. But I was a total sucker for Viv and her sad eyes. I was ready to jump out that window and take her wherever she wanted to go, just to make her go back to the in-your-face, always-upbeat Viv. I didn’t like this sad, pitiful Viv.
“Viv, don’t,” I said. “You’re not old, you don’t have one foot in anything except a ridiculously expensive shoe. Quit talking like this.”
“But Salem, this past week has been one of the best in my life. I have a mission. I have something important to do, something besides playing cards or writing my memoirs or learning a new stinking computer program. Something that actually matters. This week I’ve had something to think about. And I’m not ready to let that go.”
I sighed and made a face at her. “Well,