Simon Says

by William Poe

  As I walked toward the porch, I noticed our ragged manger scene—handcrafted of tiger oak, the roof made of wax moss—sitting beside the door where we’d always displayed it at Christmas. The figurines were made of plaster of Paris that Connie and I had painted with Testor’s enamel, left over from coloring the plastic models of Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein and Lon Chaney, Jr.’s werewolf that crowded my dresser. The baby Jesus figure had disappeared long ago, gnawed into dust by a raccoon that took up residence in the attic one year. I laughed out loud when I saw that someone had replaced the baby Jesus with a rubber piglet because it fit nicely in the cradle.

  “Hello, Simon,” Connie said. She was standing akimbo in the doorway. “You should have called.”

  Sharp at first, Connie’s tone mellowed when she got a better look at me. “Are you sick?” she asked.

  “Homesick, perhaps,” I responded. “I’ve been driving around the area. The place sure has changed.”

  “If you’re sick, you shouldn’t come in,” Connie said, the hint of compassion having had its moment. “We can’t risk Vivian being exposed to something.”

  Connie’s makeup and jet-black dyed hair made her look like the bust of Nefertiti. She slipped a finger into her blouse and hooked it under the wire at the bottom of her bra, a reflex action whenever something made her nervous.

  Vivian appeared in the doorway wearing a sky-blue robe with satin trim. Her hair was tucked under a pink sleeping bonnet. She tried to smile, but her stricken face muscles could only manage a slight grin.

  “Mother!” Connie exclaimed, catching Vivian’s arm as she tilted to one side. “You’re not supposed to be up.”

  Vivian made an awkward attempt to step onto the porch, pulling her arm from Connie’s grasp.

  “I’m going to hug my son,” Vivian said with determination.

  I met her at the threshold. “Mother, I’m so sorry,” I said, overcome by remorse.

  “It’s not your fault,” Vivian said. “This old body is just wearing out.”

  Connie squeezed past us and stormed off in the direction of the kitchen. I helped Vivian onto the sofa in the den. She squeezed my hand as she raised her right shoulder to help get her immobile arm into her lap.

  “My right side is funny,” Vivian said. “The doctor said I shouldn’t be alone, not until I learn to walk better.”

  Connie, who’d been listening at the door, chimed in, “Derek’s finding out just how much I do around the house since I’ve been staying here.”

  The situation was about Connie, not Vivian’s predicament. Hoping to change the subject, I said, “Victoria was so preoccupied on the swing, she didn’t even see me drive up,” but I could tell by Connie’s grin that she liked the idea that my arrival had not been anything special to her daughter.

  “I just hate that I’m putting everyone out,” Vivian struggled to articulate.

  “What did she say?” Connie probed, finding it difficult to make out Vivian’s words.

  “Mom thinks she’s being a burden.”

  Connie came over and hugged Vivian. “You know that I’m here when you need me.” She stared at me as she spoke.

  “Do you need me to stay in Little Rock?” I asked, returning her gaze.

  “I thought you were on your way to New York to become a famous artist or something,” Connie said, sarcastically. “And where is that traveling companion, by the way?”

  “My business consumes most of my time,” I said, “but yes, I would like to live in New York. It would nice to find out if people would respond to my art. As for my companion, he’s visiting friends right now.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Connie continued. “You were in Europe or something. Did you make a lot of money? We sure could use—”

  Vivian grabbed Connie’s arm. “Simon’s got his own life,” she said. “He’s had a long way to go since he left that group.”

  Connie harrumphed and stood to go into the kitchen, saying that she had to check on the roast. As she opened the oven door, the aroma of the spiced meat flooded the house.

  “Derek will be here around six,” Connie hollered. “Are you going to eat with us?”

  “I’d love to. But I’ve got tons of stuff I need to get done.”

  “You’ll be at Connie’s house tomorrow morning, won’t you?” Vivian asked, pressing my hand. “It just hasn’t felt like Christmas this year.” She waved her hand in the direction of the bay window. “I don’t even have a tree.”

  Vivian had always decorated for Christmas, at least putting up an artificial tree.

  “I’ll try,” I said, but I knew I wouldn’t.

  Vivian lifted her foot and pulled up the heel of her slipper. Laughing, she said, “I thought something felt odd. I must have been walking on that all day.”

  Vivian depended on mundane details in order to avoid painful situations. Connie, on the other hand, relished the chance to dig into a wound.

  “I don’t believe that,” she said, entering the room. “Can’t you do better than try?”

  “My concerns have nothing to do with you,” I shot back, then excused myself to the upstairs bathroom. Connie sat beside Vivian, making a show of comforting her.

  One of the paintings I had done in high school hung in the hallway. It had been among the few to escape the bonfire I set when I joined the Unification Church and was told to sacrifice the thing I loved the most. It wasn’t half-bad.

  Vivian struggled to her feet when I came downstairs and announced I was leaving. “Take care of yourself,” she said, reaching out with her good arm as I raced toward my car.

  I drove to the blue hole. This time, my thoughts went to my first girlfriend, Virginia. I sat on exactly the same spot where she offered herself to me. My lack of interest had undone any hope that something would change, and I’d mysteriously start liking girls.

  Surrounded by the white mounds of chemically saturated clay, with the winter darkness coming on fast, a severe sense of dread came over me. I realized how I had practically begged Charlotte to rip me off. How purposely naïve I had been. What was I going to say to Emilio when asked to send more videos? Could I finagle something with Wally or one of the other producers who might be willing to talk to me?

  As the sun began to set, it got colder. The wind whipped through the leafless trees. I scurried up one of the white mounds and looked straight down into the water. The white light of a full moon had taken over where the sun left off. Its reflection in the rippling pit of water invited ominously.

  Jump! commanded a familiar voice. My feet moved closer to the edge. Pebbles splashed into the blue-black water. My feet slipped forward as the hill began to collapse. At the last second, I caught a tree limb and pulled myself to safety. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I lay back and gazed up at the starless sky.

  I hoped that Sean would be at Dean’s, but no one was at the house. Dean’s car was gone. I seized the moment of privacy and went to the bedroom. The pipe practically leaped into my hand of its own accord.

  Though I am the fallen angel, a voice echoed in my head, I will see God before you have the chance.

  “It’s a lie!” I protested. “Reverend Moon was a fraud, and what you say is from the Father of Lies.”

  You think a woman named Charlotte took your money. But she is my handmaiden, Lilith.

  “Liar. She is Charlotte, and I forgive her.”

  Ha! Satan screamed. You have no power to forgive. I am, and always was, the Angel of Light.

  Satan’s drool fell across my shirt. I ran to the bathroom to scrape off the putrid mess.

  “Is that how you killed Ernie?” I demanded. “Strangling him on your vomit?”

  You want to see Ernie? Satan responded. He now sucks my horned cock. Do you want it, Damned One? I felt a hand on my fly. Here it is!

  “You are Lies and the Father of Lies!” I yelled.

  And the Father of Truth? Is that the messiah who fooled you for ten long years?

  “Stop talking!” I demanded.
r />   You betrayed Christ and will be forever damned!

  I ran to the car and raced toward the East End. Satan hounded me the entire way.

  Twelve times twelve and thirty-six times ten times ten. That is how much I took from you. Do you know what it signifies?

  “Leave me alone!” I screamed. “Why did you take my money?”

  I will hound you for the remainder of your existence.

  The voice grew dim the faster I drove. Yet the devil’s stench remained. Undigested food soaked my beard and dampened the seat between my legs. I pulled over, and even though it was ice cold, took off my shirt and used it to rake vomit from the car. I checked my watch. It was just after midnight.

  “Christmas Day,” I said aloud.

  If I hadn’t smelled like a vagrant, I might have considered going to Connie’s. Instead, I made my way back to Dean’s rather than continuing on to BT’s house. When I walked in the door, Dean could barely contain his disapproval. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” he asked.

  Drinking was a good excuse for the way I looked. “I fell asleep in my car.”

  “At least you pulled over and didn’t try to drive.”

  “What about Sean?” I asked. “And where’s Cicero?”

  “They’re both in the bedroom. Sean’s been asleep since I picked him up earlier. Cicero sure was glad to see him.”

  “Yeah. They’re pals.”

  “I was hoping you’d return soon. I need to spend the day in Texarkana with my mother. I won’t be back until tomorrow night. You’re welcome to stay, but…”

  “What?”

  “Well, just that I don’t want you to leave Sean here alone.”

  “I won’t.”

  Dean sighed with relief.

  “Thanks for picking up my little hustler,” I said.

  “Cute as a rat’s ass, isn’t he?” Dean said.

  “As tight as one, too,” I added.

  Dean disappeared into his room to finish getting ready for his trip.

  Cicero stirred under the covers when I entered the guest room, but I was out of my clothes and in bed before he found an escape.

  If I reeked of puke, Sean smelled of gasoline and cigarette smoke. It didn’t matter. We were together. I pressed myself against Sean’s body and buried my face in his hair. Sean took my hand and kissed my knuckles as Cicero snuggled close behind my knees. I fell asleep, content in the warmth of my little family.

  CHAPTER 41

  The lights were off at BT’s house. Then I realized that the entire area was pitch-black. My guess was that a transformer had blown—or someone had shot it out. Undaunted, I drove deeper into the neighborhood until I saw a faint reddish glow as if someone were cloaking a flashlight by covering it with their hand. Just then, someone pointed a beam of light in front of the car. I pulled alongside a group of shadowy figures.

  “What’s up, white boy?” one of the men asked. “What’chu doin’ around here?”

  Sean squirmed in his seat and said, “Get the hell out of here!” as several men surrounded the car.

  I wasn’t going to leave the East End without drugs, no matter how dangerous the situation.

  “Hey! That’s my home boy,” someone shouted.

  Snake emerged from the crowd and pushed next to the fellow with the flashlight. “Where’d you go the other night?” he asked. “I came back, but you wasn’t there.”

  “Don’t say another word,” I said, firmly. “Not unless you have my money.”

  Snake had been squatting at the window. He rose so he could talk into my ear without the others hearing. “Let me get in. I’ll make it up to you.”

  I motioned for Snake to get in the backseat, even as Sean hit my leg to warn that I was making a mistake. Snake signaled for his compatriots to disperse and directed me toward the other side of the projects. I parked at the end of an alley.

  “How much you wanting?” Snake asked.

  “Can you get a hundred bucks worth?”

  “Holmes,” Snake said, straining his voice to a high pitch, “you know I ain’t got that money now. You give me what you wants, and Snake’ll do you right this time. Ain’t no one else around here gonna get you nothin’.”

  Sean tried his best to stop me, but I took out two twenties and told Snake, “You bring me back a good deal, and we’ll see about doing more.”

  “Oh man,” Snake said. “You ain’t going to get nothin’ for this. You got to do at least a hundred.”

  “That’s it for now.”

  Snake grudgingly got out of the car, saying, “Don’t leave before I get back.”

  “Forget about him,” Sean said after Snake disappeared behind a building. “If he does come back, it’ll be to shoot us in the head.” Sean held onto the door handle, ready to bolt in case of trouble.

  A group of slender boys came out of an apartment and went behind the same building where Snake had gone. A few moments later, they headed toward the car. I was ready to back out of the alley and make a break for it, but Snake ran toward us. The others scattered in different directions.

  “Take this, Holmes,” Snake said, appearing at the window. “It’s one hell of a boulder.”

  He placed a marble-sized rock in my hand. I rolled it around my tongue. “Taste’s fine,” I said.

  “They ain’t got no more,” Snake said. “Might have some in an hour or so. You want to come back?”

  “Where will you be?”

  “That corner over there, by the tree.”

  I told Snake I’d cruise by in an hour, and made my way onto the road to the airport. A twelve-foot fence topped with barbed wire separated the poorest part of Little Rock from the taxiing airplanes. I remembered a bank at Ninth Street and College Ave and went to the drive-through automated teller.

  Sean seemed nervous. Instead of firing up his pipe, he put the rock in his pocket.

  “Go ahead and smoke it,” I said.

  “Let’s go to Dean’s. We can come back during the day.”

  “We’re already at the bank,” I said. “Let’s get some money.” Sean didn’t know that I was getting advances from my credit cards, since I had no cash in my checking account.

  I keyed in my personal identification number and withdrew the limit—$350. Crisp twenty-dollar bills slipped into a pile. I put the money in my wallet and started to drive away.

  Then I saw him—a man wrapped in a black overcoat was standing in front of the car, pointing a shotgun directly between my eyes.

  Sean sank to the floor, blathering as if he’d lost his mind. I hit the gas pedal and leaned over to avoid the line of fire. I heard a thump as if I had run over something. The car lurched forward. When I saw the overhang of the bank drive-through, I sat up and peeked over the dashboard. An explosion echoed through the night. Shards of glass rained onto the backseat. Another boom and sparks flew over the trunk. Two more gun blasts sounded like shots from a revolver. I sped down College Street to escape the gunfire.

  Just before reaching the freeway, I looked in the rearview mirror but didn’t see anyone pursuing us—only porch lights coming on as people opened their doors to see what was happening.

  I felt a trickle of blood on my face. A salty taste dripped over my lips into my mouth. Sean was balled up on the floor in the front seat.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, maneuvering a sharp turn.

  “Yeah,” Sean said, uncoiling himself to peek out the back window. He noticed the blood. “Are you shot?”

  The steering wheel was slippery with blood. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t feel any pain. Maybe the glass cut me.”

  Sean looked into the backseat. “There’s glass everywhere.”

  “Do you think Snake set me up? I mean, I did mention the bank.”

  “Didn’t you see him? He was right there, pointing a gun at your head!”

  “All I saw was the gun.”

  “Well, that was Snake, ready to blow your brains out.”

  My ankle became so weak from fear that I had
to push on my knee to keep pressure on the gas pedal. Cold air swirled the broken glass into a hurricane of shattered fragments.

  I managed to drive to Dean’s house. The neighborhood was quiet except for a few dogs warning about the approach of a car so late at night. After parking, I realized that the blood was from a gash above my left ear, caused by a shard of glass. The back window was entirely gone, exploded over the backseat.

  Sean patted me down, looking for another wound, finally satisfied that I only had the one injury.

  “There was so much glass,” Sean said. “I’m surprised my eyes weren’t put out. Dean’s car isn’t here. We have the place ourselves, right? Let’s go in and get high.”

  The police were probably swarming all over College Street by that time. I hoped that no one had written down my license plate number. Even so, they wouldn’t know where I was staying, and I was sure we hadn’t been followed.

  “Did I run over someone?” I asked as I unlocked the door, greeted by a jubilant Cicero.

  “I didn’t see shit,” Sean said. “And none of those guys are going to say anything, even if you did.”

  I placed a note on the door so Dean would see it as soon as he came home: I’ll explain about the car tomorrow. No one is hurt. Everything’s fine.

  CHAPTER 42

  Cicero wanted to go to the door when he heard Dean’s key in the lock, but I forced him to stay under the covers. Luckily, Dean went right to bed, though his curiosity about the car must have been killing him. After smoking what was left or our rock, my paranoia was at fever pitch.

  The next morning, Dean began knocking on the door. Sean and I were in a nether land of half sleep, a kind of pretend sleep, which is the best one can manage for many hours after smoking cocaine. I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry on much of a conversation, but I had to try. I threw on some clothes and let Cicero out of the room.

  “Will you take him for a walk?” I called out. “I need to get cleaned up.”