Danny quickly turned to face the pastor. “Okay, I don’t understand this…he just spoke again a few minutes ago and hugged me earlier.”
“The first words to ever come out of his mouth were not meant for me, but for you from Him! Franklin said to you, ‘He has a plan.’ Do you remember that?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Danny struggled to remember. “Something that God has a plan for His kids or wants all of His children to be with Him?”
“Right. His first words were not of his love for me, the only parent he’s ever had, but for you—from God—that He loves you. He brought you here, that you might know He loves you and for Franklin to be the witness to that. Don’t you see?”
“He’s never spoken to you?” Danny confirmed with a slight glance at Franklin.
The pastor answered with a slow shake of his head.
“I need to be honest with you, Danny,” Pastor Pate said, somewhat reluctantly. “While you were asleep I went to your apartment to get some clean clothes for you. I also talked to Charlie about your being here.”
Danny felt a surge of panic and insecurity rush through his heart. He rose from the picnic table and began pacing back and forth nervously as the pastor continued his confession.
“I also know who you are and where you’re from.”
Danny glared for a moment at the pastor before turning to walk away.
“Danny!” the pastor called, standing up. “You’ve spent the past nineteen years alone and look at you! What did it get you? Where did it get you?”
Danny stopped in his tracks.
“I can help you—I will help you! I know you have hurt in your heart, but this gift you have—”
“Gift?” Danny exclaimed, whirling around.
“Gift, foresight, ability…whatever you want to call it. You can’t blame God.”
Danny remained silent.
“I’m not saying you’re not seeing what you think you’re seeing, or that it’s not real, but do you actually believe God would punish anyone with something like this? Punish someone with this heavy a burden? Hmm?”
Danny mumbled something quietly and inaudibly.
“I’m sorry? I can’t hear you.” The pastor leaned in sarcastically, turning his head to the side.
“I said I don’t know!”
“Oh… Well, if you don’t know, then why blame Him? You can only blame yourself for your choices and actions. And to choose to turn away from God because you’re sad or upset, that doesn’t help.” The pastor then changed the flow of Danny’s private sermon and inquired, “Have you thought that maybe you should embrace God and do something useful with this instead of hiding and drinking and blaming Him?”
“Use it? Use it for what?”
“Well,” he said, pondering and walking back to the table. “What do you see? How do you see it? When do you see it?”
Danny was momentarily dumbfounded by the direct questioning and tried to walk through one of his visions. “Well, I don’t really know how… but I see everybody with it…and I hate it. I see it on kids, old people, everybody, you. Red, purplish green, white, everyone I see has one!
“Okay, good,” the pastor replied, taking his seat at the picnic table. “So you see something on someone. Then what happens?”
“Well,” Danny explained uncomfortably, joining the pastor, “that depends on the color of the fold. If it’s white—”
“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean the fold? A fold of what? What is that? Explain fold to me.”
“Well, I guess you could pretty much call it anything you like, but I call it a fold, of like, I think time.”
The pastor sat with a blank expression on his face, not yet grasping the concept, but probed for more pertinent information. “Okay, these colors you see on people…what do they mean?
“Well, for as long as I’ve been able to do this, I’ve found that everyone has one ’til they die. Now if it’s white, the uh, the fold…” Danny paused and chuckled to himself.
“What? What’s so funny? Why are ya laughing?”
“You know, I never thought about explaining this?” Danny admitted. “Huh! Well, if the light I see shining on whoever is white, then that tells me that person is gonna die just because it’s their time. They’re old, heart failure, or heart attack. You know, something natural. Some go to bed and just don’t wake up.”
“Good… Who else gets these?”
“I see a purple-blue, kinda greenish light mostly on kids and teens like Franklin, young adults…you. I been seeing ya’lls’ for a long time.”
Pastor Pate looked around him as Danny continued.
“So bluish-purple green to me says that this person is safe and has a long way to go before they die.”
“Does anyone know that they have these?”
“No one but me.”
“Okay… anything else you can tell me?”
“Well,” Danny hesitated, “there’s one more fold color. It’s red.”
“Red?”
“Red.”
“Why red? Red for what?” Pastor Pate asked, his curiosity sparked.
“Not a whole lotta reds. But every once in a while one will come through town.”
“Red is bad?”
“Yeah,” Danny answered, excited at the prospect of now having someone to confide in who will actually listen to him. “Suicide, homicide, a stabbing, shooting, hanging, a drowning. Usually the bad stuff, and it’ll be happening soon, like within the next couple of days, maybe tomorrow.”
“What do you see? I don’t mean the color, but exactly, what do you see?”
Danny thought about it for a moment then asked, “Did ya ever watch Johnny Carson?”
“Oh, I’d catch a few minutes here and there, at least ’til he went off the air in the nineties.”
“Well, you know the spotlights would be on that huge curtain, goin’ everywhere before the show starts. The drums start goin’ and Ed McMahon would say ‘Heeeeeeeere’s Johnny.’ You remember?”
The pastor nodded.
“Then all of a sudden the curtain would open just a crack and out steps Johnny Carson. He comes out…then all the guests come out…then it’s over. I see that with everyone. I open this fold and I see their last living moment. Don’t know how I do, but…they’re living now, right here in front of me, and then in my head, they’re dead. The last seconds of their lives flash before me. Me! Like I’m somebody who’s supposed to be in there! Now how is that supposed to be good?”
Pastor Pate concentrated on what to say in response. “The other night you were yelling that God cursed you…that He took all the people you loved. Do you remember?”
“I remember yelling but not anything in particular,” Danny confessed.
“How familiar are you with the Bible?”
“Oh, man. It’s been years since I read any of the Bible!” Danny jokingly declared.
“Well, in Deuteronomy we’re told, ‘No one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire or who practices divination, is a soothsayer, an augur, a sorcerer, or one who casts spells, consults with ghosts or spirits or who seeks oracles from the dead. In Leviticus 28, ‘a man or a woman who is a medium or wizard shall be put to death; they shall be stoned to death.”
Danny concentrated on the two verses.
But the pastor concluded, “So if God doesn’t want us to deal with fortune tellers, tarot cards, Ouija boards, and séances, then why do you think He would curse you with what He doesn’t want you to know? We read in Genesis that Joseph’s brothers were jealous of him; jealous because their father Jacob loved him the most. So Jacob gave Joseph a special coat to show his love and preference for him. Then in retaliation and revenge, Joseph’s brothers plotted to kill him and tell their father that he was devoured by a wild animal.”
Danny sat like a young child with his knees curled to his chest as he listened intently.
“But instead of killing him,” Pastor Pate continued, “the brothers threw him into a
big pit with no food and water. He was then found, brought out of the pit, and sold into slavery. His own brothers sold him into slavery to the Ishmaelites.”
“I’d hate to go to their family reunion!” Danny jokingly commented.
“Years later, however,” Pastor Pate continued, “Joseph would come to be owned by the pharaoh of Egypt…and he liked Joseph. In fact, he grew to like and trust Joseph to such a point that he put him in charge of everything in Egypt. Everything.”
A moment passed and all Danny could muster was a short and dry, “So?”
“Well, years later, during a famine, Joseph’s brothers came to ask him for forgiveness for what they did to him years ago. The pit, slavery, and all, and Joseph said to them, ‘Even though you intended me harm, God intended it for good!’ The pastor rose to his feet and joined Danny on the opposite bench. He placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder and firmly advised, “Whatever you have, you need to take it to God. Right now. Don’t try to stifle it or hide it and run away from Him. You can find a way use this in a manner that will bring glory to His name.”
Danny cracked a small smile at the kind words of Pastor Pate.
“Then and only then can you be released from this…’cuz you know, He can do anything—anything at all—if you just give Him the chance.”
Danny closed his eyes for a moment and tried to remember the last time he felt this peaceful, relaxed, and confident. Yet as he opened his eyes, deep inside his heart he knew that some doubt still lingered. “I don’t know…”
“Go home,” Pastor Pate encouraged with a smile and a slight pat on the back. “Go home to God, home to your life, home to your mother. They’re all expecting you.”
A NOT-SO-JOYOUS REUNION
With one strong jerk, the heavy, wooden overhead door stubbornly gave way, rusty springs and greaseless bearings moaning. Danny entered the dark, musty garage below his apartment where his white ’75 Chevy Impala lie entombed since his arrival in 1986. Due to the lack of light, along with the accumulation of dust, dirt, and spider webs of the past nineteen years, the white paint and vinyl roof resembled the color of old, spoiled milk.
He pushed his jalopy out into the driveway and waited for Charlie to arrive with his truck to tow it down to the station. There he checked the tires, changed all the fluids, replaced the filters, and filled it up with a new tank of gas. With bittersweet happiness, Charlie watched Danny as he meticulously washed and vacuumed his car in preparation for his journey home. Once he was done, Danny shook Charlie’s hand and embraced him, stifling his tears. “Thanks.” He hopped in the car and pulled out of the driveway onto Main Street. A short “good-bye” cruise through town left him with an uplifting feeling of optimism and hope.
He arrived at his apartment and briskly climbed the stairs. With a slight nudge against the peeling wood door, he entered his self-imposed asylum and grabbed a few articles of clothing. After halting briefly for a quick glance about the room, he locked the door behind him and hurried down the stairs to his running car. When he turned on the radio, as if planned by God for years, Robert Earl Keene started singing “Feeling Good Again.” He could hardly hold back the tears as he listened to the simple words and melody. He looked in the rearview mirror and watched as the only home he’d come to know for all these years slowly disappeared from sight.
As he drove through the picturesque Texas hill country, with its tall oaks, deep grasses, small creeks, and ranches, Danny could feel his excitement and nervousness building. But as he neared his parents’ farm, his heart sank when he found only remnants of what used to be. He pulled off to the right alongside the culvert ditch and stopped the car. His parents’ house looked nothing like he remembered or how he expected it to be. Tall and yellowed grasses and weeds littered the unimproved fields; the once dazzling white barn and garage were now faded, peeling, and stressed. From the outside it appeared that since he left, or maybe even as far back as Tommy’s death, more in this world had deteriorated than just his own life. A strange and unsettling silence suddenly overcame him.
He walked across the tinhorn to the gravel driveway, looking all about him. The fleeting memories of his childhood were slowly returning to him when he realized something was missing, something he hadn’t yet seen or heard: the animals. He strode across the weak and thin lawn to the barn and slid the door open, only to find empty stalls and pens. The sheep, cattle, pigs, horses, everything…were all gone. He next went to the garage and pulled back the large sliding door to find his father’s two International Harvester and three John Deere tractors slowly dying, sitting in the darkness with flat tires and fluids collecting in puddles underneath.
He closed the door and headed toward the house as the echo of metal hitting metal resonated. He timidly stepped onto the wooden wraparound porch and stood at the front door. The small diamond-shaped glass window was dusty from within and dirty from without. The wounded screen door hung slightly off its hinge while a section of the screen was torn away at the bottom of the frame.
Danny waited for what seemed an eternity before drawing in a deep, cleansing breath and rapped lightly at the door. From behind the door came the muffled sound of boots on a wooden floor. The dull brass doorknob jiggled and twisted. The door groaned slightly as it swung back into the darkness of the foyer.
From the shadows a faint voice called out, “Danny?”
“Momma?” he choked in return.
Sarah entered the light and pushed open the screen. Time had not been good to Sarah; her once long and flowing strawberry blond hair was now brittle and streaked with grey and white. Years of despair and grief left deep trenches in her forehead, leaving her skin loose and wrinkled.
“My baby!” she blurted out, wrapping her arms around her lost son.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried into her shoulder.
The two swayed gently in each other’s arms as the sun exited the sky.
That night Sarah prepared a homecoming feast for her son: chicken fried steak, whole-wheat biscuits, mashed potatoes with cream gravy and cornmeal-battered, fried okra and squash. She also made some homemade banana pudding to top it all off. After dinner and dessert, Sarah brought out a bottle of Wild Turkey. They spent the next few hours smoking, drinking, and talking about what all had happened in their lives since their separation.
“So while she was in a neck brace,” Danny explained, trying to contain his laughter, “Charlie had me put two tires on one side that were smaller than the two on the other side, so when she was leaning her head, the road looked level.”
After a brief lull in the laughter, Sarah poured herself another glass of bourbon and, smiling thinly at Danny, said, “So!”
“So,” he replied.
She stood and picked up the dirty dinner plates, turned to the sink, and bluntly asked, “So why’d you leave…or runaway, whatever you want to call it…after Jess’s wreck?”
Danny leaned back in his chair and began to honestly explain his reasons for his actions. “Well, after all I had seen with Daddy, when I saw the same thing on Jess…I just freaked. I didn’t know if I would see this again, and if I did, on who! I knew sum’pn was about to happen, but not sure just—”
“Geez, Danny!” she interrupted angrily, slamming the plates in the sink. “Would you please give it a rest and drop the pity line? What happened to your daddy was almost twenty-seven years ago! Quit crutching it!” She continued her chastisement after sucking in a deep drag of her cigarette. “Do you know what it’s like to walk through town and have your friends turn their backs on you ’cuz they say your kid’s crazy!? Huh?” she asked, waving her arms as she continued belittling her son. “All those counseling sessions, medications, doctors, and therapists! For what? Little delusions? Some nightmares? You see this, you saw that!” She brutally patronized him all the more as she drew in close, raising the pitch of her voice. “‘He shot her, Daddy! He smashed the car, Daddy!’ ‘I see lights and Daddy’s gon’ die!’ Stop it! Just stop it! I’m tired of you saying�
��”
Danny interrupted gruffly, “Wait a minute, I never asked…”
“No! You wait a minute!” she interjected, shoving her finger in his face. “If you hadn’t been making up one of your stupid fantasies, your father’d prob’ly still be alive.”
“I can’t help it for what I saw! I didn’t shoot him!” he proclaimed in self-defense, raising his voice.
“No, no you didn’t…but you sure did deliver him to his execution, didn’t you?”
“You’re my mother!” he screamed, jumping out of his chair. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m your only son! Why didn’t you believe in me? You’re supposed to love me unconditionally! You’re more concerned about your stupid, precious reputation than what I was going through!” Danny towered over Sarah, backing her against the kitchen table. “You didn’t see pieces of Dad’s head on the window! You didn’t hold Jess in your arms with her skull cracked open! Do you know what it feels like to not have your own mother trust you? Huh? Do you know how it feels knowing someone is ignoring everything that you say? Huh? D’you know that feeling? You stupid drunk!”
In bitter retaliation, Sarah reared back and slapped Danny’s face. Blind with rage, he backhanded Sarah, knocking her sideways across the corner of the dinner table.
Sarah screamed as she and the dirty dinner dishes crashed to the floor. Danny stood above her, crying and confused, pressing his clenched fists to his eyes. His head was swimming with images of his father and Jessica. Sarah wailed loudly, lying face down on the floor in the food and bourbon.
“I miss him too, you know!” Danny declared defiantly. He stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Sarah to herself. He stomped heavily as he climbed the stairs to go to his old bedroom. He angrily gave the knob a twist; the door was locked.
The Folds Page 16