The Curious Prayer Life Of Muriel Smith

by Raj, Carol;

  “Lipstick? What in the…”

  “It’s what women do when they get nervous. I thought I’d put on a little lipstick to cheer myself up.”

  “Women. Unbelievable.” Vernon concentrated once again on driving. He had exited the section of dark, deserted streets. The street he was now driving down boasted streetlights at more frequent intervals. A drunk was staggering along, a brown bag clasped to his chest. A group of teens dressed in black outfits and sporting pink or green spiked hair congregated on one corner. A bald, middle-aged man walked a pit bull with a toothed metal collar on a thick leather leash.

  “Lipstick?” Kevin looked at her as if she had gone mad.

  “Lipstick.” Lipstick would make a nice bold statement on the passenger window of the truck. “H-E-L-P.” That’s what she was planning to write. She could scribble it before Vernon realized what she was doing.

  Natalie had scribbled with crayons on the living room wall when she was three years old. “No, no, Natalie, my little cherub,” Howard had said. “We can’t use crayons on the walls.” So Natalie had dragged a chair to Muriel’s dresser, taken her lipstick, and used that on the wall instead.

  Lipstick wasn’t easy to remove from a painted surface. Muriel bought an expensive product the local hardware store recommended. It didn’t work as well as the clerk promised. A faint tinge of pink remained until Howard, ever patient Howard, repainted the entire room.

  Lipstick wouldn’t be easy to get off a truck window either. Vernon would have to stop the truck to try to wipe it off. He wouldn’t be able to reach the passenger window from the driver’s seat. She and Kevin might get a chance to run.

  But what would a gang of teens do with a message asking for help? Or a man walking a pit bull? Would they be likely to call 9-1-1? Where was that lipstick anyway? If only she had bought a better purse. She never liked this one, not even when she saw it at the clearance sale. And just days after she’d purchased it, she’d discovered that the clasp opened at the most inappropriate times. No wonder the sign above the display read “All sales final.” Maybe she left the lipstick in one of the fields. She dug again then gave up and snapped her purse shut with a decided click.

  The neighborhood they were now driving through was well lit. The two-lane road had changed to four driving lanes with a fifth middle lane for cars turning left. A shoe store took up most of the block on the right, a jewelry store and a fashion store were across the street. All three were barricaded behind metal grates, but the windows displayed good quality merchandise. Surely decent folks frequented the neighborhood. If Vernon wanted to do something terrible to them, he would have stopped the truck back in the area of blackened factories.

  “Kevin and I could just get out here. I’m sure you have other things to do. Don’t your dogs need you at home?” Muriel’s voice quavered.

  Vernon looked at her as if she were speaking an incomprehensible language. Then he turned the wheel of the truck sharply to the right and pressed the gas pedal down hard, ignoring the sign that said to stop before turning on a red light.

  Around the corner, a hospital loomed like a fortress. Flashing red arrows signaled the entrance for the emergency room. Vernon made a sharp left turn into the parking lot, right in front of an oncoming minivan. He maneuvered around solid pillars as if he were practicing figure eights and came to rest in front of the sliding double doors. “Out,” he said.

  “You’re just leaving us here?” Muriel’s voice trembled.

  “You said your grandson had a seizure, didn’t you? If that’s true, this is where he needs to be. And if it’s not true, then the heck with you both. Troublemakers. That’s all you’ve been. Besides, I need to get back to my dogs. Unless you want to come back with me, pretty lady. Just the two of us? Help take care of my dogs?” Vernon raised his eyebrows and winked. His hand reached to the controls on his door.

  Muriel felt for the handle of her door just as the click of the locks sounded.

  Kevin pushed against her in an effort to get out.

  She opened the door of the truck and stepped down. Oh, my. The step from the truck was high off the ground. Her right ankle turned. She fell, gasping in pain, her eyes widening.

  Kevin had one foot out the door and no place to put it. “Get out of the way, Mrs. B, before this crazy dude changes his mind.”

  “Kevin. I… I can’t. My ankle. I can’t move.”

  “You have to move. You can’t leave me with this guy.”

  Using her two hands and her good left foot, Muriel pulled herself far enough away from the truck to give Kevin some room.

  Kevin jumped out and slammed the door shut. Vernon took off, squealing through the pillars again, making a left turn at the no left turn sign, then disappearing into the night. Dark exhaust from the truck lingered behind.

  An orderly hurried over to Muriel. “Get a stretcher. This woman needs medical attention.”

  “No! I don’t need help. Not me. It’s Kevin who needs help. I just want to go home.”

  “She’s delirious, too,” the orderly yelled. “There, there, ma’am. You’re in safe hands now. There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll be well taken care of.”

  “But I don’t need to be here.” Muriel turned to Kevin. “We’ll just call someone, Kevin. Won’t we? Your parents will come get you. I’m sure they will. Could they give me a ride home, too?”

  Kevin shook his head vehemently. “I’m not calling my parents. No way. My dad’s the one I’m trying to get away from. Remember? All I have to do is sneak back home and get my pills. Once I start taking my pills again, I’ll be fine.”

  “But Kevin. I don’t want to be in a hospital. Old people get pneumonia in hospitals. Then they die. I can’t die yet. I haven’t accomplished anything. I haven’t seen my great-grandchild. Please don’t leave me here all by myself.”

  The orderly was peering at them now, his face just inches from Muriel’s, his eyes alternating between her face and Kevin’s. “Why, you’re the people who were all over the evening news. You, you’re the carjacker. And you, you’re the old lady who was kidnapped. Security!”

  13

  The hospital admissions clerk moved the telephone receiver a little farther from her ear.

  Even across the wide expanse of the desk, Muriel could hear Stan’s voice on the other end of the line. “Natalie. Natalie! Pick up the phone. It’s about your mother.”

  “Oh, my goodness, Stan. Have they found her? Is she OK? Can I talk to her?”

  Natalie! Oh, thank You, Lord. It was the first time Natalie had shown any concern for her since…since…well, Muriel couldn’t even remember when. Maybe since Natalie bought that mirror.

  Is this what God was up to all along?

  The admissions clerk gave a brief update and the address of the hospital.

  “Where? That’s not anywhere near where she lives. Well, of course. We’ll have to come get her, won’t we?”

  So much for Natalie’s concern. Muriel’s turning up seemed an imposition. An inconvenience. A matter of bad timing. Muriel’s moment of joy plummeted back to a sense of emptiness. If being carjacked was not enough to make Natalie appreciate her, nothing was. Muriel would have to settle for a superficial relationship with her only child. Thank goodness for Chloe. Thank goodness for the baby she was carrying.

  Stan should have been happy there was no ransom note. There were lots of ransom notes on the police dramas Muriel watched. People were told to drop off unmarked bills at obscure locations where they might or might not get ambushed. Stan would not be happy about any of that.

  The admissions clerk hung up the phone and gave Muriel an encouraging smile. “Your daughter and son-in-law are on their way.”

  Muriel looked surreptitiously behind her. Kevin slouched in a navy chair at the back wall, his heron-like legs spread out to each side. His right knee shook up and down.

  A security guard sat two chairs over, leafing through a magazine. Other than the gun in his holster and a hospital ID pinned to his
uniform, he looked just like any other visitor to the waiting room.

  Muriel cleared her throat. “He’s the one who’s sick, you know.”

  The clerk looked up. “Who?”

  “The young man who came in with me. He had a seizure. That’s how I ended up falling out of the truck. It’s a long story. But you should be admitting him, not me.”

  “Is that the first seizure he’s ever had?” the clerk asked.

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

  The clerk raised her eyebrows in apparent disbelief.

  “It’s true. He didn’t say. I didn’t ask.”

  “His own grandmother doesn’t know if he ever had a seizure before?”

  The clerk must not have watched the news lately.

  Kevin, the dutiful grandson. Except he wasn’t a grandson at all. And he might not even be a Kevin. Was it only yesterday he had threatened her with a gun and made her drive? It seemed a lifetime ago. And to think there had never been a gun at all.

  “I’m not his grandmother.” How could she categorize him? A friend? Incredibly, she had enjoyed his company. But no. A person of interest in a carjacking? No, definitely not. She didn’t want to get him in trouble. Their relationship was hard to explain. He had carjacked her, threatened her, covered her up in the middle of the night with his own leather jacket because he thought she might be cold, gave her two eggs for breakfast after throwing his own two away. He was a mixture of contradictions. Typical teen.

  Somehow, in spite of all he had done, she cared for him. Perhaps because she really missed working with teenagers. Perhaps because his lopsided smile reminded her of Patrick, one of her all-time favorite students. Perhaps because her relationship with Natalie left a lot to be desired. Perhaps because, deep down, she was incredibly lonely.

  Muriel had felt mixed emotions about her own mother while she was still alive. Impatience, anger, irritation. Now that her mother was gone, an occasional negative thought sometimes popped into her head. But mostly Muriel recalled how much her mother had loved her. How she had done her best in circumstances that were often not easy. How her death created a vacuum in Muriel’s life that no one else could fill. Not even Howard. Don’t wait until I’m dead, Natalie. You’ll be sorry for the rest of your life. I know.

  Muriel looked at the wall across from her. The reflection of flashing lights brought her back to the present. The sliding doors opened, letting in a blast of cooler air. But there was no sound of a gurney being wheeled in. Two deep voices behind her seemed purposely low. She only caught an occasional word.

  “Newspaper.”

  “Kidnapping.”

  She focused on the clerk. If she ignored the voices, maybe the men would go away.

  They didn’t. Their footsteps were coming in her direction.

  She couldn’t run. She had nowhere to go except back to her empty house where she could eat her lonely meals at six, noon, and six and watch police dramas and news shows until God realized she was never going to accomplish anything on earth, and He called her home.

  Muriel turned to look at Kevin. He half rose from his chair then sat back down. There was no lopsided smile now. Only a glazed look in his eyes, an apparent realization that his life might never be the same.

  As one of the policemen approached Kevin, the other ambled over to Muriel. His methodical walk made it clear he was in control.

  “So you’re the woman who was carjacked. We looked all over for you.” The policeman’s eyes seemed like laser beams.

  “Thank you, officer. I appreciate your efforts. But I wasn’t exactly carjacked.”

  The policeman raised his eyebrows. “Not exactly? What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

  “Well, I was kind of carjacked, I guess. But I’m fine now. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”

  “After all you’ve been through?”

  “That young man never harmed me. You think he hurt my foot, don’t you? But he didn’t. You have it all wrong. I’m only hurt because he had a seizure, and I got him a ride in a truck, and the step was too high, and I fell out and twisted my ankle.”

  The policeman’s eyes were glazing over. Howard’s eyes used to glaze over the exact same way.

  Just as she started what she hoped would be a more coherent explanation, the sliding doors opened again. A couple entered the emergency room.

  “Mother!”

  Muriel turned.

  Natalie was hurrying toward her, Stan following a few steps behind.

  Muriel patted the chair next to her in invitation. “Thank you for coming, dears.”

  Natalie stood behind Muriel and put one hand on each of her shoulders. “Oh, Mother. Thank goodness you’re OK.”

  That was the nicest thing Natalie had said to her since she’d turned sixteen.

  The policeman turned to Natalie. “I just need a few more minutes. Then your mother can be examined and hopefully released.”

  Natalie sank into the chair Muriel patted. “Honestly, Mother. I’ve been so worried. I couldn’t even sleep last night. All I did was toss and turn and imagine the most horrible scenarios. How could you have gotten carjacked? You don’t even drive.”

  The policeman was speaking to Muriel again. “I assume you’re pressing charges?”

  “Pressing charges, officer?” Muriel looked up, confused.

  “Against this young man. For carjacking and kidnapping. Maybe assault? It seems you have a very strong case.”

  “I hadn’t even thought about pressing charges, officer.”

  “Well, of course she’s pressing charges.” Stan’s voice rang out with a tone of authority. “She’ll sue the pants off this young punk. His parents, too. Why in the world would she not want to press charges? She’s been through too much to think clearly right now. That’s the problem.”

  Natalie nodded. “What would we have done if something had happened to you, Mother? You have no idea how much anguish we’ve suffered since we learned you were missing. Kidnapped! And to think we had to learn about it from the TV news! It was so impersonal.”

  “We can’t let this young punk get away with criminal activities,” Stan spoke again. “It’s our civic duty to see that justice is done. Of course, we−I mean, our dear mother−needs to be adequately compensated for all her pain and suffering.”

  Muriel could sense Kevin’s uneasiness, even though she didn’t turn to look at him. “Kevin’s not a bad kid. He just made a mistake. We all make mistakes, Stan. Even you must make a mistake once in a great while. I don’t think…”

  “Well, of course you can’t think straight right now, Mother. You’ve just been through a nerve-wracking ordeal.”

  Mother? Muriel stared at Stan. He had never called her Mother before. The use of the word made him sound almost…human.

  Stan patted Muriel on the shoulder as if she were a small child. “You’re too upset after all you’ve been through. That’s perfectly understandable. But don’t worry. Natalie and I plan to help you squeeze this punk’s parents for all they’re worth.” Stan smiled, the corners of his lips twisting upward while his eyes remained unaffected.

  Muriel couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Stan smile. He must have smiled at least once since she met him. Maybe when Natalie first brought him home, twenty-five years ago, an intense young man just starting a career in an investment firm. He must have been smiling as he stood at the altar waiting for Natalie to walk down the aisle on Howard’s arm. There were no smiles when she came for a holiday meal. He always held the front door open for her while simultaneously blocking her way with the girth of his own body. Sending a mixed message. As if he had no desire to let her into his house at all.

  Why, he looks like one of those baboons with the big, red butts. The ones who bare their teeth as a form of aggression. It was on some nature program Howard had watched. Stan’s teeth looked just the same. No wonder he never smiles.

  The second policeman was talking to Kevin. “We called your parents, son. They’ll b
e here soon. They can decide where you’ll be spending the night.”

  Muriel turned to look.

  “What do you mean—where I’ll be spending the night?” Kevin’s Adam’s apple protruded as he swallowed.

  “Maybe they’ll want to take custody of you and take you home. Or maybe they’ll want us to put you up for the night.” The policeman raised his eyebrows and gave Kevin a look full of meaning. “Do you understand, son?”

  “Oh, geez, not my parents,” Kevin said. “My father’s going to kill me.”

  Two bikers came through the emergency room entrance, one male and one female, sporting identical black leather jackets, carrying shiny helmets in their hands. The man had a red bandanna tied around his neck and the kind of glasses that seemed only a mirror to any stranger foolish enough to attempt eye contact.

  Those must be Kevin’s parents. They were wearing the same type of leather jacket.

  But the bikers didn’t even acknowledge Kevin. They just talked to the receptionist and then sat in front of the TV set that hung from the ceiling. The man put his hand to his chest. The woman patted his shoulder as if she were afraid he was so fragile he’d break.

  The admissions clerk droned on. Did Muriel have her insurance card with her?

  “Well, it’s in here somewhere.” Muriel picked up the purse she had placed by the side of her chair and dug into it. Why, there was her lipstick after all. And there was Natalie’s mirror.

  Thank goodness she hadn’t lost that mirror. Thirty-seven years ago, Natalie had been quite insistent that she wanted to go to the yard sale down the street all by herself. Minutes later she came running back, thick blond braids flapping around her shoulders, a look of triumph on her rosebud lips. Her smile lit up Muriel’s world. Natalie’s two upper front teeth were missing then. The moment had blazed like a comet, and then had gone forever. Muriel could close her eyes and see the whole scene just as it had happened thirty-seven years ago. She took the mirror out and turned it over, forgetting for a minute where she was.

  “Your insurance card?” The clerk repeated her question, not even a hint of irritation in her voice.