Paul stood up, and when he did so, the sand disappeared and he was back on the hard surface of the vehicle floor. “I don’t know. Maybe I am dreaming. Maybe this isn’t happening. Maybe I have gone mad. Maybe I’m in a mental ward right now.”
Marcy returned to her beach chair and took a sip from her cup. “Do you have a piece of paper?”
Paul searched through his pockets, and pulled out the flyer from Salvation Mountain that he had folded and stuck in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Tear off a little piece.”
He tore off a small corner and handed it to Marcy, refolded the flyer, and placed it in his back pocket. She picked up a pen from a pouch on the chair and wrote something. “Fold this, and stick it in your pocket. The little side pocket in your jeans.”
Paul did just that and stood there staring at Marcy. He felt ashamed that perhaps he was the cause of her pain on earth. Her downward spiral into addiction and despair and self-destruction.
“No, Paulie. You weren’t the cause of my problems. You gave me the two most important things in my life: true love and Tracy.”
“Can I ask you something? About UFO’s? Are they real?”
“UFO’s come from where I came from. That’s all. Sometimes UFO’s are seen on earth when they are piloted by deceased humans from purgatory who haven’t learned their lessons yet.”
“Like Frankie.”
“Like Frankie. But not from other places in the universe. It will never happen. It’s against the laws of physics. That’s how it was designed.”
“Now what? Will I remember all this or will it be like Men in Black and you just erase my memory with that pen?”
“Do you remember being born?”
“Of course not.”
“But you were born. And deep in your subconscious you remember the love of your mother as she held you for the first time. And that love of your mother never will leave you. That is where these memories will be stored. The place where dreams come from. You’ll remember two things: first, Ash is not going to hurt anybody; and second, when shooting stars go up, not down, that’s when we earn our wings, and go to heaven. But before you go, I want to tell you an old joke.”
“A joke? Shoot.”
“A pompous pastor was warned about an imminent flood. As the waters rose above his front step, a rescuer in a 4X4 jeep offered his escape. The pastor said, ‘No need to. The Good Lord will take care of me.’ Then the waters rose to his second-floor window. A rescuer in a motorboat came by his window to rescue him. ‘No need to,’ the pastor said again. ‘The Good Lord will take care of me.’ Then the waters rose to where they were above his roof line. A helicopter flew overhead and dropped a rope ladder down to rescue him. ‘No need to. The Good Lord will take care of me.’ The pastor drowned. When he arrived at the Pearly Gates he confronted Saint Peter: ‘Why didn’t the Good Lord take care of me?’ Saint Peter looked through his notebook pages. ‘Aha! It says here, we sent a 4x4, a motorboat, and a helicopter!’”
Paul chuckled. “I guess some signs aren’t so subtle if you’re paying attention.”
Suddenly in one forceful jerk, a rush of desert air poured into the vehicle as the opening reappeared behind him. He looked at Marcy, wondering what was next.
“I love you, Paulie. And I’m watching out for Tracy, too. See you in your dreams,” Marcy said, putting both hands over her heart.
The vehicle jerked forward and Paul fell backwards out of the ship into the desert dirt.
He lay there unconscious. Marcy’s space vehicle was gone without a sound or spark of light.
Paul had no idea what happened when he started to come to. His first reflex was to check his pocket for his gun, which put him in panic mode, since it wasn’t there. His phone began to vibrate, so he took that out of his pocket, and noticed it was powering on, which was strange because he didn’t remember turning it off. His SUV was barely visible in the darkness. He opened the door, put his hand by the ignition and the key was already inserted. He turned the key, and it started right up. He turned on his headlights, grabbed a flashlight, which popped right on, and started to search for his gun. He didn’t even begin to wonder what the hell had happened to him. First things first. He looked around the car for his gun, under some tumbleweeds, and began expanding his search circle, and there it was, in some dirt. He had no idea why it was partially embedded in the soil, as if it had been tossed high in the air. He dusted it off and put it back in his front left pocket.
He sat in his car with the engine running, trying to remember how he even got here, when it came back to him. He recalled that he turned off the car to hike the rest of the way to Ash’s house to confront him about his death threats to Kate and Jasmine. He remembered that he was furious, mad with rage, intent on confronting Ash and his cohorts, come what may. What was he thinking? What good would that do now? He put the Escape in drive and headed for Ash’s with his headlights on.
As he thump-thumped over the washboard ridges in the road, he tried to piece together what had transpired over the last little while. Why was he on the ground, unconscious? Maybe he was having seizures or fits or some kind of alcohol or schizophrenic blackouts. But his head didn’t hurt. In fact, he felt a peaceful calm that he hadn’t felt in a while.
He went over a hill and stopped at the top. Just down the road, less than a hundred yards was Ash’s house. Lights were on, and there were two vehicles parked outside and Ash’s motorcycle. Paul reached into his pocket and took out his gun. He got out of the SUV, went to the rear door and opened it. He lifted a hatch where the spare was and retrieved a metal box. “Oh, sheesh,” Paul said upon seeing the box that contained Marcy’s ashes. He had forgotten they were there. He opened the firearm box, put in his guns, and secured them in the trunk. He closed the hatch and the rear door and got back in the driver’s seat. He was on his way to Ash’s.
The house was quiet. Paul knocked on the locked steel security screen door and waited. He could see that someone was looking at him though the wooden door’s peep-hole because it darkened. He could hear whispers. The wooden door behind the security door opened, revealing Ash. He was wearing a leather cowboy hat, and a camo vest over a black t-shirt. Paul could see that the pockets of the vest were loaded with heavy objects by the way they sagged.
“It’s you,” Ash said calmly. “Come inside.”
Across the room, sitting on a stool by a counter was his floor guy, Thomas. He was also wearing a camo vest over a black t-shirt. “Hi, Ash. Hi, Thomas.”
Paul stepped inside. He knew the smell of gunpowder well and the room was thick with it. “I think you’ve been wanting to talk to me about something. So here I am,” Paul said in a friendly voice.
“Shoot, I don’t know what to say,” Ash said, apologetically. “You talked to Kate and Jasmine, right?”
“No. Have things changed?”
“I’ll say. I know you didn’t rat us out. I said things to them I never should have said. I was losing it. I didn’t know what to do.”
Paul sat down, relieved. “What happened?”
“There was an informant in our … group. He had been with us for months. Turns out, one of our members was dealing heroin and meth. Mostly to kids. School kids. He was even selling lollipops laced with meth, that sumbitch. I got two kids in school. My ex has custody.”
“What about you? Were you busted?”
“Just a minor infraction for weed. My lawyer says I’ll get off easy. We’re gonna testify for the state. Screw that asshole. I want to shake your hand, sir.”
Paul was taken aback, but held out his hand. “For what?”
“I thought you were nothing but a professional squealer. But now I understand what you guys do. You risk your lives.”
“So Kate and Jasmine have calmed down? You went off on them pretty bad, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t control myself. Sorry. I’ll make it up to them. And you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy. By the way, Thomas, I decid
ed to re-do the tile on my kitchen counters. Interested?”
“Yes, sir! Can I use Ash as my helper?”
“Why not? I’ll call you.”
As he drove home, Paul shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t calmed down and secured his arsenal in the trunk. And as far as waking up in the dirt? He thought it was best to just forget about that. Maybe he had a brain tumor. Or maybe just an alcoholic blackout. Either way, it would be his little secret.
He turned down the dirt road that led to his driveway and there was a car waiting at the gate with the lights on and the engine running. It was Kate’s car.
She jumped out and looked frantic in the harsh lights of the Escape’s headlights.
“Paul! I need to talk to you! Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She said, running to him, and then hugging him tightly. They held each other for a little while in silence.
“I just didn’t have the phone with me for a little while. Calm down. Are you okay?”
“I was terrified you were going to do something to Ash or he’d do something to you.”
“I just came from there. He’s going to help re-do my kitchen tile.”
“Don’t joke.”
“I’m not. He told me everything. About the informant, and the scumbag selling smack and meth to middle-schoolers.”
“Really? Everything is okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea.”
They sat at the kitchen island, mugs of tea and Oreos at the ready. Kate smiled and her eyes glistened as the steam from her tea rose towards the ceiling. Paul thought about having a double of vodka. He even went over to the freezer and opened it to look at the bottle he kept there.
“The tea is nice,” Kate said.
Paul closed the freezer without taking out the vodka. He picked up his mug of tea and sat across from Kate. It had been a while since he noticed how beautiful she was, as she carefully sipped the hot brew.
“I forgot to mention, I called Tracy. She was super concerned. I guess I was kind of still panicked when I called her.”
“I better call her now,” Paul said picking up his phone. He stopped dialing when he heard tires crunching the gravel out front. “That’s her!”
“Daddy!” Tracy shouted, bursting into the room.
“What’s going on? Everything’s okay.”
Heidi also entered the room and exchanged smiles with Kate. “Is that tea?”
“Yes. Herbal.”
“Can I have a cup?”
Kate nodded and watched as Paul and Tracy whispered to each other. Kate knew that deep down love that a parent has for a child. It struck her that this was the first time she saw Paul displaying it. “Let’s sit in the living room,” Kate said, pouring the hot water into two more cups.
Tracy sat next to Paul on the sofa and noticed his pants had patches of dirt on them. “Why are your pants so dirty? You look like you’ve been crawling under the car.”
“Oh, I dropped my phone and it’s a long story. I think I’ll change into some shorts.”
Paul went into his bedroom and took off his jeans. He removed items from his pockets and placed them in the drawer on his side dresser; keys, phone, some papers, some change. As an afterthought, he checked the small pocket on the right front of Levi’s jeans. He pulled out a little slip of paper, shaped like a triangle. He had no recollection of sticking it there. He was ready to toss it into the trash when he noticed writing on it: Serenity Prayer. He was stumped. How did it get there? Maybe he put it there during one of his drunken escapades. But it didn’t look like his writing, which was always a mess. Maybe Tracy had written this and secretly put it in there, planting some kind of seed? And what exactly is the Serenity Prayer?
He put on some gym shorts and a clean Mets t-shirt and returned to the living room with the small, triangular piece of paper in his hand.
He sat back down next to Tracy and took a sip of tea.
“Do you know what this is?” He asked Tracy holding out the slip of paper.
“The Serenity Prayer?” Tracy said aloud, causing a chuckle from Kate. “Yes, I know what it is. And I think Kate does, too.”
“Yup. Do you want to hear it?”
Tracy and Kate recited in unison, God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
“How do you both know that?”
Tracy and Kate looked at each other, smiled, and again said in unison, Al-Anon.
“It’s kind of like the mantra of all the twelve-step programs, especially Alcoholics Anonymous, and Al-Anon,” Kate said.
“But who wrote it?” Paul asked.
“I know this from bible study!” Heidi chimed in. “Reinhold Niebuhr, an American theologian from last century.”
“No,” Paul said. “I mean, who wrote this here, on this piece of paper. Tracy is this your handwriting?”
Tracy examined the scrap, intensely. She looked baffled. “It’s not my handwriting. But it …,” she stopped, unable to speak, obviously looking like she was searching her brain for something that would compute.
“It what?” Paul asked.
“It looks like … mom’s handwriting.”
“Well that isn’t the answer I was looking for,” Paul said, taking back the paper and studying it again. “I would say it’s a female’s penmanship.”
“Penmanship!” Heidi exclaimed. “I haven’t heard that term used in ages! That’s what my mom called it. She said the nuns would spend hours trying to make every student’s handwriting look the same according to some chart above the blackboard. Or else! Smack! Did your mom go to Catholic School?”
“I think so,” Tracy said, softly.
“Yup. For all twelve years. So did I. And she had excellent penmanship,” Paul said. “But my penmanship is terrible. The nuns couldn’t whip me into shape, like they did Tracy’s mom. Tracy, would you do me a favor? Would you write out the serenity prayer on a piece of paper for me? Let me get a pen.”
Paul went to his bedroom and grabbed a pen and piece of paper from his nightstand drawer. He handed Tracy the pen and paper, and she took a seat at the kitchen table. She began writing out the Serenity Prayer carefully. When she was finished, she checked it over and thought it looked good.
“I wrote it out for you,” Tracy said. Paul took it and stuck it in his pocket. “I’ll memorize this.”
“It’s been a long day,” Kate said, walking over to Paul and giving him a neck rub. “I think I’m going to head home.”
Paul walked them to their cars and kissed each on the cheek without much being said. There was an air of comfort and relief as hugs were exchanged and they drove off, waving. Paul watched as their red taillights disappeared in the distance, leaving nothing but darkness behind. He stood there in the cool desert night and looked to the sky. He could see the Milky Way clearly on this night, as he had on so many nights since he had moved to the land of heavenly wonders. But as he gazed upwards, he felt a sense of peace and calm he hadn’t felt since … he didn’t know when, actually. He attributed it to working things out with Ash. After all, sometimes it takes a messy confrontation for things to be worked out, once the wreckage is cleared. Walking back to the front door, he stuck his hand in his pocket and felt the piece of paper there. He made a mental note to memorize it before bed. Maybe even do some praying. It had been a long time since he said his bedtime prayers.
Without his usual nightcap of vodka or Guinness, he went through the normal ritual of washing up, brushing and flossing, and turning out lights. He emptied his pocket and placed the piece of paper with the Serenity Prayer right next to his bedside. Finally comfortably propped up in his bed, he picked up the paper to read the prayer so he could make sure the words sunk in. He didn’t know why, but felt this was important on this night at this moment. He read the prayer a few times, a few times more, and more and more. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, th
e courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference over and over and over until he began committing it to memory, and the words on his lips slipped silently down into his subconscious sleep soul of deep inner knowledge and understanding.
Steven Schindler
Chapter Ten
Tracy woke up and looked at the clock in the darkness. The red glow read 4:30 A.M. An hour before it was supposed to buzz her and Heidi awake. She hadn’t dreamt about her mom in a while. Usually they were nightmares. She sat up, trying to remember the dream she’d just had.
“Are you okay?” Heidi asked, concerned about Tracy.
“Yea. Fine. I just had a strange dream. It seemed so real. My mom was in it. I think.”
Heidi sat up. “You think?”
“Let’s get up. I know it’s early, but I can’t sleep anymore.”
Tracy thought about calling her father and telling him about the dream. But not at this ungodly hour.
A phone was ringing in the bedroom. Tracy knew it was her phone because of the ring tone, so she rushed in to get it. Calls this early are rarely good news. It was Paul.
“Tracy! I’m sorry to call so early.”
“I was already up.”
“Listen. We didn’t get to talk last night about, you know, abou … stuff. I just want to say. I’ll always be there for you. Always.”
“This is so strange. I had this dream. Mom was in it,” Tracy stopped, her mind spinning with emotion. “Mom said, she’d always be there for me.”
“We will be. I just know it.”
“Let me know when you can stop by.”
“I will. I love you.”
Paul didn’t want to tell Tracy on the phone that he also had a dream and that her mom was in it. It was too weird. It was all a jumbled dreamy mess, but it had something to do with a flying saucer. Why waste time trying to make sense out of something so ridiculous. He walked over to his bedside table and saw the Serenity Prayer she had written out. He picked it up, stuck it in his pocket, grabbed a cup of coffee, sat on the sofa, looked out the window where the sun was beginning to rise, and recited it over and over and over and over.
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