“Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, we’ve all had crazy shit happen, but it looks like you’re the steel ball in a pinball machine.”
“But who’s pushing the flipper buttons?” Paul said, digging into his pocket. “Look at this,” he said, unfolding a small paper and handing it to Mickey.
“Serenity Prayer,” he read, looking at the unremarkable scrap of paper. “Yeah, and?”
“I found that in my pocket. I don’t remember putting it there. And that’s not my handwriting.”
“And who’s exactly do you think it is?” Mickey asked, cautiously.
“I thought it was Tracy’s,” Paul said, waiting for a reaction from Mickey, which didn’t happen. “I think it might be Marcy’s handwriting.”
“You mean, like from years ago?”
“No.”
“You mean like, maybe it was something you picked up in her house when you were cleaning it out?”
“No.”
Mickey jumped up out of his chair and walked over to the refrigerator. “You have any ice water in here? I need a cool dose of reality.”
“I don’t know, Mickey, there’s something really weird going on. But even though I was almost thrown in a loony bin, since I found that piece of paper shoved in my pocket, I’ve….”
“You’ve what?”
“I just feel different. Like, at peace or something.”
“Okay, Paulie. You were hitting the gin mills up here before you went on the wagon, right? And you were meeting people. Who the hell do you think goes to bars? Alcoholics! What’s on the wall behind every lectern that’s hung up before every meeting? The Serenity Prayer! Somebody you met, probably a female with nice penmanship, thought you could use some words of wisdom and gave this to you.”
“Nope. I found it the day after my car conked out and I blacked out.”
“That’s when you found it! You could have stuck it there weeks ago and just didn’t know it.”
“I guess you’re right,” Paul said, slouching in the couch, crestfallen. “I don’t know why, but I think it means something more. There’s something more to this … whole journey. I’m not the only one, either. I mean look at Salvation Mountain.”
“You got me on that one. Did we see it today?”
“Nah, too far. It’s this mountain in the middle of nowhere….”
“Isn’t everything out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Way out. In a place called Slab City, where desert-rat squatters have lived for decades, off the grid, before there was a grid. This mechanic built this, mountain … I’ve got a flyer somewhere. It’s crazy. He built an actual mountain out of hay bales, wire, and a gazillion gallons of paint,” he said, rifling through piles of paper on the table, through drawers, in the magazine stand, the refrigerator magnets, and on the bookshelves.
“Ah! Here it is! I never would have found this. I stuck it in this Kerouac book, Some of the Dharma, as a book mark.” Paul unfolded the Salvation Mountain flyer and began reading it. “Holy jumpin’ shit,” Paul said in a deep, low voice, jaw drooping, eyes focused like a laser beam on the page.
“What? What? You look like you saw a ghost!”
Paul reached into his pocket and pulled the Serenity Prayer scrap out again. He held up the Salvation Mountain flyer, hands shaking, revealing the missing corner of the flyer. He placed the scrap next to the missing corner. “The missing piece of the puzzle.”
“Now you’re freaking me out.”
“I went to Salvation Mountain the morning of the day when my car conked out and I blacked out. So this piece of paper proves that it came from that day. That’s the day this scrap of paper was written on and given to me. And that’s the day I woke up after my car, my phone, and my flashlight wouldn’t work. And my gun almost set my pants on fire!”
“I didn’t hear this part.”
“The reason I was on that road was I was in a red-eyed Hulk rage and was probably going to blow this guy Ash away.”
“Are you out of you mind?”
“Was. I was out of my mind.”
“And my gun started heating up like a freakin’ iron set on linen, to the point where I had to get it out of my pocket so fast, I threw it somewhere and couldn’t find it. Then….”
“Yeah, then what? What?”
“I blacked out. And when I awoke. I put my gun in the trunk. Walked to this guy Ash’s house, had a chat, and he thanked me for being a good cop.”
“Paulie, you’ve been under a lot of strain, I’m gonna hit the sack. I gotta get up early and get back to Vegas.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna read a little and then crash out. Do me a favor?”
“Anything you want, brother.”
“Keep all this under your hat.”
“Scout’s honor. But Paulie, listen,” Mickey got up and put both hands on Paul’s shoulders, going right in his face, his steely blue eyes penetrating Paul’s dark eyes. “You blacked out how many times? Got into a wreck. Got picked up by the cops. Almost got into a gunfight at the O.K. Corral, and that’s just the stuff you told me about. They’re could be something serious going on. I mean … medically. Or mentally.”
Paul smiled and tapped Mickey on the cheek. “That’s the thing. Since that last blackout I feel great. I don’t know what it is, but I feel fantastic all of a sudden. Like, I flipped a switch.”
“Promise me, if you black out or try to take on Twentynine Palms Marine base, you’ll check yourself in and get help.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“Wait a minute,” Mickey said, relaxing his hold, “we weren’t even Boy Scouts!”
“Okay, Buckeye honor!” Paul shouted.
“Buckeye honor.”
“By the way, speaking of the old neighborhood, how’s Brielle? I haven’t heard from her.”
“You won’t believe this. After she took over your apartment, she started hanging out with us deplorables, in The Buckeye after-hours when she got off work downtown at St. Mark’s Lounge.”
“Really? Brielle?”
“Yeah, and she’s engaged. To a fireman, that rookie Ramirez, from Review Place. He moved in with her.”
“A fireman! Where did I go wrong?” Paul laughed. “Say hi for me when you see her.”
“You’re really not coming back?”
“Nah. This is it. I got that high desert high. I’m beat. I’ll make coffee in the morning. Nightie-night.”
There was no time for a long good-bye. Mickey scarfed down some coffee and toast, took a shower, and left a dust trail behind him as he sped down the dirt road, next stop Las Vegas. Paul waved good-bye and watched the dust swirling behind the car until it dissipated and melded in with the rest of the dirt, dust, and hardscrabble left behind. A roadrunner came from under a creosote bush and rushed towards Paul. He stopped short, just a few feet away, head darting back and forth as he checked out Paul, standing there, statue-like. It seemed the less movement you made, whether standing or sitting in the yard or the park or taking a break on a hike, the more likely a critter would appear seemingly from nowhere. They had an extended staring contest, and in those seconds, or maybe minute or two, Paul felt like he deserved to stand close by this beautiful bird.
High Desert High
Chapter Eleven
It wasn’t unusual to see people on horseback come down his long driveway, but even from a distance he could see that Mabel’s horse was trotting – instead of doing its normal slow walk – and that meant something was up. Paul stepped out to the front porch, morning coffee in hand.
Before the horse even stopped, she was talking. “Just found out we’ve got a problem, and I just don’t know what to do.”
“Come inside and grab some coffee,” Paul said, as Mabel dismounted and tied the horse to the porch post. Paul poured a cup and pointed for Mabel to sit. “Tell me about it.”
“You know those godawful ginormous windmills down by the freeway in Palm Springs?”
“How could you not?”
“Well
, some giant energy conglomerate from up in Washington State got hundreds of millions of grant money for so-called ‘clean energy’ and is going to put them up here,” Mabel said, her hands shaking slightly.
“Calm down. What do you mean up here?”
“Here in the BLM. Across all these hills, these washes, these Joshua tree pastures. Everywhere. It will ruin everything.”
“Those things are the worst! Every study shows they don’t even offset their carbon footprint for their own life expectancy.”
“They will destroy everything. Our birds, our bats, our wildlife, our sacred lands.”
“Not to mention our real estate values, those scumbags.”
“What do we do?”
“You want some milk?”
“Yes, please,” Mabel said, already looking defeated.
As Paul went to open the refrigerator, he looked at the Serenity Prayer magnet on the door for the ten-millionth time since he discovered it in his pocket after that fateful night. His eyes zeroed in on the word courage.
“Mabel, I went through this once before. Not here, but back in New York City.”
“They have windmills in New York City?”
“No. But they have scumbag politicians and crooks who’ll do anything to make a buck. Even risking the lives of more than birds, bats, and the landscape. They just bulldoze through and destroy everything in their path. It ain’t gonna happen here. You know that community center in town? We’re going to have a meeting there. There’s no way they’re getting away with this again. Not on my watch.”
“You’re a good man, Paul.”
“I’m trying.”
Mabel hopped on her horse and they slowly walked up the driveway and down the dirt road.
Paul didn’t want to screw this evening up. It was going to be just Kate and him. He had all the veggies, all the tofu, all the yogurt, all the ground flax seed, and several kinds of olive oils and vinegars. There would be music, candles, even incense! The outdoor fire pit was stocked with wood for an evening fire and the chaise lounges were in line with the Milky Way for optimum stargazing. He even set up a telescope that was already aiming at Saturn, so the rings would already be in the eyepiece without having to search.
Paul had been taking Beast on long hikes through the BLM, sometimes for hours. And most times, they wouldn’t run into another human the entire time. There were plenty of critters along the way, slinking, darting, staring, and sometimes it seemed like they were performing for them. Once in a while, one or two people might pass by on horseback, which always made Paul think about how not much had changed around here for centuries, if not thousands of years. These boulders, these Joshua trees, and these hundreds of years old creosote trees were here when Native Americans had never seen a white man. Before there were guns, and internal combustion engines, and smartphones. Paul tried hard to imagine he was traveling back in time when he was on those hikes. And as he breathed in the arid air, shared some water with Beast, and sat on the shady side of a boulder it was getting easier to do. He couldn’t believe how or why he got so lucky. He felt great for the first time in years and he was grateful.
Kate looked incredible when she stepped into the living room, lit by candlelight. The soft light danced off her silver earrings, necklace, and belt buckle. Her eyes twinkled like Milky Way stars. Gram Parsons was singing “Return of the Grievous Angel” on the CD player. Paul looked at Beast on his dog bed, and he could swear he was nodding his head, as if to tell him to get close to Kate. He did.
“Kate. I just realized something about us.”
Kate laughed. “Really? About us?”
“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t dated for decades.”
“Is that what this is? A date?”
“I mean, I guess….”
“Paul,” Kate said, holding out her hands, palms up. “Give me your hands.”
Paul did.
She pulled Paul close to her and they kissed a kiss as lovers do.
Kate whispered, “Did you feel anything?”
“Wow. Yeah. I haven’t felt that in a long time.”
“Good. So did I. Shall we eat?”
As they ate, engaged in small talk, laughed, smiled, and flirted, Paul tried to remember when he felt so comfortable with a woman. He knew it was those early days with Marcy, when young love was magic. And the future seemed like a far-off dream.
“I thought we’d do some stargazing, then maybe afterwards light the fire outside,” Paul said, standing behind Kate’s chair and placing his hands on her shoulders.
She turned, reached for his hand and kissed it. “Sounds perfect.”
Suddenly, the music stopped, and all the power in the house was lost.
“At least we have candles,” Paul said. He grabbed a few candles, and lit them. “Let’s go outside and see if the lights are out everywhere.”
They stepped out the door, and Paul looked up in the sky. “Do you see that?”
“Yes, I do.”
Directly above them, high in the sky, was a bright, shiny object, slightly larger than a star, wobbling, but not twinkling like a star.
“Look at that,” Paul said, holding Kate’s hand.
The bright object, moved to the left, the right, then shot straight up, and seemed to burst into a million bits of starlight and become part of the Milky Way.
“What in God’s name …?” Kate whispered.
Paul dropped to his knees, head bowed, clutching his heart.
“Are you okay, Paul? What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. I got this tingling in my whole body.”
“Like a sharp pain? Should I call 911?”
“No. It felt … pleasant.”
“That was weird,” Kate said, helping Paul up.
“Did you ever hear that when a shooting star goes up, not down, it means something?” Paul whispered.
“Something? Like what?”
“It means that someone in purgatory was just promoted to heaven.”
“Like every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings?” Kate asked, perplexed, but smiling.
“Wait. I know. Hold the flashlight and follow me.”
Paul rushed over to the Escape, and began emptying out everything from the rear cargo area.
“What are you doing?” Kate said.
Paul lifted the spare tire and took out a cardboard box. “I’ve got it. Don’t think I’m insane.”
“What is that?”
“It should contain my ex-wife’s ashes.”
“Okaaaay.”
“Only, I’m not sure if they’re in there.”
“’And why would that be?”
“I had this dream. And in the dream, my wife, Marcy, told me that purgatory is an actual place. Out there in the universe. And when you’re in purgatory you have to earn your way to heaven to leave the physical world behind.”
Paul opened the box, and there was a metal container inside. He shook it and it sounded like there were ashes in there.
“Let’s go back inside and have some tea.”
“Wait. Hold the flashlight steady.”
Kate held the flashlight on the container. It had a small plaque on it that read “Marcy Santo.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Positive,” Paul said, holding the lid. He pulled it open and he was shocked at what he was saw.
“Look! See that! Those are her ashes.” Paul said, hands shaking.
“Of course they are.” Kate said, mystified. “What else would they be?”
“After my car accident, I noticed after it was fixed that some of this spilled out.” Paul’s eyes widened in the harsh light of the flashlight. “When it spilled it was rocks and dirt. It wasn’t her ashes. I didn’t know what to do at the time. I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to know.”
Paul closed the lid, placed the container in the box, and put it back under the spare.
“Now I know. This is what’s left of her body. She’s made her transition. We just
saw it. I just felt it. I know it. Let’s keep this between us.”
“I don’t know how or why, but I believe you.”
Paul closed up the Escape and they went back to the darkened house. As soon as they stepped inside the kitchen, the lights came back on and the Gram Parsons CD began playing again on the boom box.
Paul and Kate stared at each other, not saying a word for a good minute.
Paul closed the door behind them and locked it.
“Would you like to stay?”
“Yes, I would, Paulie.” Kate said, smiling.
They turned out the lights, blew out the candles and walked hand-in-hand to the bedroom, with Beast right behind them, wagging his tail.
High Desert High Page 27