“Only in gym class. Got my ass wiped most of the time.”
“Figured as much; you don’t have the build for it. I wrestled in high school. Went to all-state but damned if I didn’t get my shoulder dislocated in the semi-finals. Not a day goes by it don’t hurt. Piss away a fortune on that roll-on shit they sell on television. Wanna know what it feels like having your shoulder dislocated, Ricky?”
“Not really.”
“Hurts like a fucking bastard.” Without warning Grimm leaped at me and in a split-second had me in a hold. I could feel his naked body pressing close against mine, leveraging me into position for whatever it was he had in mind. His body hair felt like a horsehair blanket with the horse still in it.
“Them ancient Greeks and the Romans wrestled naked, did you know that? That’s where we get the word gymnasium. See, gymnos is Greek for ‘naked.’ It means like, ‘naked-asium.’ Get it?” He squeezed harder; I felt my right shoulder joint tighten, then start to give.
“I get it,” I gasped in pain.
Grimm spoke calmly, gripping me more tightly and inescapably than any schoolyard bully. “Now anybody asks you, it was Snug that done this, right? It was Snug that come back to your office and overpowered you while you was working late on a Saturday, Snug that threatened to kill you and your whole fucking family if you testified against him, and Snug that beat you within an inch of your life, get it?”
I nodded rapidly. Grimm’s chin clamped over my left shoulder like a vise while he murmured words in my ear with a voice soft as a lover’s. “Public interest lawyer my ass. You ain’t fooling nobody. I’ll bet you’ve fucked half the clients that come through those doors, haven’t you, cocksucker? Meantime your sexy wife sits home ignored while you let a missing link like Snug Robbins play with your cock in the dark. You some kind of faggot, or what?”
“How many kinds are there?” I whispered.
“Suppose I was to fuck you up the ass right now and find out?”
“Let me go,” I pleaded in a voice made tiny as a child’s from Grimm compressing my chest.
Grimm’s arms were iron bands around my body. He did something that moved my right arm into a crazy angle. “It’s these goddamn steroids, is what it is,” he said. “Keeps me young and in shape for on the job but shrinks down my peeder and balls at the same time. Oh, well, everything in life is a trade-off, ain’t that right, Ricky? By the way, you right-handed or left-handed? Course, not every man jacks with his dominant hand, but in the game just now I coulda sworn you was right-handed. I’m right, ain’t I? Correct, I mean.” He let up on the chest pressure barely enough to let me speak.
Struggling for air I said, “You’re a trained observer, Lieutenant.” I thought about how convenient it would be for me with Snug put away; how grateful Heart would be to have him out of her life and safely ensconced in a distant penitentiary for decades like the other men in her life. All I had to do was lie under oath to make it happen.
“You gonna remember what I said, Ricky? About how Snug come in here and did this to you?”
I nodded and tried to speak but no sound came out.
“Because if you try and tell it any different, I’m all of a sudden gonna remember the truth about what went down here tonight, everything I saw. And I’m gonna tell Diane and everybody the truth, the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth. We don’t want that now, do we?”
I shook my head.
“I can’t hear ya, Ricky. Do we want that or don’t we?”
“Anything but,” I wheezed. Maybe it was the wrong answer to a poorly-phrased compound question, because at that moment Grimm jerked my right arm. A crazy jolt of agony shot through my shoulder, into my neck and down my arm. When Grimm let go I could no longer feel my right arm; my hand was pins and needles and I didn’t know whether I would ever be able to move the fingers of my right hand again.
Back in the day when my practice had been concentrated in personal injury, insurance adjusters could be counted upon to pooh-pooh mere shoulder dislocations as “soft-tissue injuries,” and open their offers with specials and a taste, in other words not much over the medical bills for pain and suffering. I had listened to client after client relate their stories of ongoing pain, stiffness and multiple complaints from injuries no different from the one Grimm had deliberately inflicted on me—the first step in being drawn and quartered. And now here I was, sitting naked on my office floor, and couldn’t even begin to dress myself with one arm hanging dead and useless. The weight of the arm I couldn’t feel tore away at my shoulder joint like a twisting knife blade.
“You could say he forced you to strip naked to humiliate you, maybe even tried to rape you; I’ll leave that part up to your discretion,” Grimm went on. He was getting dressed, pulling his suit pants on over his shoes. “Lay it on as thick as you want, I don’t care. Long as you tell it right in court and Snug goes away for good. I’ll call it in, but first let me get rid of all this booze.”
Grimm straightened up the office; I lay on the floor and tried not to move. From that point I don’t know how much time went by. All I remember is that Grimm returned and stood over me.
“You want what Kevin got?” he said. “You got it coming, you ask me.”
“No. Please.”
He appeared to weigh my request for a few seconds and then said, “Fuck it. You’re Kevin’s lawyer; you’re getting the same as he got.” The toe of Grimm’s black military shoe crashed into my left eye once, then again and again.
Fireworks went off in my head, and in the center was Grimm’s face, a big leering man-in-the-moon. An announcer’s voice crooned over lush orchestral swells, “With the stars Art Carney.”
Crash went the shoe. “Audrey Meadows.”
Crash again. “Joyce Randolph.” More fireworks.
One final crash, hard enough to change the channel. Almost pleasant this time, like waves lapping on a distant shore. “And Jerry Mathers as the Beaver.”
I must still have been whistling the happy theme song to myself while they strapped me onto the gurney and wheeled me out to the waiting ambulance parked in the alley.
CHAPTER NINE - THE TWO GERASIMI
The first face I saw through my right eye where the man-in-the-moon had been was Heart’s. I found myself lying in a hospital bed in broad daylight. Bandages covered my left eye. A figure-eight brace immobilized my right shoulder. Heart’s face brightened when she saw me awake.
“Hey, look who’s back in the land of the living,” she called to someone off to her right. Diane moved into my narrow field of vision, beaming expectantly. The two women hovered over me as though welcoming a newborn babe into the world.
“I am so, so sorry, Boss,” Heart began, leaning forward to stroke my face. Her hand was cool velvet. She was wearing a red cardigan open over a starched white blouse. Diane reached and caressed my other cheek. Her hand felt silky warm and tender. They glanced at each other with what looked like a mixture of relief and exhaustion. When I tried to speak I found I couldn’t unclench my teeth; my tongue soon told me my left eyetooth, lateral incisor and canine tooth were missing. Something like barbed wire raked across my tongue tip so I quit exploring.
“That animal shattered your jaw; they had to wire it shut and pull one of your teeth so you can take liquid nourishment for the next few weeks,” Heart explained.
Like a mail-order ventriloquist I asked her, “What about my eye?”
“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” Diane said. “Which do you want first?”
“Married to a lawyer all these years you still have to ask? Always lead with the bad news.” It was hard getting all that out.
She hesitated, then said, “The ophthalmologist will be making rounds this afternoon; she’ll take the bandages off and assess the damage. If any.”
“But the good news is, they x-rayed your head and found nothing.” Heart added cheerfully.
“Very funny.”
“In other words, there’s not what they call a blow-out orbi
tal fracture, in fact there are no fractures. Except for your poor jaw, that is. Does it hurt?”
“Only when I wonder how I’m going to pay for all this.”
“How about the Crime Victims Compensation Act?”
“Good idea; I won’t worry as much now. You’re a smart paralegal, Heart, always thinking.”
“That’s me. I feel so personally responsible, though. I wish there were some way I could make it up to you.”
Before I could come back with a suitably randy rejoinder with my wife in attendance, Father Gerasimos entered the room. He made the sign of the cross and said, “God bless all here.” Approaching my bed he marveled, “Looks like you were in a knockout, Gerasimos.”
“Thank you so much for coming, Father,” Diane said.
“We’ve missed you at liturgy and vespers lately, Priscilla,” Father Gerasimos chided gently, addressing Diane by her church name. “You used to come so regularly.” Diane smiled and looked away. She had not been to church in months. Now I knew why.
“Why are you calling him and her by those weird names?” Heart asked the priest.
“Gerasimos; it’s my communion name, or church name,” I explained, “and Diane’s is Priscilla. Father, meet my paralegal Heart Robbins. Heart, meet my parish priest Father Gerasimos.”
Father Gerasimos, nearly thirty years of age and all of one hundred-twenty pounds soaking wet, extended his hand to be kissed. Instead, Heart grasped it in a hearty handshake.
“Hi, Gerasimos,” she said. “You two guys both have the same name, huh? Coincidence?”
“You’re supposed to address a priest as Father,” I gently corrected her.
“Sorry. No offense, but our church teaches us to call no man Father.”
“Call me anything you like,” Father Gerasimos said, “as long as you don’t call me late for supper.”
“You look like you’ve missed quite a few meals already, Gerasimos, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Not at all,” Father Gerasimos replied with an indulgent smile. “Our church encourages fasting. Maybe I have a tendency to get carried away.”
“That name kills me,” Heart went on. “Sounds kind of like what the skydivers say right before they jump: Geronimo! Is it Native American by any chance?”
“Greek,” he said. “Gerasimos of the Jordan was a fourth-century monk. The holy icons traditionally depict him in physical contact with a lion.”
“Why’s that? Was he a Leo?”
“Tradition holds that Gerasimos of the Jordan happened upon a lion in distress with a thorn stuck in his paw. Gerasimos, his deep compassion for the animal’s suffering overcoming his natural fear, removed the thorn from the lion’s paw. To his amazement, the lion became tame out of gratitude and began following Gerasimos wherever he went.”
“Kind of like that Aesop’s fable Androcles and the Lion, then?”
“Something like that.”
“Why not compare it to Siegfried and Roy while you’re at it?” I interrupted, suddenly irritated with Heart’s ignorance.
“Ricky,” Diane began.
“Or Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion.” It must have been the medication. “These things aren’t fables, Heart; they’re an integral part of church history.” Tricky Ricky Galeer, Defender of the Faith.
“So then what happened?” Heart asked the priest, ignoring me.
“Holy Tradition tells us that the lion fed on the same vegetables and lentils as did Gerasimos and the other monks. The lion’s job was to guard the monastery’s water-bearing donkey.”
“Sounds a little like the fox watching the henhouse, but go on,” Heart said.
“One day while the lion slept an evil trader stole the donkey. Gerasimos and the other brothers naturally assumed that the lion had betrayed their trust and had eaten the donkey. Gerasimos made the lion do penance by assigning him the donkey’s job, carrying the water jars from the river to supply the monastery.”
“Poor lion. I know how he must have felt.”
“Providence led the same evil trader’s caravan past the monastery once more. When the lion saw the stolen donkey among them, he roared so loudly that he summoned Gerasimos, who recovered the donkey from the thief. Gerasimos repented of his anger against the lion, whose name was ‘Jordanes.’ From that time forth, Gerasimos and Jordanes were inseparable companions until, when Gerasimos died, Jordanes lay prostrate on Gerasimos’s grave, roared and beat his head against the ground and could not be comforted. Jordanes himself soon died of a broken heart, still lying on the final resting place of his master’s mortal remains.”
I looked over at Heart with my one good eye. She was tearful.
“Poor Jordanes.”
“One might take the story as a parable: as Orthodox Christians we are to avoid all judgment. We see how even a great saint of the church like Gerasimos was not totally free from the sin of judging others. All judging of others carries the peril of forming false judgments and thereby condemning the innocent and offending God. Remember, even Christ Himself was wrongfully accused. Avoid all judgment. Only God can judge.”
“That is such a beautiful story, Gerasimos.”
“There are many others. Perhaps when Ricky recovers, he and Diane might consider inviting you as their guest to our Liturgy.”
“That’ll be the day,” Heart said. “I mean, my mother would have a freaking cow if she caught me setting foot inside a Catholic church.”
“Eastern Orthodox,” Father Gerasimos corrected her.
“Same thing, right?”
“Not for over a thousand years.”
“That long, huh?” Heart said. “We’re Elohim’s Disciples,” she added. “Harold and me. At least we were. My Mom’s Jehovah’s Witness.”
Father Gerasimos said nothing.
“Elohim’s Disciples?” Diane asked Heart. “Isn’t that that biker church, the one they’re always talking about on the TV news?”
“You don’t have to be a biker to join,” Heart said, “but it helps.”
“From what I understand, and this is strictly from television, they handle snakes and drink deadly poison in their rituals, don’t they, Heart?”
“I’m really not supposed to talk about it with non-members,” Heart replied.
“What day is it?” I asked.
“Tuesday morning,” Diane said. “You’ve been in and out for over two days, Ricky, talking out of your head half the time.”
“Nothing intelligible I hope.”
Diane’s long silence unnerved me.
“I mean, I hope I didn’t give away any secrets. Any professional confidences.”
“No. Nothing like that, Dear.”
“What did I say?”
“You talked a lot about Kevin, for one thing.”
“Kevin!” I blurted out. “What about Kevin? Is he still a patient here?”
“Calm down, Boss. I checked on his status and yes, he’s still being held for observation and treatment,” Heart said.
“Is he allowed visitors?”
“Boss, you’re in no condition—”
“I want to go see Kevin! He’s my client as well as my sponsor. I owe it to him.”
“Let’s wait and see what the eye doc says first, okay, Boss?” Heart pleaded.
“Has anybody said how long before I can go back to work?”
“I checked in at the office, continued all your court appearances and rescheduled all your appointments, Boss man. Considered yourself red-shirted, at least for now.”
“Aren’t you glad you hired her, Ricky?”
I heard familiar footsteps echoing down the hallway. Lieutenant Grimm appeared at the door to my room. I closed my eyes, but not before he’d seen me awake.
“Feel up to giving that statement now?” he said.
“Do you mind? My priest just got here. As a matter of fact,” I said, ‘why don’t you all take a few minutes, go on down to the cafeteria and have a cup of coffee, whatever, while Father and I chat in private?”
<
br /> After they had left the room Father Gerasimos drew closer to my bedside. “What can I do for you, Gerasimos?” he asked.
“Close the door for starters?”
He pushed it nearly shut, then returned and stood beside me, his hand resting on the bedrail. “If memory serves, it has been nearly a month since your last confession, Gerasimos. Are you troubled about anything?”
“Have you brought along your gear, Father? You’re gonna need it.”
“I always come prepared.” Without further preamble Father Gerasimos set out the icon of Christ, lit a votive candle and draped his sacramental stole around his shoulders. After the preliminaries he asked me if I had committed any sins since my last good confession. And in a low voice I spilled them all, throwing in Diane’s newly-discovered transgressions of the flesh for good measure. When I had finished, in a non-judgmental voice he said, “I take it Jordanes would have been fully justified in rebelling against the yoke of water-bearing, isn’t that so?”
“I guess.”
“And in so rebelling he would have been merely reverting to his natural state, a state of wildness, a predatory condition, am I right?”
“True.”
“And yet, when Gerasimos condemned him to carry water like a donkey, did Jordanes obey?”
“That’s what the story says, yes.”
“Even though his condemnation was undeserved?”
“Yes, Father.”
“But why? Why did he obey?”
“I suppose because he loved Gerasimos so much and was so grateful to him for everything Gerasimos had done for him up to that point. But what does that have to do with what I’ve confessed to you?”
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