by Nancy N. Rue
I stopped pacing. “You’re going to make me talk to her, aren’t you?”
“No. You don’t even have to answer the phone if that’s what you decide.”
I leaned on the railing beside him and stared at my bare toes and wished my mind would go back to its hamster wheel and think about painting toenails with Weezie tomorrow or where I left my sunglasses or anything else–even Rocky– that would keep me from thinking about this thing that was choking me with its tears.
“Do you want me to pray with you, Jess?”
I looked up from my toenails. “On that kneeler thing?”
“You mean the prayer table?”
“In the Everything Room.”
He formed that on his lips and then nodded. “We don’t have to pray there–we can pray anywhere.”
“I want to pray there,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. “I think there’s room on there for all of us.”
“Weezie’s going to pray with us?”
“No,” Lou said. “God is.”
When I tiptoed into the bedroom to get RL after Lou prayed and I held back tears, Weezie squinted up at me and said in a voice that reminded me of mushy oatmeal, “You can sleep in here.”
“You sure?” I said, hugging the book against me.
“Uh-huh.”
I thought she’d drifted off again, and then she said, “Can I go to coffee with you and Rocky tomorrow? I promise I won’t flirt with him. I know he’s your boyfriend.”
It was as if she’d stabbed me, and for once she didn’t even know it. My phone rang and saved me–except for the chill of dread that wrapped itself around my chest. I grabbed it out of the drawer and hurried out to the kitchen before I answered.
“It’s not ten o’clock tomorrow,” I whispered into it.
“Jess?” said the voice I didn’t expect.
“Marcus?” I said.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t say hi to me.”
“Hi!” I glanced at the door to Lou’s room, but his light was off. Still, I took the phone out onto the deck so I wouldn’t wake him up. A breeze was blowing the stars around out there and I could smell the ocean in its salty sleepiness. I felt like I could breathe for the first time since my mother called. It also occurred to me that the alarm didn’t go off. That was comforting too– the fact that Lou hadn’t set it.
“Are you still there?” Marcus said.
“Yes. Sorry,” I said. “Are you back from Canada?”
“Yeah. When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know. My mom is still away–” I squeezed my eyes shut. “You know what, she’s not away. Not exactly. She’s in the hospital, in the mental ward, and she’s getting worse instead of better so I don’t know when–”
“Could you come back if you had a place to stay?”
“I don’t,” I said.
“Yes, you do, if you want it.”
So much for breathing.
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“My aunt and uncle I was on the trip with are staying in a condo here for two weeks. I told them about you, and they said you could stay there in the extra room. That’s all you need, two weeks, right?”
It was the most Marcus had ever said to me at one time, and he wasn’t done.
“I told them you were my girlfriend so they’d say yes, so you’ll have to pretend you are. Unless you really want to be. I mean, do you?”
I got up on the railing and gripped it with my free hand. Don’t blurt. Do not blurt.
“I guess not, huh?” His voice was small and hurt.
“No, wait. It’s just a lot to take in all at once–”
“I did what you wanted me to do.”
“I know, but things have changed. I’m not really with a ’relative.’ I’m with my bio–I’m with my father.”
“You said you didn’t have a father.”
“I didn’t think I did. It’s really complicated and–”
“So are you coming home or not?”
I heard something in Marcus’s voice I had never ever heard there before and never thought I would. I slid off the railing.
“Are you mad at me, Marcus?” I said.
“Yeah. I am.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
But there was no answer. CALL ENDED, the screen on my cell phone said.
I had the feeling that wasn’t all that had ended.
I didn’t get to RL until late the next afternoon when we’d dropped Weezie off after the church service that Rocky didn’t come to and had eaten lunch at the Crab Shack. It was raining and Lou was kind of quiet, so I said I could use some alone time. He seemed like he understood. But, then, when didn’t he?
I was lonely. No big surprise. Sure, Weezie had been on me all morning like she was my Siamese twin, and two more girls said hi to me at church. And asked me where Rocky was.
It wasn’t just that. Marcus had left a huge hole–even though I figured out that he really didn’t know me, since everything I’d ever said or been with him had basically been a lie. Chelsea too. Maybe even my mom.
It was that–the thought of my mom’s coming phone call–that made me close the door and pull out RL. I didn’t go back to “Love your enemies.” I hoped Yeshua would have something new to show me that would help me, because in spite of the praying last night and in church, I still had no idea how to be with her now.
“One night, one of the Pharisees asked Yeshua over for dinner,” I read.
I’d meant to ask somebody if the Pharisees were the jerks I seemed to know they were from somewhere.
The Pharisees, by the way, were this group of people who had the job of making sure everybody followed the rules of their religion. This wasn’t bad in itself except that they’d gotten so into the nitpicky don’t-do-this-don’t-do-that, they’d pretty much forgotten about love and compassion and helping people. That’s why watching Yeshua bent them out of shape. He was a threat to the control they had over people.
Oh. So they were like some teachers I’d had who claimed to care about our education but acted like they couldn’t stand us. I got that.
Yeshua sat down at the dinner table, and a woman came in. She was, shall we say, a woman of questionable reputation.
I knew the type.
She’d heard Yeshua was having dinner there, and she brought a bottle of very pricey perfume. She stood in front of Yeshua, crying, just sobbing, so hard her tears were running down onto Yeshua’s toes. Then she let down her long hair out of its clasp and dried his feet with it and kissed them. Next she poured the perfume on them like she was placing a blessing on his heels and soles and toes.
Part of me thought that was weird, bordering on gross. A bigger part of me could picture it as the most beautiful thing you could do for a person like Yeshua.
His host didn’t think so. He thought to himself, “If this guy was the prophet I was starting to think he was, he would have known what kind of woman it is who’s making a fool of herself over him.”
“She is not,” I said. “She loves him.”
Yeshua just said, “I’ll tell you a story. There were two men and both of them owed money to a banker. One owed five hundred silver pieces. The other one owed fifty. Neither one of them could come up with what they owed to pay back the banker. The banker told them both to forget it–they didn’t have to pay the debt. Which one do you think would be more grateful?”
This was a no-brainer.
The Pharisee said, “I guess it would be the one who had the most to pay back. He was forgiven more so he’d be more grateful.” Yeshua said, “Exactly. Now, do you see this woman?”
I could see her still rubbing Yeshua’s feet and crying because he was letting her, instead of telling her she was a low-life tramp and to get away from him.
“I came to your home and you didn’t have any water ready for me to wash my feet,” which, incidentally, would’ve been dirty from walking around in sandals on unpaved streets all day. A decent host alway
s had water available for guest foot washings. Yeshua said, “But she washed my feet with her own tears and dried them with her hair. You barely said hello to me when I came in, but ever since I sat down she’s been kissing my feet. You didn’t offer me anything to make my visit comfortable, but she’s still massaging my ankles with this incredible perfume. I’m impressed with her. And do you know why she’s doing this?”
I thought I might.
“Because she was forgiven many sins and she is extremely grateful.”
Yeah. That’s what I thought.
Then Yeshua said to the woman, “I forgive your sins.” Well, THAT got everybody all worked up. The host and the rest of the guests muttered to each other, “Where does he get off forgiving sins? Does he think he’s God or something?”
Yeshua didn’t even let them know he could hear them. He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
The page blurred just like it had before, only this time I didn’t drop the book and call myself nuts. It was talking to me. I could be that woman, because I’d messed up so many times I would kiss Yeshua’s feet if he forgave me. I believed it, and if that made me crazy, okay. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
That was why I was ready for my mom when she called. She could put me down for forgetting stuff and being dense and roaming around like a raccoon all night. It didn’t matter.
And not only that, but I knew what I was going to say to her, no matter what it was she had to say to me.
Still, I hung out with Lou in the Everything Room until the phone rang. When it did, he tilted his head at me and said, “You okay?” and I said yes and took the cell into the bedroom, closed the door, and answered it.
“It took you long enough,” Mom said.
I had the weird feeling that we were just picking up last night’s conversation–and every other conversation we’d ever had–right where we left off.
“Sorry,” I said. “I had to get off by myself, like you said.” More “treating other people the way you want to be treated.” It was easier with Weezie.
“Good,” she said, and her voice settled down some. “I want you to listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“And try to focus, all right, because this is important.”
“Okay,” I said again. My teeth were already grinding together.
“I’m going to be getting out of here soon. They aren’t helping me at all so I’m going to find another doctor. They can’t keep me here against my will.”
In spite of the evening-still heat, I shivered and pulled the comforter over my lap.
“Are you listening to me?” she said.
“Yes.”
“As soon as I get out, I want you home. Lou doesn’t seem to think that’s going to happen, but he has evidently forgotten who he’s dealing with. He says it’s your decision, but I don’t believe that for a minute. He’s always been a control freak. Like most alcoholics. Has he told you he’s an alcoholic? Oh, excuse me–a reformed alcoholic.”
She was babbling on in a way that was so familiar it made my mouth go dry. She sounded just like me.
“Hello?” she said.
“I’m here,” I said.
“In body maybe. Jessie, have you heard a thing I’ve said?”
“Yes,” I said. “It is my decision. Lou says I always have a choice.”
“Sure, as long as it’s the one he’s already made for you.”
Her voice was hard and nasty. I had to grit my teeth even harder to keep from blurting at her.
“All right, so what is your ‘decision’?” she said.
“I’m going to stay here with him.”
She actually laughed. “And how long do you plan for that to go on?”
“I don’t know. Until you’re completely better, I guess.”
“Until Saint Lou says I’m better is more like it. Why did I not know that he would completely snow you like he did me way back when? And that was even before he had the Twelve-Step Program.” She coughed out another laugh that reminded me of sandpaper. “You have no idea what he’s doing, do you?”
I didn’t answer.
“It’s the same thing they try to make you do in here,” she said. “Go through the twelve steps to recovery and you will be healed. He’s just doing this to complete Step–what is it– Nine? Just like he did with his other kid. What’s her name? Wheezer?”
I was suddenly sorry I’d ever called Weezie that. And sorry I’d answered the phone.
“Yes, this is Step Nine,” my mother said, still sputtering away.
“I don’t care what step it is,” I said. “I’m staying here.”
She stopped laughing. “All right, enough with this. Lou might let you make ‘decisions,’ but I don’t parent that way. You are coming home when I get out of here, and that’s it. Start packing. Am I clear?”
I wasn’t sure which one of us hung up first.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I didn’t tell Lou what my mother said, even though he stayed up until I was off the phone and gave me every head-tilting, eyes-soft, “you okay?” chance to. I just couldn’t say it to him– all that hateful stuff she’d spewed out like she was coughing up phlegm. I wouldn’t have wanted him to say it to me.
But it kept coming up inside for the next three days.
Anytime any phone rang anywhere I was, I panicked that she was calling to take me back home to the very place I’d been dying to be and now couldn’t stand the thought of.
Every time I heard Lou talking in a low voice so that I couldn’t hear everything he was saying, I started to come apart, because I was sure he was talking to some official somebody who said he had to return me like stolen goods.
By Thursday I finally couldn’t stand it. I had to talk to somebody. But it had to be someone who wasn’t going to go to Lou and tell him the things I didn’t want him to hear. That left out Weezie–who wasn’t even a candidate anyway–and Rocky–who was, after all, Lou’s babysitter and who was avoiding me anyway. There basically was nobody who didn’t seem to talk to Lou about everything.
Nobody, that is, except the one person who didn’t talk much to anybody at all.
I didn’t think of it until Rose and I were in the kitchen together and she was showing me how to put the vinegar dressing in the rice. I had the feeling she was only letting me do it because Bonsai wasn’t there at the moment. As I watched her and copied her, it made me think about how the way she moved was so soft and quiet and how she didn’t say anything but I felt like she was talking to me anyway…
“Rose,” I said. “Can I talk to you about something?”
She smiled at me and bowed and went back to spreading the rice out with the paddle. I decided that was Rose for yes.
So I took a deep breath and I told her. Everything. How I felt about Lou when I first had to come here. How I couldn’t stand Weezie for a long time. How I hated it when he planned my whole life out for me and when Weezie announced to the world that I had ADHD. How all of that had messed things up with Rocky so I couldn’t even hang out with him anymore because it hurt too much. Then I had to back way up and tell her about my mother before I could go on and explain what I really wanted to talk about, which was all the things she said about Lou.
Up ‘til then Rose just nodded and kept lifting and mixing. But when I told her about my mother saying Lou was just helping me because of some step thing he was doing, she stopped and put down the paddle. Her face went hard like one of those porcelain dolls.
“No,” she said.
“No what?” I said.
“She wrong about Lou.”
Rose went to the doorway and looked into the part of the kitchen where Bonsai usually worked, like she was making sure he wasn’t there. When she came back to me, her eyes were stern as a math teacher’s. I put down my paddle too.
“Lou help Bonsai,” she said. “He come here poor–no green card.”
“You mean like an illegal alien?” I said.
&nbs
p; She nodded. “Bonsai steal food from Lou–” She seemed to be searching for a word and then pointed to the refrigerator.
“From his fridge?” I said. “At his house?”
“No. Here.” This time she pointed out toward the shop. “Lou find him but he not call–” Again she searched.
“The police?” I said.
“Yes. He help Bonsai–give him this.” She waved her hand around the kitchen. “Pay for me come. Give him name Bonsai. Help him become American citizen. ”
“Wow,” I said.
“No ‘steps,’” she said as if she had just tasted some bad sushi. “Lou do this because he–”
She stopped and blinked her tiny crinkly eyes, and I saw tears streaming from their corners. She crossed her hands over her heart.
“Lou did it because he loved Bonsai,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, in a voice so firm I had to look twice to make sure it was still her. She pressed her fingertips on my forehead and said, “Remember, Yes.”
Then she went back to the rice. I sighed all the way from my knees.
I didn’t know what to do with myself after I got off work, now that there was no Rocky to be with. I didn’t realize it until I was just sitting on Levi in the parking lot and waiting that he’d become like a best friend. If he’d been a girl, we’d still be together. If he’d been like Marcus, I could have thought of him like he was a girl. But he wasn’t. He was different from everybody, and it hurt even to think about him.
It would hurt worse to have him keep babysitting you, I told myself. So get over it.
“Are you in as bad a mood as I am?”
I looked up, accidentally jerking the handlebars. Rocky put a hand out to steady them and touched the side of mine with his fingers. I wanted to curl my own fingers around them. Instead I said, “Do I look like I’m in a bad mood?”
“You look a little cranky. ‘Course, it’s kind of hard to tell–”
He cut himself off and scrunched his face up, but he was too late.
I couldn’t remind him how far ahead of him I was in questions, though. We would start bantering and I’d be right back where I was before.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Ask.”
I shook my head. He stuck his hands on his wonderful skinny hips.