Heaven or Hell

by Roni Teson

  A tear spilled down JJ’s cheek suddenly saddening Teresa’s own heart.

  “It’s going to be okay, JJ.” She moved closer and rubbed his back. “You’ve got to tell this attorney everything, okay? And nobody’s going to hate you.”

  JJ gulped some air as he tried to hold back on crying. The boy then nodded his approval.

  “Okay, let’s call the attorney. What’s his number, JJ?” Teresa asked.

  “I only have his name,” JJ said with a sniffle. “I can get it quick. Is it okay if I use your computer, Auntie?”

  “Of course you can,” Aunt Jessie answered.

  JJ hugged Teresa and said, “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t know this would happen”

  Teresa patted her son’s back. “Okay, go get the number. We’ll see what we can do to get you out of this mess.”

  JJ smiled slightly as he wiped the wetness off his cheeks with the back of his hands. The chair legs made a screeching noise on the floor when he slid out from the table and left the room.

  Teresa stood up and grabbed the cleaning cloth. She began to follow behind her aunt wiping down the counters.

  “I knew he was up to something,” Teresa said. She polished along the rim of the sink.

  “Oh, he’s a boy. They all do crazy things. I’m sure he’ll be all right.” Aunt Jessie turned the mixer on.

  Teresa busied herself cleaning, not knowing how to address the topic of her father. Aunt Jessie finished mixing and went on to grease the baking pan. The two moved in sync in the small kitchen, just like old times. Teresa’s heart sped up and she smiled at the thought of the several years she’d lived in this house.

  “I was with your father when he took his last breath.” Jessie’s voice quavered, “I’m sorry about the whole thing.”

  “Oh, Auntie—none of this is your fault.” Teresa moved to Aunt Jessie’s side and squeezed her aunt’s shoulders.

  “I’m glad I was there.” Aunt Jessie filled the baking pan with batter and sprinkled the glaze over the top.

  “Okay, I’ve got the number,” JJ interrupted, seemingly lighter, as if a load had been lifted. He handed Teresa a scrap of paper with the phone number scribbled on it next to the name, Steve Haut.

  Teresa looked at the cake just before her aunt put it in the oven. “Hmm,” she said.

  “I know. It looks good, doesn’t it?” Aunt Jessie grinned.

  “What do we make of this if it does taste like Mom’s? It looks awfully familiar,” Teresa said. Could her father have remembered the recipe after all these years?

  “It’s been a while since we’ve tried this, hasn’t it? Although this attempt is much different than all the other times …” Jessie set the timer on the oven, poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, and sat down at the table.

  Teresa dialed the attorney’s number though she continued to clean the kitchen. She spent about five minutes on the phone with him after she got past his condolences for her recent loss. Apparently Los Angeles was a smaller city than she thought. Word got around. For a moment she thought it probably hadn’t been such a good idea to call somebody her father had referred, but she really didn’t know who else to call. By the end of the conversation, however, she believed contacting the man was the right thing to do, because now JJ definitely had an excellent attorney.

  “Okay, JJ, he’s going to make some calls and then get back to me. He said he’s very well connected at the police station. He used to be a cop.” Teresa stood in the kitchen and pulled out some more cleaning supplies. “He suggested we lay low until he gets the story—and if we don’t hear back from him in two hours, I need to call him again.”

  “What are you going to do, scrub down my whole kitchen?” Aunt Jessie asked.

  “Well …” Teresa said coyly. “It makes me feel better. Do you mind?”

  Aunt Jessie snickered. “Are you kidding? Knock yourself out, kiddo.”

  Teresa cleaned the kitchen, and then contacted her store and made sure her part-timers were working and handling customers. JJ played for a while on the Internet, and Aunt Jessie watched the stove and waited for the cake.

  Once the timer beeped, the three of them gathered around the table, forks in hand. Then Aunt Jessie laid the cake on a hot pad in the middle of the table. Teresa bent over and spun the cake around examining the familiarity of the desert.

  “This looks good, Tia,” she said.

  “Careful, it’s hot,” Aunt Jessie responded.

  Teresa dug her fork into the cake and blew on the steaming hot bite that sat on the edge of the tines. Finally, she bit down on the piece of cake and smiled. “It’s good, really good,” she said with her mouth full.

  Together, the three of them ate the cake directly from the pan and toasted Joe with their coffee cups.

  “What do you think?” Aunt Jessie asked, “Could it be the right recipe?”

  Teresa patted her stomach and said, “It’s the closest we’ve ever come to getting it right. Joe did good.”

  CHAPTER 26

  FATHER BENJAMIN CLEARED HIS CALENDAR—MEETINGS AND all—for the remainder of the week. The entire congregation, including the kitchen folks, had rallied to complete Juan’s funeral preparations. In the latter years of the man’s life he’d affected a lot of people, while in his death he was already missed by many.

  Numerous messages had piled up on the priest’s desk. As he flipped through them, he was disturbed over the fact that a call had come in from the morgue. Between Juan and Father Benjamin, they’d contacted everyone they’d known who could possibly have some knowledge of the General’s whereabouts. The people from the morgue rarely phoned the father unless it was to return a call concerning a missing person he’d been looking for—and to tell him about a body that had been found.

  The priest picked up his phone and dialed the morgue. He prayed for the General as the phone rang.

  “Jim Brooks, LA County Morgue. How can I help you?” the abrupt voice answered.

  The priest fiddled with a pen while he talked. “Jim, this is Father Benjamin. I’m returning a call from Dotty this morning.”

  “Hello, Father,” Jim said. “Yep, we tried to reach you. Unfortunately, we’ve got some bad news. When the call came in early this morning, Dotty called out to the dump, and after some searching they found your missing person. Well, at least his jacket fits the description. I’m sorry. We sent a pickup out to the dump earlier today.”

  “I suspected this would happen,” Father Benjamin said. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you also heard about Juan?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, Father.” Jim said. “It’s a tough week for the good guys, isn’t it?”

  “That’s so true.” The priest felt a pressure in his chest. He’d feared this would be the outcome of the General’s last journey into the streets. He let out a slight cry, biting the inside of his mouth to stop any further outbursts. And then he pulled it together to finish the conversation. “Will you need me to identify the body?”

  “Most likely, yes. We’ll call you back when we’re ready.”

  “Thank you,” the father replied.

  And so that was the end of the General, as well as Juan. Father Benjamin resisted the urge to yell, and then he held in the tears that wanted to be let out. The priest recognized that the collar on his neck didn’t make it any easier when he lost people he cared about.

  He needed some fresh air, so he straightened the mess on his desk into a few neat piles, put on his jacket, and found his umbrella in his bottom desk drawer. An odd time to go for a walk, but he needed to step away from death for a little while.

  Once outside, he noticed that the grounds looked exceptionally green—vibrant, almost glowing. Probably the rain now falling on them made the area look so beautiful, or maybe it was actually a testament to his friend Juan, the man who, until last week, was responsible for their landscaping.


  Marcus Benjamin missed his friend. Juan would’ve been down at the dumpsite and all over the police to investigate the death of the General. Was it a coincidence that both Juan and the General had passed away around the same time? The priest doubted it. He’d seen too many unusual coincidences over the years. The General had probably gone first, and if it happened the way the priest hoped, the old guy was waiting for Juan.

  Perhaps this thought process wasn’t the norm for those in his chosen profession. But it wasn’t a coincidence that the Church had assigned him to one of the least-public parishes in the US, and on the darker side of the tracks. He was not on a quick career path to the top of the most powerful religious institution in the country. In fact, his mentor at the seminary had used the word “quirky” to describe Father Benjamin.

  He had, however, managed to obtain a pleasant Southern California location for his assignment. That had to do with the few connections he had within the Church, through his mother. She was disappointed in his lack of ambition within the hierarchy of the Church, but she still did what she could to help him get a position near to her.

  Father Benjamin walked the grounds in the drizzle, and then he decided to go to the kitchen to be around some of his people.

  Anna’s voice could be heard clearly in the yard as she commanded the volunteers in the kitchen. “Come hell or high water, we’ll get this meal prepared,” the woman yelled.

  Father Benjamin stood at the door and watched the team of workers Anna had pulled together. He smiled. She’d come a long way, and she certainly knew what she was doing in that kitchen. Her meals were always served on time, regardless of what else went on in the world.

  Anna was stirring something on the stove when she spotted the priest, and she immediately dropped what she was doing. She went to him without hesitation, put her arms around him, and squeezed. Her bloodshot eyes and somber expression added to his own sense of sadness.

  “Father, I’m sorry,” she said in a hushed tone. “I didn’t see you.”

  “How can I help?” he asked.

  Anna wiped her hands on her apron and became all business. She put her arm through his and escorted him into the dining room. “Can you help with this area? It’s a mess.” Her eyes widened as she took a deep breath. “And most of the guys waiting outside don’t know about Juan. Can you go tell them? And see if Ralph’s out there. He’s good about cleaning up the tables and straightening the chairs. Also, will you lead us in a prayer when we let them in—before we serve the food?”

  Father Benjamin allowed himself to laugh for a second. Anna always had something that needed to be done, and through it all he knew she could be counted on to stay on task.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. And when he looked around the room he was shocked to see such disarray. “Were they in here late last night?”

  “Yes, we held a prayer vigil,” Anna answered.

  The father turned to speak to Anna, but she was already back in the kitchen—that woman moved fast. He pushed in chairs and straightened tables on his way to the front door. From the window the priest saw various covers and umbrellas held over the heads of those lined up on the side of the building where the eave of the roof offered little shelter from the rain.

  He grabbed his own umbrella and stepped through the door. Low and behold, there was Ralph—near the front of the line.

  “Father, is it true what they’re saying? Did they find the General dead at the dump? And did Juan die this morning?” Ralph’s boisterous voice seemed to carry across the county.

  What did it matter anyway? Not many secrets among the homeless. In fact, they probably knew all the details about the General before the priest did.

  “Well hello to you too, Ralph,” the father said.

  “I’m just saying, people are talking,” Ralph mumbled as Father Benjamin moved in closer.

  “Anna says you’d be willing to help me set up the dining room. She said you’re good at it.” The priest winked.

  “Sure, Father, I’ll help.” Ralph turned to the man in line behind him and spoke. “Hold my place, Sam. I’ll be back.”

  The older man nodded his head under a yellow tarp that he’d wrapped around his body. Father Benjamin dismissed the thought that he looked familiar when he saw Ralph limping up the steps to the dining room.

  “What’d you do to your leg, Ralph?” he asked.

  “Nothing, it cramps up in the cold. Now are you gonna tell me about the General and Juan? I go to those meetings almost every day with both of them. Word’s out, Father,” Ralph said.

  Ralph must suffer from some sort of mental illness. The priest had witnessed both Ralph’s soft side and the raw angry side. The man had an irrational temper. Logic couldn’t explain his behavior.

  “Yes, it’s true. Well, we think they found the General.”

  “They did,” Ralph said. “That old guy, standing in line behind me said he saw the General climb into a dumpster for the night. He said the next morning the trash truck took the whole bin away. I asked him how he knew that. Sam said he saw it when the truck woke him up. But that was a few days back.”

  The priest abruptly turned around and ran down the stairs to the spot where the old guy, Sam, had been standing. A yellow tarp lay on the sidewalk.

  “Did anyone see where Sam went?” Father Benjamin picked up the tarp and began walking down the line. “Have you guys seen Sam?”

  “That’s Juan’s,” said an old woman with missing teeth and a cigarette in her hand. She coughed and pointed. “Juan had that tarp.”

  “Juan’s gone.” A man wearing a trash bag and standing farther down the line yelled. “He died this morning.”

  Father Benjamin approached the trash bag man. “Who told you that?”

  “I don’t know. Some old guy. I think he said his name was Sam.” The man spit on the priest when he spoke. “Sorry about that, Father. Hey, that’s Sam’s blanket. He had that yellow thing wrapped around him.”

  “Did you see where he went?” the priest asked.

  “He’s up in front somewhere. Why’d you take his blanket?” the man asked.

  The priest ignored him and pulled out his cell phone, quickly dialing the morgue. Dotty answered on the first ring.

  “Hello, Dotty.” Father Benjamin stepped away from the folks in line as he spoke. “What can you tell me about how they found that body at the dump site?”

  “I took a call this morning from the pay phone on Fourth and Washington. Some guy said he saw the General climb into a dumpster at that corner a few days ago and that we’d find the body at the dump.”

  “Did the guy identify himself?” Father Benjamin asked. He wondered if he was losing his mind—he was having some strange thoughts, for sure.

  “No, but I think he was homeless. He refused to give his name, said he didn’t have an address, and he told us to be sure to contact you. That’s why I called you.”

  “Did the voice sound familiar?” he asked.

  “God, I don’t know, Father,” Dorothy said. “Oh, I meant to say, `Gosh I don’t know, Father.’”

  “Think about it for a second,” the priest requested.

  “No, it was just an anonymous guy,” she answered him.

  “Okay, thank you.”

  The priest put his phone in his pocket and approached the same toothless woman he’d talked to seconds ago. He tapped her on the shoulder, “I’m sorry, Ma’am. Did you say you saw someone in this tarp?”

  She faced in the direction of the building, and the hood on her outer layer was pulled over her head. As she turned toward the priest she exhaled smoke in his face and then slurred. “Oh, I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Did you see someone with this?” Father Benjamin waved the smoke away while he held up the tarp.

  “I did. That’s Juan’s rain jacket.” A cigarette sat in between stained f
ingers that she used to point at the tarp. “Juan was wrapped in that thing.”

  “When did you see him?” Father Benjamin asked.

  “Well, you know the answer to that. You and Ralph were talking to Juan a minute ago.” She sucked on the cigarette, leaned on the wall, and then picked at her remaining teeth. “And I’m bothered by that, Father. Did you kick him out or something? He wasn’t homeless last week.”

  The priest felt a flutter in his chest. The timber of his voice seemed to rise up in excitement. “Today, you think you saw Juan today?”

  “Oh, I know it was him, Father.” The woman played with the ragged hem of her hoodie. Her few remaining teeth appeared to be rotting, which could explain the smell that accompanied her words.

  “How do you know that?” the priest asked.

  “He had a yellow rain jacket, remember?” She pushed off of the wall and staggered a little. “Are you going to open up soon? It’s wet out here.”

  “That old guy up there in this tarp was Sam. Do you know Sam?” the priest pushed.

  “Juan had some demons, but that lady’s happy now. She’s not chasing him anymore.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared out to some faraway place. She was probably under the influence, but for some reason the priest refused to leave it alone. Something inexplicable was happening and this woman was either playing him or she knew the answers.

  “Did anyone else see Sam here earlier?” Father Benjamin yelled out.

  “I’m telling you, Father, that’s Juan’s.” The woman touched the priest’s arm as she spoke now without a slur and in perfect pitch, each word enunciated as she looked Father Benjamin in the eye with an intensity that gave him a chill. For a brief moment he thought he saw a glimpse of what the woman looked like when she was younger. She stood in front of him sober and clean in a dress with makeup and a sparkle in her eye. “Father, sometimes things aren’t as they seem.”

  The priest shook his head and blinked his eyes. As soon as the woman let go of his arm, she appeared to have morphed into her older self. She leaned on the wall again and slurred while she sang, “I’m having pancakes for dinner. One, two, three, all for me.”