Apotheosis

by Joshua Edward Smith

  The two women stood in silence taking in the destruction. “I’m so sorry,” Cynthia said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I guess you kids are out of a job.”

  “I understand,” Celita said.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Charlie interjected. “Nobody’s out of a job. Celita, you ever wait tables?”

  “No Sir,” she said. “But I learn fast.”

  “Good. Your sister, too. Or she’d be a good hostess,” he said with a little quirk of a smile.

  Cynthia rolled her eyes at him. “You play like you don’t notice other girls, but I knew you took note of her,” Cynthia said.

  “And Billy’s already half-trained to be a line cook. I can take you all on,” Charlie said.

  Cynthia looked at him and silently mouthed, “I love you.” He winked at her.

  “That’s amazing!” Celita said. “When do we start? What should I wear?”

  “Head on over to the restaurant this afternoon. Around two. We’ll do the paperwork, start your training,” he said.

  Celita pulled out her phone. “Okay. I’ll call Nina and Billy!” She walked away poking at the device in her hand.

  “You are simply the best person I’ve ever known,” Cynthia said.

  Charlie shrugged. “I’m all right. Are the girls legal?”

  “Yeah. They were born here,” she said.

  “Cynthia! Fire chief told me you’d be here this morning. It’s good to see you again,” the deputy said as he walked over. He put out his hand to shake, but Cynthia leaned in to kiss his cheek instead. “And you are?”

  “Charlie. Cynthia’s boyfriend,” Charlie replied, shaking the deputy’s hand. “So what do we know?”

  The deputy shook his head. “No mystery about this one. That dumbass Junior Woods rolled into the ER last night with some serious burns on his arm and leg. Done lit hisself on fire.”

  “Who?” Charlie asked.

  “I’ll explain later,” Cynthia said. “I was afraid it was him. After what you said. That I should watch out for him.”

  “Damnedest thing,” the deputy said. “I don’t know what to think. He must be absolutely convinced you did it, to go and do all this. Anyway, don’t matter now. He’s already confessed, the dumb shit. He’s looking at arson charges and—” he pulled out his notebook and flipped through the pages. “Nineteen counts of attempted murder, if the DA feels like pursuing all those. Suspect that’s the last we’ll be hearing from him.”

  “Will there be a trial?” Cynthia asked.

  The deputy shrugged. “Probably not. With the confession and all them counts, it’ll probably end up with some sort of a plea. I’m just glad his daddy ain’t around to see it. He was a good man.”

  “When can we go inside?” Cynthia asked.

  “Fire marshal’s already done. Said it was gas on the porch, like we figured. Just a matter of the fire chief saying it’s safe. His guys are still in there poking around, making sure it’s all out.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie said. “We’ll check with him. Do you need anything else from us?”

  The deputy flipped pages in his notebook again. “Don’t think so. Where are you staying?” he asked Cynthia.

  “With Charlie.” She pulled the notebook from the deputy’s hand and took the pen from his pocket. She wrote her cell number and Charlie’s address in the book. Then she handed the notebook and pen back.

  He looked at it and nodded. “If there’s anything we can do, you let us know. The folks from the church can rustle up clothes or whatever you might need,” he said.

  Tears came to Cynthia’s eyes. “Oh geez.” She wiped them with the back of her hand. “You are just too sweet. I’m sure I’ll be all right. But I really, really appreciate the offer.”

  The deputy put his hand on her shoulder and she hugged him, the tears now flowing again. He felt a little stiff in Cynthia’s grasp. She could tell he wasn’t a hugger, but she didn’t want to let go, either. She forced herself to take a deep breath and push out of the hug. “Oh my God, I’m such a mess.”

  “Tell you what,” the deputy said. “I’m gonna give this address to my wife. She’ll come check on you. See what you need.”

  Cynthia grimaced. She did not want these people’s charity. But at the same time she was so moved by it. “Okay,” she said quietly.

  Charlie put his arm around her. “Let’s go check in with the fire chief.”

  ¤

  The fire chief suggested they come back later in the day. He cautioned them that the inside might not be as sound as it looked, and they definitely needed to cover up and wear gloves. He suggested respirators and safety glasses as well, just in case. Cynthia and Charlie went back to his car.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said as he started to pull out. “I know you are dying to get in there. But I think it’s best to expect the worst. There was so much smoke and water.”

  “I know,” she sighed.

  “Tell you what,” Charlie said, stopping at the end of the driveway. “You have your keys?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “They were in my purse. I grabbed it on the way out last night.”

  Charlie backed the car up next to Cynthia’s. “Take your car and go find a shopping mall. I know you need a new power brick for your laptop.”

  “Oh! Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “And a bag for the laptop, probably. Maybe go to the Apple store. And you can go to Victoria’s Secret and find something completely obscene to wear. And, you know, regular clothes and makeup and toiletries. You should probably just get all new stuff.”

  Cynthia pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah. I guess I should. If I get new stuff, I will be less inclined to keep stuff I shouldn’t be keeping.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Charlie said.

  Cynthia opened her door and dug through her purse.

  “I’ll get a hold of Billy. He and I will go through the place later today and save what we can. We’ll get the stuff from the guest rooms if there is anything worth getting. Anything in particular we should be looking for? For you?”

  She shrugged. “Jewelry? Honestly, beyond my clothes I don’t own that much stuff. I really downsized when I moved down here.”

  “Okay, we’ll keep an eye out for jewelry and anything else that looks worth keeping. You keep your chin up. Have fun shopping, and don’t forget the naughty underwear,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Okay.”

  “I’ve got to get to the restaurant tonight. We’re down one line cook, and Billy will need guidance. But if you feel up to it, you should get all dolled up and come hang out at the bar. I like to watch you swat away the men.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said, climbing into her car. She lowered her window and Charlie lowered the passenger side window of his car. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without you right now.”

  “Letting people help you is part of what you need to learn to do,” he said. “Hey, don’t think you’re getting away with not telling me the back story on this Junior character.”

  Cynthia sighed. “Later. Much later. I have to go buy some ridiculous underwear to appease my boyfriend.”

  She pulled out and headed for the highway. She was never one to find shopping all that therapeutic. Not like other women she knew. But she sort of liked the idea of having a clean slate. New shoes! she thought. That was definitely a silver lining.

  FORTY

  Cynthia arrived at Chez Claude about seven. She took a spot at the bar close to the kitchen and ordered a martini. Someone must have told Charlie she was there, because he came out as she finished ordering. He gave her a kiss right on the mouth, which surprised her. “I see mademoiselle has a new outfit, non?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh when he turned on the Claude persona. She stood up and turned slowly so he could see her new dress. She leaned in so her lips were beside his ear. “There’s something special for you underneath, too,” she whispered, running her hand down hi
s chin. Then she sat back down and took a sip of the martini.

  “A martini? That’s unusual,” he observed.

  “I needed it. Long day of shopping. I need to de-stress a little.”

  “I understand,” he said. “I need to get back there. We’re in the weeds. I’ll pop out when I can. You should try the duck. It’s magnifique!” He kissed three fingers, the way French chefs do in cartoons.

  She shook her head at the silly act. “Maybe,” she said.

  Cynthia did order the duck, and it was amazing. She chatted with the bartender a little, but spent most of the evening texting. She had one conversation going with Phillip, another with Patrick, one with her mother, and there was a group chat with Alice and Julia on Facebook. She couldn’t keep track of whom she had said what to and felt like she was repeating herself a lot. But nobody complained. As the second martini kicked in, she noticed that she was swearing a lot more, too.

  Charlie sat next to her and asked the bartender for a glass of wine. He put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. I’m a lot more relaxed now.”

  “Well that’s good. I saw you had the duck. Amazing, right?”

  “So amazing. You outdid yourself. I don’t know how you do it. Keep this place running so well and dealing with this natural disaster of a girlfriend you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with,” she said.

  Charlie laughed. “Not gonna lie. You are a handful. But you’re worth the trouble.”

  Cynthia tried to smile, but she was feeling the weight of the sadness she’d been pushing away all day.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She sighed. “I have nothing. I mean—I have some money in the bank. I can afford what I bought today. But everything I worked so hard for. It’s all gone.”

  Charlie screwed up his eyebrows, looking confused. “What do you mean all gone? You have a stake in the inn, right? The insurance?”

  “I don’t. I did something really stupid, I think,” she confessed.

  “What did you do?”

  “Well there was a deal in Emma’s will. I could buy a fifteen percent stake in the inn from the trust that holds Emma’s share. To get a controlling interest. But I didn’t have the money to do that. So I used my shares as collateral for a loan from the trust.”

  “That sounds complicated,” Charlie said.

  “It was. And I thought I was so fucking clever. But the loan gets paid from revenue. No inn—no revenue. Which means I’m going to default on the loan, which means he gets the forty percent Emma gave me. The trust is going to end up with the whole thing, and I’ll have nothing.”

  Charlie sipped his wine. “Have you talked to Phillip about this? He’s the trustee, right?”

  “Right. Not yet. I’ve been texting with him, but I haven’t brought the loan up. I want to do it in person. Or, on Skype I guess. He and I have a call scheduled tomorrow.”

  Charlie nodded. “He’s a good guy. I’m sure he won’t fuck you out of what Emma gave you.”

  “He has a fiduciary responsibility to the trust. I don’t know that he’s going to have any choice.”

  He moved his hand to her back and rubbed slowly with his palm. “It’ll work out. You need to trust people. He’s family. It’ll work out.”

  Cynthia leaned her head onto Charlie’s shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”

  ¤

  Cynthia lay in bed wide awake. Sex always seemed to knock Charlie out, but it had the opposite effect on her. She found it puzzling how increasing the heart rate and unleashing all that brain chemistry could have any effect other than to leave her mind buzzing, yet as far as she knew, she was alone in this malady. It didn’t help that she had a lot on her mind. The cacophonous maelstrom of thoughts wouldn’t stop, and at the center was a feeling of profound loss.

  She almost had it all. Her fingers were brushing the brass ring, and then the damn carousel burst into flames. And she was left circling the drain with the rest of the refuse. What could she do? She could stay with Charlie, of course. But there was no way in hell that was going to happen. Reliance on a man for emotional support? Sure. For mentoring and guidance? Okay. For financial support? Never.

  The patriarchy had been fucking Cynthia her entire life, and she hadn’t enjoyed it one bit. And Charlie, as sweet and caring as he could be, was a glowing symbol of the patriarchy. He ruled the kingdom of his kitchen with an iron fist. He surrounded himself with beautiful young girls, using sex and the desires of men to make his establishment more enticing. He was no better than an American beer commercial. He became an entirely different person merely to sell an idea. The whole thing was disgusting. She could imagine Nina, standing at the hostess table, tits out, ass out, leading the drooling masses of men and even women to their tables. And they’d come back again and again, to be in the presence of it all.

  Food and sex were an inseparable spectacle for the patriarchy. And Charlie was the ringmaster. With his fake accent and square jaw and long, purposeful stride. He was the master of the game.

  But what would she do? Go back to Portland? Julia had said that she would always have a job there if she came back. Was that her destiny? To return from this magical realm to the dreary reality of the health insurance industrial complex? With what boon to share with the common people? The ability to smell the future?

  Tears welled in Cynthia’s eyes. Good Lord, not more crying. Of all the things she found frustrating about being a woman, the crying topped them all. She so envied men and their ability to stoically just deal with shit. She wanted to do that, too. And yet here she was, tears rolling down her fucking cheeks like she was some kind of child. It was beneath her. Cynthia pulled a tissue from the box on the bedside table and blew her nose as quietly as she could.

  Her attempt at stealth failed—Charlie rolled toward her.

  Fuck! The last thing she wanted right now was some man to console her. Thankfully, he did not fully awaken, and soon he was snoring gently again. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Portland. I could get a small apartment. Go back to my old life. My old friends. I haven’t lost everything, only the things I gained since I left. It’ll be like nothing happened. My lost year.

  Portland wasn’t so bad. She could try to be a better, more interesting person this time. Take some classes. Volunteer. Get on a local board like the senior housing authority or something. Community. Like Charlie said. She could find a community. Live a better life.

  Fucking Portland.

  FORTY-ONE

  “How are you holding up?” Phillip asked.

  Cynthia fiddled with the position of her laptop screen, so her face, rather than her cleavage, was on the screen. “I’m doing all right. Not great.”

  “It’s hard. I know. I’ve never been through it myself, but a guy at work lost his house to a fire. It was brutal.”

  She nodded. She’d heard so many stories of house fires in the past couple days. Sometimes she felt like maybe she was the only one who had never been through one.

  “First things first,” he said, pulling out a FedEx envelope. He slipped some papers out, flipped to the last page, and signed them. “Okay, that’s official. You are now a majority owner of the Phillips House. Congratulations.”

  Cynthia smiled weakly. It didn’t feel like a cause for celebration. “Thanks.”

  “Did Momma ever tell you about the fire when we were kids?” he asked.

  “No! There was another fire?” Cynthia was stunned. How did she not know this?

  “Yeah. Nothing like what happened to you. But it was scary. Grease fire in the kitchen. Poppa was doing something stupid. Trying to make homemade donuts I think? I don’t know. But there was a big fire and a lot of damage to the kitchen. And that’s when Momma found out that Poppa didn’t believe in insurance.”

  “What?” Cynthia asked. “Seriously?”

  Phillip rolled his eyes and nodded. “Seriously. Nobody would give him a loan for the inn because he
was black. So he scraped together what he could and bought this run-down place and fixed it all up by himself. Sweat equity, as they say. So since there was no bank, nobody insisted he get insurance, and so he didn’t.”

  “Wow,” Cynthia said.

  “Momma. Was. Pissed. Biggest fight I ever remember them having. She threw plates at him she was so mad. So, obviously, once the kitchen was all fixed up, they got insurance.”

  “Better late than never,” she said.

  “Insurance doesn’t really work that way,” Phillip said with a wink. “Anyhow, she was terrified of natural disasters. Earthquakes, floods, landslides, fires.”

  “Huh,” Cynthia said. “She never mentioned that.”

  “Yeah, so I was looking at the inn’s policy. Have you read it?” he asked.

  “No. If it’s on paper, you can rest assured its completely trashed now,” she said.

  “Yeah. I thought maybe that was the case. Okay, so it’s your regular kind of a policy. Thousand dollar deductible, replacement values, all that. But there’s this crazy rider on it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Phillip continued. “It says that if there’s a total loss, from an earthquake or a flood or some other natural disaster, or a fire…”

  “Yeah? I’m listening.”

  “You sitting down?” he asked with a smile.

  “Shut up! You know I’m sitting down. What the fuck does it say?”

  “Ten million,” he said.

  “What? Dollars?”

  “No, pesos,” he paused. “Of course dollars. I couldn’t believe it myself. Haven’t you noticed that your insurance bills are really high?” he asked.

  “Well I did. The liability insurance was crazy. That’s why we re-orged into an LLC. But Emma still paid the bills, and I guess I never saw one of those come through.”

  Phillip laughed. “I bet she hid it from you. Because you would have found out and made her give that crazy policy up.”

  “Is this legal?”

  “Yeah, I checked with my lawyer this morning. It’s all above board. If the inn is a total loss, and I talked to the fire chief yesterday and he says it is, the insurance company has to pony up ten mil.”