All the Major Constellations

by Pratima Cranse

  “I’m—yes, thanks.”

  Andrew left to get a chair, but when he got back, his mother was now seated at the stool that Brian had vacated.

  “Well, aren’t you nice?” Brian said to him. “Are you going to ask me if I’m okay?”

  “I’m going out,” Andrew said. He placed the chair on the floor and reached for his keys and wallet, but Brian grabbed both.

  “Don’t start,” their mother said.

  “Start what? We never start,” Andrew said.

  “Where you going?” Brian said.

  “Out,” Andrew said.

  “To church? You praying for me?”

  Andrew digested this. His mom might’ve mentioned the phone call from Matt, or Brian could have seen the note that she’d left on the counter the day before.

  “I’ve been working all day. I’m going to get something to eat. Please give me my stuff so I can get out of here and you three can get on with whatever it is that you’re doing.”

  “Watch it,” his dad said.

  “Yeah,” Brian said, getting in Andrew’s face. “Watch it.” Then he dropped Andrew’s keys and wallet onto the floor.

  Andrew knew he should just pick up his stuff and leave. That was his style, anyway, his modus operandi. He might be passive-aggressive now and then, but on principle he almost never took the bait, and rarely threw down during a confrontation. Even without Neal’s advice, eighteen and out was what he’d been planning all along.

  Brian stepped even closer to him, his face a mere inch or so from his own. His breath smelled like hell, and the heat that vapored from his enormous body was unreal. It was like being pressed against black pavement on a scorching summer day. It was like being smothered, trapped, pinned down.

  Andrew raised his eyes to his brother. He brought his finger into Brian’s chest, punctuating each word with a point. “You. Are. Horrible.”

  Boom!

  The last thing he heard was Becky’s frantic bark.

  21

  WHEN ANDREW WOKE UP, he was lying on the couch in the living room. Becky immediately began licking his face. She must have kept vigil by his side. A plastic bag full of melting ice was on the floor. He sat up slowly and groaned. His head hurt even worse than the morning after he’d fallen in the woods. The right side of his face was swollen and tender.

  Brian had never really hit him before. Punching him in the arm and cuffing his neck were about as bad as it got. Well, Andrew thought, he’s upping the ante all over the place. Then he felt terrible for thinking such a thing.

  A few moments later his mother came in. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I feel terrible,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Becky growled and barked.

  “Stop, Becky,” he said.

  “She’s been doing that every time I try and come in.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Here’s some aspirin,” she said. She handed him the pills and a glass of water.

  “Guess I should get out of here for a little while,” Andrew said.

  His mother did not dispute this. “Where can you go?” she asked.

  He used to crash at Sara’s when things would heat up at home, but it seemed inappropriate to try to stay with Janet now. Besides, she was probably with Sara every spare moment she had. He remembered Neal’s offer of the couch in his office. And the place seemed more amenable to dogs anyway. “How long have I been out?”

  “Maybe five minutes.”

  His mother cleared her throat and looked away.

  “Can you get me the phone?” he asked.

  She brought the cordless over, and he dialed Neal’s number.

  “There’s an extra key under the mat,” Neal said. “And I should tell security you’re coming.”

  “They’ll be okay with that?”

  “The guy who works night shift is a buddy of mine. How long you need it for?”

  Andrew held the phone to his chest. “How long will this take to blow over?” he asked his mother.

  She made a helpless gesture, so familiar to him, tossing her hands in the air and letting them gently fall to her sides.

  “A few days, I think,” Andrew said. “And shit, I’m sorry, but I need to bring my dog.”

  “That’s okay. The shed’s huge.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You can always stay at our place,” Neal said.

  “No,” Andrew said quickly. He did not want to pollute Neal and Ben with the mess that was his family, his life. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Andrew hung up the phone and handed it back to his mom. His head pounded as he stood up. He took a deep breath as a wave of nausea came over him. He sat back down. “Where are they?” he asked.

  “Out. I don’t know,” she said.

  “Who brought me in here?” he said.

  “Your brother,” she said.

  This time Andrew stood up and stayed up. “Please don’t call him that,” he said.

  He threw some clothes and his toothbrush into his backpack. He was about to walk out the door with Becky when his mother stopped him and handed him a plastic bag. It was full of granola bars and dog food.

  “Thanks,” he said. He turned to go.

  “Andrew?”

  “Yes?” His hand was on the knob.

  “This church stuff that you’re doing. Is it because—” The phone rang. She dashed away to answer it. “Where are you?” he heard her ask. He left the house.

  He stopped at a fast-food restaurant and got some burgers. He even gave one to Becky, a sinful treat for a good dog on a terrible night. He drove to Avella and was waved in by the security guard, who looked like Neal but wasn’t.

  Inside, he lay back on the office couch, which was more comfortable than he’d expected. Becky fell asleep immediately, as the innocent will do. He watched her breathe. He envied her. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  He heard a little tinkling noise. He sat up and looked around the office. It was small and cramped and dimly lit by the security light, always on just outside the front door. He felt the shed behind him, a vast dark space, too large for the modest amount of equipment that was needed for the grounds. He stood up, felt dizzy, and sat back down. Becky slept on, and he wished that she would wake up. He heard the tinkling noise again. It could be anything, he thought. An animal, water, anything. His heart beat loudly in his ears.

  He’d been so cool and calm with his mother, like it was no big deal that his brother had knocked him unconscious. He wanted to cry. He actually tried to cry, thinking it would give him some relief from his feelings. He reached out to Becky but stopped. She needed her rest.

  Calm down, he told himself.

  He got his backpack out, thinking he’d eat more and feel better. When he opened his bag, he saw the Bible that John had given him. His mom must have stuck it in there with the granola bars. He remembered having stacked it under a pile of books in the hallway. She had found it and probably wondered about it. He half wished they could’ve continued their conversation before he’d left the house. No, he thought, no. He had learned to immediately squash down any desire to be closer to his mother, or to reach some sort of understanding with her. It was just too painful to think about.

  He hadn’t even glanced at the Bible since that night at Laura’s house. He pulled it out and thumbed through it. He was shocked to discover that passages had been outlined and pages marked. He looked at the inside of the front cover, where a name was written. John Taylor. Andrew thought John had given him some generic Bible. He figured that the group stockpiled them and handed them out like Halloween candy, which perhaps they did, but this had been John’s Bible, his personal tome. Andrew was touched, flabbergasted, annoyed. He was also comforted. It felt heavy in his hands, substantiv
e and real. The gold trim on the pages was worn down, the cover was soft, the lettering faded. This Bible was precious, beloved. He tucked it close to his chest, lay down, and fell asleep.

  22

  HE WAS AWAKENED BY Ben the following morning.

  “You trip in the woods again?” he asked, peering at Andrew.

  “Yeah. I’ve got to stop doing that,” Andrew said. He sat up and tucked the Bible into his backpack.

  “You need a flashlight,” Ben said.

  “I need a coffee,” Andrew said. “And some aspirin.”

  Ben handed him a white bag. Andrew took it and looked inside. An egg sandwich and a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks, man,” Andrew said.

  “Dad bought it. There are some pills here somewhere.” Ben started searching around the office.

  “Don’t worry about that. Where’s your dad?” he asked between mouthfuls of food. “And where’s my dog?”

  “With Dad. He likes dogs.”

  “Cool.”

  “You feel okay?”

  “Actually,” Andrew said, “I don’t feel that bad.” He didn’t. His head hurt, but not terribly, and he felt well rested, even unburdened.

  The door swung open, and Becky and Neal walked in. Becky settled herself half on the couch and half in Andrew’s lap.

  “This okay?” Andrew said to Neal, indicating Becky.

  “Oh yeah. Reminds me of my old pup,” Neal said. “That’s quite a goose egg you got there,” he added, pointing to Andrew’s head. Andrew felt his forehead. There was a sizeable lump. He finished his sandwich and thanked Neal again. Ben took Becky out to the back of the shed.

  “She’ll have to hang out there during the day,” Neal said.

  “That’s fine. She’s old. She sleeps most of the day anyway.”

  “You need to talk?”

  “I need to work,” Andrew said.

  “Good boy,” Neal said. “Up and at ’em.”

  • • •

  At the end of the day Neal showed Andrew how to hook a hose up to the sink and take a shower. It was cold and required a lot of coordination, but in a way he’d never felt more refreshed. He wondered if Marcia had tried calling him. He thought about calling her—she obviously didn’t know where he was—but he didn’t think he should use the office phone for long-distance calls. He was used to being in almost daily contact with her for years. And he was lonely in the office, even with Becky.

  His mom had thoughtfully included bowls and a can opener in the bag she’d given him. He wondered what she was doing now. Andrew and his mother met occasionally outside the battlefield, handing each other groceries and exchanging brief words, but that was it. Between them it was mostly a vast void of regret. He pitied her, he told himself. That was it. He cared more deeply about his dog than anyone else in that house.

  He’d worked by himself most of the day, with Neal sending him out on various solitary missions. He did this perhaps to protect him from prying questions about Brian, whose crime must certainly now be public knowledge.

  Neal and Ben invited Andrew over for dinner that night, but Andrew refused, saying he had plans with a friend. He thought about calling Matt but decided against it. Their talk in the woods had ended kind of oddly. He took Becky for a long walk, enjoying the grounds in a way that was usually inaccessible to him. It was like a golf course. For some reason the smooth beauty of manicured lawns was more appealing to him than untouched wilderness. He thought maybe this meant he wasn’t a real Vermonter, but he’d never given a shit about that kind of thing anyway.

  He opened a can of soup and heated it in a bowl in the office microwave. He was tired and satisfied with his day, but as the sky darkened he began to feel the ache of loneliness again.

  He picked up John’s Bible. Andrew was a good reader, and the Bible was, if nothing else, a great book. Even people who weren’t religious liked the Bible for its literary value, its historical enormity, its parables, its poetry, its truths. Its awesome, inescapable Bible-ness. He turned it over in his hands. Again he felt the weight and substance. And somehow, it felt sacred, too. Was it the thing itself or all the cultural associations he had absorbed that made it seem this way? Last night he’d held it to his chest like a security blanket. The memory made him blush.

  He opened it and read.

  After ten pages, however, he closed it in frustration. It was just boring. He didn’t connect with it. The opening was kind of awesome, but after that the words seemed to blur into meaningless spillage. How did people read this thing? How did they find in it truth and beauty? He thumbed the pages, letting them slide through his fingers like an animated flip-book. He decided he would read the passages that John had marked. Mostly, John had underlined words that were already written in red, the words of Jesus. He read the Sermon on the Mount, he read the Ask, Seek, Knock speech. It was all fine; it was great, even. But he was unmoved. He tried to disassociate from his natural skepticism and sarcasm, the inner reel of “whatever” that played in his head, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He didn’t understand this heavy, worn thing, these red words, this beloved object of another person. This doesn’t belong to me, he decided.

  He found a phone book in the office and called John. A few minutes later he was on his way to meet him downtown.

  23

  Andrew pulled up to the curb outside the city center. The city center was a kind of mini mall that housed a few restaurants and stores. It was an incongruous structure among the small shops and quaint buildings of their modest downtown. Like Laura’s church, it was more a generic office space than a thing of beauty. The building was dark. John stood on the sidewalk.

  “Hey,” Andrew said out his window.

  “It’s closed,” John said. They had talked about getting some pizza or coffee, but ten p.m. in a mid-size Vermont town meant everyone was already at home either asleep or drunk or stoned.

  “I figured,” Andrew said. “Let’s just go for a drive.”

  “Okay,” John said. He stood on the sidewalk, shifting slightly from foot to foot.

  “Are you all right?” Andrew said.

  “Sorry. Let’s do it,” John said. He got in and buckled up. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard. He seemed to be very slightly trembling. His jeans were worn, and his shirt, dark red, looked threadbare. In fact, Andrew thought, all John’s clothes were a little ragged and secondhand-looking. He felt bad about the T-shirt he’d blown his nose on and neglected to wash. It was still in the backseat, in fact. He hoped John wouldn’t notice.

  “I think you may have given this to me by accident,” Andrew said as he held up John’s Bible. John looked both surprised and affronted.

  “No way, man. It was a gift.”

  “It just seems really personal,” Andrew said. John looked embarrassed.

  Andrew realized that he was being kind of a jerk. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t give it to me by mistake and wanted it back.”

  John looked out the window. Andrew tossed the Bible in the backseat and cleared his throat. “Where to?” he asked.

  “Wherever,” John said. He peered at Andrew. “Wow! You sure did swell up from the other day.”

  “Oh yeah. This is something new. Actually, I got hit.”

  “What?”

  “It was over some shit with my brother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I heard about that thing with your brother.”

  “When?”

  “A few days ago. Before the soup kitchen.”

  “Really?” Andrew said. He was surprised. “Then you knew before I did. Who did you hear it from?”

  “Just around. How are you feeling about it?”

  “I don’t feel anything about it. I mean, fuck, I feel bad for the girl.”

  “So, you think he did it? Or
he participated in it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I heard, um, I heard that maybe she was a prostitute or something and that they just didn’t pay her. Not that any part of that’s okay,” John added quickly.

  Andrew digested this information. He gripped the steering wheel and said, “Well, that adds up to rape, doesn’t it?”

  The word rape seemed to ring out in the car like a bell. It silenced them both for several minutes.

  “Want to talk about something else?” said John.

  “Yeah. Let’s talk about Jesus.”

  “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “Yeah,” he said. Then: “No, actually, I’m not.”

  “What do you want to know?” John asked.

  “When were you saved?”

  “We’re not, like, born-again.”

  “So what’s the proper vernacular?”

  “I guess we say ‘found.’ Either that or ‘accepted into your heart.’”

  “So, when did you find or accept Jesus?”

  “October 2, 1993.”

  “You know the exact date?”

  “I know the exact moment. Two a.m. Because that’s what it is: a moment in time. And nothing is ever the same. You’re not the same. Everything changes. Everything suddenly makes sense. Your heart opens.”

  As John spoke he seemed to gain confidence, even happiness. He stopped jittering, and his voice was lighter, less tentative. “It’s hard to describe. He’s just there for you, and He’s beautiful. He’s love.”

  “But how do you know? What happens that makes you know you found Him, or that He’s in your heart?”

  “You just know.”

  “What leads up to it? I mean, it doesn’t just suddenly happen out of the blue, right? You’ve got to be looking for it or studying it, right? There’s a human influence. A cultural influence. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” John said slowly. “For some people it does just happen, like you said, out of the blue. But for others it is a search. You read the Bible, you connect with other people who are already there.”