The Universe is a Very Big Place

by APRIL ASHEIM

  Sam is the best thing that ever happened to me.

  She challenged her reflection, daring it to contradict her. Sam stirred behind her. Spring climbed into bed and felt Sam’s bony body beside her. She missed the feel of John already. She pushed her pillow into her head to drown out the images.

  "Hi, sweetie," Sam said, rousing from the bed and heading to the bathroom. "Did I wake you?" He didn’t wait for an answer. "Lanie seems back to her normal self." Sam laughed, pulling up his black socks so that they were perfectly aligned with one another. "Told me she’s working on a voodoo doll of me. Your mother’s a kook, you know it? But a lovable one."

  Sam tossed the towel into the hamper, blew Spring a kiss, and left the room.

  "He knows." She mouthed the words. And tried with all her might to go to sleep.

  She hadn’t realized she had slept so long, or so deeply. She awoke to Sam, elbows propped up on the edge of her bed, smiling dreamily.

  "Wake up, sleepikins," he cooed, stroking her cheek. She tried to swat him away and he chuckled. "Wedding day jitters, Pooks. I have them too." He helped her up and escorted her to the bathroom where he encouraged her to look her finest. Beethoven was playing joyfully in the bedroom as she dressed. When she emerged, hair half-secured in a ponytail, wearing flip-flops and her wedding dress, Sam handed Spring her suitcase. She took it without question, knowing Sam would have everything she’d need for her honeymoon packed inside.

  "I still don’t like the dress," he said, as he surveyed her. He was dressed in his tuxedo, resting against the door. He spun the cane in his right hand, his feet crossed at the ankles, posing like Mr. Peanut. "...And I packed your pumps so you can change before the ceremony. But it’s not like anyone is going to be taking pictures."

  Spring smiled an agonized, close-lipped smile. She wondered if he could sense her distress. But he didn’t seem to notice.

  "Okay, we’re off," he said, seizing the top hat from a hook on the wall. "...Off to our brand new life."

  Lanie was sitting on the couch, stroking Buttermilk and sipping a Slim Fast. When she saw Spring and Sam in their wedding gear, she clicked her tongue. "So it‘s off to the altar for the two of you?" Buttermilk grunted in his two cents and Lanie gave him a soft squeeze on the ear.

  "We are," Sam said, tipping his hat.

  "I thought you may be too tired, Sam. After you spent all last night on the phone. Who was that you were talking to? Some book broker in Mesa?"

  "Book broker? What book broker?" Spring said.

  Sam glowered. "That doesn’t concern you, Lanie." He pushed Spring towards the door. "You shouldn’t be such a busy-body. Curiosity killed the cat."

  Lanie huffed. "If that was the case, I’d be dead many times over. But mark my words. The Universe has its eye on you."

  Spring shook her head. "Let’s just go," she snapped. "Before my legs give out."

  Sam took her bag and carried it to the car. "Remember the vastness of the Universe!" Lanie called out as the door shut behind them.

  "This is going to be so much fun, Pookie!" Sam fiddled with the radio dials, settling on a station that was playing the Beach Boys. He sang along, mucking up the words to Help Me Rhonda. "Next stop, Sedona!"

  He pulled onto the freeway and accelerated, going much faster than the law allowed. He rolled down the window and offered a wave to the biker couple that rode alongside them. The wind caught his top hat and sent it tumbling down the freeway. Spring turned and watched it become a speck of black, shiny dust.

  "Oh bother," he said, annoyed, but uncharacteristically shook it off. "By this time tomorrow we will be on our way to Grandma Rosary’s as Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Thomas Wayne."

  Spring digested the news. "Sam," she said, watching the line of the road ahead. "Do you realize we’ve been together this long and I never knew your middle name?"

  Sam nodded thoughtfully. "There’s a lot we will get to know about each other in our life to come." He reached across the seat and patted her knee. "So much to see, so much to do. It’s exciting!"

  Spring watched the markers count down the miles to Sedona as Sam howled along to Blue Moon.

  John hadn’t slept at all. Not a wink. He tried a couple of times, but gave up and gave in to what was left of the night. Spring was getting married. Today. John knew he wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this would be the greatest mistake of her life. His eyes scanned the living room, stopping at a bundle of multi-sized paint brushes on the table. He grabbed a beer and set up his easel. He had to capture the image of last night. Commit it to canvas before it was gone from his memory forever. His hand moved. Brush. Stroke. Dot. Brush. He was surprised by how fast he worked. The picture that took shape was effortless. Beautiful. He hated to take credit for it. It didn’t seem to be his.

  A knock at the door startled him and he dropped a brush, sending droplets of white across the grey linoleum. "Coming," he mumbled, offering one final glance at his creation before dragging himself towards the door.

  "This is for you," said the big-bellied man John recognized as his landlord. He brandished an envelope in his right hand. "I’m not the mailman, so please tell your friends what apartment number you live in, so I don’t have to play delivery boy again."

  John received the letter, shutting the door before the man could say more. It was addressed to JOHN SMITH. John fished the Leatherman from his jeans pocket and used the knife accessory to slice open the envelope.

  Dear John,

  Please leave me alone.

  I do not love you. You were just a project for me.

  I need a man who can take care of me. Not a boy.

  If you come near me again I will be forced to call the authorities.

  Spring

  John reread the letter several times. He turned it over to see if there was more, but the back was blank. He sank into the wall, not knowing what to do. He could take her leaving. He could take her marrying Sam. But he could not stand the thought that she didn’t love him. He wanted to scream, cry, break things, hurt things. He wanted to fuck the shit out of something. He had never experienced this feeling. This primal helplessness. He was an animal. He turned his attention to the girl in the painting. Her lips were parted as she looked at a boy. Him. Her eyes were wide. Intense. Truthful. As he stared at it he realized that something wasn’t right. The words in the letter weren’t right. His mind rolled over. He had to think now. Madness could wait.

  John breathed deeply, letting the memory of last night engulf him, until he felt the truth of it. This wasn’t Spring’s doing. Sam had written the letter. John crumpled the paper and shoved it into his pocket.

  Spring might be marrying Sam, but she loved him. He would give her the wedding gift. Then he would set her free for good.

  Twenty-Eight

  Lanie sat on the couch, flipping through channels, pausing at the ones selling promises of youth and sexual prowess. She heard a knock on the back door and smiled as she saw Bob’s head peeping into view. That man was all the youth and sexual prowess she needed.

  "I’ve decided not to go on my trip," he said, stepping in and adjusting his bow tie. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and she wondered how he fared so well in the Arizona heat. The man never sweated. "I’d miss you way too much."

  Lanie popped up from the sofa and hugged him so tightly she thought he might break.

  "Careful," he warned. "You might crack a necessary part."

  "I’ve got a question to ask you," Bob said, straightening himself and looking into Lanie’s eyes. His tone deepened turning her warm.

  "Sure, Bob, shoot," she said, hoping they’d be done with the talking soon, so they could move on to the smooching. He had one of those tiny bow mouths that were so popular in the silent films of the twenties and she needed to kiss it all of the time.

  "These past few weeks have been the happiest in my life," he began, pausing to clear his throat. "I’ve been a bachelor all my life, never giving much stock t
o love. I mean, you can’t quantify love, right? How do you know it exists? But here you are." He motioned his arms up and down like she were the grand prize in The Price is Right. "And I wanted to ask if you, well, if you and Buttermilk would..."

  The knock at the door startled Lanie and sent Buttermilk scrambling. Lanie watched Bob’s small frame slump. She scurried to the door, promising Bob that he would have her full attention once she sent their visitor on his way.

  "It’s store boy!" she exclaimed, seeing the young man before her, a smile spreading across her face. "John, right?"

  "Yes, ma’am," John said, as she pulled him inside. He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him. Poor guy needed a home-cooked meal.

  "Don’t step on the pig," she warned him. "It’s real this time."

  "Is Spring here?" John looked around the house, craning his neck to peer down the hall.

  Lanie clucked her tongue. "No. She’s getting married today. Didn’t you know?"

  John sighed. "Yes, ma’am. I did." John scratched his head in a defeated fashion. The poor boy had it bad, Lanie thought. "I’m gonna get something out of my truck real fast," John said after a long pause. Bob moved towards them and placed his arms protectively around Lanie’s waist. The couple watched as John jogged to his truck and returned with a large picture.

  "This is my beau, Bob," Lanie said when John returned, chastising herself for not introducing him sooner. John nodded a hello.

  "Can you see that Spring gets this?" John handed the picture over to Lanie. She looked at it and gasped.

  "This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!" Lanie marveled at the use of color and light. She pushed it towards Bob so that he could see. "Did you do this?"

  John nodded. "Normally, I’m not this good. But Spring...inspires me."

  Bob pushed his glasses back onto his nose and focused his attention on the painting. "I must say, that is a haunting scene. Who is the young lady by the lake?"

  Lanie patted Bob on the head. Men couldn’t be counted on to notice anything. "That’s my daughter! Can’t you tell? Looks exactly like me."

  Bob leaned in closer, squinting through his glasses. "So it is," he acknowledged. "Simply marvelous."

  "I’m gonna go now," said John, pushing his hands through his hair. "I need to go home, drink six beers, and fall into a very deep sleep." John turned to leave, but seemed to think better of it. "Oh, and see that Sam gets his letter back." He pushed his hand into a pocket and delivered a letter with fancy scrawl into Lanie’s hand.

  "This is from Sam?" she asked, turning the letter over in her hand. She saw that it was signed from Spring, but that was not Spring’s handwriting. No woman had writing that fancy.

  "Yes, ma’am. I want him to know, that, well...I know."

  Lanie was about to ask more questions when the thought occurred to her. "The social worker who came to the house and told us the boys would be taken away...she showed me a letter. It was written in this type of handwriting, on this type of stationary! Sam!" Lanie smacked her head. Here she was chasing witches when there was a warlock at work. "What a bastard!"

  John looked confused but Lanie smiled reassuringly. "You’re the knight!" she said, bouncing up and down.

  "Huh?" The poor boy looked like he had just been caught sneaking into the women’s changing room.

  "From the cards. You are her Knight of Cups."

  John looked at her; his face as empty as her ex-husband’s wallet. She shifted her considerable weight from one foot to the other and then dashed out of the room, returning with the tarot card.

  "I did a reading for Spring awhile back. And this came up. It’s you." Lanie gave him the card. John stared at it for a while before handing it back to her.

  "I admit, it does look a bit like me," John said. "But..."

  "A bit? Boy, that’s the spitting image of you! Why didn’t I see that before? I’m way out of practice." Lanie clucked her tongue, wondering if she should take some internet classes or something to brush up. Bob checked out the card and nodded his agreement. When Lanie saw that the boy wasn’t going to say anymore she sighed. Why was she the one who always had to fix everything? "You’re in love with her, right?"

  He nodded.

  "And you know as well as I do that marrying that man will ruin that girl, right?"

  He nodded again.

  "Then let’s go get her before she makes the biggest mistake of her life."

  John drove Bob’s red ’67 Mustang, trying to drown out the Metallica CD that Bob insisted was great traveling music. Buttermilk sat buckled in beside him and Lanie and Bob shared the backseat, making out like teenagers. He hoped that they didn’t pass any cops along the way.

  "Where exactly is the chapel?" John asked. They had been driving through Sedona for the last forty-five minutes and Lanie offered nothing as far as directions. He heard the heave of her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "You don’t know where your daughter is getting married? How could a mother not know these things?"

  "I try not to concern myself with things of the material world," Lanie answered, tickling Bob’s ear.

  "We could ask a local," Bob suggested. "Surely this town can’t have that many chapels?"

  John nodded, cursing himself for not having his laptop. He pulled into the parking lot of a building that advertised itself as a Tourist Center.

  "Hello, sir," said the smiling man inside. The place was a conglomeration of crystals, dream catchers, Indian fetishes, and brochures. John ducked to avoid being hit by a bird that flew freely about the store. "Can I help you?"

  "I need to find local chapels that might perform weddings," said John, leafing through a brochure. "I have a friend who is scheduled to get married today, and I’d like to be there."

  The man scratched his head and his eyes focused on some object outside the window. John turned in that direction but did not see anything. "We have several chapels here in town, sir. And several more outside of town. Might take us awhile to narrow it down."

  John sighed and wondered if he was supposed to offer a bribe like he had seen in the movies.

  "There’s the Chapel of the Rock," said the man, holding up a finger. "The chapel of the Red Rock, The Chapel of the Supreme Rock, The First Chapel of the Red Rock, The Unquestionable Chapel of the First Red Rock, and the Red Rock Chapel of Hope and Forgiveness."

  John scribbled them down on the back of a brochure.

  "Now, all of those are on Red Rock Chapel Drive, of course. But if you head north, you will find the Chapel of The Sun. The Sunset Chapel of Devoutness. The Chapel of the Sun Gods. The Chapel of Those Who Think the Sun Gods are Heretical. And the Chapel of St. Donald McRonald..."

  "You’re making these up."

  "Now, if you head west, you will find..." The man went on as John left the building.

  "Sir!" The man followed, calling to him through the door. "Might I interest you in a timeshare opportunity while you are in town? You get a free night’s stay and a chance to interview a group of dolphins who believe that in the last days, all humans will have to convert to blowhole breathing."

  "Any luck?" asked Lanie, who was walking Buttermilk. Bob was hunched over, following the pair with a small shovel and a plastic baggie. John ignored her and got in. "Guess we drive around and see if we spot their vehicle," she said.

  It was as good a plan as any.

  Sam and Spring sat in a pew awaiting their turn to be married. They had arrived late because Sam insisted they check out the shops the moment they entered downtown Sedona. There were so many bookstores and coffee houses that Sam commented, this must be what Paradise was like, minus the virgins. Luckily, Pastor Paul was a generous man who would never turn away a couple with big dreams and fifty-five dollars. Spring listened as Pastor Paul performed the rites for a young couple ahead of them.

  "There are gonna be times when you want to cheat," said Pastor Paul, eyeing the young man who stood before him. "Lotsa times. When your wife starts looking old and her boobs swing lik
e monkeys on a rotting vine and you lose your hair and want to feel young again." The couple in front of them exchanged worried glances. "But don’t. Don’t you do it. You don’t get into heaven by pulling your pecker out whenever the urge hits you." He shifted his gaze to the woman. "Or by flashing your firm breasts at truckers at three in the morning."

  Sam turned to Spring and winked. "I’m not worried about that, Pookie. Your breasts aren’t that firm."

  Pastor Paul proclaimed them man and wife and the couple disappeared behind a curtain for pictures and shrimp cocktail. The next pair stood and Spring felt a wave of nausea wash over her. "I have to get something from the car." She needed the valium she had snatched from Lanie’s purse.

  "No." Sam stopped her. "Just a few more minutes. Then we can get whatever you need."

  "And don’t forget to put the toilet seat down," Pastor Paul advised. "Keep your makeup on when you go to bed. And a little oral goes a long way."

  Spring turned to Sam. "I don’t think I can do this." She grabbed his chin and forced him to face her. "It’s not right. We don’t love each other." Though Sam remained perfectly composed, a storm brewed behind his eyes. He pursed his lips together and clicked his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

  "Next," said Pastor Paul, beckoning to Sam. Sam motioned for the couple behind them to take their place, then returned his attention to Spring.

  "What do you mean, you don’t think we should?" His face was taut.

  "I don’t love you, Sam. I’ve never loved you. I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted to love you. You were normal and stable and there for me. All the things I thought I needed. And you were getting the inheritance..." Spring looked down, avoiding Sam’s gaze. She had never felt so ashamed. "And Lanie told me I only had one shot at love, anyway." Tears begin to form and she fought them back. She clenched her fists together and stood up straight.