by Baxter Clare
Annie sipped her wine. Frank was so engrossed in the story that it didn't bother her.
Wagging a finger, she continued, "We spent the whole day, I'm telling you the entire day, sunup to sundown, talking to people in town trying to figure out who this old gal could be. Some woman from the city staying at one of the cabins? A local? A hermit? Who was this broad? And you know what? And I'm talkin' a little town here. Out in the middle of nowheres. Everybody knows everybody and they know each other's business. But not one person had a clue who we were talking about. Everybody said no, there's nobody like that around here. And this isn't a huge lake, either. Way it's shaped, way the banks were, there's only really four places a person could get a boat in. At the third boat ramp, my aunt tells the story to an old man coming back in. He listens and when my aunt's done he breaks into a big smile.
"'Sounds like you met old Ruth,' he says. My mother's crying, 'Who's this Ruth? Where can we find her?' The old man kept smiling. He tilted his head toward the lake. 'Reckon she's out there somewheres,' he said. 'But you ain't gonna find her lest she wants you to.'
"Well, we have all this food,' my mother said. 'We want to thank her. How can we get it to her?'
"The old man shrugged. 'Put it in the lake,' he said. 'That's where you'll find her. Old Ruthie's boat went down about two miles from here, oh, close on to twenty-five years ago.'
"My aunt said, 'You mean ...' and the old man nodded. 'Pulled a little boy outta the lake 'bout six years ago. A woman before that. Pregnant. Heard she had twins.'"
Annie sopped her plate with a piece of bread. "Let me tell you. I never seen my mother cross herself so fast. Speed crossing. If you'd a timed her, she'd a broke a record. So do I believe in guardian angels? Damn right I do."
"If this old woman had saved so many people how come no one knew who you were talking about?"
"Oh, they knew all right. But the old man said they was afraid of Ruthie. Claimed she'd taken as many lives as she'd saved. Why she saved me, I can't say. Alls I know is, I'm freakin' glad she did."
"Me too," Frank said. "Is that why you do the Mary business? The praying and all that?"
Spearing an onion ring, Annie said, "That's one reason. I been lucky all my life, you know? But it ain't luck. I call it that, but it ain't. It's providence. I believe someone's watchin' out for me. Someone who's got plans for me. Drives my mother crazy but I tell her, when the bullet with my name on it comes for me there ain't nothin' I can do to stop it. On the other hand, there's nothin' I can do to make that bullet come until it's ready. That's all outta my hands. Meanwhile, I'm grateful for each day I get."
Frank snapped her fingers. "I got it. You know who you look like?"
Rolling her eyes, Annie groaned. "Anne Bancroft."
"That's right."
"Pretty slow for a detective. I get people askin' for my autograph all the time. I give it to 'em. I tell you, half a New York thinks Anne Bancroft's real name is Silvester."
"You're terrible."
"What? They go away happy, I get my fifteen minutes a fame, and everyone thinks Anne Bancroft's a nice lady. Who's hurt?"
The waitress cleared their plates and over dessert they swapped cop stories. When the waitress slid the bill folder between them Frank reached for it. She put her credit card inside and left the folder by her elbow.
"Give it here," Annie said, waggling her fingers.
"Nope. It's on me."
"Don't be ridiculous. Give me the bill."
"Uh-uh. Think how much money I'd be spending on a hotel. Least I can do is buy you dinner."
Annie protested, "You can't feed me every night."
"Why not?" Frank smiled. "Just accept it as a small token of my gratitude and let it go at that, huh?"
"Some small token. That's a hundred-dollar bill."
Frank shrugged. "One night at the Seventeen. Believe me, it's worth it for the company."
"Stop with the compliments already. And that goes both ways, you know. The company being worth it."
Holding the door for Annie on their way out, Frank asked, "If you want company, why don't you rent one of your rooms out? You're sittin' on a gold mine there."
"Psh. I tried that. I don't want just any company. Besides, this way Ben and Lisa got a place to stay when they come to visit. Other times I let some of the guys crash there. There's a couple of 'em live outta the city. It's nice for 'em if it's real late or we been working back-to-backs. Oh, yeah, that reminds me, I'm having dinner at my mother's tomorrow. You should join us."
"That's nice, but with any luck tomorrow we'll be interviewing a suspect and eating at McDonald's."
Touching Frank's arm, Annie cautioned, "Don't get your hopes up too high."
"I know. Wishful thinking. And thanks for the invite but I'll pass."
"Suit yourself, but you're gonna miss my mother's cooking. She's making spaghetti with my cousin Bill's venison sausage. I'm tellin' you, cookie, it's to die for."
"I'm sure it is, but you're about all the company I can handle lately."
"Whaddaya mean?"
Frank shrugged. "I'm just enjoying all this down time. The surveillance is easy, I've been reading a lot, and it's nice to come back to your place and not have to do anything. No files to work on, no reports due. It's like for the first time in my life I'm starting to unwind. It's nice. And it's about all I can handle at one time. So I appreciate the offer but I think I'll order pizza and finish my book."
"Rent a movie if you want. There's a Blockbuster couple blocks away. I'll leave you my card."
"You know," Frank said, avoiding the cars parked along the sidewalk. "I feel rotten I gave you such a hard time that first day. You've been nothing but great to me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
Annie laughed. "You came on kinda strong. Then me workin' two homicides for two days straight. It's a miracle we're standin' here at all."
Frank ribbed, "Must be my guardian angel lookin' out for me, huh?"
Annie warned, "Don't you laugh, my friend. Don't you laugh."
CHAPTER 26
Despite telling Annie otherwise, Frank was excited on Saturday morning. Annie was still sleeping so Frank dressed quietly and slipped out to drop off her extra clothes at a Chinese laundry down the street. By the time she got back Annie was sitting in the kitchen. She had the Times propped in front of her and was talking on the phone.
Frank held up a bag of bagels and Annie said into the phone, "I got a friend from LA stayin' wit me. She's gone out for bagels already, can you believe it?" She laughed and said, "I'll talk to you later, hon. Bye-bye." Hanging up, she told Frank, "For Pete's sake, I'm gonna have to go on a diet when you leave."
Even in a baggy blue bathrobe Annie looked fit, and Frank answered, "Not from what I can see."
"Yeah, well, you can't see it all, cookie." Annie patted her tummy. "Believe me, it's there."
"Okay," Frank relented, laying the out the shmears. "More for me.
"How do you stay so slim?"
"Hardly slim. Gained fifteen pounds since I stopped drinking. I work out when I'm at home. I have a gym and a treadmill. Knees are startin' to bother me though. Can't run as long as I want to."
"Tell me about it. I used to run in the morning before the kids were up. Got shin splints somethin' awful. Had to quit. I been swimming for about six years now. I try to go three times a week. 'Course I don't always make it, but it's better than nothing."
"Anything's good," Frank agreed. "So if I need to call you today you'll be on your cell phone?"
Annie poured coffee for both of them. "Yeah. I'll be here working on reports I shoulda gotten to during the week. I'm going to my mother's about three. Offer still stands."
"No, thanks. Mind if I look at the sports section?"
"All yours." Annie handed it over. They ate in companionable silence until Frank got up to shower. Flattening the Metro section against the table, Annie said, "You change your mind, you call me."
Traffic was heavy out to Canarsie
, worsened by a funeral procession as she neared the cemetery. She had to park a couple blocks away until the mourners left, then she claimed a space on the east side of the cemetery. There was another funeral that afternoon but by closing time no one had lingered near her father's grave. Frank returned to the city, mildly disappointed.
She stopped at the central AA office to pick up a meeting schedule. After eyeing her up and down the cute gay guy helping her pouted. "You just missed an absolutely fabulous gay and lesbian meeting in the Village. Oh, here's one! Gay, lesbian and trans-gender on West Thirteenth at eight thirty and nine thirty!"
"Thanks," she said. "Maybe I'll check it out."
"You do that, honey. And good luck!"
Downstairs in the Nova, Frank studied the meeting schedule, deciding on a seven thirty at Trinity Place. In the meantime, she picked up her laundry, then stopped at a breakfast joint, reading her Big Book over coffee and corned beef hash.
She was cool with Step One. Admitting she was powerless over alcohol and that her life had become unmanageable was a no-brainer. Normal people don't sit around downing quarts of whiskey and encouraging themselves to blow their brains out. Step One was simple. But Frank balked at Step Two, which stated, "Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." She read the chapter dedicated to agnostics and left the restaurant chewing on more than a toothpick.
She called Mary but got her machine. Frank left a message that she was fine and headed for a meeting. She found Trinity Place but parking was nonexistent. Three blocks away she wedged the Nova into a space and jogged back to Trinity Place. Mary had strict guidelines and one of them was to not be late for meetings. It was distracting to others, it didn't give you a chance to introduce yourself, and worst of all, you missed the readings. She said practically everything you needed to know about getting sober and staying sober were read in the first five minutes of every AA meeting.
Frank got into the room just as the secretary cleared her throat to announce, "Hi. My name is Jenny and I'm an alcoholic."
As they finished conversations and fixed coffee, men and women, old and young, punk and square, responded, "Hi, Jenny!"
Frank slipped into a seat between a woman who looked like a stockbroker and a man who looked like he'd crawled in from out of the gutter. While Jenny read the AA preamble Frank marveled at the contrast between the drunks sitting next to her.
The wino smelled rank but the stockbroker hinted of very elegant perfume. She was immaculately dressed in a tailored wool suit and the wino wore what he'd found in a dumpster. He gripped his hands in his lap but they were still shaking. The stockbroker's hands were steady and clean with buffed pink nails. Contrasts abounded in the small room, reminding Frank to look for the similarities that made her part of the group rather than the differences that kept her apart, a nice idea for humanity in general.
When Jenny asked if there was anyone visiting from out of town or new to the Trinity Place meeting, Frank spoke up. "My name's Frank. I'm an alcoholic from Los Angeles."
There were welcomes around the room, then Jenny went on to announcements.
The stockbroker leaned toward Frank, extending her smooth, white hand. "Hi," she whispered. "I'm Margaret. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
Frank took the hand and accepted the offer. "Black would be great."
Leaning around Frank, Margaret touched the wino's knee. "Mick? Coffee?"
Mick looked up with painfully red eyes and nodded. Margaret rose gracefully, returning with three cups. Frank took her cup and as Margaret turned toward the wino Frank took his cup for him. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely lift them. She settled the milky coffee between them. He smiled his thanks, managing with both hands to bring the cup to his lips.
Frank was struck by an awkward, teary gratitude, thinking that was how it worked in AA—steady hands being held out to those whose were still shaky.
Jenny turned the meeting over to the speaker, a doe-eyed waif who looked like she'd just given up the tit. For the next twenty minutes she told a story of escalating horrors that climaxed with kidnapping her sister for enough ransom to buy a key of heroin and a case of Jack Daniels. When her twelve-year-old sibling looked at her and asked why she was doing this, the waif suddenly took it all in—the stained mattress she was living on, the pain in her sister's eyes, the hole in her gut that she could never fill, and just as suddenly she knew a case and a key would never be enough. That she'd need another case and another key after they ran out until she died like her friend had, with a hot load in her arm.
She kept tears back as she continued. "My parents took the money they were going to give me for my sister and instead of just writing me off they put me into a ninety-day rehab. That was four years ago and I haven't used or drank since." Clearing her throat and swiping her knuckles across her eyes she said in a clear voice, "For those of you that are new, welcome. I hope you keep coming back. When I first started coming into these rooms I did the things that were suggested to me." She ticked off on her fingers. "I didn't drink or use between meetings. I went to a lot of meetings. I got a sponsor. I worked the steps with her. I got into service, and, well, eventually I trusted God. That was hard for me. All the other stuff was easy but I was raised in a Baptist household where there was only one, true God. And you can believe it when I say I didn't want anything to do with that God. So if you're new, don't worry about all the God talk. God is one force with many faces. It'll find you and present itself to you in a form you can handle. For me, God's in the sun. I know I can count on it to be there every day. Always. And even at night, just because I can't see it, that doesn't mean it's not there. It was there long before I was born and it'll be there long after I'm gone. I like that there's something more dependable and durable out there than just me." Everyone laughed when she chuckled. " 'Cause relying on myself just ended up with me thinking that kidnapping my sister was an absolutely genius idea. So I'm glad to be here, I'm glad you're here, and I'd like to call on our visitor from Los Angeles."
Mary told Frank to share when she was called on, and to share a feeling, not the weather or how nicely the speaker was dressed. Heart racing, as if someone had jammed a muzzle against her temple, she said, "My name's Frank. I'm an alcoholic."
The room responded, "Hi, Frank."
"Good to be in New York. I was born here. Great story. I didn't kidnap anybody, though."
There were a few chuckles.
"I just put a gun to my head one morning and was trying to convince myself to pull the trigger when I realized what I was doing. Called an old friend who's been sober a long time and he got me into these rooms. Gotta admit it's been an interesting ride so far. I liked what you said about the God business. I'm at Step Two and having trouble with it. Don't know that I can believe in a god but I have to admit that something stayed my trigger finger that morning. I like the idea that God will come to you in a form you can accept. Guess I'm still looking for that form. And I hope I find it because I like being sober and I want to stay that way. Thanks."
Other people were called on and when the hour was up everyone rose. They held hands in a circle and someone started the serenity prayer. Everyone joined in. Even Frank.
Mick immediately shuffled for the door but Margaret kept Frank's hand. She smiled. "Welcome home. Literally and figuratively."
"Thanks."
Giving Frank's hand a squeeze she said, "Don't worry about looking for God. If your heart's open, God'll find you. So just relax and have faith that He'll come when you're ready to let Him in. Or She or It or whatever God's going to be for you."
Margaret moved off and a few other people introduced themselves to Frank, some offering advice.
A big, burly guy said, "I been sober twenty-eight years and I don't believe a fuckin' word about God. But I believe in AA and the power of the group and that's what gets me through."
A heavy blonde offered, "Honey, God's always there. We turn our backs on Him but He's always there waiting
with open arms. When you're ready to turn to Him, He'll be right there for you."
Frank nodded, anxious she'd get cornered by a rabid Christer. But in six months that hadn't happened yet. AA people seemed to have a very laissez faire attitude about God, passionate about what they believed in but never foisting their passions onto her. She appreciated that, because if someone had tried to force-feed her a god she'd have been out the door faster than the old wino.
Edging toward the exit, she bumped into Margaret with a cluster of women.
"We always go for dessert after the meeting. Won't you come with us?"
Frank sucked in a deep breath. Mary also advised her to accept invitations when offered. She said the meetings after the meetings taught you how to talk without a glass in your hand and helped keep you sober another hour or two.
Sucking in a deep breath no one could see, Frank answered, "Sure. That'd be great."
CHAPTER 27
Frank only had coffee with the ladies, and to celebrate having gone out with them when she didn't really want to, she brought another pint of Ben and Jerry's back to the apartment. Annie was on the phone when Frank let herself in. Curled on the couch in her fuzzy blue robe, hair wet and slicked back, Annie lifted her chin in greeting.
Scooping ice cream into a mug, Frank heard her say, "Awright, Carmy. Thanks. I love you."
The phone clacked against its cradle and Frank looked into the living room. Annie was fetal on the couch. "You okay?"
"I don't know. Who can do this job so long and be okay?"
"Would some ice cream help?"
"What flavor?"
"Wavy Gravy."
"Bring it here."
Frank stuck a spoon in the carton and handed it over.
Annie struggled to a sitting position. "I got called in after you left. Mother beat her baby with a hammer. Wouldn't stop crying. Not the first time I heard that excuse. I don't know. It just got to me tonight. All the time I'm bookin' her this woman's gripin' about her baby this and her baby that. I tell you, Frank, it was all I could do to keep from rippin' her tongue out and stuffin' it down her throat. I swear to God." Squinting at a clock on the mantle, Annie said, "Nine months, two weeks, five days, twelve hours and I'm pullin' the pin. I'm gonna retire in Florida and swim in the ocean. Eat whatever I want, whenever I want, get fat, and watch Oprah. I'm sick a this shit. You hear me? Sick of it. Absolutely sick of it. Day in, day out. I can't do it no more. Ain't enough gold in Fort Knox to keep me here." After a bite of ice cream she mumbled, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take this out on you."