Cross Roads

by William Paul Young

  10

  DOUBLE-MINDED

  Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live.

  —Robert Kennedy

  Maggie and Cabby arrived home to Molly waiting at the front door. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively as Maggie hobbled in on two flat red slippers. It had been too cold to walk barefoot to the car, and rather than hobble on one heel she had deliberately broken off the other heel to match. A little duct tape from the maintenance closet had replaced the broken shoe’s strap. Her dress was torn in a couple of places, and her hair was still frazzled.

  “Wow! A service I shouldn’t have missed?” inferred Molly.

  “Girl,” Maggie began, laughing and shaking her head while she took off both shoes and walked in stocking feet to the trash can and unceremoniously dropped them in, “you have noooo idea! It’ll take an act of God to ever get me in that place again. I’ve pretty much used C-4 to blow up my bridges there.”

  “What happened?” Molly was incredulous.

  “I’m not even sure myself, but after what I did, I just wanna dig a big ol’ hole about the size of Texas and drop in it.”

  “Maggs, it can’t be that bad. It’ll work out, really; things always have a way. So tell me what happened. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “Molly,” Maggie began as she looked up at her friend, her mascara and makeup obviously not waterproof, “you shoulda seen their faces when I came yelling down the aisle, in the middle of ‘Oh Happy Day,’ screaming that I had a demon, people scattering and praying in the Spirit and pleading the name of Jesus, and then my damn shoe, pardon my French, broke and I almost killed Brother Clarence.” She sat down and began to cry, while Molly stood with her mouth open.

  “What have I done?” she moaned. “I scared the living crap outta Clarence… cute, Jesus-lovin’ Clarence. I am now declaring that I have agoraphobia. I can’t leave my own home. That’ll be me from now on. I am from now on a shut-in. Just tell people I have a social disease so nobody can come visit.”

  “Maggs,” Molly said as she hugged her tight and handed her a paper towel to wipe some of the mess from her face, “why don’t you go and clean up, maybe put your pajamas on, and I’ll make you a lemon-drop. It sounds like a lemon-drop kind of night. And then you can tell me all about it.”

  “That sounds good.” She sighed, slowly getting up. “I’ve had to pee for over an hour anyway, another reason I’m glad to be home. Believe me, there is nothin’ like peeing in your own pot.”

  Here we go again, thought Tony.

  Maggie hugged her friend one more time. “Molly, my dear, I don’t know what I’d do without you, and Cabby and Lindsay. Bet you didn’t know you were going to be living with Hurricane Katrina and now I’ve made a mell-of-a-hess. You think the folk over at your white church will mind if a slightly large but very sedate, genteel, and quiet black woman sneaks in to sing a few songs? I promise to even clap on the on-beat.”

  “Anytime, Maggs,” Molly said, laughing. “We could use a little life in that place.”

  Maggie headed for her bedroom and separate bathroom, but was met in the hallway by Cabby, already dressed as Spider-Man. He stood with both hands raised. “Stop!” he commanded.

  She did, especially because this was uncharacteristic of Cabby. “What is it, Cabby? Everything okay?” she asked.

  He patted her chest and looked at her intensely. “Tah-Ny!” He patted her again. “Tah-Ny.”

  “I’m sorry, little man, it takes me a while to get things sometimes. I’m a little slow that way. Can you sign?”

  Cabby thought for a second, grinned, and reached down and took off one of his socks. He wiggled his foot in the air.

  “Your foot? Something’s wrong with your foot?”

  He shook his head, sat down, and covered all his toes with his hand until only his big toe was showing, and then raised it up toward her. “Tah!” he declared.

  “Toe?” she asked.

  He nodded his one sharp nod for yes, grinned, and stood up pointing to his leg. He raised his leg and toe in the air, dancing in a circle like a dog that couldn’t find a wall fast enough.

  She wasn’t getting it. He stopped, pursed his lips together as he thought, and then reached out, took her hand, and placed it on his knee. “Knee?” she responded correctly, and he wriggled his big toe. “Knee-toe, neet-o?” And then she got it. “Tony! Tony?” she slowly repeated.

  Cabby was elated. “Tah-Ny!” he exclaimed and nodded repeatedly. He then reached up and tapped her chest. “Frund.”

  “Tony is your friend?” she said slowly, astounded.

  Cabby did his once nod and then tapped his own chest. “Frund.” With that he hugged her and, mission accomplished, skipped toward the kitchen, leaving Maggie leaning against the wall.

  She would unravel the mystery while she peed.

  Tony, who witnessed the entire interchange with Cabby, was even more astounded than Maggie. Who was this boy, and how could he possibly know the things he did? But now he was faced with the original dilemma that had generated the disturbance in the first place. Who would have thought a simple pee would have such unexpected consequences?

  It was then Tony remembered Grandmother had said that in a difficult situation he should “turn.” Mentally he tried to do it, but nothing happened. The little dance, he thought. He had to recall the line-dance hop thingy. And he did. Tony discovered he could “turn,” spinning so that he was looking into the darkness and away from the window of the person’s eyes.

  It took a few moments to adjust to the dimness, but once it happened he was surprised to realize he was standing in what appeared to be a large room, almost as if his back were to a window looking out onto constantly changing scenes. Someone had once told him that the eyes were the windows of the soul, and maybe it was true; perhaps they actually were. Now he was looking from those eyes into Maggie’s soul. The light of the bathroom behind him cast vague shadows on a far wall, filled with what appeared to be photographs and pictures but distant enough not to be distinctive.

  Later he might take a closer look, but for now he could sense she had finished and he hop-turned back.

  Maggie decided to first take off what was left of her makeup, and she went on autopilot to accomplish the woman’s routine of examinations and wipes and more inspections and finally the relief that comes from removal of oils and colors.

  Next, she took off her necklace and teardrop pendant, and her rings, all five of them, which she placed in the drawer of the dressing table at which she sat. Each in its place. She noticed an earring missing, one of a matched set of inexpensive diamonds her mother had given her, a personal treasure from a woman who lived a life without means. It was probably lost in the carpet at the church. She would call first thing in the morning and ask them to keep an eye out for it. She might have to offer to check the vacuum cleaners. Well, there was nothing she could do about it at the moment; the church was closed and locked. She stood, exited the bathroom, and headed toward the kitchen, anticipating her lemon-drop.

  Molly had it ready, topped by the thin coating of sugar on the rim that took some of the bite out of the first sip. It went down slow and smooth. Maggie snuggled into the big easy chair that faced the kitchen while Molly slid another next to hers, sitting down with her cup of nightly tea, the tea bag still steeping. Cabby was already falling asleep, snug in his own bed.

  “So,” Molly said, grinning mischievously, “tell me all about it, all the gory details.” And Maggie did, until the two of them were whooping and hollering like a couple of schoolgirls and their sides ached from laughter’s exertions. Molly was on her third tea while Maggie nursed her original lemon-drop. She liked the taste of alcohol, but her family had been damaged severely by this beast, and she had no intentions of ever giving it anything but a passing nod.

  “Maggs, what I don’t understand…,” admitted Molly, “is the Tony part. Any idea who this Tony is?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Y
ou mean the demon? I was hoping you might be able to help me with that piece. Cabby says that Tony is his friend?”

  “His friend?” Molly thought for a minute. “I can’t think of any Tonys who are friends with Cabby.” She glanced back at her companion, who had frozen midsip with a wide-eyed look of surprise and fear.

  “Maggie, you okay?” she asked, reaching over and taking the glass from her hand. “You look like you just saw a ghost!”

  “Molly,” she whispered. “He just said something to me!”

  “Who?” Molly whispered back. “And why are we whispering?”

  “The guy I thought was a demon, that’s who,” came the response through gritted teeth and lips that were barely moving. “He just told me his name is… it’s… Tony!”

  “Tony? Oh, you mean, ‘the’ Tony?” She leaned back, starting to laugh. “Maggs, you had me going for a second…” But Maggie wasn’t moving, and when Molly looked back she could tell this was no joke.

  “Sorry, Maggie, I didn’t hear anything, and I thought you were just pulling my leg.” Maggie sat transfixed, staring into the distance as if preoccupied. “So what did he say, your Tony?” Molly inquired, leaning a little closer.

  Maggie snapped back to attention. “First, he is ‘not’ my Tony, and second”—she paused—“he hasn’t stopped talking, and I can’t get in a word edgew—Tony?” She put her hand up to her ear as if she were talking through a loudspeaker. “Tony? Tony, can you hear me?… You can, good, then shut up for a minute. Thank you! That’s better… Yes, I’ll explain it to Molly. Uh-huh. Tony? Okay, then, thank you. Yes, I’ll talk to you in a second.

  “Molly!” Her eyes widened even more. “You are not going to believe this. Actually, I don’t believe this. Maybe I am losing my mind… No, Tony, I am calm… just let me work this out for myself. Yes, uh-huh. Tony? Shut up! Yes, I know you got lots to say, but how long have you been doing this? Give me a break. I just now found out about it, so please, how about giving me at least a minute or two. It would be nice to figure out what the crap is going on! Do you know what a mess you got me into?… No, please, don’t start apologizing. I don’t even want to go there. Just shush your blabbering for just a minute and let me talk to Molly, okay? Okay then, thank you!”

  She turned back to Molly. “I’m talking to an idiot,” she whispered. “Oh, you heard that? Can I say anything without you hearing, snoop?

  “I can’t? My worst nightmare—no privacy.”

  She turned her attention back to Molly, who was staring at her wide-eyed, one hand to her mouth. Maggie leaned forward and spewed her irritation. “I know I told God I wanted a man in my life, but this isn’t what I meant. I was thinkin’ ”—she looked upward as if offering a prayer—“more along the lines of Elder Clarence, thank you, Jesus.”

  She paused for only a second, cocked her head to one side, and demanded, “So, tell me this, are you black or white? Whaddya mean, black or white? You know… skin color, are you a black man or a white man?”

  “Oh my God!” She turned back to Molly. “Molly, I got a white man living inside my head. Tony, you just hang on there… What do you mean you think you might have a little black in you? Everybody’s got a little black in them, what with the whole Africa thing an’ all… or some Indian? Are we talking like Tonto Indian or the faraway Indian, like the telemarketer Indian? You think you’re confused? What? You have a grandmother who’s an Indian? Well, then, yes, I would say that you have Indian in you, but… what? She’s not your biological grandmother? This is not helpful information, Tony. Let’s go back to you shutting up and me talking to Molly, okay? Shush! Shhhhhhhh! Thank you.”

  She slumped back into her chair, blowing away a strand of hair that had fallen down, looked at Molly, and asked, “So, how was your day?”

  Molly played along, still unsure about what was going on. “Oh, the usual; nothing much out of the ordinary. Went up to the hospital to be with Lindsay during her tests. Nance and Sarah are up with Lindsay this evening. I forgot to tell you, when I was up there yesterday Cabby decided to play hide ’n’ seek, and I found him over at OHSU in Neuro ICU, about to unplug an almost dead guy… no big deal. You?” She took a sip of her tea.

  “Oh, like you, nothing much; just made a freak-out fool of myself in front of the whole universe because I thought I was demon possessed, but it was nothing to worry about, just a white guy who decided to crawl inside my head, you know, same ol’, same ol’.”

  They sat quiet for a moment and then it registered what Molly had been saying. “Molly, I am so sorry! With all this Tony stuff, I didn’t even ask how Lindsay is doing. I’ve been making everything about me.”

  Before Molly could answer, Maggie continued, “Tony, you still there? Uh-huh, I was afraid of that. Anyway, Tony, Molly has a darling little girl. Her name is Lindsay and she is the sweetest baby in the whole world, even if she is fourteen. About a year ago”—she paused, looking at Molly, who nodded—“she started getting sick, and then about six months ago Lindsay was diagnosed with AML, acute myelogenous leukemia, and she’s been having a real tough go of it lately. So while you and I were at church playing Kill the Romance, Molly was up at Doernbecher with Lindsay. You got all that? Good… yeah, we are all sorry, but it is what it is. If you know how to pray, you might start.”

  She turned back to Molly. “You were saying, before I so rudely interrupted? This feels like I’m having a conversation and on the phone with another party at the same time, and I can’t conference you in, sorry!”

  Molly waved it off. “Not a problem, not that I understand any of it.” She paused to change her focus. “Lindsay is doing the best she knows how. They expect that all the counts will be zero in the next day or two, then we’ll ramp up for the next round of chemo. I keep asking for a prognosis, but you’re a nurse, you understand; no one wants to offer too much, false hope and all. I wish I could just talk to the Wizard behind the curtain of all the deferring.”

  “I do understand, honey, and I know it’s not much of a comfort, but she is in the best place with some of the most brilliant and kind people in the world. They’ll figure it out. I wish I could be involved directly, but you know I can’t. Us living together is a bit of a touchy issue up there as it is, HIPAA and all. We just need to keep trustin’ that God is right here, in the middle of the mess.”

  “I’m trying, Maggie, but some days just seem so much harder than other days, and some days I start to think that God is off doing more important things for more important people, or that I’ve done something wrong and he’s punishing me, or…”

  The ever-near tears began to fall as Molly dropped her head. Maggie gently took her cup and set it on the nearby table, enfolding her friend into an embrace that held her pieces together, letting her voice her sadness.

  “I don’t even know what to pray anymore,” Molly stammered between her sobs. “I go up there, and in room after room, there are fathers and mothers who are just waiting, waiting to smile again, waiting to laugh, waiting to live. We are all just holding our breaths, waiting for a miracle. And I feel so selfish, praying that God would heal my baby, that somehow I could get his attention or if he would just tell me what I needed to do, and everyone else is praying, too, for their babies, and I don’t get it and it’s too hard. Why does it have to be Lindsay? She’s never hurt a ladybug. She’s good and beautiful and fragile, and there are people out there who hurt other people and they’re healthy while my Lindsay…” A torrent of anger and despair that she had been holding back became a river of tears.

  Maggie said nothing. She just held her friend, stroking her hair and handing her tissues. Sometimes silence speaks loudest and presence brings the most comfort.

  Tony, witness to the entire conversation and meltdown and emotionally captive to Maggie’s compassion for her friend, still found a way to withdraw, as if turning and walking to the back of the room. Sure, he felt for the woman. If anyone knew what she was going through, he did. But he didn’t know her or her daughter, and like s
he said, there were lots of other families in the same situation, dealing with the same or even worse tragedies. It was of no real concern to him. He had a bigger and more important plan for his one opportunity to heal, and it didn’t include Lindsay. It even made him a little angry that God would manipulate him like this, putting him in the middle of a situation that might tempt him to deviate from that purpose.

  “Thank you, Maggs,” Molly said, the pressure she had felt released for the moment. It would return, she knew, but that would wait for another day. She blew her nose one more time and changed the subject.

  “So tell me more about your new friend.” She smiled through swollen and red eyes.

  “My new friend, huh!” muttered Maggie as she sat back in her chair. “I suppose you mean Tony? He’s no friend of mine.” Then she laughed, a deep and rich laugh and slapped her knee. “But I gotta admit, it’s going to make a fine story.” Maggie continued as if talking to herself, “So, Tony, who are you and why are you here and how does Cabby know you and how did he know you were inside of me?”

  Tony would explain and Maggie would relay back to Molly the answers, and in this disjointed conversation the stories slowly merged. There were more than a few surprises. Tony told them about his collapse and coma and briefly how he had found himself in conversations with Jesus and the Holy Spirit and how they had asked him to be part of a journey that landed him inside the middle of Maggie’s and Molly’s worlds.

  “So you were inside Cabby’s head before you were inside mine and that is how Cabby knew?” asked Maggie.

  “That’s the only thing that makes sense to me,” answered Tony. He explained how Cabby had played hide-and-seek and ended up in his room, that he was the “almost dead guy” in the coma in Neuro ICU, and that was when he had slid into Molly’s son. He went on to describe the day he had spent with, or in, Cabby at school.

  “Cabby’s a remarkable young man. Do you know he has someone’s camera in a toy guitar case under his bed?”