Not Far From Golgotha

by Richard Futch

  “Yeah…” He made a guess. “Elizabeth, is that you? Are you all right?” He tried to put a focus on his racing thoughts. Worry started a slow invasion.

  “Yeah, it’s me…it’s me…come get me…” Her words got tangled in the phone lines. Thomas gripped the receiver and tried to remain calm.

  “Okay, okay, Elizabeth. Where are you? Are you all right? Are you in trouble?” He quickly glanced at his watch. This was not good.

  “It’s gettin’ dark, Billy. It’s gettin’ hard to see…”

  Who in the hell was Billy?

  “Elizabeth, listen to me.” Thomas stared through the curtains. Darkness was still a distance away. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.” He could hear heavy breathing. What in God’s name was going on?

  “…the…Gallaria…please come get me…”

  “You’re at the Gallaria?” She didn’t answer. “Elizabeth! Listen to me! This is Thomas. I’m coming to get you. Don’t move! Elizabeth, do you hear me? Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be there in a minute!” He didn’t wait for a reply since he didn’t expect one. He threw the phone on the bed and bolted out of the room and down the stairs. He was gone before anyone in the main house even knew he was back from the store.

  *

  Thomas parked his car on the first floor of the parking garage and ran to the mirrored main entrance. As he went he scanned the sidewalks visible from the enclosure. No Elizabeth. He flung open the door and hurried inside. As he remembered, the first floor was spacious and airy. Absolutely filled with doorways, halls, innumerable nooks and crannies where a person could squirrel away. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide where Elizabeth would be, where he would be if he was her. He only really knew her from porches and beds. Jesus….

  His eyes caught on the escalators. Maybe. He took a deep breath and one more quick glance around as he walked toward them. He also knew from past experience there’d been a fairly major bar on the second floor. He couldn’t remember the name, but that was not odd considering how wasted he’d been. And if memory served correct, the second floor was almost as spacious as the first. He could almost picture a large bank of telephones up there and this didn’t seem to be a manufactured memory either. One thing was certain, he thought on the way up. Everything above the second floor plaza was nothing but floor after floor of offices. Small chance Elizabeth would be up there.

  He came eye-level with the second floor and craned his neck. No sign of any phones. He made another cursory revolution as he timed his feet to leave the escalator track. Maybe you’re mistaken, he began, then no, no, no. There they were. Straight ahead behind the palm tree in the bucket. At least twenty of them, ten on each side and back-to-back. He walked over, noticing a set of benches pushed off to the left near a closed deli and a fire exit. At the end of the bench nearest the door was a slumped figure. Thomas could dimly hear the thump of music from the bar across the plaza; so it was still in business. His heart beat faster. It was clearly Elizabeth hunched over on the bench, and there were two Rent-A-Cop’s standing nearby, one with a walkie-talkie in his hand. The other just looking at her. Thomas decided to speak up.

  “Elizabeth,” he called from twenty-five feet away. Both guards snapped their eyes his way but Elizabeth did not. Thomas broke into a trot to erase the remaining distance, and pushed past both men as he went to one knee. He smelled alcohol immediately.

  “Hey buddy? You know this girl?” said one of the security drones, the one who looked as if he would give birth before the week was out. With his hand resting on Elizabeth’s shoulder, Thomas turned his attention to the two. The fat one was middle-aged, his partner appeared all of twelve with a wisp of moustache shadowing his upper lip. A mad thought raced into Thomas’ head, Maybe television wasn’t really so far off the mark. The belt around the kid’s skinny Mayberry waist contained every essential of a Montana militia man. Both of them looked like they’d have trouble sacking a bag lady with one good eye. “I said, ‘Do you know this person?’” asked the fat one again. His eyes sparkled with a dull interest usually relegated to sleepy housecats happening to be on the leading edge of a thirty minute consciousness binge. He did not look happy.

  “Oh course I know her,” Thomas said, trying to keep contempt out of his voice. “She’s my girlfriend.” He decided to make a play. “I think she’s had another one of her attacks.” The close-set eyes on Fatty squinted tighter.

  “Now don’t bullshit me, buddy,” he challenged. “She’s drunk as a goddamn skunk. I can smell her from here.”

  Thomas stood up, holding his hands out to diffuse the rent-a-cop’s growing anger. “Yeah, that’s right. She’s been drinking. She’s had problems lately, and she’s not taking it well. She’s sick.”

  “Drinkin don’t help it,” Toolbelt threw in.

  Thomas bit his lip and nodded his head, trying to control his temper. “I know that and you know that, but she doesn’t know that. It’s just something she’s gotta deal with. I’ll just get her up and—“

  “What she got?” Toolbelt asked. He hitched up his pants as he said it.

  Thomas turned a deadly glare at the kid. “She’s got cancer,” he answered flatly.

  “Kinda young to get cancer, ain’t she?” came Fatty’s clinical diagnosis from the side.

  Thomas turned to the fat man and the new look in his eye caused the rent-a-cop to retreat a step. “I guess not,” he spat, gearing himself now to go to the floor with both of these assholes if they gave him any more shit. The steel in his tone broke Fatty’s confidence, and Toolbelt rolled into a tight ball beside him. Neither could meet Thomas’ gaze any longer. He turned away from them and bent back to the bench. “She’s sick for Christ’s sake!” Toolbelt retreated to the bank of telephones, and this mutiny seemed to muddle Fatty’s sense of control. Even so, Fatty’s manhood, what little of it there actually was, necessitated that he give one more order. “All right then. You can take her out of here. Just make it quick, okay?”

  Thomas didn’t even look up or acknowledge. He whispered in Elizabeth’s ear, trying to rouse her as he listened to the asshole’s exit. When she appeared slightly coherent he got his hands underneath her arms and hoisted her to her feet. She was surprisingly light, but didn’t seem any the worse for wear other than the fact she kept calling him ‘Billy.’

  He began steering her toward the elevator; he figured the escalator could prove disastrous. Over in the corner Thomas eyed the two security clowns watching them furtively. “It’s me, Liz. You called me to come get you. You don’t remember?” He saw the question in her face, and decided correctly to steer away from any interrogation. “Forget it,” he decided. “Are you all right?” Finally in front of the elevators, Thomas pressed the Down button. The 1st Floor light above the elevator bank blinked off and Thomas thanked God they wouldn’t be here much longer.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing…” Elizabeth muttered as the light blinked on for the 2nd Floor and the door slowly slid open. They got inside and Thomas pressed the button. Elizabeth sagged against him as they approached the Lobby. They got to his car, and as he helped her into the passenger seat, he carefully released the catch to let the seat back. Then he gently pressed her door closed and went around to the driver’s side. By the time he got inside and closed his door Elizabeth was shaking her head back and forth. A faint hint of color showed in her cheeks and she seemed more cognizant now, as if grounded better in the close interior of the car than she’d been in the wide expanse of the building. The smell of alcohol filled the car. “Help me sit up,” she panted. Thomas put one hand behind the seat and flipped the latch up, bringing the seat higher with his other. She leaned over with her head in her hands. Her voice was strained and slow. “I’m sorry I called you…I didn’t mean to get you involved in this….”

  “Elizabeth,” he broke in, starting the car. “I don’t want to hear that. I told you to call me if you need me and that’s what you did. Hell, I’m glad you did. You could have gotten yourself i
nto trouble up there if I hadn’t shown up when I did.” She swiveled her head to gaze tiredly at him. There was a single tear-track underneath her right eye and a spot on her gray shirt. Another quickly formed in her eye and raced down to land near the first. “Where do you want me to take you?” he asked because he could think of nothing else to say.

  “Billy’s,” she replied, resting her head against the seat cushion again. A tear spilled from her other eye, but even this could not keep Thomas from laughing lightly as he turned to make sure nothing was behind them. Elizabeth turned to him with a wrinkle in her forehead. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said as he dropped the gear shift into Drive. “It’s just that you’ve been calling me ‘Billy’ for the last two hours and I don’t have the slightest idea who he is.”

  Chapter 54

  Thomas was alone in Billy’s living room. The television was off, and a college station drifted lightly from the stereo speakers. It was a group Thomas was unfamiliar with and he was no sorrier for that, he’d decided. He liked New Age jazz and backyard blues, an odd combination some told him, but perfectly logical as far as he was concerned. Anyway, the thought was unimportant, just another way to while the minutes until he had a better grasp on the situation.

  He turned to stare into the hallway entrance upon hearing approaching footsteps. Billy appeared out of the darkness and leaned somewhat uncomfortably against the door jamb with his arms crossed. Thomas stood up and slapped both hands on his thighs. It was way late. “’She doing all right?” he asked.

  Billy scratched his head. “Yeah, she’s asleep. Drunk as hell. Gonna feel terrible in the morning.” He attempted a thin smile that fooled neither of the men. No one felt like joking but the tension in the air was practically visible. Billy paused in thought before going on to new business. “Look…Thomas, right?” Thomas nodded. “I’m sorry you got wrapped up in this—” and Billy continued though Thomas wished he wouldn’t, “it’s just impossible to know what’s going through her head. I wish I’d been here earlier since she probably called here first. I’ve been meaning to get a new fucking answering machine—“

  Thomas jumped in to fill the space. “Billy,” he said quietly. “I know you’ve never seen me before and don’t know a damn thing about me but I do know your sister. Hasn’t been for long but there’s something about her. I know about the cancer. I told her if she needed me don’t hesitate to call. And she did, so she called. It was no bother. Hell, I was glad to do it,” and this time it was Thomas’ turn to pause, considering. “Even if,” he said with a genuine smile, “she did call me ‘Billy’most of the time.”

  “What?” Billy asked, mystified.

  “Yeah, most of the time that’s what she said. I didn’t know who she was talking about until we were in the car. Thought she was talking about her boyfriend. I gotta say I felt better when I found out you were her brother.”

  Billy nodded with a tired smile.

  “Well,” he admitted. “At least I know she’s got a helluva friend. Not many people like handling drunks. Anyway, I’m glad you brought her here.”

  “It’s what she wanted.” Thomas looked at his watch. He had to work in the morning. “Okay, look. I need to get back to my place. She’s gonna be all right, you figure?”

  “I believe so. Just gotta sleep it off. It won’t be a good morning from the looks of it, though.”

  “Yeah, well I know…”

  “Uh huh. This whole fucking thing sucks.”

  “Exactly.” Thomas stuck out his hand. “Billy, I’m glad to meet you, even if the circumstances were a little odd.” Billy grabbed the hand and shook it.

  “Seems like life gets more and more like that,” he replied.

  “Don’t it, though.” The handshake broke and Thomas started for the door. “She’s got my number. Tell her I’ll be home tomorrow night. Tell her to call me.”

  Billy pointed at him as Thomas opened the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she does.” Then, before Thomas could get cleanly away, Billy added, “I really appreciate what you did tonight for my sister.”

  “It was no problem, really. She’s great company,” and Thomas closed the door.

  Billy walked over to his chair and sat down heavily. He breathed out, long and slow, his shoulders sagging as he stared into space. A dangerous thought had plagued him since he’d tucked her into bed. It wasn’t working; the novelty of her Trump card appeared merely that. And that was doubly bad because her revelation had helped him lately. The talk they’d had on the levee behind Cooter Brown’s had pumped him up, had made things seem less bleak, and now….now, things had taken a turn. Of that there was no doubt.

  And she’d come to him.

  The room was suddenly hot, oppressive. He wanted to call the old man but for what reason? A few encouraging words, maybe? No, his conscious warned him. Handle it yourself, Bill. Knuckle down, help your sister. She needs you. This is no time for self-pity; this is the real world and there are no apologies or ‘time outs’ here.

  His right eye ticked from a blossoming headache, and he rubbed it vigorously in hopes something good would come. Nothing did. His neck was also a tight band, humming electrically with tension. For a long while that night he sat and rocked, his eyes staring off as his mind turned ceaselessly. At 1:15 in the morning he phoned Nora to tell her Elizabeth was safe.

  Chapter 55

  Billy woke up the next morning, a shaft of sunlight stabbing him through a hole in the blinds. A massive crick gripped his neck and he groaned, circling his shoulders to get the rocks out of his joints. He tried the same with his neck, carefully rotating his head back and forth in hopes he could break the vice-grip before standing. His mouth was nasty and dry and he remembered talking a lot the day before. He’d never considered himself a big talker. He cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. My God, what time is it? he wondered. He twisted his wrist so he could make out the luminous dial. 7:23 a.m.. Well, at least he was up, crick or not. He had to be at work by 9:00. He pushed himself to his feet, stretching and popping his joints in the hope he could right the pain in his neck. He thought about Elizabeth as he shuffled into the kitchen.

  Reaching above the range, he pilfered through the menagerie of spices until he found the aspirin. He’d never gotten around to establishing an official medicine cabinet, but this sense of disorder had shape in his mind. He poured three gel-coated tablets into the palm of his hand, considered this a moment, and then poured two more. He fished around for a moderately clean glass with his free hand, and filled it up with tap water as he placed two of the pills in his mouth. Then he swallowed everything in one sustained gulp. Setting the glass on the counter he left the kitchen.

  He walked down the hall to the room where he’d left Elizabeth.

  He opened the door quietly and peered inside. She was lying on her back, mouth open, snoring. A perfect picture of peacefulness. He stepped inside and walked to the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge when he got there. She wrinkled her forehead in her sleep and rolled away from him as if pursuing a fleeing dream. He waited a moment. Then, quietly he whispered, “Elizabeth.” It took a few tries before her eyelids fluttered, but they did. When they finally found the strength to stay open they were filmy with sleep and scattered concentration. Billy leaned in close so she’d be sure it was him. “Hey Liz,” he said. “It’s me…didn’t want you waking up later and wondering where the hell you were. You’ve never slept here before.” She had the stoned, fuzzy look of someone viewed underwater, close to the surface but still separated by different planes of reality. Gradually she came to the top.

  “Billy?” she questioned. Her brow knotted in confusion.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Liz. You’re all right.” Only an explanation would take the huge question mark from her eyes so he said, “You got hammered last night. A friend of yours named Thomas brought you here. And I put you to bed.” He leaned forward, offering the remaining three aspirins. “Take these,” he said. There w
as a glass of water from last night on the bedside table. Elizabeth made them both disappear. “Want more?” Billy asked.

  Elizabeth held the glass out to him and nodded her head ‘yes’ as she faded back to the pillow. Billy took it to the kitchen, filled it and brought it back, not at all surprised to see its contents vanish as quickly as the one before. “Oh God, thanks, Billy,” Elizabeth sputtered. “I was just chasing a dream about thirst…I couldn’t catch--.” She stopped short, her mouth drawn up into a tight line underneath her nose. “My head is splitting….”

  “Thought it might be. Why don’t you try to get back to sleep. I just wanted to get the aspirins in you for later. I’ve gotta go to work in a little while and I didn’t want you to freak out when you woke up.” He began to stand, but Elizabeth restrained him with a fierce grip. She squirmed into a sitting position against the headboard and stopped, closed her eyes and breathed heavily.

  “Thomas brought me here?”

  Billy nodded.

  “Where is he now?”

  “He left around ten-thirty or eleven last night. He wanted me to make sure you called him when you felt better.” He saw the look and tried to stop it. “He wasn’t mad, Elizabeth. Believe me, he wasn’t. He was just concerned, worried. We both were.” The crick in his neck was suddenly worse, the humming increasing as the conversation got more delicate. He’d not missed her comment about the dream.

  “I don’t remember where…” and Billy saw the seeds of confusion take root behind her eyes. She began rubbing away sleep from their corners as she attempted to clear her head.

  “Don’t worry, Liz,” Billy said as confidently as he could. “Everybody gets drunk once in a while and forgets what they’re doing. Hell, I couldn’t count the times I’ve fucked up. But this is nothing like that…it doesn’t mean anything. Don’t worry about last night—” and she waved her hand to cut him off.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Billy,” and it seemed all the air sucked out of the room. She turned her head so he would not see the tears building in her eyes. Her chest hitched and Billy knew she was crying anyway. “I’m not doin…it’s not workin so good anymore…”