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             Friday February 26, 2010

I cried out to the Lord

“Help me”

A voice echoed back

“Help Me”

I could feel my nose hairs freezing as I pushed the snow blower down my mom’s driveway. The snow shot out of the blower and banged against the Wright’s aluminum siding. It was wet and heavy. I took a deep breath and my lungs hurt like they were a size to small.  The sun wasn’t up yet.

            I turned around at the end of the apron. Then I took a right and did the sidewalk in front of the Wright’s house. I pushed the blower through their driveway and plowed the sidewalk in front of the next house. I had met the couple that lived their once or twice. My ma said they were splitting up. The husband had moved out a couple month’s ago.

The wife and kids still lived there. I hadn’t seen the dude in a minute. I figured I would do a good deed and help her get out of her driveway. I had a soft spot in my heart for widows, on account of my ma being one and all. But I wasn’t sure there were widows anymore. Young ones anyway, medicine was getting better and better and people seemed to get divorced before the husband had a chance to die. This seemed as close an approximation as possible. I bet she kind of wishes he had died.  That’s less complicated.

I wanted to comfort her. She had always been a nice looking lady but now when I saw her outside with her two little kids trying to put on a brave face. I wanted to wrap myself in her sadness.  I had never actually talked to her. I waved to her a couple times.

            I had thought about her last night. Her husband wasn’t dead.  I was literally coveting my neighbor’s wife. Well my ma’s neighbors wife. At least until the paperwork went through, or my ma decided to downsize.

            I was growing a beard. I took my glove off, ran my fingers through it, and tried not to look towards her house. If she saw me, I didn’t want her to see me seeing her. I finished plowing her drive. I make myself sick sometimes. There isn’t an ounce of sincerity in me. I want paid for every good deed I do. No matter how much I want to pretend I don’t.

I pushed the blower up my ma’s driveway and into the garage. I was sweating. I had a lot of layers on. Once I was in the house I took off my sweatshirt and then my thermal. Steam was coming off my chest. My beard was really thick. I had only trimmed my beard a couple times since I got home.  I looked strong in a traditional sense of the word.

            I took off the rest of my clothes and got in the shower. I thought about the neighbor cutting the crust off her kid’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and crying while she wrote little notes about how much she loved them to stick in their lunches.

            A girl with that kind of sadness could use a man like me, someone to nurse her back to health. I finished jacking off, and let the water rinse my seed down the drain. Then I washed up again.

            I hated masturbating in the shower. I felt like you needed a little lag time between beating one out and taking a shower to really get clean. But I didn’t like masturbating in my room now that I was living at home again. I felt like my mom could hear me. My room was just down the hall. She probably wondered why I took so many showers.

            I had been back at work now for a couple weeks. I hadn’t changed as much as I hoped I would. It was hard to hold on to a feeling. I imagine it’s like trying to break a horse. It will buck for a while until it gives up. Eventually it can’t even remember being wild. Some of that sounds right. I don’t know. 

In the beginning the new feeling is exhilarating and difficult all at the same time, but if you can ride it out, it becomes natural like background noise and ketchup on French fries. And I guess that’s what you want with certain feelings.

            I worked for a title company. We were in a pretty good spot. We specialized in processing foreclosed homes titles. We were busy. They let me work from home if I didn’t feel like going in and I didn’t feel like going in today. I would drive my ma to work. She worked downtown and her parking lot wasn’t close to her building, and the weather was no good.  I would drop her off and pick her up. I would get a breakfast sandwich on the way home. That was part of my plan. I would get a bagel sandwich from Bruegers.

            I stroked my beard as I sat on the sofa waiting for my ma to finish putting on her makeup. My beard was lush.  My ma was talking. I couldn’t really hear her. Every once in a while I would say yeah.

She came out of the bathroom and kissed my forehead.

“Thanks for driving me John. It looks cold outside.”

“No problem ma.”

            I had cleaned off the car and it had been heating up for about five minutes in the driveway. My ma put on her coat and we headed outside.

            “It’s nice having you around John.”

“Yeah.”

            “Is it nice being around?”

“Yeah ma, I’m gaining weight. I’m eating to good.”

            “You look nice. A man shouldn’t be to skinny: What if you get sick? You need to have some weight to lose.”

            “Okay, ma”

I turned the radio up and my ma took the hint and quieted down. Traffic was moving pretty good considering the weather. I got downtown in twenty five minutes. I dropped my ma off right in front her building. I changed my plan and stopped at Dunkin Donuts instead. I love their hash browns too much. I was in such a hurry to eat them, my tongue looked like it was shedding its skin.

 I sat at my desk opened up my bagel sandwich and took a sip of coffee.  I turned on my computer, logged onto my secure work sight, checked my email and then I logged onto Facebook.  I looked at posts dating back to around eight o clock the night before. The last time I was online. And then I looked to see if anybody had posted any good photos.

It was mainly people I didn’t really know that well. I looked at their pictures anyway.

 I checked to see who was online. Maybe I would bump into Marie. We were still Facebook friends. I said a Hail Mary and waited a beat before I checked her page to see I don’t know what just to see I guess.

            There was really no point she wasn’t one to put her business or let any body else put her business out on some page for the world to see.. She would have made a good mafia wife, actually probably a better Mafia mistress. She was more that I got secrets you got secrets so lets keep it secret kind of girl. She wasn’t keeping quiet to protect you. She was keeping quiet to protect her. I felt stupid thinking about her.

 I minimized all my distractions and got back on the worksite. Everything was scanned in and I could access all the sites I needed to research and prepare the titles. And then I would just email stacks to whatever banks where handling it and they would do what they do and get the shit notarized. Blah blah blah, it was boring but it was a living.

I would play these games were I would drink a shit load of water but I wouldn’t take a piss until I had finished ten titles. Or I could go to ESPN.com when I finished fifteen. It was retarded but every body needs a carrot.  I was on title number ten and I felt like I was going to piss my pants.

 I only drink coffee till noon and around eleven ten I still had half a pot left so I poured it into a travel mug and drank it so I wouldn’t have to throw it out.

The coffee cascaded through my intestines paused momentarily in my bladder and was now threatening to explode out of my urethra to soak my pants and thoroughly shame me. I had to type one handed because I had to pinch my cock with my other hand  too stop from pissing myself. I finally finished and ran to the bathroom. It felt so good to piss. I was glad I had pushed it to the limit. Pissing ten minutes ago wouldn’t have felt this good.  

I sat back down at my desk and got on the computer.  I checked to see who was online. There were 23 people online before I clicked the button to show everybody who was online and now there were only nineteen. I always wandered if people were intentionally avoiding me. I wasn’t all that interested in talking to anybody who was listed. I looked at all the recent status updates and checked if anybody added new photos. There was nothing all that interesting listed. I minimized the screen and got back to work.

I had reached my daily goal by one thirty. I decided to go rent a dvd.

There was a family video about three blocks from my ma’s house. For some reason there were a lot of attractive girls that worked there. I wasn’t sure how old they were so I never knew how to act around them.

            I sat in my car for a second before I headed into the video store. When I went in the middle of day I always felt like I needed to tell them I’m not unemployed. I get to work from home and I finished all my work for the day so now I am going to enjoy a nice dvd and a couple Nutty Buddy’s. I earned this respite by working so efficiently.

.   I went into the video store. The girl behind the counter said welcome to Family video. I nodded and said “Hello”. She fit the family video description. I figured she had to be out of school and I could try and throw some charm at her if I was so inclined. But then again maybe she was in one of those programs were you go to school half a day and work half a day.

I Headed to the O section of the new releases and grabbed a copy of Observe and Report. I had wanted to see it in the theatres but never go around to it.

She rang me up and I said, “So is this a pretty good movie.”

“I haven’t seen it yet. But a lot of people are renting it.”

“I guess that’s a good sign.:

 She nodded and smiled an easy smile “It’s do back tomorrow by midnight.”

“Cool, have a good day.

I walked out to my car. I was always jealous of people who could smile whether they felt like it or not. I should work on smiling in the mirror. Maybe it’s a skill you can develop.

             I stopped at Drug Mart and grabbed a box of Nutty Buddy’s. When I got home I jumped on the computer and checked my email and my Facebook before I started the Movie. There was nothing new. I got a Nutty Buddy out of the Fridge and started the movie.

            It was Friday and Nutty Buddy’s were my Friday treat. After today it would be at least a week before I got to enjoy them again. I liked having special days for things. It made it more of an event. And I could indulge a little more because it was Nutty Buddy day. Every day did not have an indulgence that would have dulled the excitement.

 Some times the day wasn’t as important as the date. The fifteenth was special because you were caught in the middle of a month.  I always felt lucky on the third the seventh and the eleventh. So I didn’t really like to have a special food on those days. It would be an embarrassment of riches. The date was enough on those days. It wasn’t always easy to determine what days deserved something special.

I ate three Nutty Buddys and did one hundred and eighty push ups during the movie. I really enjoyed it. I took a twenty minute nap when it was over and then drove downtown to pick my ma up.

I could see my ma standing in the lobby of the building waiting for me. I pulled up to the curb and unlocked her door. She was dressed like an old lady with her scarf wrapped tight. But she moved quick to the car. She could surprise you with that power.

My ma exhaled deeply when she got in the car.

“I am ready to be in for the weekend.”

            “Long day.”

“Yeah, Robin wasn’t in today. I am exhausted.”

            She turned down the radio and I maneuvered my way up east ninth and towards the highway. A couple horns were beeping but I don’t think the noise was meant for me. I looked around to make sure. People like to complain about Cleveland, but you rarely get stuck in traffic. We were getting off our exit in no time.

            “John, do you want to stop at Boston Market and pick up some dinners?  I don’t feel like cooking.”

            “Sure ma.”

 I headed down Warren road towards the plaza with the Boston Market. I passed winterhorst the ice skating rink. We used to go there every Friday night when I was in seventh and eighth grade. None of my friends were really any good at skating, but we would rent skates and wobble around the arena. Eating nachos, and playing air hockey hoping something would happen.

            We caught a stoplight on Athens.

My ma knocked on her window.

“John, did you see the Dayne’s house is for sale.”

            “Yeah.”

“I wonder, why there moving.”

            “Who knows.”

“Maybe, there getting nervous Lakewood is changing. More and more section eight.”

            “Yeah, I don’t know.”

            “Or maybe they are downsizing so they can do some traveling and see there grand kids. I think their son Richie lives in Michigan.”

            “Maybe.”

“You don’t have an opinion.”

            “I don’t really care.”

“Well you should care.. The Dayne’s are a nice family.”

            “Alright ma, probably the grand kids thing”

“John, when you have kids, you won’t ever have to get a baby sitter. I think it will be so nice to be a grandma.”

            “Yeah, ma, you will be a good grandma.”

“You think so.”

            “For sure, you’re a good mom. It all translates.”

“You’re sweet John. The girl that gets you is gonna be lucky.”          

            I nodded and kept my eyes on the road.

When we got in the parking lot my ma tried to put a twenty in my hand to pay for dinner but I told her I got it. I left the car running while I went inside. I got her a chicken dinner with green beans and stuffing and I got a meatloaf dinner with corn and mashed potatoes. The stuffing was really for me to because my ma was counting her points for weight watchers.

            I handed the food to my mom before I got in the car.

 These feel nice and warm.”

            “Yeah Boston Market is pretty good.”

We were home in a minute I carried the food inside and set it on the table.

            My ma said a quick Grace and we ate. She took two spoonfuls of stuffing before scooping the rest onto my plate.

I eat too fast and was almost done before my ma even really started.

            “Slow down John your going to give yourself indigestion”

“Alright ma, I’m thirty I know how to feed myself.”

            “I know you’re thirty I gave birth to you.”

“And I appreciate that ma. Just don’t fucking tell me how to do everything.”

            “John you don’t have to swear to get your point across.”

“Well ma, you don’t fucking listen.”

            “I listen.”

“I stood up and gave my ma a hug and a kiss.

            “I know ma. I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to take a shower I’m going to meet Rob, and Mike at the bar to watch the game in a little bit.’

            “You don’t have to say sorry John. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Thanks ma.” I gave her another kiss on her cheek and headed upstairs to be by myself and get ready to go drink a couple beers.

            I sat at the computer for twenty minutes, checked my Hotmail email, my Facebook, and my Yahoo email. Nothing was going on on any of them. I was getting the itches sitting there and decided to walk up to the bar early. I wasn’t meeting anybody up there. Rob had his son this weekend and Mike was staying in with his girl. I didn’t want my ma to think I was going up there to drink alone. She would worry I was drinking too much. But I knew I was drinking the perfect amount. Three nights a week, Friday, Saturday and maybe Wednesday or Tuesdays depending on which night felt right.

            I kissed my ma on the cheek on my way out the door. The cold air hit me. It felt good. I always liked going into the cold with a purpose, even if the purpose was to go to the bar to get drunk. I had a direction, a destination, That’s all I needed. I was a steel driving man. I just needed some tracks to follow, and you couldn’t fuck with me.  

            I looked at the neighbor’s house and tried to imagine what kind of sadness might be going on inside. I would love to console her.

            The bar was one block up and two blocks over from where my ma lived. It was a little place called Miller’s. There was a special at Millers called Mr. Miller’s Miller. It was a thirty three ounce Miller high life draft for three dollars. It was a pretty good deal. 

Millers served their mixed drinks in juice glasses and those were a good deal too.

            I would run into some of the people I grew up with out for the night; their kids at home, trying to catch the same feeling they used to get when they would come in here as underage kids. They had cracked down on that the last couple years. So I don’t know were underage kids go to drink any more. That’s probably why all these kids are accidently choking themselves to death while they masturbate. Every thing else is illegal these days.

            I drank one of Mr. Miller’s Millers and was gripping a second when the game started. The bartender was pregnant. I wanted to feel her belly. Her name was Molly.

She would have made a good pilgrim, or Indian. I was a little worried for the baby. She was still smoking and drinking. It’s a crap shoot. You can do everything right and things turn out wrong. This broad was built to reproduce. So maybe a splash of chardonnay in her placenta won’t hurt the little buster.

I said a prayer for this unborn baby and took a big sip of beer. The bar was starting to fill up. I didn’t mind coming to a bar alone. I got to listen in on everybody else’s conversation and there was no pressure to have something to say. I some times worried that I looked crazy sitting all by myself. But I would rather worry about that then get the itches sitting at home.

There were two guys sitting next to me wondering where the bitches where at? I didn’t know. There was a guy in his late forties and lady in her early fifties sitting on the other side of me. He was talking like he invented the fucking internet. Using all this random jargon that didn’t fit together, universal remote, word processor, band with, static electricity, hemoglobin, hi def, external hard drive and the lady was just nodding like what the fuck are you talking about, my daughter just showed me how to send a text message a month and a half ago. I felt like this conversation should have been taking place over a web cam or a cb radio anywhere but here; the scene was wigging me out a little. I got up and went into the bathroom. I took my beer with me in hopes that someone would take my seat and I could move without seeming rude.

I looked in the mirror and told myself they probably hadn’t even noticed me. I could walk out there and sit wherever I wanted.  I opened the door and made a bee line for the far end of the bar by the entrance or the exit depending on what time of night. There were a couple seats open. I sat down two seats from the end.   There were nine minutes left in the third quarter.

The door opened and the cold air hit me. I looked over my shoulder. Three guys, Jim Watawitz, Chris Tomol, and James O’Malley, I always run into saddled up to the bar. Ryan noticed my first, “Johnny, what’s up?

“Just watching Lebronski.”

  “Who you up her with?”

      “Nobody man, Rob and Mike both had something going.”

“Yeah, how are those guys doing?”

            “Good just doing what they do I guess.”

“That’s cool. What about your girl? What was here name?”

“Marie.”

            “Yeah, she didn’t feel like watching the game.”

“Naw, man. She’s not a big sports fan. She had a Tupperware party or something.”

            “People still have Tupperware parties?”

“They must or she’s lying to me and it’s a dildo party.”

            “Probably a dildo party.”

“Your probably right. She did tell me your mom was coming.”

            “I bought her one for mother’s day. I don’t know why she would need another.”

    We both laughed. Ryan was a good dude. My belly was already churning for lying to him. I felt like a fucking douche and I was nervous he might run into Marie and tell her he saw her boyfriend earlier tonight. And then she would think I was fucking desperate and delusional. I wish I could take it back and tell him we were taking a break any fucking thing but what I said.

            I wish I was a mute sometimes. I wanted to remove my tongue. Those guys ordered beers and we watched the rest of the game but I couldn’t even concentrate. I wanted the game to end so I could go home and worry in peace.

              The final seconds mercifully ticked off the clock. I said my goodbyes and was back on the street by myself. The wind was blowing the snow around. I pulled my hood up. I put the hood behind my ears I saw my reflection in a car window. I looked like a bearded Mother Theresa. I opened my cell phone to check the time and see if I had missed any calls. It was ten thirty five.

Ahhh, I wonder if my ma was still up. I could feel the boredom lurking. I would end up browsing the internet, beating off to put another night in the books. I said a Hail Mary hoping somebody would call before I got home.  It felt good walking in the cool night air. I turned onto my ma’s street and picked up a hand full of snow chucking it across the street at a parked car. It splashed and exploded and I continued on my way. I was getting close to home when I heard a voice say something

I looked towards the voice and said “What?”

“Thank you for shoveling my driveway this morning.”

            It was my ma’s neighbor she was standing on the porch smoking a cigarette.

“Oh, no problem, it’s easy with the snow blower.”

            “I appreciate it.”

‘You’re welcome. My ma told me I should do it”

            “Your mom is so nice.”

“Yeah she’s a good lady.”

            “Where are you coming from?”

“Miller’s I just had a couple beers and watched the game.”  

                        “Could I offer you one more as a thank you?”

 “I could drink a beer.”

            “Good.”

I walked up the stairs.

            She took a deep pull from her cigarette.

“I’ve never seen you out her smoking before.”

            ”I don’t. Not since before I got pregnant.I just bought a pack today. I don’t know why.”

“Yeah “

She put her cigarette out in the snow but held onto it.

            “You ready for that beer.”

“Yeah.”          

            We went inside. Her house was neat. I was hoping it would be more disheveled like she was too distraught to clean.

             I followed her into the kitchen.

“Is Bud light okay

            I said, “Yeah” and sat down by her kitchen table. There was one of those giant clear containers of crunch and munch on the counter.”

“Is that crunch and munch.”

            “Fiddle faddle, you want some.”

“Yes I do.”

            “I buy it in bulk, my boys love it.”

She opened my beer for me then brought the crunch and munch over grabbing a big handful before she sat down.

            “I like it to.”

“You’re not drinking.”

            “I’m already drunk. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have invited you in.”
I laughed, “Makes sense.”

            She touched my face with both hands. “You should shave.”

“Why?”

            “Because you’re not a beard guy.”

“How do you know I’m not a beard guy?”

            “Because you got a beard so I know.”

“I like the beard.”

            “Unfortunately, the beard doesn’t like you.”

            I chuckled and shook my head. I liked her better in my head.

“What’s so funny?”

            “Nothing.”

“No what?”

            “Just remembering, the last time I was inside this house I was probably twelve or so. There was this older German lady who lived here. I raked her yard, and when I was done she served me a pork chop sandwich and glass of a beer like I was a grown man. It’s just funny how life repeats itself.”

            “Are you saying I’m an old German lady?”

“ No, your not German.”

            She laughed hard

“You’re kind of funny.”

            “Thanks

“But you have a serious face. That’s why you should shave the beard. You already have a serious face. It’s too much with the beard.”

            I shrugged my shoulder

I swear I don’t usually talk this much. But I’m drunk, and I don’t drink. I don’t even smoke. I just bought the bottle of wine and the pack of cigarettes because the kids aren’t home and I don’t know what else to do with myself.”

            “Yeah.”

Do you want to watch tv?

            “Okay”

We went in the living room and sat on the couch. she turned on the tv and sat a space away. She flicked threw the channels not really stopping on anything.

            Then she laid her head on the edge of the sofa and put he feet inches from me.

“You comfortable?”

            “Yes.:

“Do you want to go to bed?”

            “No I just want to rest my eyes.”

“Do you want me to go?”

            “No, I want you to do what you’re doing. Just be here. So I can rest my eyes. Just for a little bit, okay. Put whatever you want on. Okay.”

            I said “okay.” and flicked through the channels. TV One was showing Martin reruns. She kept inching her feet closer and closer to me till we finally touched and her breathing slowed down.  Martin was yelling hell naw.

            I watched her sleeping and I kind of wanted to shake her. I used to hate sleepovers when I was a kid. I would get so jealous of everybody else’s comfortable slumber. Her feet were fully on my lap now. I gave one a little rub and she cood. So I gave em both a little bit of the soft shoe treatment.

            One episode ended and another was beginning. I didn’t know how long I should stay here with her feet on my lap. I told myself I would stay until the next commercial. Shenanay was making a scene and then it cut to commercial. I tried to slide her feet off me as gently as I could.

            She looked confused.

“Where are you going?”

            “Home.”

“No.”

            “Why?”

“Because I really need to rest my eyes. I swear to God I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t get some sleep soon. And I cant sleep by myself. I haven’t really slept since Ray left. Please just lay with me for a little bit.”

            “Just lay with you?”

“Yeah just laying. I need to rest my eyes..”

            “You want me to lay with you?”

She nodded her sleepy head and I conceded. I tried to slide between her and the back of the couch. She wasn’t giving up much ground. I finally wedged myself in

            We laid there for a minute trying to get comfortable. A commercial for brass polish was on the TV. My bottom arm was falling asleep. My top arm was slung over her side.  I rubbed my bad foot with my good foot, and waited.  She pressed her butt back into me. Maybe she wanted to do more than lay here. Maybe I was pushing her off the couch.  

            I looked around the room. Inspecting every corner, trying to get rid of those old sleep over itches, that nervous desire to wake up the whole house so you don’t have to be alone. I felt like I was being water boarded lying there uncomfortable so far from sleep. She smelled good like baby powder and oil of oley.

            I rubbed the inside of her arm. She cuddled back into me like a kitten. I let my hand drop onto her belly above her shirt and pressed my fingers against her ribs.. My hand traveled to the space between her t shirt and her pajama pants. Her belly was exposed. I slipped my hand up and caressed her bare skin. She cuddled back into me again.

I slowly put my hand down the top of her pajama pants and slid it under her panties. My fingers felt the stubble on her pelvis. Her hand slid over top mine. Gently like when you are eating breakfast in a diner and your hand is half way across the table, and she reaches over just to touch. She said, “We shouldn’t do this. I’m married” Her hand was warm, and soft and I knew it wouldn’t take much to convince her we should do all the things I had imagined us doing. But she was right.

I pulled my hand out of her pants and let it fall to her far hip. I slid it up a little above the beginning of her belly but below her ribs and gave her a tight squeeze. She tilted her chin down and pressed her back into my chest. The infomercial was still on and my arm was asleep. It would be a long time until morning

                                             1

                                             December 31, 2009

The Lord calls for silence

With silence

And in turn

I ask for everything

Without saying a word

I had pulled out of my ma’s driveway 22 hours ago. She had stood on the front porch waving and talking on a cordless phone in a house coat while the snow fell. I had filled my childhood room with all my adult possessions. That makes it sounds like I filled my room with porno magazines and dildos. I didn’t. I don’t own a single dildo. I’m a man.  I am not even sure what I would I do with a dildo. I mean I know what dildos are used for. But I don’t need one. Just like I don’t need one of those big industrial cake mixers, cause I don’t bake big industrial cakes. If I end up baking the occasional cake for a special occasion I will just mix it with a wooden spoon.

               It hadn’t taken me long to get on the highway. My ma’s house was only seven minutes from the highway. Before I got on the highway, my phone rang. It was my mom she told me to be safe. I said I would.

               I had wished someone else was driving. I would rather be a passenger. I had thought of maybe taking the train. It would still be a journey that took some time. But that seemed like cheating. I knew I had to get myself out there, had to leave the chance for chance.

               A Train wasn’t even really a viable option seeing as I would have to find churches to complete the novena. I said my prayer and changed the radio station. My car gets 34 mpg on the highway.

               I checked my phone, to make sure I hadn’t missed a call. She hadn’t called. The average American receives 7 calls a day on their cell phone.  Some greedy little teenager is stealing all my calls.  I took a sip of my coffee.   

               I had done the first seven days of the novena at various churches on the Westside of Cleveland. They had all been nicely decorated on account of Christmas either being imminently on its way, or recently celebrated.  I liked being in a church, almost empty, just the elderly and me. I was the youngest person in the pews by forty years. I sat up front so I could give everybody the sign of peace. I loved giving old people the sign of the peace. They shook my hand with such vigor and hope; thinking I must be a nice young man if I was at morning mass. I’d wear a suit or at least a shirt and tie hoping they would assume I was just stopping in on my way to work. I was on vacation. I didn’t really have anywhere to be.

               My grandma used to take me to morning mass with her in the summer time. She would watch me while my ma worked. She used to say this Novena every once in a while. You had to leave the Novena in the pew of a different church every day.  She never told me what she was praying for, but it must’ve worked because it seemed like she was doing one every couple of months.

         I had my shoes off. It was hot in the car and I liked to feel my feet against the pedals. I looked out the window and saw a sign outside that said Denver, Colorado one hundred and seventy five miles. My left foot was fucked up. I had lost two toes in a child hood accident. One in a thousand people will lose a digit at some point in their lifetime. Whenever I entered a room of less then 1000 people I would think. I have suffered for you. I have sacrificed, fear not for your fingers and toes as long as I am in your presence. The sacrifice has already been made.

                  I was driving to Nevada. Even Jesus had to do some time in the desert before he was ready for the world. I am not Jesus. I have very rarely chosen to suffer. It is much less noble when suffering chooses you.

                  As I near my thirtieth year I intend to change. I was a New Year’s baby. I don’t know if you stay a New Year’s baby forever, or if at some point you were just born on New Years.  But I intend to be born again in the desert, a New Years baby once again.

                  I had a girlfriend at home. She had brown hair. She had a Dutch nose. She had a crooked smile. She had olive skin. She had hazel eyes. She didn’t say I love you all that often. On the other hand she rarely expected me to apologize. I don’t know if that’s just a different way of saying the same thing..

                  She had scored in the 98th percentile on her SAT’s in 1998. That was a fact. Everything else is just my opinion, or an opinion of some one else that I am repeating. But it is a fact that she scored in the 98th percentile on her SAT and if that fact is to be extrapolated than when she enters a room of 100 people only two people can be assumed to be as smart or smarter than her. However, it isn’t that simple because who knows if all 100 of those people took the SAT. So perhaps when she enters most rooms there isn’t any one as smart or smarter than her in the room. All these statistics can be skewed.

                  The last time I saw her was at her office Christmas party. There were probably two hundred people.  Perhaps four people were as smart or smarter than her.

I saw the man cutting the roast beef, and I could tell by the reckless way he was slicing the meat that he knew he had nothing to fear because I was there.

                  On seven separate occasions the bar tender had poured me a tall glass of Canadian club and ginger ale. I didn’t really enjoy most of Marie’s work friends. So I got drunk. I had been selfish. I was a sinner. These are the kinds of things we do.

                  The party was being held at the Ritz Carlton down town. There were big maroon curtains on the windows. They looked soft. I wanted to rub them against my cheek to make sure. But I resisted. I didn’t want to compound my sins.

.

                  Marie worked for Deloite and Touche. She was in their enterprise and risk department. She made roughly two and half times as much money as me.  She was a bit of a year two thousand power bitch. She would always get offended when I would say that. But I wasn’t calling her a bitch. I’m just saying that girls that make a lot of money are quick to say “Fuck it I’ll do it myself.”

                  Sometimes I wanted to choke her ass and scream be patient. I have already sacrificed two toes for a world I don’t even know. What wouldn’t I give up for you? I wish somebody would tell me what I needed to sacrifice. So I could just get it over with already.

                        It was hard for me to hold onto cash.  I remember when I was twenty five I thought if I could make five thousand dollars less then what I was making now I would be doing pretty good. But money didn’t stretch as far as I thought it would. I paid half her mortgage payment, and half the utilities, plus my car payment, and me and my ma were on the same cell phone plan, college loans.

                  All those expenses add up. Plus you want to take your girl some place nice and then you want to get a little drunk, and she orders the bottle of wine she wants. The bottle of wine that she can afford and before you know it you are paying half the bill with cash and the other half with your credit card, and your budget is blown. And I have to ask my ma to float me fifty bucks to make it to the end of the month. And you feel like a piece of shit even though your ma did run your cell phone bill up. And you had been stuck paying double the normal amount. But you wanted to be a good son and just handle it.

                  What the heck can you do now though? So you have to ask for the money like a bum. My ma always acted like she was giving me the money for mowing her lawn or shoveling her driveway so I wouldn’t feel bad. But I should be doing that. I’m her son.

                  I stopped at a church in Nebraska. I sat through mass. I said my Novena. It was no different than being at home. Everybody who goes to daily mass is old, or desperate. They all look the same. I sat in the front and gave every one the sign of peace. I got gas afterward and picked up a bag of chips, a Gatorade, a large cup of coffee and some lotto tickets.

Marie had worn a red cocktail dress that night. Her hair smelled like expensive shampoo. She was wearing heels.  

                        When Marie gets drunk her eyes get wild.

                  The Christmas party was one of those wild eyed nights. My eyes weren’t exactly sitting still in their sockets. Her eyes made my eyes even crazier because I’d look at her and try and read her mind. And I don’t have that ability. I would just make things up. And that was always worse than anything she could have actually been thinking.

      She was standing by the bar talking to her friend Todd. He looked comfortable and calm He was always nice to me. I was coming from the bathroom. She had leaned in to tell him something. He laughed and put his arm around her shoulder. She put her arm around his waist for a second.  He gave her a little squeeze and she looked up at him with her crazy ass eyes.

I had told her in the past, “Please don’t touch him when you talk to him. I know he’s just your friend. But I don’t like it.” I fucking told her, “Please don’t.”

My body felt compacted with fear. I could feel it welling up from my stomach to my throat. And I could barely keep my mouth shut.

I flew across the room and clocked him square on the jaw. The room was silent and I just stood over him for a couple beats. I looked at Marie. Everything drained out of my system like when you are masturbating and you blow your load on your stomach and you know that was some pointless shit that you just did and the clean up was not worth the conclusion.

 A couple guys grabbed me and security came. They took me to jail for that night. They fed me a bologna sandwich, with a carton of juice. I saved the napkins. I wiped my hands on my pants. I didn’t know if I might have to go to the bathroom at some point during my stay.   

                   He didn’t press charges. He was so cool.  They let me out before I had to take a dump. The justice center wasn’t far from the Ritz. My car was still down town in the Ritz parking lot. I don’t know how Marie got home. She didn’t call. I went home and she wasn’t happy about what happened. This wasn’t the first straw.

                   I said, “I was sorry.” She said, “I think we should take a break.” I said, “Okay, but don’t date anybody for a month or so. You got to give me a chance to change. Because I’m going to become the man you want, and that would hurt my heart” She shook her head.

                  . I was sweating like crazy. I took off my shirt. I must have looked like a fool trying to adjust my seatbelt, driving in the middle of winter with no shirt on.  I was making great time. I had stopped for gas three times. I was going to have to stop again, pretty soon. The needle was approaching E.  I had a Gatorade bottle filled with piss rolling around my backseat.  It was a couple hours from morning. It was the middle of the night for all I knew. The clock said one thing the sky said another.

                  The next church would be the ninth church and then I’d just drive to the desert and wait for the Sun to rise on the year of Our Lord 2010. I would wait in the desert until I heard the Lord. 

                  2010 was a nice number. It’s round and feels meaningful. I really liked collecting and organizing things when I was little. I collected baseball cards, football cards, basketball cards, even prayer cards, anything that you could put in alphabetical or numerical order.

                  . I would organize them by hits, homeruns, walks, whatever. I would organize em and then spread em out on the living room floor and dive in them to mess them up. I didn’t really understand the importance of keeping things in mint condition.

                  The numbers stuck in my head. I could tell you who lead the league in walks in 1987. Wade Boggs or who had the third highest ERA in 1986 Ron Darling. The numbers were proof of something. They were historically significant. They could be counted on.  

                  Ever since then I’ve been trying to put some sort of number value on things. Trying to figure out what is wrong with me. Why I feel this way. If I had ten toes would every thing be alright or if I put the maximum amount allowed into my 401k would I be happy.

                  I grew up with this kid. His dick had to be nine inches. We all saw it freshman year when they made us shower after gym class. Some kids were still so shy they showered in their underpants. Not Tommy Wills.  I remember somebody would bring up Tommy Wills’s cock and we would talk about it like it played for the Cleveland Browns.  Two years ago he killed himself. 

                  I cried when I heard that.  Fuck the Mayan calendar. We don’t have anything figured out.

                  If I made a million dollars would Marie stop talking with her hands? If I made love to her for an hour and half would her eyes only light up for me? Ten fingers and ten toes who knows?

                  I hoped the Lord would tell me. I would sacrifice Lord. I would give up every shade of chocolate, from light white to dark mocha.

                  I remember when I lost my toes. It was summer time I was eight. I was at the pool. My skin was brown from days in the sun. My grandma had smothered me in I love yous and be carefulls before letting me go up with my friend, Nick, who lived next door. His mom was sitting on a deck chair. She was talking to somebody else’s mother. We were going to run and jump into the pool at the same time.

                   We started running towards the pool. I was running so fast I could feel the wind in my mouth. My front leg was already over the edge and I was pushing off with my back foot when my big toe and second toe got caught in a space between the concrete. My body flew into the pool. My toes stayed behind.

                  I hit the water and turned it red. It was an accidental sacrifice.  I don’t know how much credit the Lord gives you for those. I always wondered if I was different before or if the accident changed me.

                  Unless I wore sandals or walked around bare foot nobody really even knows. But I worried about it. Worried it disgusted Marie to look at my feet. To have them brush against her ankles while we slept. It was another maybe to worry about.

                  The sun was starting to rise. My clock said ten thirty five it was still on Cleveland time. I had about fifteen miles till I reached the church St. Dominic’s. The stretch of highway was pretty bumpy. I could hear the Gatorade bottles full of piss, swishing around the backseat. I had forgotten to throw the first one away at the last rest stop. Now it had a mate. It no longer yearned for companionship.  

                  I checked my phone. Hoping she had been sitting on her couch watching the Tyra Bank’s show,  eating a bowl of cereal, a little bored, and decided to shoot me a text I was thirsty for her attention.  

                  No missed calls. No new messages.

no hope. I said a Hail Mary. Sometimes in the past when I said a Hail Mary she would call. I thought that was a sign from God that we were meant to be together, a sign that my stomach would eventually stop aching with worry. I held my phone tight, said three Hail Mary’s, and then opened my phone to see if anything happened.  I closed it and said two more. Still nothing happened.

                  aggghhhhh. I saw my exit, and put my blinker on. The church was only a mile and a half from the highway exit. I was in the church parking lot before I knew it. I was ten minutes early. I thought about emptying the bottles of piss in the parking lot. But I wasn’t sure if that was somehow sacrilegious.  I just left them in the back seat.

                  I put on a dress shirt and a pair of khaki pants and headed inside. I was early. Some people were saying the rosary in the front of the church. I checked my pants pocket for dollar bills. There was an area for lighting candles in front of a statue of Mary and Baby Jesus. I wanted to say a prayer and make a donation. Every little bit helps. 

                  I picked up the wooden stick and transferred a flame from a lit candle to an unlit candle and I prayed. I asked God to do the same. To touch the flame in my heart and relight Marie’s flame. Could you have so much love in your heart for some one that it spilled over into them and filled them with the same love?

                  Probably not, it was a stupid prayer, a wasted prayer, a selfish prayer, when so many were suffering. Here I was with a full belly, and an almost  perfect body pretending I was suffering. Lord have mercy. I am weak. But I have strength. Please just let me know how you want me to use it.

                  I stayed on my knees, praying. Trying to hear, trying to listen.  The mass started and I stayed on my knees, stayed in the back. I didn’t give anyone the sign of peace. I made my way up front for communion. I was sweating like crazy. No one looked at me like I was a nice young man. I had not slept more than two hours since I left Cleveland. I dropped my novena in one of the pews as I walked out of the church and as soon as I was outside my phone rang.

                  I answered it without looking; hoping God had answered my prayers.

“Hello”

                  “John”

“Yes.”

                  “I haven’t heard from you.”

“I know ma. I’ve been driving.”

                  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah ma, I’m good.”

                 “Where are you?

“Denver, Colorado.”

                 “Is it nice?”

“It’s okay.”

                “Just okay.”

 “It’s nice. Alright well I got to go it’s hard for me to drive and talk.”

                “Okay I just needed to ask you a question about the DVD player.”

‘Okay, what?”

                “It won’t play a DVD for me.”

“Is it on?”

         “It’s on and the screen is blue but it won’t play.”

‘I don’t know ma is it on channel four.”

      “Let me try that. I put it on channel four but the screen is still blue. Could it be one of the cords in the back?”

         “I don’t know ma. I’m two thousand miles away, how the hell am I supposed to know what’s wrong with a DVD player I can’t see.”

     “John, you can be really mean.”

“Ma, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how you can always want something from me. I can’t fix the DVD over the phone.”

       “Well, you don’t have to lose your temper about it. I just thought you might know how to fix it. “

      “I know ma, I know. I’m sorry. I will take a look at it when I get home.”

“Thank you John.”

    I opened up my wallet and pulled out a mega millions ticket I had bought when I was in Cleveland.

“Hey Ma, do me a favor check the mega millions numbers in the paper.

“Okay wait a minute.” It took my ma a minute to find the paper and she read the numbers to me.

“Did you win?

I threw the ticket on the ground.

       “No, Okay, well I will call you later traffic is bad right now and I need to concentrate on the road.”

     “Oh okay be safe, I Love you.”

“I love you to ma. Bye.”

         ‘Bye.”  

Damn, I felt horrible. What kind of man sits around waiting to win the lottery.         

     I closed the phone and unlocked my car door. The sun was pretty high in the sky. I took off my pants and put on a pair of mesh shorts. Then I unbuttoned my dress shirt. I was still sweating pretty good.  I got in the car shirtless again, buckled my seat belt and started the car.

                That was it. The Novena was done. There was nothing left now but to drive into the desert and wait. I pulled out of the parking lot and was back on the highway in a couple of minutes.

                I pressed hard on the gas and even leaned forward a little in hopes of giving the car some more momentum. If I was riding a bike my butt would be off the seat and I would be leaning over the handle bars, exerting every force of will on the machine, pushing it forward with my whole being.

           The piss in the backseat was swishing back in forth, encouraging me to drive faster. I had stopped for gas again, but I had started to enjoy the nautical sound.  I didn’t dispose of it.  

            . I would be in the desert soon. The car was humming, it had found its’ rhythm. I was gripping my phone so tight, my hand hurt. I had said one hundred and forty five Hail Mary’s and still no call. I had even stopped praying for her to call. Now I was just praying that she wasn’t fucking Todd.

     Some times you just want a lower case m miracle.  I saw my first sign for Zion National park. There were four national parks in the desert but Zion seemed like the best choice to hear the Lord. I had debated about going to Joshua Tree but I couldn’t remember if that was from the Bible or just the name of a U2 album.

      I leaned forward again and the car ate up the miles. I was in Zion now. I drove twenty minutes further in and parked.  It was eleven thirty. I started walking. I was tired. Wade Boggs, patron Saint of walkers, give me strength.  Be with me as I walk towards the Lord.

     There was only silence in the desert. I looked at my cell phone. It said twelve o eight. I had entered the New Year without even knowing it. Perhaps I was different now. Baptized by the flipping of the calendar, but I heard no angels sing, and I saw no doves fly. I sat down in the sand, rubbing my eyes. My heart was beating like crazy. I decided to start singing On Eagles Wings.” I couldn’t remember all the words so I just repeated the parts I could remember. I clutched my cell phone so tight my hand cramped. I sang until my throat was horse and dry. The sun was starting to climb.

             I laid down in the sand, and called my ma. It rang five times before my ma picked up.

   Hello

Happy New Year.

     John

Yeah,

     Are you okay?

Yeah, ma, I just wanted to wish you a happy giving birth day.

    Thank you. Where are you?

I’m on my way home. I just wanted to give you a ring because I think my phone is going to die soon. So it will be a couple days before I can talk to you.

     “You didn’t bring your charger with you.”

“No Ma, I forgot.”

 “You should just leave it in the car. That way you can always charge it.”

             “Yeah ma I know. Anyway I got to go. It’s about to die I’ll talk to you later. “

 “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

            I hung up the phone, and buried it in the sand.