Crusader

  "Eighty-five customers last week."

  "Is that right? God, if it wasn't for him, we'd be out of business."

  "Really?"

  "Pretty close. I'm packing up three more losers this week. At this point, if it's not a top moneymaker, it's going."

  At eighty-thirty, Uncle Frank asked me, "Do you want to leave early?" I shook my head no, but he insisted. "Go on, Roberta. I can stand here and go bankrupt all by myself."

  I asked him, "What about the closing checklist?"

  "Let's not worry about that tonight. Why should we vacuum the carpet if nobody's walked on it?"

  I was eager to finish The Muckrakers, so I agreed to go. When I got home I put a Kid Cuisine macaroni-and-cheese dinner in the microwave. There was one message on the answering machine: "Roberta? This is Kristin. Call me back."

  I decided to eat first. I ate at the kitchen table and started to leaf through my birthday cards. But Kristin called back right away. She said, "Roberta? Thank god."

  "Kristin? I was going to call you."

  She was all business. "Listen: I have to tell you a bunch of stuff. The phone's been ringing like crazy here. Karl ran off with the Volkswagen today. He took that Hawg guy with him. I think the plan was to go to Georgia."

  "Georgia?"

  "That must have been Hawg's idea. I don't think Karl even knows where Georgia is. But anyway, they never got out of the county. They got arrested up in Atlantic Beach."

  "What happened? Did the police call you?"

  "No, Karl did. He was really spaced. He didn't even sound upset. He talked about going to Georgia like it was around the corner. But they stopped off at some place called the Bodacious Barbecue. Then they realized they didn't have enough money to pay, so they tried to sneak out. The waitress followed them and wrote down the tag number. And as she was doing that, Karl backed into a van."

  "He had an accident, too?"

  "Yeah. He smashed in the back of the Volks. It can't even be driven now. And, to top it all off, he was driving after dark on a restricted license. Dad's gone up there to bail him out. He's really pissed."

  "I bet. What about Hawg?"

  "I don't know. I think he's on his own. There's no way Dad would pay his bail, too."

  I shook my head. "Is that all?"

  "Isn't that enough?"

  "Yeah." I paused to let all of it sink in. Then I asked her, "How are you feeling?"

  "I feel sick, but I think it's getting better."

  "That's good."

  "I'm thinking about a lot of stuff, you know?"

  "Like what?"

  "Like who I am, like who I want to be."

  "That's good. I guess."

  Kristin paused. "It's good if I can think of somebody I want to be. Somebody, you know, with really bad skin." She sighed deeply. "Okay. I better get back to my cave."

  "Thanks for calling, Kristin. I hope the guys get home tonight."

  She said, "Yeah. Me, too. But I wouldn't bet on Hawg."

  FRIDAY, THE 22ND

  I detected a new smell when I got to the mall today—a sulfurous smell, like a wet match. From a distance I could see three people at the open plumbing grate. Suzie, of course, was at the center of it. Leo was on one side of her and the Ace Plumbing guy was on the other. The first thing I heard was from the Ace Plumbing guy. "What you smelled was not a dead animal; it was methane gas."

  Leo answered, "I know it was methane gas. I said an animal got in there and died and that caused the methane gas to back up."

  The guy said, "We have no idea what caused it."

  Suzie added, "We don't care what caused it."

  The guy continued, "I've sealed all the pipe joints. Now no more gas can escape."

  "But that's dangerous," Leo told him.

  Suzie yelled, "Enough! I don't smell anything. The problem is solved. Let's just make sure we keep it solved."

  The Ace guy said, "For safety's sake, ma'am, let's keep the tiles off the grate area. Let's leave it easy to get at in case we have to get down there and seal it again."

  Leo grinned in disbelief. "So you want to just leave a hole in the middle of the mall floor?"

  Suzie walked over and straddled the grate, like a storybook giant. "Problem solving, Leo. Have you ever heard of that? Problem solving? That's when you don't just stand around saying negative things. Instead you think of a solution. Here's a problem-solving idea for you: You place the Santa seat over the grate. Like this. No one will be able to see the grate. And if you have to get at a pipe, you just tilt up the seat. Okay? Problem solved."

  Suzie stalked away toward the office. Leo was still grinning, like he was the only one who got the joke. I headed toward the card shop. I waited for Mrs. Weiss to finish with a customer, then I said, "Thank you, Mrs. Weiss. That was a great present. I can't believe you gave me that much money."

  She shook her hand, like she was clearing away crumbs. "What else am I going to do with it?" Then she held a manila envelope toward me. "Here, Roberta. Have your father sign this. It's for my car insurance, so I can give you driving lessons."

  I took the envelope. Another customer came up, so I said good-bye and slipped out.

  Dad and Suzie were standing in front of Arcane, probably because no one was inside. Dad told me, "Your uncle Frank has been gone all day. And guess what?"

  "What?"

  "The business ran just fine without him."

  "Where has he been?"

  "Down at the county courthouse. They have Karl down there. He tried to walk out on a restaurant check, and then he got into an accident. Oh yeah, and he was driving on a restricted license."

  "I know. Kristin called me last night."

  "She didn't come in, either."

  "She has the chicken pox."

  "You're kidding."

  "No. You didn't know that?"

  "No." Dad seemed upset at that. He added, "Everything's a big secret with your uncle."

  Just then, as if on cue, Uncle Frank walked in. He definitely heard Dad. He demanded, "What's a big secret with me?"

  Dad tightened up, but he answered smoothly, "That Kristin has the chicken pox."

  Uncle Frank told him, "That's no secret. It's just that—I've had more important things to do than to call you."

  Dad smiled. "Fine. No problem. Do you know where she caught it?"

  Uncle Frank took a deep breath. "No. I have no idea."

  Suzie spoke up. "Well, that's an easy one. She caught it from those Brazilian girls."

  Uncle Frank looked at her. "What?"

  "Yeah, I was expecting thirty of them, but only half showed up. The rest were sick."

  Uncle Frank stared at her, stupefied. "So you thought, Why not bring them in here? To infect us?"

  Suzie tried to defend herself. "No! Who hasn't had the chicken pox?"

  "Kristin! That's who."

  The two of them stared at each other. Finally Dad tried to break the tension. He asked Uncle Frank, "So how's Karl?"

  By now Uncle Frank was totally frazzled. He muttered, "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be back out in a minute."

  Suzie took off right away, without another word. Dad and I waited a lot longer than a minute, but Uncle Frank did eventually emerge from the back. He seemed a lot less frazzled. He joined us in the entranceway and started to talk.

  "I had to go get Karl out on bail last night."

  I asked, "What about Hawg?"

  Uncle Frank winced. He shook his head and answered abruptly, "Nah. They wouldn't let him go."

  Dad said, "What? He was there, too?"

  Uncle Frank answered, "Yeah. He talked Karl into going joyriding. They'd be up in Georgia now if this hadn't happened." He got back to his story. "So I drove Karl to the county courthouse this morning for arraignment. We stood up there when our time came. The judge looked over the charges, and he looked over Karl's record. He was good. He was a real judge, you know? He gave Karl a real good tongue-lashing, which is just what he needed. He told him that it would be ente
red into the police computers, from this day on, that Karl Ritter was to be taken directly to the Positive Place for ten days' treatment if he ever got picked up for anything. Even littering. Well, Karl just about fell on his knees crying. He promised everything under the moon. So the judge dismissed the case."

  Dad said, "Well, I guess he learned a lesson."

  Uncle Frank said, "Yeah," and started off, but I called after him. "What about Hawg? What happened to him?"

  Uncle Frank stopped; he came halfway back. "I don't know. I don't really care." Uncle Frank brooded for a moment. His face hardened; his voice turned cold. "I ran into lots of guys like that in the service. A fat slob like that would bring the whole squad down. Get everybody punishment detail until they got fed up with him. Then his folks would get a letter telling them that he'd been killed in a training accident. Of course, it wouldn't really be an accident, but no one would ever know. It happened all the time."

  Uncle Frank went back to the office, leaving Dad and me looking at each other in disbelief.

  I was amazed, then, by what happened just a half hour later. Hawg walked in from the mallway and went into the back room, with Ironman trailing right behind him. I was back near Vampire's Feast, so I drifted over to the door and waited for the explosion, but it never came. Uncle Frank never said a word to him.

  Uncle Frank did come out into the arcade, perhaps to get Hawg out of his sight, so I slipped into the back. I asked him, "Did everything go okay at Juvenile Justice?"

  Hawg looked at me quickly, then looked away. He muttered, "It weren't nothin' to me. Shouldn't be nothin' to you, either."

  I told him, "It is, though."

  He and Ironman started to crush up a small stack of cartons. Hawg addressed Ironman, but I could tell he was including me. "Well, let me tell you about Juvie. They put you in a big damn cage. You have to stand right out there in the open, like a gorilla in a zoo. And they make you wear one of them orange suits, like a damn orangutan. And you got one toilet sitting there, right out in the open, in the middle of the cage. Then what do they do? They bring in a damn school field trip to look at us."

  I said, "No!"

  "Yeah. A lady came in and hollered, 'I'm bringing in a group of fifth graders. How about you boys talk to them about staying off drugs and staying out of trouble?' Then, sure enough, a minute later she came back with a big line of fifth graders, about forty of 'em, and their parents, staring at us like we're a buncha monkeys. And that lady started in again, 'Some of you boys tell these kids how to stay out of trouble.'

  "Well, right about then, that Bodacious Barbecue where me and Karl stopped, it started to kick in wicked fierce. It was all the beans you could eat, and brother, I ate my share. All of a sudden I felt like my insides was gonna explode. I yelled out, 'I got something to say to your kids, lady. Ya'll better run for your lives!'

  "I dove for that toilet like it was fourth and goal from the one. Right in the middle of that cage, I yanked them orange pants down and let her rip. Those fifth graders all started runnin' and screamin'. They took off outta there like they had seen damn King Kong bustin' loose from his chains."

  Hawg started laughing jovially. Ironman was grinning wide. I didn't know how to react. I just shook my head and asked him, "But what happened in court? What did the judge say to you?"

  "Nothin. It was a whole lot of talk. He tried to scare me, telling me I'm getting house arrest or a probation officer. But weren't none of it true. The cops had already dropped the charges. That waitress wasn't comin' all the way down here to make one dollar. And that van that Karl hit? It took off. It probably didn't have no insurance, or it was stolen, or it was carrying drugs. The cops was just bluffing us all along. I'm afraid old Karl took it pretty hard, though."

  "And what did your stepfather say?"

  "He said, 'Don't do it again, or you'll find yourself out on the streets like your mama.' I said, 'I am doin' it again. I aim to go back to Georgia. One way or the other.'"

  Dad left early, so I wound up walking home with the two guys. Hawg seemed to be back to his normal self, talking about football and whompin' on Ironman. When I got in I saw that Dad had dropped off another Blockbuster Video bag. I guessed that meant he wasn't coming home.

  At ten I switched on the TV just in time to catch Stephen Cross. He was speaking at a prison, and he was just great. He said, "My past is a nightmare that I carry around with me, a reminder of the abyss that can open up under us anywhere, at any time. I truly did not know what was nightmare and what was real in those days. You folks sitting out here tonight know the living hell I'm talking about."

  Some of the men in the prison audience started shouting out, "Amen!"

  Stephen Cross told them, "Near the end of my days of darkness, I was living in hell. Sick at heart. Sick in body. Sick to the soul. And then one day the Lord said to me, 'Wake up, sinner!'"

  "Amen!"

  Stephen Cross paused; his lined cheeks ran with tears; his chest heaved with emotion. He looked up, and his eyes blazed into the camera lens. "I am not some TV preacher in some expensive suit, standing up here to recite my best sermon that I learned in a prestigious Bible college. No! I am the lowest of the low. I am a drug addict. And a thief. And a whore. And yet God spoke to me, and showed me the way out of hell." He held a Bible high in the air, held it like a shining sword. I could hear the commotion in the audience—men leaping to their feet and crying out.

  "The Lord spoke to me, in a jail cell. In a cell like yours. Right here, in hell's waiting room. He said, 'Your name shall be Stephen Cross. And you shall bear witness to me all the rest of your life. You are to tell my children three things: Admit the truth; ask forgiveness; find redemption.'"

  Stephen Cross opened his arms to the audience. Many men rushed forward to embrace him. Then they all knelt down in a big circle on the floor, like a football huddle, and they prayed.

  If I were there, I would have, too.

  SUNDAY, THE 24TH

  It was a slow Sunday at Arcane. Uncle Frank followed up on his threat to pack up the experiences that were financial losers. His beloved Halls of Montezuma, Custer's Last Stand, and Buccaneer Battle were dismantled and packed into cartons for the UPS guy. I passed the day cleaning, delousing helmets, and taking care of the few customers who came in.

  I was relieved when four o'clock came. Today Mrs. Weiss was leaving Mrs. Roman in charge of the store for the first time. I walked over to the shop to thank Mrs. Roman for my card and gift. She seemed distracted, but she did mutter, "It's nothing, dear. You're a lovely girl."

  Mrs. Weiss came out of the back, smiling. She didn't seem at all concerned about leaving Mrs. Roman in charge. Her great mood continued out into the parking lot and all the way to Eternal Rest Cemetery. As usual she parked by the guardian angel. She popped the trunk open so I could get out the stepladder. But today she walked along with me. She said, "I want to see where your mother is. Is that all right?"

  I assured her, "Of course, Mrs. Weiss. Of course it is."

  We walked for a minute, and she commented, "This is nice. This is very nice."

  I asked her, "What's the Jewish part of the cemetery like?"

  "It's nice, too. Just like this. Of course, we don't have the big statues and angels and things."

  "What do the graves look like?"

  "Like these. Some headstones. Some wall slots."

  "Do they have bronze nameplates and vases outside for flowers?"

  "Some do."

  "Do they have any stuff that we don't have?"

  "Sometimes they have spray paint on them."

  That took a moment to register. "What?"

  "That's right. Sometimes I go over there and find that someone has vandalized the graves."

  "Why?"

  Mrs. Weiss answered matter-of-factly, "Because they're Jewish." We walked for another few seconds. Then she asked me, with nothing more than curiosity, "What kind of activity is that, I ask you? What kind of human being spends his time vandalizing graves?"

>   "I don't know, Mrs. Weiss."

  "I don't know, either. I don't know how people like that can look in the mirror."

  We reached Mom's area. I placed the stepladder against the wall. Mrs. Weiss looked up at her crypt. That really bothered me. I had to say, "I hate it that my mom has a plastic nameplate instead of a bronze one, and that it's way up there, instead of in a place where I could put my hand on her."

  "We could speak to the cemetery manager. We could find out what it takes to ... upgrade. Or whatever they call it."

  "I don't know. My dad doesn't have much money."

  "Maybe it doesn't take much." Mrs. Weiss shook her head emphatically. "I don't trust a man who outlives his wife. I never did. The husband should go first, like mine did, like Millie's did. They do the smoking and the drinking, they should die first." She looked up at the wall sadly. "It's funny, Roberta. My husband liked to travel. He would go just about anywhere. The only place he really didn't like was Florida. He always said it was too hot. So he winds up living here."

  "Yeah. And dying here."

  Mrs. Weiss stared up at my mom again. She told me, "We all travel different routes, Roberta. And we travel to many different places. But we all wind up here in the end. You have to make the most of your travels." She looked away. "I'll leave you alone for a while."

  Mrs. Weiss shuffled off. I climbed up the ladder and stretched my hand up until I could feel the letters of my mother's name. It was a little easier this time. Maybe I was growing taller. I held my hand on that name for a long time, with my face pressed against the black wall. I felt like I was waiting for a message, a message that didn't come.

  I finally gave up, climbed down, and dragged the ladder back to the Lincoln. Mrs. Weiss was sitting inside, with the air conditioner running, but she was on the passenger side. When I opened the door, she said, "Put that thing in the trunk and get behind the wheel. It's time to practice driving, if you don't mind an old-lady car."

  "It's a real nice car."

  "You'd like a car like this?"

  "Sure. Everything works in it. My dad's cars always have things that don't work in them."