XIII – When Jesse Didn’t Make It (but the Sandwich was Good)
Walk with me down this road for a second.
Kick that stone across the street, hear the trim echo of its clicking on the pavement before it lands in the dry grass on the side of the road. Look at the dark blue dusk above you, stretching down to the tree line a world away, the dark green of the trees just still visible, but very shadowy, like the phantoms of trees. Listen to the choir of crickets, and see the firefly stars dancing above them to their music.
Beautiful.
But then we see the farmhouse rising up to meet us with each step. And it has all the sense of not belonging in a world this pretty. It’s as though it runs diagonally and against the grain of this fine evening we’re tasting and seeing. It’s an infection, an alien on this transcendent landscape.
We know that because by God’s grace and kindness our minds are wonderful at assembling the parts quickly and making a judgment about the whole, even if they are severely limited in explaining those judgments. Since we’re walking quickly and our hearts are matching the pace we’d have trouble articulating that it’s the tall grass slowly growing around the rusty wagon, the flat tire on the old red 1950 Chevrolet 3100 pickup truck, the fact that the front door is slightly open but no lights are on on the first floor, and a hundred other such little details that make the hair on the back of our necks stand up as we get closer.
The Bible says that the world was once all like these fields, only the good and lovely things. But the world is a savage place now. The beautiful things are still there, all over. But everything has been disrupted. The bone of the world has been broken, and it must be set.
Evil is in that house. Raw, ugly, God-hating. And evil is never disembodied. It isn’t a mere force or idea. Evil always nests itself in a person, flows out of a heart and a will and a mind. The wickedness that afflicts this scene out here in West Virginia, miles from town, is bound to a set of hands and a pair of eyes and the smell of cigarettes and sweat.
I don’t want to stand in front of this place anymore.
It’s getting dark.
Randy’s heart was pounding and hurting his chest as the phone rang. He had no idea what he’d say, what he was doing. But when Margaret said, “Hello?” the words tumbled out.
“Hey, Margaret. It’s Randy. Can I ask you something?”
And there was violence in her voice, contempt and anger as she said, “What are you doing, Randy?”
“I know we haven’t talked in a long time. I’m not looking to start a fight or anything. I just wanted to ask you about something Linda told me.”
Silence.
“Did you have an abortion before our divorce?”
He didn’t ask about the affair. He truly didn’t care about that part at this point. But he needed to know about the baby. Tears were in his eyes about his friend Brandon’s baby boy, still. He waited with anxiety for all three seconds until she finally spoke.
“Randy, at this point I don’t feel comfortable talking to you without a lawyer. I don’t really have anything to say right now.”
“Just hold on a sec, Margaret.”
“No, I won’t hold on a second, Randy. We haven’t talked in probably a year, and you call me out of the blue to ask me about my personal medical history. I’m not-”
“Just give me one minute, Margaret.”
After a second or two of quiet, he went on.
“I don’t want to do anything with this, Margaret. A friend of mine just had a baby die, a baby who was a few months away from being born. And Linda just told me about this the other day. It’s all ripping me apart, and I just called you without really thinking about it because I’m just desperate to know something about this baby, our baby, if it’s true. That’s all. Can you just tell me?”
“We never had a baby, Randy. I terminated a pregnancy. You’d created a hostile environment for our marriage and I made the choice that a pregnancy was not in my best interests. That’s it.”
The tears were falling down his face silently.
Boy or girl?
“Randy, I’m hanging up now.”
And she was gone. That was it. The room down here, a nice lounge just off the hotel’s lobby, was blurry, and sounds seemed like echos. His chest really hurt. Boy or girl?
The phone felt so heavy in his hands. He set it down next to him on the burgundy leather couch and put his head back. He closed his eyes so that the lights right above him wouldn’t give him a headache. He decided to just sit here and wait for Jesse.
Boy or girl?
Jesse woke up at 3:00 AM with no idea where he was. He had been having a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember what was in it. He sat up, confused that he had a suit jacket on but no tie. And that this wasn’t his bed. But after about thirty seconds the fog had fully cleared and he knew what had happened and where he was. He was shocked he had slept that long. He felt bad about standing Randy up. He’d apologize later.
Without giving it much thought, Jesse grabbed the styrofoam box with the turkey sandwich and chips in it and his father’s old notebook and went down to the hotel lobby.
After three sips of coffee he felt a little more like himself. The young guy at the front desk nodded politely as Jesse looked up at him and took in his surroundings. Then he cracked open the notebook.
It was a nice lobby. He was sitting in the lounge just off it. He was near a television that was showing Fox News with the sound off. The leather couch across the lounge from him, burgundy leather and oversized cushions, looked appealing, but there weren’t any tables on either side to set his coffee. This small chair without armrests and its table would do.
There were only a handful of things in the rest of the notebook that held any interest to their trip. A second sketch of the farmhouse with a few more details, a letter he didn’t really understand (if it was even a letter), and a description of some place that Jesse guessed was out there in St. Marys, West Virginia, or wherever his dad’s home had been.
He read the letter four times and couldn’t make anything of it, and he was starting to get frustrated when he had a thunderclap of an idea. It shook him with its intensity.
But Randy would still be asleep. It was 5:13 according to Fox News. What would he do for the next few hours while he waited?
He went out to the lobby. The young guy nodded at him again. He did feel better now that he’d eaten something, but he had the anxious and tense energy of wanting to do this thing now, right now, and having to keep it locked up in a stable until morning broke and Randy woke up.
“Are you from here?”
“Yeah.”
Jesse never started conversations with strangers. Janie would have thought something was wrong if she were there. And of course something was.
“Do you like it?”
“No,” the young man said and then chuckled ironically. But then his smile quickly disappeared , as the thought occurred to him that maybe this was a trick and somehow Jesse worked for Holiday Inn Corporate or something.
“My father went to high school here, but I never actually knew that until recently.”
The kid nodded politely, but also narrowed his eyes a little, unsure of where this was headed or whether this man somehow knew he was still a little high from earlier.
“Where is the high school?”
The kid relaxed, and drew a map fairly quickly for Jesse on a Holiday Inn notepad from the stack neatly placed on the counter for guests (along with some fairly cheap pens that disguised their cheapness with a plush grip and a shiny chrome push button; next to them were a handful of smiling rubber ducks with the Holiday Inn logo on the white t-shirts they were wearing). The kid told him that yes, they would have office staff working even though school hadn’t started back up yet, and that he could ask for Mrs. Carlisle when he got to the office. She knew everything about the high school, and would definitely help him.
“Thanks.” Jesse smiled and actually shook the kid’s hand. It felt strange as he did it. Something had cracked and shifted him off his own axis a bit. “I’m Jesse.”
The young man laughed, genuinely humored by something. Jesse was a bit confused until the kid said, “Small world,” and tapped his white name tag. Jesse Benson. Jesse returned the laugh, and took the notepad back to the coffee counter where he got another cup. He was still smiling as he poured himself that second coffee, but he also had the slight taste of nausea he got when things were quickly getting out of his control. He had a very disquieting feeling that he was somehow being played.
Which he was.
I’ll find you. I don’t know what makes you think you can leave us, leave me. You know what we did, you little snake. I ought to kill you, Huck, little Huck. I ought to rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Maybe I will. I love you and I hate you, which means I’m going to find you. And that’s when we’ll find out if I love you and keep you or hate you and kill you.
I’m going to go to our place. And I’ll decide soon.
I’m coming, Huck.