Rumble (38 page)

must suck because then you

can’t use excuses like,

Yeah, but I’m just a kid.

“Everything’s going to be

all right, Quin. And no

worries. If you and

Uncle Jessie don’t put

filing necessary paperwork

at the top of your list, I’m

just the guy to remind you.

Let me drive you home.

I’ll stay over tonight

so you won’t be alone

out there. In the morning,

you can get all beautiful

before I bring you back.

I’m skipping school

tomorrow, regardless.”

I’m Almost Surprised

When she says okay, but then

what choice does she have?

Dozing in a hard wooden chair

in a room reeking of sandalwood?

She follows me to my truck and

I open the passenger door for her.

Before she climbs up inside,

she rewards me with a weak hug.

I just want to tell you thanks

for all you do for Jessie and me.

He talks about you all the time,

you know. I’m glad you’re close.

Part of me wants to protest.

I am close to no one, really.

But then again, I guess the people

I’m closest to at this point in

my life are Uncle Jessie and

Alexa, not necessarily in that

order. And after those two,

unbelievably, I’d have to rank

my mother.

When We Get to the House

Larry, Mo, and Curly are freaking

out. Hungry, yes, but more. It’s like

they intuit their “dad” is in trouble.

They sniff around the truck, then

nudge Quin, one after the other,

as if asking,
Where did he go?

I help divvy up kibble, and after

the dogs eat, take them out for a pre-bed

sniff and piss. When the four of us return,

Quin has made up the couch for me.

It’s late, but she sits in the rocking chair

for a few minutes, drinking a hot

toddy. She doesn’t offer one to me,

but I’m good with that. Sleep won’t

elude me tonight. In fact, I’m dozing

when my mouth opens up and words

hiccup out. “Hey, Quin. In the chapel?

You weren’t, like, praying, were you?”

Slip-slip-slipping away, but some

small piece of me hears,
Would it

disappoint you if I confess I was?

Adrift

In the narrow pewter space

between the gray of consciousness

and the obsidian where dreams ebb

and flow, I am drawn to the sound

of Quin’s voice, gentle in prayer.

She doesn’t plead. Doesn’t demand.

It’s more like she’s having a regular

conversation with somebody just out

of sight.
Jessie isn’t a perfect man,

like I have to tell
you
that. But he’s

a good man, and special to me. If you

can see your way clear to help him

get well, I’ll work real hard to pay

you back. Just tell me what you want

me to do.
Now she’s quiet. Can she hear

something lost to me?
One more thing.

Jessie’s probably scared. Since I can’t

be there to shore him up, could you please

send him peace of mind and a little love

from me? In your name. Amen.

So much pain, and yet hope, too.

And something else, something deeper—

wonder, I think, as if she’s tapped into

something marvelous, and well beyond

this world. What does it take to find that?

Can you randomly discover it, or does

it require faith? Can faith be as simple

as tossing questions toward the Great

Unknown, then listening for answers?

But what if you never receive them?

Alexa once asked if I wouldn’t feel

better knowing some piece of Luke

still existed somewhere. “Hey, little man,

you there? Can you hear me? Throwing

this out there, just in case. Any way

you can put in a good word for Uncle

Jessie? We sure don’t want to lose him

just yet. You can wait a while for his

company, can’t you?” Wow. Did I say

that out loud? And was it a prayer?

A Strange Slant of Light

Pulls me from sleep toward morning,

and when I open my eyes Curly

is standing there, staring at me.

He gives me a big old doggy tongue

right across my mouth. “Ew! Gross!”

Quin comes out of the kitchen.

Ha-ha. No alarm clocks necessary

in this house, that’s for sure.

Her hair is knotted in a single

long braid down her back, and

she’s wearing an ankle-length

blue polka-dotted dress in place

of her usual jeans. I offer her

a wolf whistle. “Wow. Hope

Uncle Jessie is appreciative.”

Probably more grouchy than

appreciative, but he’s got every

reason to be grouchy. Coffee’s

ready, and I can fix you some eggs

if you’re hungry. Then we should go.

I Decline the Eggs

Accept the coffee in a to-go cup,

and as we pass the office on our way

out, I stop long enough to hang

a note on the door:
Closed Due to

Unexpected Circumstances. Check

Back.
I make a mental note to record

some information on the answering

machine, once I have the info myself.

By the time we reach the hospital,

right around nine, Uncle Jessie has

already signed the necessary document

to allow Quin into his room. We both

start that way, but are halted by a not-

so-Meri nurse outside the door.
Two

visitors max at a time, please. You’ll

have to ask the two who are in there

to step outside for a few minutes.

He’s in no condition for a party.

The Hulk-like woman waits for us

to nod understanding before stomping

away. “Charming.” Quin and I trade

places with Lorelei and Dad, who’s

tousled. Lose a little sleep, Dad?

Guilt, or an extended roll in the hay?

As We Pass

He stops me briefly.
We’re going

to get some breakfast, but we’ll be

back. So you know, I got hold of

my parents, and they’re driving down

from Portland tomorrow. I’d like to

offer them your bedroom, if that’s okay.

They’ll probably stay a week. Barring

unexpected complications, Jessie will

move to a regular room later today,

and hopefully be out of here Monday

or Tuesday. He’s got a crazy idea

in his head, and unless Quin disagrees,

looks like there might be a wedding

next week. He won’t even wait until

he heals up, says he wants to be sure

she’s taken care of if his ticker decides

it’s had enough. Too bad it takes something

like this to make a person see the light.

Too Bad It Takes

Something like this to make

a man visit his brother, too,

but I’m pretty sure I don’t need

to voice that opinion. I’m guessing

guilt has steamrolled right over him.

“It’s fine for Gram and Gramps

to take my room. I can stay out

with Quin over the weekend,

then crash on an airbed in Luke’s

room.” I shoot Lorelei a wicked

glare. “As long as it’s okay with you.”

Of course. I don’t think I’ll get

a lot of work done for the next

few days anyway, so no worries.

I kind of hate how she’s so

accommodating. Actually, more

than kind of. Off they go in search

of pancakes, and I watch just long

enough to see Dad snake his hand

around her narrow hip, coax her closer.

I hear Alexa urging forgiveness,

but clinging to resentment

is much easier.

In the Short Span of Time

It took for that exchange, Jessie

has already sprung his surprise

on Quin, who sits on a chair

very close to the bed,

eyes shining tears.

Look at her,
he purrs to me.

Isn’t she just about the most

beautiful woman in all the world?

He’s lying flat, without even

a pillow, tubes running into his arm

and nostrils. Regardless, happiness

illuminates his face.

Never saw the need to tie the knot

before,
he wheezes.
But this li’l

experience opened my eyes.

We shoulda done it long time ago.

Guess I’m lucky she di’n’ run.

Definitely some decent drugs

being piped into his veins. “Duh,

dude! But wait. What did Quin say?”

I’m kin’ messed up, but I think

she said yes. Din’ you, Quin?

She Did

Whoopee! We’re going to have

a wedding, and that allows joy

to temper the overriding fear

that Jessie’s time could be short.

“So I guess we should look for

a cake that’s fat and sugar-free,

yeah? I mean, you’ll have to

watch your diet now, right?”

Smart-ass. I wouldn’t be too

cocksure of yourself, though.

Heart disease tends to run

in families. Tol’ your dad

the same damn thing, not that

he ever listens to anything

I advise. Can’ believe how pretty

that li’l Lori still is, ya know?

Do. Not. Argue. “Careful,

now, or you’ll make Quin

jealous. Still plenty of time

for her to run. Right, Quin?”

She smiles right past her tears.

Way too late for that, Matt.

Anyway, I’m not the jealous

type, and at the moment I’ve got

more important things on

my mind than Jessie Turner’s

wandering eye. I’m just glad

he’s still around to let it wander.

“Yeah, well, I’d be concerned

if I were you. If he thinks Lorelei

is good-looking, he probably

thinks Nursezilla is pretty, too,

and you never know where she

might decide to put her hands.”

In my best “large woman” voice,

I say, “Sponge bath, Mr. Turner?”

Quin laughs, then retorts,

Better
her
giving him a sponge

bath than me. Now if you’ll excuse

me, I need to visit the ladies’ room.

When She’s Gone

I scoot into the vacant chair.

“I’m glad you’re going to marry

her. It’s a damn good decision.”

His eyes close and he whispers,

Funny how your mind works

when you believe you’re dying.

First you recycle regrets. Should

have. Could have. Why didn’t I?

I had a pretty long list there, and

right at the top was Quin. That

would be one hell of a reward

for putting up with me all these

years, huh? Debt. Her home and

property in my name, and no will