The Bus Driver Who Wanted to Be God & Other Stories (13 page)

in which Mordy finally meets up with Desiree

I
don't know how many times I'd pictured that moment. A million at least. The ending was always cool. Not that I didn't imagine any complications. I'd thought of all of them so that no matter what happened, no matter what she said, I'd be ready. Desiree recognized me right away. She ran up and hugged me and started crying. Then she introduced me to J, who shook my hand and said he'd heard a lot about me, and seemed like an OK guy. And I introduced her to Leehee, which was kind of embarrassing. Leehee didn't say anything but I could tell that even though it was sorta complicated she was happy for me. We left everyone behind and went out on the balcony. Through
the door we could hear Kneller ranting, and J, who must have given up on Freddie long ago, mumbling something like he agreed. Desiree told me about what happened after I offed, about how she didn't know what to do with herself, about how she felt so guilty she wanted to die. And the whole time she talked I just looked at her, at how she looked just the way I remembered her—same haircut even—except her posture, which was kind of bizarre, because she offed by jumping from the roof of the Tiberias Hospital. Desiree told me how after my funeral she went up to the Galilee, and the whole way she just cried and cried. Then, when she got to the final stop, the first thing she saw was Joshua, and as soon as she saw him something inside her became calmer, and she just stopped crying. It's not that she stopped being sad, but it wasn't hysterical anymore. It was just as deep, but something she could deal with. Joshua believed that we were all trapped in the world of the living and that there was a better world that he could get to and there were a few others who believed in his powers. Two weeks after she and Joshua met, he was supposed to separate his body from his soul, to discover the other world, and to return and show everyone the way. Except that something got screwed up, and his soul never made it back. At the hospital, after they'd confirmed his death, she could feel him calling her from wherever he was, which is when she took the elevator up to the roof and jumped, so they could be together. And now they were, and Joshua was going to do it again—what he'd tried to do in the Galilee—except that this time she was sure he'd make it and that he'd
find the way and he'd come back and show everyone. Then she told me again how much I meant to her, and that she knew she hurt me. She didn't know how much until after I offed, and she's glad she got to see me again so she could ask me to forgive her. And all that time I just smiled and nodded. Whenever I'd picture us talking about it, there were plenty of times when I saw her with someone else, but I always used to fight. I'd tell her how much I love her, that nobody could love her that way, and I'd hug her and touch her till she gave in. But now that it was really happening, out here on the terrace, all I wanted was to get to the part where she gave me the friendly kiss on the cheek and it would be over. And then, as if to save me, there was a gong, and Desiree explained that it was time to go back, because it meant that Joshua was about to begin, and she just hugged me
instead.

in which J promises to perform a significant miracle

W
hen we got back inside, Leehee and Kneller were gone. J, who was wearing this fancy gown with lots of embroidery, said they were downstairs already, and when I went looking for them by the pool I saw that the crowd had split, the guys on one side and the babes on the other. I found Kneller right away, and I could see Leehee in the distance too. She was making signs like to ask me how it went. I couldn't think of any way to signal what had happened with Desiree. I wanted to tell her from a distance that I love her, but it looked too much like the kind of thing they do in movies, so I just smiled and signaled that we'd talk later. Kneller said she asked J something about how
you get back to the world of the living, and J told her it was a waste of time and that he'd show everyone the way to a better world. And when they went outside, she told Kneller that this J guy was just a bullshit artist. The music was so loud I could hardly even hear Kneller. He was laughing a little at Leehee and me. He said it was the first time he'd met people who were more naive than him. Me with my miracles, and her with her dreams. “Instead of offing,” he shouted, “you should've gone to California.” I saw him petting Freddie, which meant they'd made up. Joshua climbed onto the stage, wearing his long gown, and Desiree followed him, holding a kind of curvy knife, like in the Bible stories for children where Abraham is about to sacrifice Isaac. She handed the knife to Joshua, and the music stopped with a bang. “What the hell is that?” Kneller muttered beside me. “The guy's dead already. What's he want now, to be double-dead?” People nearby turned around and told him to shut up. He didn't give a shit, but me, I didn't know where to put myself. Then he said he bet J would never go through with it, 'cause anyone who's offed once and knows how much it hurts to die won't try it a second time. And just when Kneller finished saying that, J took the knife and stuck it right in his heart.

in which a white van arrives and everything comes undone

S
trange, but even though everyone around the pool knew the whole time what was going to happen, it still took us all by surprise. First nobody said anything, and then people started mumbling. From where she was standing on the stage, Desiree shouted to everyone to stay calm, because J would be back in his body any minute, but they went on mumbling. Meanwhile, I saw Kneller whispering to Freddie and then talking, like, into his lighter, and in seconds a white van pulled up and these two tall, thin guys in white overalls got out. One of them was holding a megaphone. Kneller ran toward them, and started talking to them and waving his hands all over the place. I started
pushing toward where the women were, to look for Leehee, but I couldn't find her anywhere. The man with the megaphone asked everyone to disperse quietly. On stage, Desiree was sitting next to J's body, and crying. I saw she was trying to get to the knife, but the other guy in overalls got to it first. He took it, then he lifted J's body over his shoulder and motioned Kneller to take Desiree to the car. Again, the man with the megaphone asked the crowd to disperse. Some of them started to move, but lots of others froze. I could see Leehee now, next to the man with the megaphone. She saw me too, and tried to work her way closer to me, but the driver, who was also in overalls and kept talking into some kind of radio, called her over. Leehee signaled to me that she was coming in a minute, and I headed toward the van, shoving people out of the way, but by the time I got close enough, Kneller, with Freddie under his arm, and the overalls with the megaphone all got in the van and drove away. I could see Leehee in the window, trying to shout something to me, but I couldn't hear what it was. That was the last time I saw her.

and on that optimistic note

I
waited there another few hours, because at first I thought the van was only going to let J and Desiree off somewhere and that Leehee would be right back. There were still a few people hanging around. Everyone was in a daze. Nobody could really figure out what had happened. We all sat there in these deck chairs around the pool, not saying anything. Then people began to leave, one at a time, and finally when I saw I was the only one left, I headed toward Kneller's house.

By the time I got there it was evening. Uzi said Kneller had rushed into the house to grab a few things, and told everyone they could stay as long as they liked. Then he
took Uzi aside, and asked him to take care of Freddie. He let Uzi in on the fact that he never really offed himself and that all this time he was really an undercover angel, but that now with this whole Messiah King mess he'd blown his cover, and he'd probably go back to being just an ordinary angel. He told Uzi he didn't envy J, because bad as this place was, the place for the ones who do it a second time is a thousand times more gross, 'cause there aren't that many people there and everybody's totally fucked up. I asked Uzi if Kneller had said anything about Leehee. At first he said no, but later he told me that according to Kneller, Leehee had gone over to one of his people in the middle of everything and asked him to check her file, and even though it sounds crazy, it turns out that there really was some kind of mix-up and nobody knows what to do with her now, but that there's a good chance they'll take her away from here and bring her back to life. Uzi said he didn't want to tell me at first, 'cause I'd be bummed out, but that actually it's good news, because Leehee got what she wanted.

Uzi decided to stay at Kneller's place with his girlfriend, and I went back into town on my own. On the way, I even had a chance to perform a miracle, and that's when I understood what Kneller tried to tell me about how it doesn't really matter. I had this package that Uzi gave me to deliver to his parents, and they were really happy to see me. They wanted to know everything, especially about his girlfriend. Uzi's dad said Uzi sounded real happy on the phone, and that the whole family was going to go visit him in a month. Meanwhile, they invited me to have Friday night
dinners at their place, and in the middle of the week too, whenever I feel like it. The people at the Kamikaze were glad to see me too, and put me right back on the shift.

I don't dream about her at night at all, but I think about her a lot. Uzi says that's just like me—to get stuck on girls I don't have any chance of being with. Maybe he's right, and I don't stand much of a chance. But on the other hand, she told me once that someone who was half-dead was good enough for her, and when she got in that van she signaled to me that she'd be right back, so go figure it out. Just to be sure, every time I start a shift I do a little something—put my name tag on upside down, tie my apron the wrong way, anything, so if she ever does come in, she won't be
sad.

T
hat night, when the bogy came to take away his talent, he didn't argue or whine or put up a fuss. “What's fair is fair,” he said, and offered the bogy a truffle and a glass of lemonade. “It's been cool, it's been great, it's been grand, but time's up, and here you are, and you're just doing your job. I'm not going to give you a hard time. But if it's not too much trouble, could you let me have just one more quick story before you take it away? One last story and that's it. Just so I can hold on to the taste.” The bogy looked at the silver foil from the truffle and realized he'd made a mistake accepting it. It's always the nice ones who give you the biggest hassle. With the obnoxious ones he never had any problem. You get there, remove the soul, undo the Velcro, pull out the talent, and that's that. The
guy can kick and scream till the cows come home. You're the bogy. You check them off, and keep going down the list. But the nice ones, the ones who talk real softly, with the truffles and the lemonades and all—what can you say to them? “OK.” The bogy sighed. “One last one. But make it short, eh? It's almost three, and I've got at least two more stops today.” “Short.” The guy gave a tired smile. “Very short even. Two pages tops. You can watch TV in the meantime.”

After tucking away two more truffles, the bogy stretched out on the sofa and started fiddling with the remote. Meanwhile, in the other room, the guy who'd given him the truffles was clicking away at the keyboard at a nice even pace, never letting up, like somebody keying a million-digit PIN into an ATM. “I hope he turns out something really good,” the bogy thought to himself and stared at an ant plodding across the screen in a nature film on PBS. “The kind with lots of trees, and a little girl who's looking for her parents. Something with a beginning that grabs you by the nuts and an ending that's so heart-wrenching, people get all choked up. He really was a nice person, that guy. Not just nice, he was dignified.” And the bogy was hoping, for the guy's sake, that he was just about done. It was after four, and in twenty minutes, half an hour tops, finished or not, he'd have to undo the guy's Velcro, pull out the stuff and split. Otherwise, they'd give him such shit in the stockroom later he'd rather not even think about it.

But the guy was good as his word. Five minutes later
he came out of the other room all sweaty, with two printed pages in his hand. The story he wrote was really good. Not about a little girl, and not one that grabs you by the nuts, but moving as hell. And when the bogy told him so, the guy was pretty psyched, and it showed. And that smile of his lingered on, even after the bogy pulled out his talent, folded it up very very small, and put it in a special box lined with Styrofoam peanuts. And all that time the guy didn't give him the tormented-artist look even once. Just kept offering him more truffles. “Tell your bosses thanks,” he told the bogy. “Tell them I had a helluva time with it, the talent and everything. Don't forget.” And the bogy told him fine, and thought to himself that if instead of a bogy he'd been human too, or if only they'd met under different circumstances, they could have been cool together. “Any idea what you'll do now?” the bogy asked, concerned, standing in the doorway by then. “Not really. Guess I'll get to go to the beach more often, see my friends, that kind of thing. And you?” “Work,” the bogy said, and adjusted the box on his back. “Me, apart from work, there's nothing on my mind. Believe me.” “Say,” the guy asked, “just out of curiosity, what do they do in the end with all those talents?” “I don't actually know,” the bogy admitted. “My job's just as far as the stockroom. That's where they count 'em up, sign my delivery slips, and that's it. What happens with them later—I haven't the faintest.” “If you wind up with one too many, I'll always be glad to take it back,” the guy laughed and tapped on the box. And the bogy laughed too, but it was a kind of fed-up laugh. And the whole four
floors down all he could think about was the story the guy had written, and this pick-up job, which he used to sort of enjoy, but now it suddenly seemed like such a crock of shit. “Two more stops.” He tried to console himself on his way to the car. “Just a lousy two more stops and I'm done for the day.”