The Up-Down (13 page)

 

 

12

Not that he probably needed added incentive, but just exactly what was the bug up Bee Sting's ass? The fact that Child Services ordered that he not share a household with Gagool and Oswaldina? Did he blame Pace for that? What else would inspire this thug to signify and threaten him? Having already been shotgunned once, Sailor Ripley's only son vowed to himself that he would not let it happen again. He cleaned and loaded his daddy's Colt Python and began carrying it with him whenever he left the property, kept it in the top drawer of his desk while he wrote, and on the floor next to his bed while he slept. Pace would have no compunction about taking the oafish Mr. Sting out of the count if need be. He would not initiate a confrontation but neither would he back away from it.

Pace was amused by this potential
High Noon
scenario. The image of himself at seventy years old, strapped and determined not to be intimidated by a Bug Town bully, carrying a ludicrous crush on a woman very much younger than himself, a former prostitute turned preacher, was a stretch of imagination Pace doubted even his former employer in the movie business, the director Phil Reãl, who was renowned for his largely incomprehensible but darkly riveting films, such as
Mumblemouth
and the infamous
Cry of the Mute,
could feature.

Pace's dreams became increasingly confusing. In one, a gigantic spider seized the planet Earth in its eight sticky arms and began eating it, city after city, rotating the globe as he devoured entire countries, causing oceans and lakes and rivers to spill into outer space. In another, just as he was about to make love to a woman, she began to melt, her limbs and head dripping like candle wax until there was nothing for him to hold.

One afternoon, Pace drove to the ocean and sat in the Pathfinder looking at the water. It was a cold, windy day, and the beach below where he had parked was devoid of people. Then a black dog, a Labrador retriever, came trotting along by itself, dodging waves as he splashed ashore. Pace expected the dog's keeper to appear, but nobody did. The dog was making great sport timing his movements in order to barely avoid getting wet. That was it, Pace realized, his timing was off. He recalled his brief sojourn in Chicago, sitting on the back porch of his apartment late at night in all kinds of weather, listening to noises made by his neighbors, cats wailing in the alleys, dogs barking, gunshots in the distance. He had felt at peace there for a while both with the world and himself. That was more than ten years ago.

The black Lab finally tired of his game and ran off in the direction from which he had come. Could a dog discover the Up-Down? The wind picked up, buffeting the Pathfinder. Why not? Pace thought. A dog was a sentient being, just like he was. Pace took the Colt Python out of his coat pocket and laid it down on the passenger seat. A big gust of wind almost lifted the front end of the vehicle. Pace started it up, backed away, and headed for home. Just as he was about to turn off the beach road onto the two-lane to Bay St. Clement, the black dog dashed in front of the Pathfinder. Pace braked just in time to avoid hitting him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Pace said. “Maybe I've got my timing back now.”

 

 

13

Pace had not forgotten about the letter he received from his cousin, Early Ripley. However, the business with the little girl and then Perfume James had occupied most of his thoughts, to say nothing of the belligerent behavior on the part of his unintended adversary, the wolf ticket terrorist, Mr. Bee Sting. At this stage in his life, after the recent series of calamitous events, Pace was in no mood to make new friends. He did not want to appear impolite; nevertheless, Pace filed Early's letter in a bottom drawer of his desk. For some reason, Pace remembered being in the food line with Sailor at Rocky and Carlo's restaurant in Chalmette when he was about thirteen, and a refinery worker in his fifties, wearing his oil-stained uniform, standing in line behind them, said to his co-worker son, who was griping about something, “Eddie, I hate to admit it, but the best part of you ran down my leg.”

It had been a long time since he'd been in New York, though, and Pace was curious to see how the city had changed since he and Rhoda had lived there. Given how unlikely it was that he could kindle a flame with the pastor, plus this stupid vendetta with his Bug Town stalker, Pace began to think about taking a break to revisit the big apple. A few days after he'd almost thrown away Early's letter, he retrieved it and dropped his cousin a note, saying he was pleased to hear from him, that he was planning a trip to New York, and suggesting that they get together. Early wrote back by return post: “Terrific! You can stay with me if you like. Tell me when you're coming.” He included his phone number and e-mail address.

The morning Pace was packing a bag, preparing to drive to the Raleigh-Durham airport, Perfume James called him.

“Mr. Ripley, this is Pastor James. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

“No, of course not.”

“I wanted to inform you that Gagool Angola shot and killed Bee Sting Goldberg last night. She's being held in detention at the Child Services facility in Charlotte. I'm going there today to see her and I thought perhaps you'd like to accompany me.”

Pace hesitated before answering, trying to process this shocking development.

“Mr. Ripley? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes. Certainly, I'll go with you. When do you want to leave?”

“Can you come now? I'd appreciate it if you could drive. Otherwise, I'll have to borrow a car or find someone else to take me.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Pick me up at the church.”

Pace hung up. Goldberg? Bee Sting's last name was Goldberg? He e-mailed Early Ripley that his trip had been delayed and that he would be in touch soon; then he cancelled his flight reservation. Before leaving the cottage, Pace put his revolver into the top drawer of his desk and locked it.

“Mama,” he said, “you most probably won't be surprised to know that the world is still plenty weird on top, just as you left it.”

The moment Pace's Pathfinder slid to a stop in front of Beyond God and the Devil Disciples of Lazarus, Perfume James came out, wearing a long, beaver coat with a hood, which she wore up over her head. A wet snow was blowing in.

“I saw you out the window,” Perfume said, as she closed the passenger side door. “It's very kind of you to carry me over to Charlotte.”

“I'm glad you called me. Can you tell me what happened?”

“All I know is that Bee Sting forced his way into the house and Oswaldina tried to get him to leave, which he wouldn't do. Apparently, he started beating on her and Gagool got hold of her mama's pistol and shot him in the back. Twice. Oswaldina called the police and told them that she had shot Bee Sting, but Gagool kept shouting, ‘I done it! I done it!' Her prints were on the gun and they took the child away.”

“He showed up at my place a week ago.”

“Bee Sting did?”

“Got out of his Mercury with a shotgun and pointed it at my front door.”

“Did he shoot?”

“No, just stood there, holding it. To warn me, I guess. I didn't go out, but he could see me staring at him through my window. After a bit, he drove away. I've been carrying a revolver ever since.”

“You can't take it inside Child Services.”

“I left it at home. I don't figure on needing a gun now that Bee Sting is gone. You said on the phone that his last name was Goldberg. How is that?”

“Mamie June Rivers, one of my parishioners, woman who gave me this fur coat, told me his father was a merchant seaman from Israel, met his mama in Baltimore, where Bee Sting grew up. According to Mamie June, his mama was on the game and his daddy disappeared. She took the man's last name, though, for Bee Sting, whose real first name was Abraham.”

“Abe Goldberg.”

“Uh huh. He made his livin' dealin' drugs over in Chapel Hill and Durham, sellin' to college kids. He got sweet on Oswaldina when she was workin' as an aide in a hospital somewhere there. They got together after he was in the emergency room bein' treated for a knife wound. Ever since, Bee Sting been Oswaldina's main man.”

It was a two hour drive to Charlotte, but it went quickly for Pace, listening to Perfume James talk about her duties as pastor, how her former life of degradation and despair now seemed like somebody else's bad dream. She didn't ask Pace any questions about his own history, which he did not realize until after Perfume had been admitted to the visitors' room at Child Services. Having not received visiting permission in advance, Pace was made to wait in the lobby of the facility. Fortunately, he had anticipated this, and had put in his coat pocket a paperback copy of D.H. Lawrence's
Mornings in Mexico
that had been on his desk at the cottage. He was up to page thirty-nine, a passage that ends, “One wonders where he was, and what he was, in his sleep, he starts up so strange and wild and lost,” when Perfume, whom he had not noticed re-enter the lobby, interrupted him.

“Thank you for your patience, Mr. Ripley.”

Pace stood up and replaced
Mornings in Mexico
in his pocket.

“No problem, I had a book to read. How's the girl?”

“Come, I'll tell you in the car.”

They walked out together. Once they were in the Pathfinder, Perfume James looked closely at Pace's face.

“You seem to have had a real effect on Gagool,” she said.

“Me?”

“Yes. She told me that she wants to stay with you until her father gets out of prison. She says you made her good grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Pace smiled. “I did. Twice.”

“I told her that probably would not be possible, at least not for a while.”

“What are they going to do with her?”

“Send her to a juvenile detention center for six months, maybe a year. After that, she'll go into foster care. I doubt that Oswaldina will ever be allowed to have custody of her daughter again. You could apply to be a foster parent.”

Pace shook his head. “I'm too old. She'll need a good family, a father and a mother, other kids, to take care of her.”

“I remember what you said to me at the church, about how you believed I was the first woman you could love completely and without reservation. Did you really mean it?”

“Yes, pastor, but I realized afterward how inappropriate it was, that I had doubtless offended you.”

“You didn't offend me, quite the opposite. I was surprised, of course. That's a dangerous thing to tell a woman, any woman, but especially a whore who has found redemption.”

Pace suddenly felt the cold. He started the engine and turned on the heater.

“Do you regret having said it?”

“No, I was sincere. I surprised myself.”

“I can see I've embarrassed you, Mr. Ripley. I'm sorry.”

“Can you call me Pace?”

She reached over and took both of his hands in hers.

“Yes, and when we're alone together, you call me Perfume.”

Little pieces of ice were bouncing off of the windshield. Perfume tightened her grip on his hands.

“Pace,” she said, “have you ever in your three score and ten had a woman with seven gold teeth?”

 

 

14

On Easter Sunday, a tornado tore through Bug Town and destroyed the Beyond God and the Devil building. Inside the church at the time were Pastor Perfume James and a dozen of her parishioners, early arrivals for the sacred day's service. As darkness descended and the unearthly howling increased, the thirteen women prayed for the twister to miss Bug Town and Bay St. Clement, believing as they did so that even if they were taken in the whirlwind, as Disciples of Lazarus they would rise again. The pastor and nine of the others gathered in a close circle in the center of the room died when the walls collapsed and the roof fell in on them.

Pace and Perfume had three good months together. He was in his cottage when the storm arrived. After he heard on the radio that the tornado had made a direct hit on Bug Town, he called the church but there was no response. When Perfume did not answer her cell phone, either, Pace could only hope that the Disciples of Lazarus would be justified in their faith.

During his time with Perfume James, Pace did not have much to do with her church. Perfume told Pace it was not necessary that he believe as she did, that it was enough if he had confidence in her ability to improve people's lives and inspire them to do the same. At Perfume's funeral, Pace spied Oswaldina on the fringe of mourners but did not speak to her. Mamie June Rivers, one of the three survivors of the church's destruction, was at the graveside. She told Pace that the pastor had spoken to her often of him and considered Pace to be further confirmation and living proof of her own salvation.

“I loved her,” Pace said.

“We all did,” said Mamie June Rivers. “Jesus, too. He'll return her to us one day, you'll see. They'll be walking side by side.”

The day of the tornado had been Mamie June's eighty-seventh birthday. It was she who made sure that Perfume was buried wearing the beaver coat Mamie June had given her and which had become the pastor's favorite item of apparel.

A few months later, Pace prevailed upon the police captain in Bay St. Clement to find out for him what had become of Gagool Angola. The captain told Pace that Child Services informed him that the girl was living with a foster family in another part of the state. That was all he knew.

After Perfume James died, Pace stopped writing about Sailor and Lula. When he began again, after almost a year, Pace decided to tell his own story, to record the many unusual turns his life had taken, as well as his continuing search for the Up-Down. His objective, he realized, was not to make great literature—as if he could—or even be published, but to examine what he really thought had happened to him and those closest to him; and, if possible, to discover a few of the reasons why.

Pace recalled that In the gospel according to St. Matthew, the pastor's preferred witness in the New Testament, two blind men stopped Jesus as he was leaving Jericho on his way to Jerusalem, where he knew the Romans would torture and murder him.

“What can I do for you?” Jesus asked the blind men.

“If you are really the son of God and capable of performing miracles,” one of the blind men said, “make us to see again.”

Jesus passed one of his hands over both their faces, they opened their eyes and could see. The two men then joined Jesus and his disciples on their journey to Jerusalem.

Pace decided that from now on whenever people in need approached him, regardless of whether they appeared hostile or friendly, he would say only, “What can I do for you?” If he could help them, he would; if he could not, he would say so. What followed would be their responsibility.