The Good Nearby Page 28

  Gladys did not argue nor ask for further explanation. Gladys was good that way—knowing when to speak and when to remain silent.

  “Everything’s as it should be, Gladys. I know it.”

  The older woman laughed too, making her red hair dance. She nodded toward the bathroom. “What did you do in there? Here I thought I’d be comforting you, and you’ve got yourself together all by yourself. It appears you’re stronger than you thought, young lady.”

  Margery liked that. “I am. And I know things are going to be right from now on. Just as they should be.” She got an idea. “In fact, I think this deserves a celebration. I’m starved. How about Chinese food? I’ll fly and I’ll buy.”

  “I never turn down dinner. Go for it,” Gladys said.

  And Margery would go for it. Life was good, life was full of promise, and it was starting now.

  19

  God speaks again and again,

  though people do not recognize it.

  JOB 33:14

  I loved him. Mick was everything to me. And tonight was the night I’d prove it.

  We’d been going out for six months and Mick had been after me to have sex with him since the second date. Somehow I’d held off—and held him off. It wasn’t easy. He was very persistent and very sexy, and I felt my defenses giving in.

  I mean . . . if we loved each other, the sex part couldn’t be wrong.

  Could it?

  That night, on my sixteenth birthday, I’d decided to do it. Become a woman. I hadn’t told Mick my plan of surrender—just in case I wanted to back out—but I think he sensed it because he brought me a yellow rose when he picked me up for school in the morning. I took the flower to my room real fast (wishing it were red) and set it on the shelf in my closet so Mama wouldn’t see it. Not that she would’ve taken it or anything, but she was strange sometimes, getting mad when she saw me getting something nice. Like she was jealous.

  Mama had a boyfriend too. George something-or-other. He was better than Ted had been, and worse than Klaus. I liked Klaus—he was funny—but he hadn’t lasted more than a month. He didn’t like Mama’s drinking. George did his own share of boozing. When she passed out he was usually close behind. I often found them sprawled in the living room, or even in bed together in Mama’s room. It was kind of disgusting, but passed out and quiet was better than awake and mean. That’s one reason I had two jobs. The money was always needed, but more than that, it got me out of the house so I didn’t have to see . . . didn’t have to deal with all that.

  Actually, since dating Mick, I’d cut back on my hours at the Pump-n-Eat so I could spend time with him. And I was thinking about quitting my job at Burger Madness completely. Then Mick and I could really spend time together. Mick always wanted to party, and I drank with him some of the time. But I wasn’t going to be like Mama. Nothing like that. I went along so I wouldn’t disappoint Mick.

  For my birthday he picked me up and we went to a movie The Arrival with Charlie Sheen. I was kind of disappointed he didn’t have a present for me. Was the rose it? I don’t know why I expected more. It was dumb to expect more. Hadn’t I learned that by now? At least Mick had remembered, which was more than Mama did.

  He did get me popcorn and some Skittles, so that was special. And he did let me dig my face into his arm when the people in the movie turned into weird aliens with knee joints that pointed backwards. That was gross.

  I’m glad Mick wasn’t the kind who ever wanted to discuss a movie afterward, because I wouldn’t have been able to say much. I saw the whole show in flashes, paying attention for a few minutes, then letting my mind wander.

  I kept thinking about Grammy and was looking for signs that where I was and what I was doing were okay with her. Okay with God too, if I got right down to it. No matter what had happened the past few years, all the hard stuff, the scary stuff, I’d always been able to depend on something good popping up, reminding me that I’d be okay.

  They were dumb things really: seeing a checkered floor like Grammy’s kitchen, or something pretty and red. Meeting someone named Susie, hearing a hymn, seeing a stuffed frog, smelling a turkey dinner like that one I’d had during my first—and only—visit to Grammy’s house. I’d forget about looking for signs for a while, but then things would go bad and suddenly I’d see something that would remind me of good times, of good people in my life, and I’d feel better. Like Grammy or Susie or even God himself was hugging me, right then and there.

  I’d been looking for such things a lot lately, but there was nothing out there. It kinda scared me.

  But maybe they were there and I just wasn’t seeing them. I was kind of busy. Being with Mick, trying to please him . . . that’s what took my time lately. Took my thoughts too.

  Like now. I wasn’t watching the movie. I was too busy thinking about doing it.

  I wasn’t stupid. I’d had health class in school, so I knew what went where and all that. Actually I’d learned plenty about sex stuff from living on the street and living in the 96 house with Chico, Toledo, and the rest. Saw too much. And Mama was never one to be discreet about such things. I was just glad I had my own room where we lived now. At least I had a place to go when she and her boyfriend wanted to get friendly.

  As the credits rolled and everybody stood up I knew it was my turn now.

  * * *

  I’d heard about girls doing it in the backseat of a car, but since Mick only had a pickup . . .

  I lost my virginity in the bed of the pickup. Bed. Funny. Ha-ha. Although I didn’t enjoy it much, that was okay, because Mick really loved me now, and that was worth anything. When I snuggled into his shoulder the world was good and I had a future. I was destined to be Mrs. Mick Lamborn and have a baby. I was destined to be happy, just like Grammy had predicted. Mick made me remember something else Grammy had said about my life: that I would be the good nearby to someone, that I would make a difference. I would be everything to Mick. Everything good.

  When Mick took me home after doing it, I didn’t want to leave him. In Mick’s pickup, in his world, were hope and love and affection, and—

  Mick took a final swig of his beer and tossed it behind the seat with the rest of the empties. “What you waiting for, Marg? Get out. I gotta get home too.”

  Tears threatened.

  Even in the dark of the truck he must’ve seen them, because he leaned over, kissed my cheek, and said, “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And . . . and thank you. For . . . you know.”

  I looked at him, hoping . . . “Was it okay?”

  “It’ll get better.” He winked. “Practice makes perfect, you know.”

  I got one more kiss from him and then he was gone.

  I found Mama on the couch. She opened one eye and mumbled, “Oh, you,” before falling back into her drunken sleep.

  Oh. Me. Happy birthday to oh me.

  But then I remembered my time in the back of the truck. It wasn’t just me anymore. Not just me.

  Mick was mine now. Number 96 was mine. Forever and ever.

  20

  Whenever someone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away.

  For the Lord is the Spirit,

  and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

  2 CORINTHIANS 3:16-17

  Gladys and Margery sat at the kitchen table, reading the morning paper.

  The phone rang.

  “Hello, Red.”

  “Hi, King.” Gladys glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was seven fifteen. “You’re lucky we’re up.”

  “No, you’re lucky you’re up, because I’m inviting both you and Margery to go to church with me this morning.”

  “Goody.”

  “Be nice.”

  “You ask every week. And every week I say no.”

  “But maybe not today, right?”

  “Why not today?”

  “Exactly.”

  He was exasperating. “Maybe we don’t want to go to church.” She nodd
ed at Margery to get her support.

  But Margery surprised her by saying, “I’ll go.”

  “You will?”

  King said, “You will what?”

  Gladys put her hand over the receiver. “You want to go to church with King?”

  “It might be nice.”

  With a sigh Gladys gave in to the two against one. She uncovered the receiver. “You win. What time?”

  * * *

  When was the last time?

  Margery tried to think back. She’d gone to church with Susie quite a few times, but when Susie had died, so had Margery’s churchgoing. Susie’s funeral? Had that been the last time?

  It’s not that she hadn’t thought about it off and on. But the one time she’d brought it up to Mick, he’d laughed and pulled her close, saying, “Aren’t I enough man for you? You don’t need any Jesus in your life. You got me.”

  She hadn’t argued with him. What was the point? And though she could’ve gone by herself, Mick would have seen that as a slap in the face and made her pay. A person shouldn’t have to pay such a price to go to church.

  But now, with Mick safely locked away in jail, she was free to go, and this freedom added to her other new feelings of liberation.

  Margery looked to her left where Gladys sat next to King on the pew. She couldn’t think of two people she’d rather be seated with. They’d both been so nice to her, taking her in, helping her through some of the rough spots.

  King draped his arm over the back of the pew behind Gladys’s shoulders. She didn’t seem to notice, but he caught Margery looking and smiled. Margery smiled back. They sure were an odd couple—there had to at least be ten years between them, with Gladys being the older—but there was something right about them too. Like a cake that was tasty in itself getting a layer of frosting that made it something special.

  The choir stood, their blue robes and green satin stoles a happy combination. They sang a short song. Then everyone stood and recited lines that were printed in the bulletin before telling each other hello and shaking hands. Margery felt awkward because she didn’t know anybody.

  “Is that Margery?” asked a lady in the pew behind them.

  Margery turned around and saw Adele Connors, a customer from the drugstore. “Hello, Mrs. Connors,” she said.

  “Hello, yourself.” She put a finger on Gladys’s shoulder. “This girl’s a keeper, Gladys.” She put a hand under her bobbed hair. “See how shiny my hair is? All because I used that shampoo you suggested, Margery.”

  Her hair did look nice. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Some more music started and people got out their hymnbooks. Gladys handed her one. “Number 96,” she whispered.

  Ninety-six?

  Margery fumbled to the right page, missing the chance to sing the first line. But as soon as she heard the hymn start, she lost all ability to sing.

  Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;

  The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!

  When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

  Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

  It was Grammy’s favorite hymn! The one she’d often sung or hummed. And it was the hymn that had been sung that first time Margery had gone to church with Susie. That Sunday she’d first been introduced to Frog.

  Hey, Frog.

  Amazingly, Margery found she knew some of the words. How was that possible? She hadn’t sung it in nearly twenty years. When the next verse started, she joined in.

  I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;

  Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.

  Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?

  I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

  As the music surrounded her with its comforting arms, Margery wasn’t in church with Gladys and King anymore. She was standing beside Grammy and Susie, sharing the hymnal between them—though Grammy didn’t look at the words at all, but sang them with her eyes closed and her face lifted to heaven.

  They’re both in heaven now.

  Margery looked upward too, hoping that if Susie and Grammy were looking down, they’d spot her. Hey, Grammy! Hey, Susie! It’s me! I’m back in church! I miss you both so terribly much.

  Margery felt Gladys’s eyes, and after a shared glance, looked down at the songbook.

  Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;

  Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;

  Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;

  In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

  Margery wished they’d sing it again. Now that she’d made the connection she wanted to drink in every word. Lacking an encore, when everyone sat and the service moved on, it continued without her. She kept the hymnbook open and read the words again. Suddenly, they weren’t just words she’d heard in her youth; they were words that had meaning. For here. For now.

  When other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

  She’d certainly been without help, without comfort. But this song was calling God the help of the helpless. And she knew he was. He always had been. Even in her darkest times she’d felt a calming presence and found some glimmer of comfort. Though she might not have realized it was God back then, now . . .

  The next lines about having no foes and not being afraid about anything . . . ills have no weight . . . that wasn’t true. She was afraid of plenty and—

  No. That wasn’t true. She had been afraid. She had cried bitter tears. But no more. As of yesterday everything had changed. And though the start of the change had been Mick’s being arrested, Margery sensed there was more to it than that. She’d certainly been plenty scared of Mick lately, but there’d been much more to fear than just him.

  Fear she’d never have a baby.

  Fear she’d be stuck at the Chug & Chew forever.

  Fear she’d never have a decent place to live.

  Fear she wouldn’t have enough money for food.

  Fear she’d never find normal.

  Fear her life would be for nothing.

  The fears were falling away, one by one—if not finding complete elimination, at least fading to an acceptable size.

  She looked to the words Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?

  Margery had experienced death with Grammy and Susie. But she’d never been afraid of death. Death was not a fear. Had never been a fear. Her parents had thought she was crazy because of that.

  I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

  She looked up from the words, yet she didn’t focus on anything in the sanctuary. If people need God to deal with their fear of death and I’ve never feared death, then he has been with me all this time.

  Yet something bothered her. Her life had been far from easy, and if God was around, weren’t things supposed to be all sweetness and full of good things?

  She wasn’t sure about that.

  Back to the final verse: Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes.

  She looked up at the cross on the wall behind the preacher and remembered another cross behind another altar in another church. Susie’s church where she had gone up to the front and told Jesus she was his. It was so long ago and she’d forgotten about it for so long . . . did it still count?

  Margery felt the need to make sure. She closed her eyes and remembered the rest of the words: Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies; Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

  She felt a stirring inside as if she were being pulled out of any problems into something bigger. Grander. And right. She was being pointed to the skies with heaven breaking before her, to a place where there were no shadows. To a place where she could be with God, and he with her. A good place. A good nearby.

  She felt Gladys’s shoulder bump into hers. “What are you smiling about?” Gladys asked.

  She hadn’t realized she was smiling. “Nothing,” Ma
rgery whispered back.

  Plenty.

  * * *

  Margery’s gestures were expansive as they sat in the booth at the restaurant after church. Gladys had never seen her like this.

  “But the words to the song,” Margery said, “you can’t know how they made me remember Grammy and Susie. The words did something to me.” She grabbed the fabric of her blouse at her midsection. “In here.”

  Gladys wished she could remember the words to “Abide with Me” but they were not in her memory bank.

  King closed his menu. “You’re glowing from the inside out.”

  Margery beamed. “I am?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Glowing from the inside out. Gladys herself had said that to Margery just the night before. When was the last time Gladys had felt that way? Had she ever felt that way? Her time with God last Tuesday had been more of a battle and coming to terms of surrender than a glory-glory time.

  “Gladys, you seem upset,” Margery said.

  Gladys looked at her two tablemates. “Sorry. I’m really happy for you.”

  “But?”

  It would sound petty. “You’re so cheery. So caught up in the joy-in-the-morning kind of stuff. From my experience . . .” Such as it is. Gladys focused on the menu. “I’m just hungry, that’s all. What are you two having?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone on and on. I’m sorry,” Margery said.

  “Nonsense,” King said. “That’s why we have friends—so we can share with each other.” He turned his head and looked at Gladys. “Right?”

  She forced a nod.

  Margery didn’t look convinced. “It’s just that feeling like I did today . . . I haven’t felt that way since I was little, before everything turned crazy with Grammy and Susie dying, and running away and . . . I realize now that God was with me back then. He was taking care of me. I remember feeling it, seeing it, but once Mick came into my life . . .”

  “Everything changed?” King asked.

  “He’d get annoyed when I’d notice something good in the middle of the bad. He’d say it was dumb, that I was being a Pollyanna, that it wasn’t good at all, and certainly not set there just for me. He called everything a coincidence and told me to stop it.”