Maxfield, Z.A. St. Nacho's

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ourselves. That seems like it s enough responsibility for anyone.
And what if we were all to abdicate our responsibility? Excuse ourselves from the
process and just let others take the fall?
She put her hand on mine and squeezed, and I could see the caring and the anxiety in
her eyes. I wondered if I d ever see her look at me without that pain again.
I ended up leaving after we finished our coffee in a strained silence and walked back to
the apartment deep in thought. I looked in the library window and saw Mary Lynn packing
up puzzles and games, and I wondered again if the real world might just be somewhere
between the uncomplicated one my sister described and the indecipherable and frightening
place I had always believed it to be.
80 Z. A. Maxfield
Chapter Thirteen
When I got home the only people left in the apartment were Stan and Jordan. I said a
polite hello, but they seemed to be in deep conversation, so I went onto the balcony to
smoke. Jordan seemed agitated, and Stan was using that supercilious, smooth voice of his to
calm him. It wasn t long before Jordan came to the slider and opened it.
I m going to go with Stan for a while. He thinks I need a meeting.
Are you okay? I asked. I knew Jordan attended regular AA meetings. He was years
past his thirty meetings in thirty days, but often went every day anyway.
Yeah. He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. I don t know. I m& I m just
going, okay?
Okay. I watched him walk across the living room with Stan and out the front door.
Stan turned to me and gave me a look that was hard to decipher. I wondered if he thought
maybe I was bad for Jordan. It wouldn t have surprised me, given what he d said about the
accident. It didn t matter. I finished my cigarette and went back inside, where I found the
kitchen full of the effects of that afternoon s meal, and I took the time to clean it up.
* * * * *
All in all, I liked the quiet of our apartment, yet I knew that Jordan was unhappy that
we didn t have a television. I liked to take walks, and he liked to stay indoors. I think my
practicing got on his nerves. I tolerated the church group, went to AA meetings, and
attended Bible study. I knew he was aware that I didn t have any kind of personal spiritual
calling, but I didn t see it as going through the motions the way he thought I did. I tried to
give him space and stability. He routinely found reasons to call Stan for counseling and
searched for meetings to attend. He always needed more.
St. Nacho s 81
At some point, I began to go to the library often to help out with cleaning or whatever
Mary Lynn might need. She taught me some basic sign language, enough so that I could carry
on a greeting and a small discussion of the weather. She gave me books, and I practiced with
a couple of DVDs when I could watch them on the library players. I memorized signed
words, but was unable yet to place them into coherent sentences.
Jordan tolerated my interest, saying that it would be good to have someone who could
sign for Stan later if the church attracted any deaf parishioners. I walked past the banks of
computers in the library every day, avoiding the temptation to use them to reconnect with
Santo Ignacio. But my fingers itched to reach out for something, anything that would bring
Shawn s face more clearly to my mind.
Summer hung thick and heavy on us; the humidity and mosquitoes were taking their
toll. I was sitting in the church with the usual group, listening to Stan talk on and on about
sin and redemption, a message I d heard him give a number of times before. I looked at
Jordan. He watched Stan so earnestly. I remembered the many times when we were kids
when Jordie had had that same enraptured look on his face. I still found it as endearing as I
found it heartbreaking.
I knew then that I had been wading through the humid days marking time. Jordie had
a new drug of choice in the person of Pastor Stan, and I wasn t going to be able, this time, to
share it with him.
I wondered what Shawn was doing all the time now. Was he working full-time during
the summer or did he have classes? Would he be sunning himself on the beach with his
friends? Would he be picnicking in the evenings with Kevin by the light of his little battery-
powered camping lantern? I could see him in my mind with his gray rubber tub of dishes,
wiping off tables and throwing that smile -- that impossibly bright, beautiful smile -- around
Nacho s bar. I knew so little about him and I d told him less about me, yet I think he [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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