Road to Nowhere

by Christopher Pike

  “You’re going to have to slow down,” Poppy warned as a road off to their left rushed closer. Teresa found herself hitting the brake, although she didn’t want to. Free stirred at the sudden deceleration. Teresa flipped on her blinker and turned off the main road.

  “I don’t know why we have to see this man,” Teresa muttered.

  Free opened his eyes and yawned. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “We’re going to church,” Poppy said.

  Free was not impressed. “Did she talk you into stopping, Teresa?”

  “More or less,” Teresa said.

  “You don’t have to see the priest, you know,” Free said. “It’s not a requirement. I’ve never seen him.”

  Teresa smiled. “I bet you’ve never been in a church in your life.”

  “That is an astute observation,” Free agreed.

  “Poppy’s worried that the road further north is blocked,” Teresa said. “What do you think?”

  “I think if we drive fast enough we’ll be able to break on through to the other side,” Free said.

  “If it is blocked, you might be late to your show,” Teresa said. “We might have to head back south and circle round. That could take a long time.”

  Free yawned again. “I’m not worried about it.”

  “What did you say was the name of the club where you’re going to be doing your show?” Teresa asked.

  Free glanced over. His eyes were bloodshot with fatigue, but his mouth looked fresh. She wished she could kiss him right then. He’d know how to make her feel better.

  “We’re booked into Club Bardos,” he said. “I don’t see how you could have forgotten the name.”

  Teresa laughed. “It’s been a long and exciting night.”

  Free nodded. “And it isn’t over yet.” He paused. “What are you going to tell the priest?”

  The trees round them were beginning to thin. It was a relief in a way to Teresa; they had begun to make her feel claustrophobic the last few miles. In the distance she could hear bells chiming. She rolled down her window. The rain had stopped and the moon had come out, shedding much needed light. She smelt flowers: daisies and roses and carnations.

  “I’m not Catholic,” Teresa said. “I don’t have to tell him anything.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Free said.

  The church had to be a Spanish mission because it couldn’t be anything else in that part of California. Yet it wasn’t. It was like no mission ever made. The thing could only have been a cathedral lifted from the centre of old England. It was constructed of fat square-shaped granite blocks. There were people milling around outside it, lots of people, and the sun hadn’t even begun to show its face yet. Teresa was confused beyond belief. Two alien structures in one night. A witch from the twilight zone and now a priest from God knew where. She really should just have gone to bed and not tried to run away from home when it was raining so hard.

  “Park over to the right there, away from the people,” Poppy said.

  “They’re not used to cars here.”

  “How do they get here then?” Teresa asked.

  “They just show up,” Poppy said.

  “Losers, all of them,” Free remarked.

  “Are you coming in with us?” Teresa asked him.

  He laughed. “Give me a break.”

  Teresa parked and climbed out with Poppy, stretching her legs and back. One thing she did have to admit, the smells were delightful. Yet she could see flowers nowhere. She suspected the gardens were in an inner courtyard. The church and adjoining structures appeared to have been built round one. Free reached in the back seat for his garment bag.

  “I thought I’d change so you wouldn’t recognize me when you get back,” he said.

  She stuck her head back in the open window. “I’m only doing this to make Poppy happy,” she said softly so that Poppy couldn’t hear.

  “You don’t have to make her happy,” Free said, also whispering. “You only have to make me happy.”

  She grinned mischievously. “It’s my pleasure to do that.” She started to stand back up. Free reached over and grabbed her arm. He studied her intently, the change in his expression dramatic.

  “I’m going to need a favour from you soon,” he said.

  “What kind of favour?”

  “You’ll see. Can I count on you?”

  “Sure.”

  “For anything?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” Teresa said.

  He released her. “Good.”

  Teresa walked towards the cathedral with Poppy by her side, the main bell tower rising high above their heads. Teresa could not understand how she had not seen pictures of this building – it had to be one of the most impressive structures in all of America. But she didn’t ask Poppy to explain the riddle to her because every time Poppy spoke she created another riddle.

  “Don’t talk to any of the people except for the priest and me,” Poppy warned.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “It wouldn’t be a good idea, trust me.”

  “I don’t trust you. I don’t know why I’m doing this. Do you know why?”

  “Yes,” Poppy said. “You’re here because you’re tired of driving.”

  “That makes sense. Hey, can I ask you something and please give me a straight answer. Were John and Candy real people?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you and Free know them so intimately?”

  “We were very close,” Poppy said.

  “You answered sarcastically when Free asked if he had narrated the end of their story accurately. Had he?”

  “No, but he didn’t lie. It’s complicated.”

  “Can you tell me what really happened, from what you know?”

  “Maybe later,” Poppy said.

  Poppy did not steer them to the massive front doors of the church, but rather, to a side entrance that opened into a hall and then into the courtyard Teresa had pictured. They passed two old nuns playing with a child tossing pennies into a fountain. The other people milling about were incredibly nondescript, to such an extent that it made Teresa wonder what was wrong with them. There wasn’t one of them that stood out. Certainly, they paid her and Poppy no heed. It was as if they had stumbled upon the church and were content to walk around outside in the moonlight and let time pass. Teresa again wondered what time it was. She regretted once more having lost her watch. The sun would have to come up soon, she thought.

  The opening led into a hall that led into a courtyard and Teresa got to see the flowers she had whiffed a mile away. They were gorgeous, but not structured in neat and tidy rows; rather, growing free around a maze of bushes and trees; the flowers she had smelt and others as well: phlox and lilies and birds of paradise, poking their beaks out of green branches that sparkled with drops from the recent rain. She would have liked to have enjoyed them for a bit but Poppy urged her forward. They entered the church from the side.

  A Catholic Mass was in progress. People sure got up early in these parts, she thought. The rows of pews were endless, and at least half full. Most of the people in attendance were older, except for the choir at the back on the upper level. Teresa couldn’t see them clearly, but from the sound of their voices many must have been children. Their responsive lines echoed through the vast hall, as the priest up front spoke in thundering Latin.

  Latin?

  That was supposed to have gone out years ago.

  They reached into wooden bowls stationed near the door, filled with holy water and blessed themselves. Teresa had to follow Poppy’s example to get it right.

  “Is that your father leading the mass?” Teresa asked softly, instinctively feeling the blasphemy of talking in such a sacred place. She nodded towards the altar, shimmering with gold and silver under the warm light of a thousand tall white candles. The odour of incense was strong, penetrating. Teresa could feel it inside her brain.

  “No,” Poppy whispered. “My father generally takes confessions at this time.
” She nodded down a side aisle, which branched off at various points into smaller private chapels with altars, where candles could be lit and offered for the blessing of a specific saint. Poppy led her forward. Teresa reached out and clasped Poppy’s hand, although she wasn’t sure why. The dark was not so thick that she couldn’t see where she was going. Poppy squeezed her hand in return and flashed her a quick smile. It was the first time Teresa had seen her display anything more than melancholy or boredom. She regretted her comment to Poppy of a moment ago, that she didn’t trust her. She realized Poppy had not wanted to stop at the church for her own sake, but for the sake of Teresa.

  But confession? What do I have to confess? Even if I did have something, why should I do it now? In this place?

  They came to a wooden door, an undistinguished door given the scale and eloquence of the church. Poppy nodded. “He’s in here,” she said.

  “Aren’t you coming in with me?” Teresa asked.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s something you have to do on your own,” Poppy said. “I could only bring you here.”

  “Who says?”

  “It’s the way it is.” Then Poppy did something most unexpected. She reached out and hugged Teresa. She actually kissed her cheek. “Tell him everything,” she whispered in her ear. “Be an open book and listen to what he has to tell you. Above all else, don’t be afraid. He’s here to help you.”

  “But why do I need help?” Teresa asked as Poppy released her.

  Poppy smiled again and patted her shoulder. “Ask him. Be brave, be honest.” She nodded. “He’s waiting for you.”

  Teresa opened the door and stepped inside.

  The room was small and cosy. There was one window, a stained-glass scene of Jesus sitting on a hilltop surrounded by a group of children of all races. The window was closed, but Teresa knew it faced the courtyard. The hint of light behind the window surprised her, though, because if the sun was coming up, it wouldn’t be rising in the west. The window glowed with warm yellow light, nevertheless, and was most enchanting. A vase of fresh flowers stood on the windowsill, filling the room with fragrance.

  The priest was approximately fifty years old. He sat in a simple wooden chair beside the window reading a book by the light of a nearby candle. Dressed entirely in brown he had thin silver hair and a ruddy expression. He looked up as she entered and his grey eyes were kind. He closed his book and motioned for her to sit on the chair in front of him.

  “Hi,” she said, crossing the room and sitting down. The chairs were not so close together that she felt cramped. She crossed her legs and let the warmth of the room seep into her. Her shakes and nausea began to subside, though her wrist continued to throb. The priest smiled faintly, and she added, “Poppy wanted me to talk to you.”

  His smile widened. “Do you want to talk to me, Teresa?”

  She paused. “How did you know my name? Did Poppy call you and tell you I was coming?”

  “In a manner of speaking. But you’ll find I know a thing or two about you. I don’t say that to make you nervous, it’s my job to know.”

  Teresa felt uneasy. “I already met a woman tonight who knew everything about me. I didn’t like her. She scared me.”

  The priest was gentle. “Do I scare you?”

  She considered. There was truly a warm and loving atmosphere in the room. It was as if she had finally come home after a long adventure.

  “No,” she said. “You seem like a nice man. But I have to tell you up front that I don’t know why I’m talking to you. I’m not a Catholic. I’ve never been to confession before.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Maybe I can help you. I understand you were recently involved with a young man, and that the two of you broke up and your feelings were hurt.”

  Teresa shrugged. “I’m getting over it. It’s no big deal.”

  “But it is a big deal to you.”

  She smiled. “Can you read my mind?”

  “I can see the pain on your face. Tell me about it, Teresa.”

  Teresa considered. He was perceptive, she had to give him that. She figured there’d be no harm in talking to him about what Bill had done to her. She had talked about little else all night.

  “All right,” she said. “Bill was my boyfriend. He was the first boyfriend I ever had. I cared about him a great deal, and I thought he cared about me. He acted like he did. He helped me get a singing job at a well-respected club near the beach. He gave me confidence in myself, something I never had before. But it was all ruined when he cheated on me behind my back with my best friend, Rene.”

  “You say he gave you confidence in yourself. Did he do anything else for you?”

  “He did a lot of things. He made me feel things I had never felt before. He bought me things, small gifts. He went out of his way for me. Once I was sick and he took me to the doctor when...” Her voice trailed off. “But I did a lot of things for him, too. I was totally devoted to him. He was not devoted to me.”

  “Why wasn’t he devoted to you?” the priest asked.

  “Because he was a jerk, that’s why. I’m sorry, but I think that’s what it boils down to.”

  “Before he met your friend, Rene, did you feel he loved you?”

  “He told me he did. I believed him. But it was just another lie.”

  “Do you feel he loves you now?”

  She made a face. “No way. He wouldn’t have dumped me so easily.”

  “Was it easy for him?”

  She forced a laugh. “I think it was a lot easier for him than me.”

  “Go on, Teresa.”

  “Well, it hurt me. I felt like I wanted to die. I can’t tell you how much it hurt. It was like I was living a perfect fairy tale and I was so happy and everything was so perfect. But then – bang! Wake up, girl. The dream is over. Your boyfriend is sleeping with your best friend.”

  “How do you know Bill was sleeping with Rene behind your back?”

  “I caught them.”

  The priest was surprised. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “Today.”

  “When did Bill break up with you?” the priest asked.

  “Today. Well, it’s early Sunday morning right now. He actually dumped me Saturday evening. Rene was there, at my parents’ apartment. He gave me the news and then he left with her.”

  “Did you see him after that?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” She lowered her head. “I saw him, but I didn’t talk to him.”

  “Because you found him in Rene’s arms?”

  A tear ran down her face. “Yes.”

  “Tell me about it. It will help.”

  She sniffed. “How will it help?”

  “You have to feel your pain before you can offer it to the divine.”

  “How do you offer your pain to the divine?” she asked. “You just do it. It’s easy. It’s the only way to deal with situations that are too painful to bear. But first you have to accept what is real. Tell me what really happened, Teresa.”

  She looked up into his kind grey eyes. She had just met him, she didn’t even know his name, but she would have liked to have had him for her father, even if he was a priest. He had the most gentle voice.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you.”

  Teresa lay on the floor a long time after Bill left with Rene. It was dark when she finally sat up and looked around. The apartment was empty, and she did not expect her parents back until the following evening. She had nothing to do and no one to do it with. That was not going to change, she thought. Bill was gone. Her Bill, taken from her by her friend – and he was not coming back.

  But that thought – Bill is gone for good – was not that clear in her head, nor were the other thoughts. She wouldn’t let them be. The ideas floated in and out of her awareness in the form of, Bill’s going to be harder to talk to now, or, Bill doesn't know wha
t he's doing, and, I'm going to kill those two. She was sad beyond words, she was madder than hell, and she was confused. Her confusion was vast. She thought if she could talk to Bill again, maybe just for a few minutes, things would become clearer. He had said something about not wanting to leave her at that time, so he must still care about her. He couldn’t want to end it just like that. He had never even slept with her for God’s sake.

  Teresa went into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. The lights in the apartment were off. The dark was of peculiar comfort to her. It shielded her from things that would have been too harsh to look upon at the moment.

  Just before she left the kitchen, her fingers grasped an object – a steak knife. Her parents loved steak, but she enjoyed only fish and chicken. She was a semi-vegetarian. She picked up the steak knife anyway and a powerful image – it was so clear, so strong, it might have been a vision – of her stabbing Bill and Rene flashed through her mind. She saw the blade cutting through their flesh, felt their blood spurting over her arms. Yet the image was so grotesque it made her shudder and she pushed it away.

  The knife. What did she do with the knife?

  She had slipped it into her back pocket.

  Why?

  There was no why. She was upset.

  She left her apartment and drove to Bill’s house. For a long time she just sat in her car and stared at the place. All the lights were off. Bill’s car was parked out front – beside Rene’s. She had no trouble recognizing her best friend’s vehicle, but she didn’t fully comprehend what it signified. Oh, she knew it probably meant Rene was inside with Bill, but that they were together, really together, was hard for her to fathom. Even Bill couldn’t have forgotten her that fast.

  She eventually got out of the car. At the front door of the house, she didn’t knock. She had a key and just went inside. Bill’s parents, she remembered, were away for the weekend. It was kids’ weekend, she thought. Anything goes.