“Good luck,” says the nurse and smiles across the room at Luz, and even the lady at the desk smiles this time.
But first Father Bill says, “I don’t believe it,” to her mother and walks back to the desk, and the nurse and the lady speak to him but Luz cannot hear. And the whole time both ladies smile and shake their heads as they talk to Father Bill as if something good has happened.
“What’s the matter?” asks Luz, getting back into Father Bill’s car. “Why are we leaving?”
“Nothing is the matter. The tests are normal.”
“Is that good?” Luz asks.
“It is amazing,” says Josefina. “But to tell you the truth, I already knew.”
Then, in the car driving back to the blue house, Josefina sits in the back next to Luz very close and takes her hand and puts her mouth very close to Luz’s ear and tells Luz another amazing thing. How early that morning when Luz was still sleeping and Zoe was taking a very long shower to get ready to look for her husband, Josefina had walked out of the kitchen with tea to visit Wren Otto in his yard where he always drinks coffee and wears the striped tie. And how wonderful a thing this was for her mother, for the first time since Luz was a baby, to walk out of her house without worry and take breakfast with a neighbor.
CHAPTER 39
Walt Adair puts down the phone, rubs his chin, sorry he has not shaved, tells Chico Platz he will be gone for a bit, then excuses himself past the customers waiting on line in his office, lined up on his steps, and walks out to the field to find Zoe.
The light hurts his eyes. He has forgotten his sunglasses and hat. People come up to him, wanting to talk. They praise his wash; they ask about Luz. He smiles and shrugs. Better not to speak now. He could easily say the wrong thing.
He moves through the rows of random parked cars, holding on when he loses his footing. He finds her in a far row out by the tents, in that white dress and the big yellow hat, feeling her way through like she is trying to read each car by hand. When he calls out to her, she turns around, then he stumbles. He stands up, shakes the grit off his hands.
“Could you stand still for a minute? Better yet, come on with me to the office.”
“What’s going on?” She stops and waits for him to catch up, leaning against the hood of a ’66 Mustang. Cream color, a classic, nicely restored, with Missouri plates. Through the thin dress he can see the length of her torso, the delicate curve of her breasts.
He looks around to make sure no one is near. Only the cars, haphazardly parked. “They’re coming down to see me.”
“To see you?” She looks at him, so lovely, her body, that graceful white dress, the hat throwing shadows on her face. “Are they putting Luz back on the sidewalk?”
He doesn’t know what to say. “Don’t walk away. I need to ask you something.”
“You already did. I said no.”
“No,” he says, “something else.” He hurries behind her. “How are you doing?”
“Lousy.”
“How’s your head?” Walt asks, “Still got that headache?”
“It’s better.” She takes off her hat and feels the back of her head, the wisps of hair blowing across her face in the hot wind. “Just a little bump.”
“That’s good. Is there anything I can do that will help you right now?”
“Help me find my van.” Then she puts the hat on again.
“Okay.”
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” she asks, still moving. She will not slow down.
He pretends to be thinking, scans the landscape, the dark heaviness of mountain beyond them, the bleached expanse of the desert, the light shooting off the hoods of the random parked cars, Zoe’s beauty. “White Caravan. ‘Luedke and Payne’ in blue lettering on the passenger side.” Walt smiles.
At last she stops, turns around. “That’s right. Because that’s why I’m here, Walt. I’ve got a flyer. I’m just one of the flyer people. Only I’m not looking for transformation and joy. All I want is that van and my husband.”
Oh, she is hurting. She is not in good shape. Of all the times and all the places for her to be like this: nicely broken down and open to her sadness. He’s reminded of that thing he’s hoped for since the first night he saw her when she’d come through his wash, her face covered in tears. “Better yet, I’ll tell the kids to look out for your van. And keep looking out. I’ll tell everyone who comes through my car wash, Beware of the Luedke and Payne white van. Meanwhile, come on and see Luz.” He reaches out and takes her by the arm. She does not recoil.
“I’m not going near the sidewalk.”
“They’re not going to sit on the sidewalk.”
“Of course they are. Why else are they bringing Luz back?”
He leans back against the door of a small white car, feeling the metal hot through his slacks and onto the flesh of his buttocks. He grinds his Nike into the pebbled surface of the earth. “What would be so bad about it?”
“What would be so bad? For starters? Everything.”
“Why?” he asks quietly and looks straight at Zoe, her eyes hidden in the shadow of the hat, hands at her sides, the small imperfection of her left hand in view. “What happened to you on that sidewalk? Did something happen with Luz?”
“I’m not going to talk about it,” Zoe says.
“No one is talking about it. Why is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I think they should. I think they should put Luz back out there, and I think she should be turned.”
“What?”
“They should turn Luz around so everyone can see her face.”
“You are talking crazy.”
“I may be crazy. I saw things. Saints, I think. Beautiful men, the kindness just melting out of them.” He takes a step toward her, lifts his hand, moves it through the hot, weighted air to where he can feel Zoe’s breath. Offering her the coppery heat of his palm, the salt of his sweat. “Saints were this far away from Luz’s face.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” She takes hold of his wrist and tries to pull his hand away. His own strength surprises him. He wants her to feel it. How he has seen them.
“Different ones. Plenty. One after the other. As close as my hand to your face, all beauties—amazing.” Zoe hardly takes a breath. When she does not step away Walt goes for broke. “We are so close to the wisdom. It’s just waiting on us. Just a millimeter away, I think.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes, I most certainly am.”
“When did this happen to you?”
“Just after I found Luz on the sidewalk.”
“And what did they say, these beautiful faces?” Her tone is half-mocking, but he doesn’t care about the part of Zoe that does not believe him. She is listening. She had asked.
“Say? They were faces; they looked. They didn’t say a word.”
“How do you know that you really saw what you saw?”
“I just know it.” There, he’s said the truth. All night he had wrestled between doubt and certainty, and when he woke he just knew. Zoe lets out a sigh, an enormous sigh that if he could see it, would stretch past her body and into the air. Then she gets quiet; her shoulders go soft. She is struggling. The knowledge of this moves him deeply. “I have never seen anything in my life that filled me with such happiness.”
“And what do you think it all means, that they came to you, all those faces that made you so happy?”
“No idea. Not a clue. Aside from how beautiful it was and that Luz gave them to me.”
“Luz doesn’t give them. If you even really saw what you say. She’s seven and a half years old. You can’t lay what you saw on a child.”
“Okay, then explain it.”
“Me? I’m the one who’s supposed to explain it?” She laughs and withdraws her hand. “I don’t know anything.”
“How ’bout the window, maybe that has something to do with my faces.”
“Not funny,” she says.
�
�The window you installed, even though I didn’t want it.”
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“So tell me, Zoe Luedke, why does Luz ask for you? Because your friend, Father Bill, was very clear when he called, he wants you there—Josefina does too, Luz most of all—in my office and possibly after.”
“Father Bill, my friend? I don’t think so. And I don’t know what they want.”
“No idea at all?”
“I just told you I don’t.”
“Okay, well what shall I say to her?”
“Say you didn’t find me. Say, I don’t know what.”
“She’s going to be very disappointed. So am I. You’re the only person who knows about my faces.”
“Lucky me,” Zoe says. “Listen, you are not in a great state right now. I am not in a great state either. And Luz, I’m afraid to think about what kind of state Luz is in. So please forgive me if I can’t take your beautiful faces seriously.”
“Who would? You think I don’t know how crazy my faces sound?”
That’s when they laugh. A nice tension-relieving, mood-elevating laugh, and hers so musical it makes him want to bring her down to the dancing—already begun, he can see the far-away dancers out behind his office. He can hear the music now all the way from where they stand, way out in the field, all the cars around them, the heat shining off the hoods, none of them hers. All the people on the field, not the one that she thought she would find. No husband. Only him. And now Luz.
“Come on. Give us a shot and go back.”
“Not me,” Zoe says. “I’m done. If I decide to hang around, I’m going to stay here with the cars where it’s safe. Pitch my tent with the flyer folk and see if my husband shows up. The whole thing is too weird for me. Saints floating over Luz—quite an invention. I have to hand it to your mind.”
“Do you think I could invent this stuff? I’m a failed real estate developer. Did you know that about me? I see concrete and steel and revenue. Stuff you can put your hands on. Or I used to.” He moves in a little closer to Zoe, his voice low and excited. “What do you think these people would give to know I saw saints here yesterday?”
“It wasn’t saints. It was just faces. And don’t forget I am one of these people. I’ve got the flyer to prove it.”
“Your choice,” says Walt, “but you’re going to miss something fantastic.”
“That’s okay,” says Zoe, “I’ll pass.”
“You can always change your mind,” he says, then moves in and holds her just for a moment. Not even a real embrace, just a holding. Still, it knocks off her hat. She doesn’t try to pick it up and stands stiffly, while he stays with his hands barely touching the back of her waist, the suggestion of her flesh beneath them, the air between them. Then she slides her hands up his back and rests them lightly on his shoulder blades. It takes everything he has not to pull her to him, just for an instant, so he can feel her body relax into his. But he keeps himself back. He becomes aware of a buzzing in her body as if there are high tension wires running through her chest and her arms, giving off a charge. “I’m betting you’ll show up,” Walt says, his face grazing hers, dry, warm, not quite real.
“Hang onto your money,” she says. Then she bends down and retrieves the hat.
He walks back through the field, nods to a few of the strangers but does not stop to talk. He enjoys the walk and the people, the softening of the light. It absolutely floors him to see the line-up of cars at his wash, his blue neon sign, and the kids, the Infidelity kids, out in droves. Where do they hide in the summer? They are out on the entrance and exit lines with blue rags and sprayers working away for nothing but tips; they are out at the food tables serving, and some of them are dancing—some dancing even with the little kids. And it had been Zoe Luedke whom he told about those glorious faces. Zoe in her buzzing loveliness and that white dress, who had heard him and been afraid and made him so glad.
He knows now that something wonderful is happening, and it seems both his and beyond him at the same time. What he has seen and what is about to show up, Josefina and Luz. Father Bill coming back.
Before he reaches his office, he stops to chat with the Infidelity ladies in their pastel short sets and thin dresses who have set up the tables and the music under his back awning. He smiles at the little kids racing around them, studies the dancers, their ease in their bodies and wishes he could join them. Wishes to be young, to do it all better, all right—all differently. Wishes Ryan and Jen were here with him now. Maybe tonight he’ll dance for a little while with Zoe. “Let’s get the yellow tape up like we had yesterday,” he says to Patty Platz. “Let’s open the umbrellas and get it ready just in case.”
“I went into your office three times to ask Chico when they’d be here. He thinks I’m crazy. I knew they would be back. Why does it make me so happy?” Patty says.
Oh, thinks Walt, this is going to be tough. Where are we going to put all this happiness?
“It just feels like we’re blessed,” she says. “Slap me if I say it again.” Then she runs from him as if she cannot stand it either. She gets Chico’s friends to look out for Tommy then takes a group of the women to the sidewalk to set up the chairs.
Walt goes into his office and announces to all his customers that he is closing but will open in a while, half an hour or so. They’ll know when. Sticks his head out the door and repeats his words to the people on line.
“How’s Luz getting here today?” Chico asks. “Flying or walking? Or is Father Bill bringing her in on one of those religious float-things?”
“See, that’s just what we don’t want. That kind of talk can hurt all of us,” says Walt.
“I was joking,” says Chico, hooking his long fingers into the waist of his black stovepipe jeans.
“Don’t. People won’t get it. You be quiet. And pick up the damn flowers. It’s like somebody died out there.” He gives Chico a trash bag, a thirty-gallon heavy-duty black one. “Don’t forget to get rid of the candles. Blow them out. And Chico, see if you can get your friends back. I’d like someone outside the door for a while.”
“Expecting a break-in?” he asks as he leaves.
Walt locks the door, drinks a quick cup of coffee, and opens up his Yellow Pages and orders the Portosans from the first place he calls. The earliest they can get them to him is just after five. He orders three units at ninety a day for a week, unable to imagine he will need more, or for longer. After that he calls his kids and leaves them a cheerful message. Cheerful but not over the top. And he ends it with love.
Then he tackles the bathroom: washes out the sink and scrubs down the floor with his mop, washes his own face and hands in the lemon-lime soap, and runs his hands through his hair.
And in the last moments when he feels the anxiety coming on—the chill in his shoulders, the tightening in the center of his chest—he spills out the coffee and makes a fresh pot, then sits down on his gray velvet couch to rest. It is missing a back cushion. He hasn’t noticed till now. The far right back cushion that Luz had kneeled on, which seems to be gone.
CHAPTER 40
The first thing that strikes Walt when he opens his door is how well they all look, shiny and spiffed. Luz in her yellow dress, not a crease, her red sandals polished. Father Bill well shaved in his green parrot shirt. Josefina in red lipstick, a skirt that shows her legs, curvy, not thick at the ankles, as they have been. It’s a bit of a shock. He has not noticed before how pretty she is. He closes and locks his door, relieved to see Chico and his friends outside.
“Who invited you to my party?”
“Me,” says Luz. He wonders how much she remembers of the previous day, what she knows now. What they know. He can hardly imagine that Josefina would be happy to learn that her daughter can call forth the wisdom of the ages on this earnest brown face. “Because now I’m not punished and I missed the feast.”
“My daughter wants to come back and then this one copies!” Josefina declares. She kisses Walt lightly on the cheek, squeez
es his hand, walks to the couch, and settles down. She crosses her legs and puts her arm around the back of the sofa and smiles.
“This one?” Father Bill has walked straight to the coffee machine and reached for a mug. It could be any Thursday, Walt thinks. Father Bill could be stopping by for one of their quick midday chats. Maybe Walt should suggest they take down the racquets and play a set of air ball. “Here, Father. You use the Connors,” the prize yellow racquet that hangs on the wall behind his counter.
“Yes, this one, I am talking to you,” Josefina replies provocatively. “For no reason he says he wants to come to the car wash, too.”
“Not for no reason,” said Luz skipping down to the window. She glances out, turns, and begins to skip back.
“Sit down with me, Luz,” Josefina says and pats a cushion.
“And what is his reason?” Walt asks, not sure what he’s supposed to do now. Sit down next to Josefina? Go take a mug and have some coffee with Father Bill?
“I am here for my girls,” Father Bill says, “Wherever they go, I go.” He puts his mug under the spout, presses the top of the brewer, and pours himself a cup of coffee.
“He follows me everywhere!” Josefina laughs. “Indecent for a priest, don’t you think?”
“Do you want to know the real real reason?” Luz says, evading her mother’s grasp and skipping toward Walt a little too fast.
“Luz, please go sit on the couch!” Father Bill calls.
But Luz ignores him. “Do you want me to tell you why Father Bill copies?” she teases, touching Walt’s wrist.
“Luz!” Father Bill says. “Go sit next to your mother.”
“But I want to tell Walt the different one. He will like it. Father Bill came back because he loves the world.”
Father Bill does not find this amusing. He looks as if loving the world is not a desirable condition.
“Coffee?” Father Bill offers Walt. He has brought two mugs of coffee and come to join Walt. “How ’bout a game of air ball?”
Our Lady of Infidelity Page 20
