The Curious Prayer Life Of Muriel Smith

by Raj, Carol;

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mrs. B. Maybe you should start a career as a cheerleader or something. You think?”

  “I’m just saying. You put the gas in the right place, didn’t you?”

  “Duh, Mrs. B. I’m not stupid.”

  “I never said you were stupid, Kevin. I never even thought that. Howard always said cars were complicated. And you told me yourself you’ve never driven one. So I just assumed you never put gas in one either.”

  Kevin took the keys out of the ignition, got out of the car, and threw the keys into the woods. “Nothing has gone right since the moment I met you. What are you, some sort of bad luck charm?”

  Muriel stood, mouth open, staring into the woods. “Did you really think throwing those keys away would help? We just found them.”

  “Well, they weren’t starting the car, were they?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re not my keys. They’re not your keys. They belong to Roxanne. Her sister gave her that key ring. It’s got sentimental value. And anyway, they were the only hope we had. Now we’ll have to waste time looking for them again.” No wonder your father thinks you’re irresponsible.

  “Don’t worry,” Kevin said. “I can just move some more wires around under the hood.”

  “Is that what you were doing while I was gone? Moving wires? I thought you said you were just looking at them. No wonder the car doesn’t start!”

  A dazed look came over Kevin’s face. He fell to the ground without warning, like a tree felled by one last blow of an axe. He lay on his stomach, his body twitching. He moaned as his head moved from one side to the other.

  “Kevin! I didn’t mean it about the wires! I didn’t mean it! Kevin, speak to me!”

  He had said he wasn’t feeling good. Every year she taught in the high school, some student had a seizure. But it had never happened in her classroom. If it had, she would have picked up the classroom phone and paged the school nurse. The nurse always took care of medical emergencies. It was her job. The nurse knew exactly what to do and exactly who to call.

  There was no nurse here.

  Only an unconscious young man hopelessly out of control.

  10

  Kevin’s twitching went on and on.

  She couldn’t leave him. Not all alone. Not in this condition. On the other hand, she had to go for help, and she couldn’t carry him. Two mutually exclusive courses of action. ‘A’ or ‘Not A’. It was the simple logic she taught the first week in her geometry classes. No matter which one she picked, she would be wrong. She was sure of it.

  Maybe she should search for the gun. It had to be in one of his jacket pockets. But he was lying on his stomach. She couldn’t get to the pockets. Not unless she turned him over. And she didn’t know if that would be safe for him. Perhaps he’d choke on his own saliva.

  Oh, Lord, help.

  Muriel picked up one of Roxanne’s blankets and draped it over Kevin. She put a hand on his shoulder, exerting a slight pressure she hoped would be reassuring. She didn’t think he could hear her, but she spoke anyway, raising her voice a notch just in case. “I’m leaving now. But don’t worry. I’ll be back. I’m going to find you some help.”

  He turned his head again. The moans escaping from his lips were heartbreaking.

  An adrenalin rush took over. Muriel scurried up the hill in half the time it took her just that morning. Standing on the road, she looked back. She hoped that Kevin would be sitting up, that silly, lopsided smile on his face.

  She couldn’t leave Kevin too long. She didn’t know what kind of condition he’d be in when he came to. There was no way he could protect himself. Not against humans or wild animals or even biting insects. His almost mature body was as vulnerable as Natalie’s newborn body had been in her crib.

  Vernon lived to the left. He’d walked here and back at least once today. Surely, she could walk one way one time even with her bad ankle. Could she put Kevin’s welfare into the hands of some indecent old man? Vernon seemed her best hope. And she couldn’t waste more time thinking. She had to act.

  Muriel ran until her heart felt as if it would work its way right out of her chest. And then she ran some more. Everything hurt. Her chest, her side, her ankle. She had turned seventy-one on her last birthday and here she was pounding down the hard road surface like an Olympic sprinter. Lord, just show me where he lives.

  She couldn’t stop; she had no time. She had to stop; her chest hurt too much. She paused to catch her breath. A fence post nestled in some daylilies whose buds were not yet open. On top of the post teetered a rusted mailbox, its door agape. A mailbox meant a house. Never mind, Lord. I found a house. Whoever lived here should be able to help her out.

  She saw the apron of a driveway and started down the broken asphalt. Dogs barked, the volume increasing the nearer she got. Dogs were a good sign. They couldn’t be left alone too long. Even if nobody was home, somebody would be back soon.

  “Hello?” Her voice was tentative. There was no answer. “Hello?”

  At the end of the driveway was a two-story house, parts of its siding green with mold. A large planter hung from a hook on a lamppost with a broken bulb. Brown tendrils of a long dead plant drooped from the planter. The only thing Muriel could see that looked healthy was a pink peony surrounded by tall weeds.

  The dogs were the same collie crosses she’d seen that morning, now chained to a fallen log. The volume of their barks increased. They lunged toward her, stretching out unyielding chains. Lassie’s bark became quicker and more intense while Laddie’s bark turned into a growl accompanied by bared teeth.

  “Good doggie. You remember me, don’t you? I was out in the field this morning. Good doggie. Sit!”

  Both dogs sat. The barking ceased. Lassie’s tail wagged tentatively.

  “Good Lassie. Good Laddie.” Muriel scanned the area. A pickup truck was parked in the overgrown grass just off the driveway. She peered inside. There were no keys dangling from the ignition. Muriel hesitated. Did she really have to ring the doorbell? She remembered the way Vernon suggested that she spend the night in his house. There had to be some other way.

  A bicycle leaned against the house.

  She hadn’t ridden a bike since her college days. And this was a man’s bike. Could she balance on a bike after all these years? There was only one way to find out. Muriel grabbed the handlebars and moved the bike into an upright position. She wheeled it around so it was pointing up the driveway toward the road. There was something to the right because that’s where Kevin got gas. She could make good time with a bike as long as she didn’t fall off.

  If she had gotten on the highway yesterday as Kevin had ordered her to, they would have already been stopped by police. They would both be home, safe in their own comfortable beds. Speeding past an entrance ramp had changed her entire life. It hadn’t seemed like such an important decision at the time.

  And who would have thought a young man like Kevin would need the help of an old lady like her? All right, deep breath. She didn’t have to plan her whole trip. Her first step was to walk the bike to the top of the driveway. It would be easier if she started on a level surface. As Muriel started up the driveway, the dogs began to bark again. “Good doggie. Sit!” Muriel spoke without even looking back.

  But this time the barking didn’t stop. Instead, it increased in volume and intensity. A door slammed.

  She startled and turned around.

  Vernon stood against the backdrop of the house with a shotgun pointed directly at her.

  11

  For the second time in two days, Muriel was threatened with a gun. But it was the first time she actually saw the weapon. It took her breath away. Oh, my goodness, what will Natalie think?

  Her only hope of keeping her predicament out of the range of Natalie’s criticism was to not tell her. That meant she’d better not get shot. Natalie didn’t take kindly to someone else’s mistakes. Especially her mother’s.

  Muriel remembered a Saturday just after Howard died. She had to
take over his job of bringing the morning newspaper in from the curbside box. She’d thrown a trench coat over her nightgown and enjoyed the short stroll in the fresh morning air. It wasn’t until she climbed back up the stairs, newspaper in hand, and tried her doorknob that she’d realized she’d locked herself out of the house. What would Natalie think? That was the first thought that came to Muriel’s mind. Because it would be Natalie whom she’d have to call for help. Natalie had the emergency key. But first Muriel needed a phone. If only Roxanne weren’t visiting her sister in Florida. Her neighbors’ shades were all drawn, the curtains closed, the time not even 6:00 AM.

  Hours later, the neighbor across the street came out to get his paper. He invited her into his house, made her sit with his wife at their kitchen table, served her coffee, let her use their phone. His hospitality was such a contrast to Natalie’s disgruntlement.

  Natalie sped up to the house in her fancy, foreign sedan, slammed on the brakes, banged the car door shut, stomped up the neighbors’ steps, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. She couldn’t quite believe all the trouble her old mother was causing. She dropped hints about Alzheimer’s as she apologized to the neighbor for the extraordinary inconvenience of hosting a neighbor for less than forty-five minutes.

  Three days later, Natalie let herself in Muriel’s front door without the courtesy of ringing the bell. She brought five copies of Muriel’s house key on five different key rings, all cheap, gaudy plastic, each one with a diaper-sized safety pin attached. She made a show of pinning one key into the pocket of each of Muriel’s coats and jackets, sighing loudly all the while, as if pinning keys was the most irksome task anyone could possibly imagine.

  What would Natalie think if she saw her mother standing in Vernon’s yard with a shotgun aimed at her chest?

  Vernon raised his eyebrows. “So, pretty lady. You thought about me, didn’t you? I knew you’d be back. I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep away. I could see it in your pretty eyes.”

  “My grandson. He’s back by the car. He’s having a seizure. We can’t get our car started. You have to help. Please.”

  Vernon’s mouth fell open. “I’ll get my keys.” He ran inside, ran out, slammed his front door shut, and then climbed behind the driver’s seat of the truck. There he sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, hurry up.”

  Muriel pulled the heavy passenger door open then put her left foot on what seemed like a perilously high runner. She held onto the back of the passenger seat with her right hand to steady herself, her butt conspicuously pointing in the direction of the windshield. By the time she settled into her seat and snapped the rusted seatbelt into its lock on her fifth try, the truck had already rattled down the hill where Roxanne’s car was parked.

  Kevin was walking around in a daze. His right foot dragged just the tiniest bit.

  “Your grandson ain’t having no seizure now.” Vernon glared at Muriel.

  He thought she was lying. “He was having a seizure when I left. He was lying on the ground, shaking from side to side. He still doesn’t look normal. See how his foot is dragging?”

  “I am too normal! And don’t talk about me like I’m not even here.” Kevin’s speech was slurred.

  Muriel moved a step closer, hand outstretched. “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel fine. What’s it to you?”

  “You let your grandson talk to you like that?” Vernon shook his head. “No wonder you city folks think it’s fine to use my field without asking. Ungrateful jerks, the both of you.”

  Muriel addressed Kevin again. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Four.”

  “And now?”

  “Three. I’m not blind. I’m not stupid. I can count.”

  Vernon joined in. “OK, son. There’s no need to be rude. Just bear with us. Seems like you bumped your head. That could be serious. We just want to make sure you’re all right. Do you know what year it is? Do you know who the president of the United States is? Just answer us. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

  Kevin scowled. “If I could just get my pills, I’d be OK. I haven’t taken my pills for a long time. I’m supposed to take one every night. My father was right. I should have listened to him. I need to go home and get my pills.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” said Vernon. “Just get in the truck. Both of you.”

  12

  The cab of the old truck was a tight fit for three people. Kevin sat in the middle, a solid physical barrier between Muriel and Vernon. It seemed the truck had lost its shock absorbers years ago.

  The closer they got to civilization, the more people turned and stared at the rusty exterior of the truck and the dark smoke emanating from its exhaust pipe.

  Muriel sank into the vinyl seat, her right hand clenching the broken seam on the side.

  Kevin pointed out the windshield. “You need to get on the highway up there. See the big green sign? We want to go south.”

  Muriel was tired and dirty. If only she could step out of a luxurious bubble bath and wrap herself in a thick terry-cloth robe still warm from the dryer. Maybe then she could figure everything out.

  This whole predicament started with her prayer for someone to mow her lawn. That problem seemed so simple now. At least compared to merging, and seizures, and improper old men. If Stan wouldn’t let her take money out of her account, maybe she could barter something in return for lawn mowing. Howard’s birdcall CDs. Or a homemade cake. No one had time to bake anymore.

  Vernon’s truck rolled by the entrance to the highway.

  Kevin turned his head to look out the back passenger window. “You missed it! How could you miss the entrance ramp? It was right there! You didn’t even slow down.”

  “Don’t worry, sonny. I know where I’m going.”

  “You can’t know where you’re going. I haven’t told you where I live. All I’ve done is give you one simple direction. And you missed it!”

  Vernon shrugged. “You might be able to tell me where you live. Or not. I don’t know. You’re just a young punk. And something’s wrong with your head. So I’m the one who’s going to tell you where you need to go. And I’m the one who’s going to get you there. Hang on.” Vernon turned the wheel of the truck sharply to the left. The truck screeched around the corner.

  Kevin’s solid mass fell against Muriel’s side. He jerked himself upright.

  “Where are you taking us?” Muriel’s voice trembled.

  Vernon didn’t even grunt an acknowledgement of her question.

  It was scary enough to be threatened by a teen with a gun. But this was worse. She had fifteen years of experience with all types of teenagers. But she had never met anyone like Vernon. He drove down dark city streets with no regard for directions, or stop signs, or even red lights.

  Factory buildings loomed on either side of the road. Their blackened windows were protected by metal grates, their doors secured with thick chains. People were imprisoned in such buildings, shut in rat-infested basements, held captive for years. The sound-proof rooms would be crawling with spiders and cockroaches. The police had a hard time finding people held in them. Even on TV.

  Muriel swallowed hard. “I’d rather go back to your field. I need to be with my friend’s car. She’ll be very angry to know I abandoned it. She might never speak to me again.”

  A stop light was turning from green to yellow.

  We can jump out. We can make a run for it. Muriel felt for the door handle. Just as she did, the lock on her door went down with a loud click.

  Kevin heard it, too, because he stiffened.

  Muriel pulled at the lock. Natalie had childproofing like that in her mini-van when Chloe was a toddler. Only a lever on the driver’s side could undo it. It didn’t matter. They couldn’t have exited the truck anyway.

  Vernon was going through the now red light, horns blaring around him. His truck took another sharp, fast turn. Once again, centrifugal force threw Muriel and Kevin together. Muriel took advantage
of their sudden closeness. Her voice was just a whisper. “Your gun.”

  “What?”

  “Your gun. Get out your gun. You can make him stop so we can get away.”

  Kevin looked out the windows. “Here? You want him to stop here? In this neighborhood? Are you crazy? We’d get mugged.”

  “Your gun will protect us, won’t it?”

  Vernon’s deep voice boomed. “What are you two yakking about?”

  “Nothing.” Kevin’s voice quavered.

  Muriel recognized a fear that was not present before.

  “Well, then, shut up,” said Vernon.

  “Your gun, Kevin. You don’t have to kill him. You don’t even have to shoot him. Just threaten him like you threatened me. Make him do what you say. You’re the one who has the power here.”

  Kevin shook his head.

  “You threatened me with your gun yesterday. Don’t you remember? You said to move over and start driving. You said if I didn’t, you’d shoot me.” Muriel looked at Kevin, her eyebrows raised, her head shaking ever so slightly.

  Kevin shook his head again. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. I know you can. I have faith in you.”

  “You don’t understand, Mrs. B.”

  “What don’t I understand?”

  Kevin pursed his lips together for a long minute before he spoke. “There isn’t any gun. There never was.”

  What? If there wasn’t any gun, it was all up to her. Muriel opened her purse and moved the contents. Her lipstick had to be in here somewhere.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Vernon turned to glare at Muriel, causing the truck to veer to the right.

  Muriel grabbed the door handle. “You just missed that parked car by two inches.” Oh, dear. I sound just like Howard.

  “Inches. Feet. It don’t matter. I missed it, didn’t I? I asked what you’re doing. Answer me.”

  Muriel’s mind went blank. The only thing she could think of was the truth. She gave Vernon what she hoped would pass for an innocent smile. “I’m looking for my lipstick.”