“OK, fill me in.” Lucy sat back down. I reorganized my station as A.C. sat down in the pink chair. Most of the staff had left Vanity Insanity, and Virginia and Jenae were finishing their clients’ hair.
“Well, where do I begin? I did practice Judaism for a while. Here’s how it works. In the Jewish religion, a child traces his Jewish roots back through his mother. My mother was Catholic, so Leah told me all about the consequence of Emancipation to make Jewish identity a private promise rather than legal status, leaving it a complex combination of destiny and choice.”
Lucy squinted her eyes. She really was trying to understand.
“OK, basically the kid of a non-Jewish mother and a Jewish father has to convert, like anyone else.”
“So you converted?”
“I did. And I practiced…For a while.”
A.C.’s passion and hunger for knowledge and peace were greater than his passion for Leah. Question after question, challenge after challenge, slowly gave way to doubt and arguments, and, in time, Patient Leah became Not-So-Patient-Leah—though I couldn’t blame her—as A.C. shared his pending and growing uncertainty in the first principle of Rambam’s Principles of Faith: God exists.
In early 1993, A.C. hit a gigantic personal and moral wall as he ventured into the blurry and alarming field of atheism. My own theory is that Arthur Charles Perelman had one too many thoughts in his head, and something just exploded. The guy is one of the most brilliant people I know, but sometimes I think that he thinks too much. I knew that he was experiencing a crisis of sorts when he was barely fazed by Leah’s announcement that she was leaving the relationship.
“So you’re not dating Leah, and you’re not Jewish,” Lucy summed up.
“Pretty much.”
“Are you still a lawyer?” Lucy laughed.
In 1993, A.C. had walked away from the legal system and God. Not much else was left. “Lucy, I liked law school, but it turns out, I don’t like being a lawyer. The laws are black and white, and the world is gray and complicated.”
“Like you.”
“Like me. Every time I tried to promote justice, I found myself in position that supported the opposite. I’m taking a break from it all right now, Lu.”
Jenae and Virginia walked past the serious conversation. Jenae squeezed A.C.’s shoulder as she passed. “Y’all be good in Denver. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“Leaves them nothing to do,” Virginia shouted as they opened the door to leave. The bell rang.
“What does that mean? Taking a break?” Lucy moved closer to A.C. and looked directly into his eyes.
“It means that I have some pretty big questions. That’s all.”
“You still believe in God. Right?” Lucy sounded and looked like a little girl who wanted the tooth fairy to be real.
“Religion makes sense, Lucy. Really it does. People want to have this enormous religion security blanket of a super father figure, keeping them safe. I get it. It works for most people.”
Lucy was speechless. If A.C. had instead said that he was signing up to work for the devil, at least she could respond with anger, a slap on the cheek, or clear disapproval. If A.C. was saying what he was saying, then Lucy could not react at all.
A.C. looked down as he spoke. “Religion has its purpose. Really, it does. I guess I’m just sorting out what sometimes seems like, more or less, a mechanical acceptance of a lot of old folklore from people suggesting that people should believe this or that of God. Our world envisions what it thinks God wants humanity to do, and then people sit back waiting sadly for God to do it. And some think of God as a puppeteer, making us do what we do.”
Lucy sat down. I went into the back room to turn off the music. As Whitney Houston was singing “I Will Always Love You” from the salon’s speakers, I slowly turned down the volume and then turned off the system.
A.C. stood up and unzipped his backpack and pulled out his keys. “I get frustrated when I see some people feeling a sense of entitlement for their faith and their time worshiping. They feel that they should earn some kind of merit badge for following the rules.” A.C. cleared his throat and looked down. “I had a professor once who said that religion is the safest place for someone to hide from God…I get that.”
Lucy stared at A.C. as I started my unplugging routine.
“Lucy, I’ve got no problem if it makes a person feel better through his day thinking that there’s something beyond this existence; I’ve got no problem with that. It just doesn’t work for me anymore.”
Lucy looked down at her folded hands. “You don’t believe in God?”
A.C. sat quietly, the kid caught cheating on his spelling quiz. I started shutting off lights and checking outlets. “Way to go, A.C. Way to ruin our salad-days moment.”
“How can you not believe in God?” Lucy looked at A.C. and shook her head. “Do you believe in the devil? What do you believe in, A.C.?”
“I believe in you, Lu! Come on! Don’t be so serious. This doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“I…I just, I mean, I just don’t get it. How can you face each day if you really don’t think that there’s a higher goodness? Something bigger than we are? Something more than where we are right now?”
I knew that this whole A.C. crisis would not sit well with Lucy. Sweet and strong little Lucy. Her whole life had been a devotion to God and his goodness, which inspired and encouraged her every movement. I knew Lucy would struggle more with this news more than I had when A.C. had first dropped this bomb on me. I think I still felt that he would try on the atheist hat for while and then move on to learn more somewhere else, like he always had.
Lucy hadn’t expected this news from A.C. After all, A.C. fit in a “Good” box. Her entire life, Lucy had clearly and definitively placed people in boxes and labeled them appropriately. I wouldn’t say that she was judgmental as much as orderly. If she had to figure this world out, she needed clarification. Just pull out a marker and label the box. Ellen Richter—“Self-Righteous.” Mikey Beard—“Weird.” Eddie Krackenier—“Creepy,” now crossed out and relabeled “Victim.”
In the “Atheist” box, all was dark and bad and wrong. I’m sure Lucy thought that if you didn’t believe in God, then you would probably just become a serial killer or a pimp. Even atheists had options. But you would still be put in the “Bad” box. If Lucy had to open her mind up to the fact that people were more complex than one label, she would most certainly struggle with the muddy fact that people and their lives, and their thoughts and their beliefs, are very, very complicated.
The silence between A.C. and Lucy was both painful and powerful.
I looked at my two good friends and realized that I was looking at two extremes on a continuum of faith—exact opposites. Blind and pure faith. True and pure curiosity. I envied them both for their absolute fervor, their valiant declaration.
A.C. moved toward Lucy and put his arm around her. “I still believe in goodness. There are lots of good things in our world. I’m just hoping to go out and find more of them.”
I stood at the door with the key. “Hey, I’ve got a concert in Colorado to get to.”
Lucy stood up and hugged A.C. She didn’t have to say it. I knew she was planning on praying for him.
A.C. knew that, too.
26
Octavia: Wash and Set, Board Meeting
Friday, January 14
1994
Octavia sat in my chair, looked up at me, and smiled a strange smile.
I said, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet.”
Octavia put her tiny, vein-laced hand in her big purse and pulled out a cell phone. “I’m connected.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Truman thinks he can keep tabs on me now. I’ll still do whatever I want when I want.”
“Like anyone could ever stop that.” I started combing out her hair.
Octavia placed the phone to her ear and pretended to answer it. “Saint Peter? U
h, yes, I will give him that message.”
“A direct line to heaven?”
“Saint Peter wanted me to ask you: Would there be enough evidence if you were arrested for being a Christian?”
“I thought Ralph Waldo Emerson asked that.”
“I thought you were a business major. I’m not even sure who said it.”
“Touché, Octavia. OK, so let’s focus on your hair. What do you see us doing today?”
“Well, I look in this mirror and see a young, beautiful woman.”
I smiled at the mirror Octavia. “I see that same young beautiful woman.”
“Do you know that optical-illusion picture, where, depending on how your brain processes, you can either see a haggard, old lady or a beautiful, young lady?”
“I think I’ve seen it.”
“I look in this mirror every day, and my mind chooses to see the young lady. Not the old lady.”
“What old lady?”
“Ben.” Patti, my newest employee, tapped me on the elbow. “Excuse me, Octavia. Ben, do you know if anyone picked up supplies yesterday? Jenae is in the middle of a color and can’t find a dye.”
“Toby picked several boxes up yesterday.” Virginia answered Patti’s question. “They should be in the back room next to the coffee pot. Sorry, Ben, I couldn’t find anywhere else to set them down.”
I walked Octavia over to the sink to wash her hair.
“You have chemicals in your coffee? Good thing I’ve already had mine today.” Octavia held her phone and frowned at me as I pulled the apron over her.
“Hey! We’re absolutely packed in here, Octavia. We’ve got boxes on boxes. We added a new lady.”
“Virginia? The bigger gal?”
“After her, we added another stylist, Patti. We’re elbow to elbow here, lady!”
The good news: Vanity Insanity had a waiting list three pages long. Our crazy salon had been gaining a reputation as the different place: “You know, the place with the pink-and-yellow walls.” On three separate occasions, I’d tried to paint them something less repulsive and was met with fierce opposition from both staff and clients. Not many places in town had that oh-so-eclectic feel to them, and I’m not just talking about the décor. The Old Market community had finally embraced Vanity Insanity; the owners of boutiques and restaurants in the Old Market were both clients and advertisements for the salon with the crazy staff. The bad news: we were jam-packed.
“Well, if you’re that crowded, why don’t you do something about it? Maybe it’s time to grow up!” Octavia pulled out her phone from under apron.
“Excuse me.”
Octavia pointed to the ceiling. “Grow up! The floor above you has been vacant for as long as you’ve been here.”
“Never thought about that. It would be kind of a challenge to put in a staircase…”
“Challenge? Nobody said it would be easy to go upstream. If it was, everyone would.”
“I didn’t think anyone used the upper floors on this wing.” I checked to see if Toby was near this conversation.
“Well, if you don’t know for sure, find out and quit whining.” Octavia checked her phone as Jenae came up to my station with a broom.
“Check out my new purchase! I’m putting it in our back room.” Jenae’s long, feathered earrings moved back and forth as she showed the broom to Octavia and me. “The little man who sold it to me was blind. I kid you not. He makes these brooms and sells them. Isn’t that the cutest?”
“Must have been the Reverend,” Octavia said as she held out her hands to hold the broom. She ran her little hands along the wood of the handle. “He’s still doing his work.” She shook her head and smiled.
“Yeah, he did say his name was Reverend something-or-another. He was so sweet; I just had to buy a broom from him.” Jenae took the broom and ran back to the back room. “Gotta go, my Miss Uptight’s almost here.”
Octavia looked down at her phone again.
“You waiting for an important call?” I asked. “Got a hot date or something?”
“I’m supposed to hear from Lee about a change in the board meeting for the zoo. I need to let one of my girls know so I can get a ride down there.”
“Lee? As in Dr. Lee Simmons, director of the zoo? “Lee Simmons had been pivotal in the growth and changes to the Omaha Henry Doorly Zoo. Under his guidance, the zoo accomplished unprecedented expansion and national attention. I’m pretty sure that everybody in Omaha has been to the zoo at least once. The only person I knew who had never been to the zoo was Jenae. While people from all over the country flocked to our zoo, she refused. I’d quit asking her why since Jenae always said the same thing: “Going to the zoo is a lot like TV dinners and sex on the beach. They sound like a good idea, but once you get there…not so much for me.”
“With all the attention the Lied Jungle is getting, the board needs to talk about the next feature,” Octavia informed me. The Lied Jungle, the world’s largest indoor rainforest, had opened in April of 1992. “We’re thinking about a new aquarium, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I was never here.”
“Right. The zoo meetings are pretty interesting. I’m sitting on a few boards for banks and schools that put me to sleep. Truman tells everyone yes before I can tell them no.”
Octavia’s reputation as that ornery, old, rich lady who really knew what she was talking about had trickled through Omaha through the years, and many Omaha businesses had asked her to voice her opinion on their boards. People got a kick out of the colorful lady with colorful opinions and sometimes language. The commissioners of the College World Series had asked her to throw out the first pitch at Rosenblatt Stadium the summer before. While most people watching the nationally televised game might not have known who she was, the viewers in Omaha knew exactly who the diminutive pitcher was.
“Right now, I’m sitting on the board for First Data Corporation. Michael Beard asked me right after his company merged with First Data. Do you know who he is? Nice guy.”
“Think so.” I didn’t think Octavia needed to know of Weird, Weird Mikey Beard’s history. Since she hadn’t mentioned him spitting fake loogies on board members at meetings, I figured the Weird, Weird Mikey Beard was staying on his meds.
“At the last meeting, Michael Beard seats me next to this really old man,” Octavia began.
“So.”
“Ben, we’re talking really, really old. Did Beard think I was stupid enough not to realize what was going on? ‘Let’s put the really old people together. Maybe they have some old people things to talk about.’”
“Maybe he was trying to set you up.”
“Not my type, honey. Nice guy but seemed like a recovering asshole. After talking to him for while, I could see right through him. Trying to be a nice guy later in life…too late.”
Toward the end of the appointment, Kelly and her sister stopped by to see Octavia. Kelly had finally made enough money to have her sister, Chin, move from Viet Nam a month earlier. Fiercely protective of Chin, who’d chosen the Americanized name Katie, Kelly was working on helping her sister gain American citizenship and helping Katie to learn English, but Katie had a long way to go since “hi” and “have nice day” pretty much covered the span of her English vocabulary.
“Oh, wow, Octavia, you have phone now?” Kelly pointed to Octavia’s new gadget.
“I do. And I’m getting pretty good at using it. Now see, this little button here can give me any message I missed.” Kelly and Katie moved in and looked closely at Octavia’s new toy. “And this one, I don’t know what that’s for. Oh, if I push the number one and hold it, it automatically dials Truman’s number for me. I have a different number for each of the girls who drive me around so I don’t have to dial the whole thing.”
“Wow, that so neat,” Kelly said with genuine interest.
Octavia handed the phone to her to look at. “Now the darndest thing happened to me the other day, ladies. This little phone rings, and I answer it like I always
do—‘Hello, sweetie’ is what I say since I know everyone who calls me. Anyway, the woman on the other line is sobbing. I mean, she is crying like a baby. Finally she settles down to tell me that she found my number in her husband’s wallet, and she asked me if I was having an affair with him. More sobbing. More drama. She called me a home wrecker. On and on. I finally said, ‘Look, you probably fat-fingered the numbers.’ Then she said I was a liar. By this time I’m laughing. ‘Honey, I’m a wrinkled old woman, but if your husband was seeing me, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with me anyway’—and then I hung up.”
Kelly and Katie’s laughter moved in unison as their bodies shook. I’m pretty sure Katie hadn’t understood a word Octavia had just said.
“Kelly, do you still have that little boyfriend you told me about last time I was here?”
Kelly translated Octavia’s question in Vietnamese to Katie, and the two sisters laughed. “No way. He was lazy man.”
“Kelly, listen to me, now, you have no time for a bum. You wait for the right guy who deserves you.”
“I tell last guy, ‘No money, no honey,’ and then kick him out.” Kelly and Katie laughed again.
Octavia’s phone rang, and Kelly and Katie ran to the nail tables. I waited while Octavia spoke.
“Hello…yes, that would work…I will see you then.”
“Simmons?” I asked.
“Warren.”
“As in?”
“Buffett. We’re playing bridge tomorrow. He’s actually pretty good.”
“You play bridge with Warren Buffet?” Her little buddy Buffett had become a billionaire in 1990.
“Only when he’s in town. He’s kind of a busy guy.”
“You are connected, you poor wretch.”
Octavia stood up, and I pulled her coat around her and helped her put her arms inside. “You know, Ben. Change is a sign of the Holy Spirit.” She put her phone in her coat pocket as I held out the crook of my arm for her. “Katie and Kelly changing their names is symbolic. They’re starting a new life here.”
“OK. So what’s your point?”
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