Pennies from Burger Heaven

by Marcy McKay

  I don’t listen to Mr. Jesus too much ’til he raises the bible into the air and says, “In second Peter, God didn’t spare the angels that sinned. Oh, no. He cast them down to hell and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.” He even jabs his bible at us like a poking stick.

  His words stab me in the gut. Preachers like to talk about Judgment Day. I try to remind myself heaven and hell aren’t real, but what if I’m wrong? I don’t want to be chained to the darkness forever. I pressured Mama into stealing drugs. I stole five bucks from Corn Dog and was mean to Turdmouth just yesterday. Mr. Jesus deserves to burn, but I’m no cupcake myself.

  A tear seeps out and I’m quick to wipe it away before Turdmouth sees. Mama’s gone ’cause of my greediness. I made this happen. I bite my bottom lip as hard as I can to keep the waterworks from flowing. I also remember all that cash waiting for me back home.

  After chunch, the Amens crowd around both preachers, while others form his-and-her prayer lines again. Still, most folks just want to eat and wait at the door for lunch to be served.

  Turdmouth says, “I’m going with you this time.”

  I nod, glad he’s got my back.

  We stand in the line for Mr. Jesus first. Yeah, I need her cash, but I can’t let him slither away without giving me some answers about Mama. I can smell both preachers’ perfumes—how her sweet, rose scent clashes against his woodsy stink. It gives me an instant headache, knocking something against my brain. It makes no sense.

  “Copper, Copper!” Pepper throws his scrawny arms around me, burying himself into my belly. Salt acts like six is too old for such baby things, but he stands extra close to me, too.

  I hug ’em both, while Turdmouth fist-bumps the boys. Bird gives me a jumpy look from the lunch line across the room.

  She should. I’m coming for her and her godlies as soon as I eat lunch. If her boys weren’t here, I’d ring her worthless neck. Pepper jabbers away as usual. There’s so much on my mind I can’t keep it all straight and—

  Pepper whines, “You’re ignorrrrrrrring me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Listen.”

  “I am.”

  “No. Listen with your eyes.”

  That jerks my attention down to his coffee-colored face. I hate it when Mama doesn’t listen to me, so I drop drown to look straight into his endless, brown eyes. “What?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy chasing your mama the other night.” He points to Mr. Jesus and snickers. “We saw her titties, too.”

  An invisible fist rams my gut, while a cold sweat covers my body. I don’t even bother to correct his bad manners and say to his brother, “You’re sure it was Mr. Jesus?”

  Salt nods. “I didn’t recognize him at first since he wore a ball cap that night, but I knew his voice as soon as I heard him today.”

  Pepper grabs his hips. “I tried telling you the whole service, but you weren’t paying attention.”

  Me and Turdmouth glance at each other, realizing Mr. Jesus is now suspect #1.

  I pull the boys closer to me. “Have you told anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Does your mom know how to sneak into any of the motel rooms without a key?”

  “No. Why?”

  “’Cause I’ve got the funnest game ever. Let’s play Keep a Secret.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s real fun. Don’t tell a soul about this. No one, then next time we see each other, we’ll find out who all wins.”

  “Okay.” They both laugh and nudge on each other.

  I hug ’em both extra tight for extra luck, then send ’em back to the lunch line. Folks are filing into the cafeteria now. Bird turns away the second she sees me watching her.

  That’s good, since my frown says, you’re next, sister.

  Most of the Amens are gone now, so it’s just the his-and-hers prayer lines left. One person stands ahead of us. Turdmouth fiddles with his pocketknife, while he stares at Mr. Jesus.

  The preacher grins when he sees us like we’re his best friends. “Well, hello there, young lady.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know my name. Plus, I saw you naked yesterday.”

  He laughs a little too loud, but glances at his wife. She’s praying over that pierced skank from Mama’s seat. He turns his back away from her more, then his smile dies out. His voice lowers, “I’d be very careful if I were you. There’s no more cash, so run along.”

  “Why’d you act like you don’t know my mama? You not only know Corrine Daniels, but you chased her outside our motel in the middle of the night, while she was half-naked.”

  He tries to back me into a corner, but Turdmouth steps in front of me like a wall. “Touch her, old man, and you’ll be preaching at your own funeral.”

  Mr. Jesus grins, but grits through his teeth. “None of us are without sin, but your mother asked me to meet her there that night, so I did.”

  “How do you two even know each other?”

  “Your grandfather connected me to renting the cemetery chapel years ago, while our first church was being built. He’d be devastated how drugs have ravaged his daughter.”

  This new info whirls through my brain about my people, but I try to stay focused. “So, you just raped her for fun?”

  We all three hear it at the same time.

  Miz Jesus gasps and her hazel eyes water up. Her crushed look makes me hate myself for hurting her like this, but she deserves to know the truth. Something passes between the husband and wife I can’t read, but know it’s bad.

  Mr. Jesus hurries over and slides his arm around her waist. “You needn’t worry about us. I’m an imperfect man loving our perfect Savior. My wife is the most Godly woman I know. She understands my ministry on the streets is very personal and how I met with Corrine.”

  He got a little too personal with that teenager yesterday, but I don’t want to upset Miz Jesus worse, and stay quiet. He’s talking, but I can’t stop watching the preacher lady. Her face shines stop-sign red, but bit by bit, she seems to swallow her mad and turn whitish again. It makes me wonder if this is another of their routines, like on TV, or maybe they’ve done this a time or two thousand.

  He says, “Your mother is a troubled soul and sought me out. I left when I realized she wasn’t serious about recovery. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want it.”

  That may be the only true thing he’s said so far. “Why’ve I never met you before?”

  “Our show was based in LA for years, but we recently moved home and I reconnected with your mother. I’m still praying for her safe return.” He turns to his wife. “We need to go, dear. There’s a lot to do before tomorrow.”

  Mr. Jesus heads towards the doorway, but she doesn’t follow. Now, he’s the one with his eyes glued to her for a change.

  Miz Jesus stands with her back to him, facing me and Turdmouth. Her rose-petal fingers take mine and I can feel the strength of her faith in these big hands. She holds me so tight it almost hurts. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more money, but know God is always watching you and your mother. Surrender yourself unto the Lord and wait patiently for Him.”

  She lets go. My palms throb and sweat. I don’t really understand what she means, ’cept there’s no more cash for me to repay Diablo.

  Mr. Jesus won. That rat bastard. Just when I thought I couldn’t lose any more hope, he breaks it into tiny pieces and scatters it at my feet. I want to ask what she means, I want to apologize for upsetting her, but my tears won’t let me talk.

  “He’s always watching …” Miz Jesus repeats, but her eyes cut back toward her husband. I’m not sure if she means him or God, but her smile brightens. “Have faith your time will come.”

  Mr. Jesus says, “Angela, darling.”

  She says to me, “I hope we see you tonight to say goodbye.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Honduras for a mission trip. Remember,”
she taps her heart and says, “God is always watching.”

  That’s when I see it in her suit pocket, tucked beside a fake, yellow flower. Another crisp-folded one-hundred-dollar bill to match the one she gave yesterday.

  CHAPTER 23

  I float into the dining hall, with Turdmouth right behind me. The skip in his step says he saw it, too. It wasn’t just my imagination, like Mama always says.

  He waits ’til he closes the chapel door behind us, then he high-fives me. “She’s sneaky like your mom. I like her a lot more and him even less.”

  “Told you so.”

  Miz Jesus saved me and Mama again. Or, she will this afternoon at dinner chunch when I collect another hunsky. That’ll give me more than enough cash to repay Diablo, though if I find Mama first, we’ll skip town instead. That money’s ours.

  In the cafeteria, forks clank against plates with spaghetti and meatballs. Plus, there’s garlic bread. Some folks talk, while others just keep their heads down and shovel in their food. Dishes bang back in the kitchen, too.

  I’m all smiles ’til I see Corn Dog staring at me from across the room like a skinny bag of bones.

  How’d he get here? I swear I never saw him during chunch, and you can’t eat unless you go, so he had to be there. Corn Dog doesn’t eat, drink or talk. He just watches me with non-pickled eyes. Bright blue and judging, like Mr. Jesus said in his talk. My stomach is empty, but full of shame.

  There’s a shriek behind me.

  It’s Pepper. Bird’s dragging him and Salt out of the dining hall. Both boys are teary. They’re digging in their heels, not wanting to go. Their food is hardly touched. She’s trying to ditch me.

  I whisper to Turdmouth, “Save me a seat, while I talk to her.”

  “Nope. I’m going with you.”

  “Bird is better one-on-one. I swear I won’t leave the shelter without you.”

  “Wait.” He hurries to an empty spot at a table nearby and brings me a dinner roll. “I’ll meet you back by the Dumpsters in case you get kicked out.”

  I take one bite. “I won’t—”

  “Have you met you?” He laughs and walks back to his table.

  I can’t help but smile, take a bite of bread, then stuff the rest in my coat pocket beside Mr. Lincoln. Mama’s photo is safe on the other side. I don’t look at Corn Dog again, but feel him staring as I leave.

  The head goon blocks my way, arms folded. “Find a seat if you want lunch.”

  My stomach totally wants to stay and eat, but my legs answer for me. I’ve got to catch Bird and follow their screams.

  “Bird, wait up.” I call to her down the skinny hallway.

  Pepper’s gripping the bathroom doorknob, while she’s tugging him by the waist to pry him loose. They’re both screaming. Salt watches on, his body tight with worry. He’s biting his lip, trying not to cry.

  The four of us stand cramped together. My ribs hurt, thanks to the Street Killer, and I’m out of breath. “Why are you … avoiding me?”

  She keeps yanking on Pepper, but keeps twitching. Her eyes twirl like kaleidoscopes. “No reason. I got stuff to do.”

  “Let your boys finish eating, while we talk.”

  “They ain’t hungry.”

  “I’m starving!” Pepper grips the knob tighter.

  “Dammit, Pepper. Let go.” She slaps him off the door.

  He bellyaches again, holding his hurt arm. His shrieks bounce through the hall, then fade to a whimper.

  To stop him, I break my roll in half and give one to each boy. “Have a seat and eat this.”

  They curl up together in the corner to scarf down their few bites like hungry mice. I can’t even see their mouths, just their tiny fists crammed in their faces, their eyes shiny with hungry-scared. It hurts to watch.

  I turn back to Bird and try to keep my voice calm. “What’s a godlie?”

  “I don’t know.” She sniffs and picks an invisible string off her jacket sleeve.

  My irritation rumbles just beneath the surface. “You told me yesterday Mama married a godlie. You said death wanted her for his bride and how she perched on the sun and stuff. What’s it mean?”

  “Damn, Copper. I don’t know. Corrine’s in a heap of trouble.”

  “I know. You say she’s your best friend. Tell me, so I can help her.”

  Bird doesn’t answer. Her glazed stare looks lost past me.

  My mad grows bigger by the second. It’s eating up all the air around me, like how the boys just gobbled up their food. I try to stay calm, but anger shakes through my voice. “You stood right in that waiting room on Valentine’s Day and asked if Mama was ready. She said she wanted to take what was hers. Tell me what that means. Now.”

  “She owes Diablo cash.”

  “I already know that. He’s going to gut me tomorrow if I don’t give him a grand, or his,” I whisper, “stash. I found part of it.”

  Pepper chimes in at our feet. “Oh yeah, Mommy took your crank after we saw your—”

  Bird twirls around and kicks him hard in the gut. “Shut your damn mouth! You were supposed to be asleep!”

  Craziness explodes. Pepper screams and clutches his stomach, while Salt throws himself over his baby brother to protect him. Bird grabs at ’em both, but I yank her away first. I slam her against the wall so hard her head lands with a loud thud.

  I’m shocked how much I like it and how bad I want to do it again. I whisper extra low, “Kick your boys again and I will knock you into tomorrow. You know who taught me, so you know I can do it.”

  Pepper holds his hurt side, while Salt holds his hurt brother. My elbow stays crammed against her throat, then digs in deeper. I started this whole Mama mess, and won’t let Bird stop me from fixing it. She struggles against me, her fingers clutching at mine. I grip tighter. My hands shake. The boys whine for me to stop, but they’re like bugs buzzing too far away to notice. She’s bad for Mama and I want her gone. If I’m going to burn in hell, I may as well earn it.

  The desperate rises in Bird’s worthless eyes. I reach into one of her pockets before she even knows I’m there. She hollers, but I keep searching for the stash. There’s gum wrappers, some loose change and an old, rusty needle. I bang her against the wall and yell, “Where’s Mama? I can’t find her. What’d you do with the rest—”

  “Copper!”

  The boys’ shrill cries slap me back to now. They’re both wailing, holding each other in the corner, snot running down their little faces. The boys are pale-and-dark mirrors showing me my ugliness right now.

  I let go of Bird.

  She’s coughing and sputtering. Bird shoves me hard and I stumble back, but don’t fall. Electricity sparks through my body. I almost don’t believe that was me, ’cept Salt’s and Pepper’s tears say otherwise. They’re cringing from us both. Me lumped with her crushes my heart, but I don’t blame ’em.

  That same goon from chunch shoots down the hall towards us like a rocket. His green shelter T-shirt stretches across his chest. He’s not musclely like No-Brains, but more flabby, big. He growls, “What’s the problem?”

  “No problem.” I wipe Bird’s filth from my hands onto my jeans.

  She buries herself against him. “She assaulted me. She kicked my sweet baby, too.”

  “I did not. You did.”

  The Dope’s eyes almost pop from his head. “You all need to leave now. Come on.”

  That makes the boys bawl harder, ’cause now they know they won’t eat anymore lunch. Thanks to me. Bird tries to hold Pepper, but he won’t let her touch him. The goon marches us all down the hall: Bird, the boys, then me.

  The waiting room sits empty. Bird rushes to the desk phone and starts dialing. She’s holding a small business card. The goon yells and tries to rip the phone away from her, but Bird screams and fights him off. She keeps ducking and twirling too fast.

  Bird shouts into the receiver, “She’s here! Come to Mission for Hope now!”

  My cheeks burn hot since I’m guessing she means me, but
who’s she calling? They’re so many folks after me, I just don’t know.

  The Dope slams the phone down at last. He wipes a slick of greasy hair off his forehead and points to the glass door. “Out. All of you. Now.”

  Bird readjusts her jacket, irritated, then tugs Salt and Pepper on either side to haul ’em out the door. Both boys howl harder now and reach back for me. I guess they decided I’m bad, but she’s still a bazillion times worse.

  My head hangs low, as I follow behind with my fists still clenched.

  Outside, there’s not a cloud in the blue sky. It’s a cold, clear day that looks ready for a perfect afternoon, but the shelter’s sign reminds us of reality: Feed their bellies, then feed their souls.

  From the front door, the goon hollers down to us, “Don’t cause trouble out here either, or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Already done.” Bird grins and shoves the business card at me.

  I recognize the name and the number right away ’cause it matches Mama’s card in my pocket right now:

  Sergeant Patrick Noblitt

  Remington Police Department

  Depending on how far he is from here, I’ve got one-to-five minutes before he probably shows. My mind sees the red-and-blue headlights swirling after me. His handcuffs still itch to haul me to juvie. Especially since I already escaped him once yesterday.

  I want to slap what few teeth Bird’s got left in her meth-mouth, but don’t want to upset the boys any worse.

  I just say, “What’d you do with Mama’s stash?”

  “Gone.” She smirks.

  Salt sort of nods, then looks away.

  Bird struts down the street with her kids in tow. The boys are both quiet now and follow. They’ve already lived a bazillion years beyond four and six, but I added more to ’em today.

  I shout, “Where’s Mama?”

  No answer.

  “Did she go to California without me?”

  Still nothing.

  “Come on, Bird.”

  She turns to me and grins, though her boys look so unhappy. Her toothless smile shivers up my spine.