“Yeah,” Mike said shortly.
Louis resumed his seat on the chaise lounge.
“Now look, Tyler,” Louis said when Tyler said nothing. “I’ll tell you both what Aliger said that made me have a heart attack and then you’ll see what I mean. You’ll see what happens when you let your imagination run away with you.”
Louis went on to tell them about the conversation with Perry Aliger that had caused him to think that Julia had betrayed him with the man and how he had misconstrued Perry’s words to hear what he had obviously wanted to hear.
“So, you see?” Louis finished up his story. “First I let him kill me and then he saves me. Twisted, ain’t it? And all because I was feelin’ guilty about lookin’ at his wife!”
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave...” Mike nodded.
“What are we goin’ to do? Go on a witch hunt? Burn him at the stake?” Louis asked and laughed.
“Paula Anne seems to think that he had something to do with her gettin’ pregnant,” Tyler said slowly. “She acts and talks like she’s known him all her life. She bought some tea and a tea pot. Man, I looked at the price sticker on the bottom of it. Fifty eight dollars for a plain little white teapot! And that’s not the strangest part. She paid cash for it. I know because I had the checkbook. I gave her the cash myself. You know how much I gave her? Twenty dollars. So how’d she get a sixty dollar teapot and tea and a set of wind chimes for twenty dollars? Why would he give her an expensive thing like that? See, Paula Anne has been trying a new fertility drug but they’ve never worked before. She always thought it was me, but I never would go in and get checked. Now she’s pregnant and she said she thinks its because of Aliger’s tea or something about Mrs. Aliger’s pep talk and now all this comes up about the Pandora Boxes and Paula Anne has one... or had one.”
“How do you know she’s pregnant?” Louis asked him. “When did you find out?”
“Last night!” Tyler told him.
Mike and Louis looked at each other.
“Did I tell you about the lamppost at the library, Louis?” Mike asked him lightly.
“No.” Louis sat back in the chair and slowly closed his eyes. “Tell me about the lamppost, Mike.”
Maureen was in a quandary. She was happy that Sam had finally asked her to marry him, but it seemed almost too late. Would she have to always take such drastic measures to get his attention? Would it be worth it? Could Sam ever possibly measure up to her expectations now? She was glad she hadn’t given him an answer. Life was so ironic. She had the suspicion that even if she married Sam now, he would never forgive her for betraying him with Perry Aliger. In fact, she almost felt like she had betrayed Perry in the same manner. She wondered if he truly could not remember the night they had spent together or if he was just pretending. Maureen was even more confused. She could not categorize what she felt for Perry. Certainly it was something more than infatuation, but it hardly seemed like love. It was more like adoration. There was nothing in the marriage vow about adoration. Love, honor and cherish. Not adore, admire and lust. She wanted to sit on his lap and listen to him talk. She wanted to take him on a picnic and feed him ice cream sundaes, but did she want to marry him? Did she want to marry Sam? Sam was such a bore at times. But life was not all dreams and ice cream sundaes. Besides, whatever was between Perry and Angelica, they were a pair and that was for sure. But... damn! She wished she knew what to do. Life had taken an odd turn. She wondered what she would do if Perry asked her to go away with him. She thought, at the moment, she probably would have, but knew she would most likely regret it. Or would she?
She turned onto the street which led behind the Wal-Mart store where she intended to buy silk flowers and candles for her table. It would have been nice to have gone to the Gift Shop. It would have been a good excuse, but it was Sunday. The Gift Shop was closed and Perry’s car was gone. Only the green Navigator and the yellow Bug were there. She wondered where he had gone. It would be simple enough to spot the red Mercedes if he happened to be around somewhere. She went over her plans for the evening in her head again. She had already decided exactly what she would cook for dinner, what music they would listen to, what she would wear, how she would fix her hair and then with a start, she realized that she had not had Sam in mind at all for the dinner. She had been thinking of Perry as if it were he who would be coming to her home instead of Sam. That was not good! She wanted to scream. What the hell was wrong with her? She forced herself to put him out of her mind and drove another two hundred yards to the road which would lead her to the parking lot before he was back in her thoughts literally.
The red Mercedes was sitting on the grass beside the road with the hood up. When she passed by, she saw Perry standing in front of the car with one hand on the upraised hood peering perplexedly at the motor. She stopped and backed up.
He looked at her in surprise and smiled before turning up the wine bottle he had in his free hand to take a drink.
“Oh, God,” she muttered to herself and reached to unlock the passenger door. He walked to her car and opened the door to look in at her with that same amused look on his face. “Get in!” She told him without waiting for him to say anything.
Perry obediently climbed into her car and she pulled away from the Mercedes.
“Where are we going?” He asked, looking around as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“You can’t do that in public.” She eyed the bottle as he took another small drink from it.
“It’s illegal?” He asked her.
“Yes!” She told him. “What’s wrong with your car?”
“I don’t know,” he answered in a most unconcerned manner. “It just stopped right there.” He pointed out the window haphazardly.
“What’s up? Did you and your wi... Angelica have another fight?”
“We don’t fight,” he said her as she turned back up Main Street intending to drop him off at his apartment. “No, wait. Don’t go this way. I just came from that way.”
She thought ruefully that this bottle had not been his first as she made another turn and headed up the highway leading to Eagleton.
“Well? Are you going to tell me what happened or do we end up in Oklahoma?” She asked after a few minutes.
“Oka... lahoma?” He looked about confused.
“Tell me what the hell you’re doing out here on Sunday afternoon drinking wine from a bottle on the side of the road like a GD wino,” she said in frustration. She didn’t need any more complications, but she could not find it within her to be angry with him. He was too innocent even with a bottle of wine in his hand and a strangely glazed expression on his face.
“Well, I was tryin’ to give ’em a lil’ time t’gether before he leaves,” he explained. “I’m supposed to go out while Angelica makes a romanantic dinner for us.”
“A Roman-antic dinner?” Maureen looked at him in surprise. “Don’t you mean romantic dinner?” Here she was planning the same thing for herself and Sam, yet somehow she felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Angelica doing the same for him.
“You know you’re the second per... so... people today to ’cuse me of being a wino. Whatsa GeeDeewino?” He asked and finished what was left in the bottle. He didn’t sound upset or angry, just curious.
“Never mind,” she told him. “You are fighting with your brother then?”
“He’s not my brother.” Perry concentrated on his speech before continuing. “We are not... related at all.”
“He looks just like you.” Maureen frowned at him. There were too many questions begging to be answered here. It would take hours to sort them all out. “You said Angelica is not your wife. Now Fred is not your brother. Just what are they to you?”
“Nothing,” he said and looked around. “Look, there’s a store that sells alcoholic bever... rages.”
A convenience store was coming up on the right. A sign flashed gas, wine, beer and ice. Maureen pulled into the parking lot.
“I don’t th
ink they sell your brand here.” She looked at the bottle. “How about a wine cooler or some MD 20/20?” Her voice held a hint of sarcasm.
“Whatever you think,” he told her and reached in his pocket to pull out a crumpled fifty dollar bill. “You go in. It would be better.”
“Would it?” She looked at him closely and decided it would.
“It doesn’t matter what kind,” he told her. “It’s not the taste I crave. It’s the alcohol.”
She frowned at him. His face was flushed and he blinked at her in the sunlight as if it hurt his eyes. What was she doing? He craved alcohol? The digital clock read ten after one. There was still plenty of time, but what was she doing? She took his money and got out of the car taking the keys with her. And so what if she never went home? What difference would it make in the state of mind she was in? It might be last time she ever saw him alone. She had waited on Sam for five years. Surely he could wait on her for a while. It was impossible for her to pass up spending a little time with the most interesting individual she was likely to ever meet in her life drunk or sober.
She brought him two four-packs of Pina Colada flavored wine coolers and handed him the change. He set the cartons on the floor at his feet and stuffed the change in his pocket before taking one out to twist off the top. He sniffed the bottle and wrinkled his nose.
“Sweet,” he nodded and took a swallow. “Not as much alcohol.”
“Now what were you telling me?” She asked.
“I was telling you something?” He looked at her, still confused.
“Yes, you said someone else had called you a wino,” she prompted him.
“Oh, yes. Reggie Greene,” he nodded. “He said his uncle Joe was a wino. He’s a very astute little boy. I am very surprised at the depths of his knowledge of people and... things in general. I believe that he will go a long way someday.”
“Yeah, he can recognize winos,” she said and laughed. “That should be a great advantage.”
She reached for one of the wine coolers, but he caught her hand and shook his head no.
“You can’t drink and drive,” he told her. “That would be highly inadvisable and I happen to know that it is illegal. I didn’t know about the other one, drinking while inspecting under the hood. But, as I was saying, Reggie told me he thought I was an Angel. I suppose that is the highest compliment I’ve ever received, but kids are like that. Angels are very precocious beings, and very, very hard to understand. All in all, they are pleasant enough if not provoked.”
Maureen ran the car off the road and jerked it back onto the pavement as she stared at him in wonder.
“You know some Angels?” She asked quietly.
“A few. No, actually I don’t know any,” he told her. “I’ve had a few interesting encounters. They make me very nervous.”
“I don’t doubt it!” She muttered and tried to focus her attention on the road as an on-coming car honked at them. She had drifted into the other lane.
“Very much like your driving,” he said without sarcasm. “Perhaps I should drive.”
“I don’t think so.” She eyed him indignantly as he put the empty bottle back in the carton and opened the one she had tried to take.
“Angels are most unpredictable,” he continued. “You never know what is on their minds. They might be out to destroy an entire city or they may be out to save some poor wretch’s life. You just can’t tell until it’s too late.”
“Could they... could an Angel... destroy you?” She asked hesitantly not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“They seem to be unconcerned with me,” he said off-handedly. “I would not want to test that question.”
They rode in silence while she digested what he had said.
“I want to go back to Beijing,” he told her suddenly. “I have no desire to duel with Angels or anyone else.”
“And what would you do there?” She asked him.
“I would just watch things,” he told her and laid his head back to close his eyes. “It’s hard to explain. You see, this is a very interesting place. This feels strange.” He raised his head and looked out the windshield and then laid his head back again with his eyes closed as if conducting some sort of experiment. “Like drifting in a sea cave. Anyway, where was I?” He raised his head to look at her again. “This place is very interesting as I said. A unique blend of chaos and regulation. Undisciplined, yet controlled. Unregulated, it seems, but operating under some very simple, but very strict laws. This world is exotic to the extent that there are no words in this language to properly describe it. Much like the kaleidoscope you bought. Do you know what a vine feels as it grows into the warm sunlight that gave it birth? It grows and unfurls it’s delicate leaves to absorb the energy which will eventually kill it. But while it lives, it’s life is plain and simple joy. It knows nothing of death and dying, conflicting emotions, love and hate. It simply exists. It knows no pain. No sorrow. It knows only the exuberance of life until the day it dies and then, it is not even aware that it has died or yet, that it has lived. If only I could experience life as a vine, but it is impossible. I can sense this pure joy all around me in all living things, but I can’t... it’s one of those things I can’t explain in words. I can know it, I can appreciate it, but I can’t live it. Imagine it, Maureen, life without worry, without question. To live only for the sake of being alive. Senseless life.”
Maureen tried to understand what he was telling her. Senseless life? It didn’t make sense to her.
“I don’t think I would want to be a vine, Perry,” she told him. “What do you mean senseless life?”
“There are places where everything goes according to plan,” he told her. “Places where each and every leaf is accounted for. Every tendril. Nothing more is allowed. Nothing less is tolerated.”
She glanced at him. He looked at her and frowned.
“I have witnessed a very disturbing series of events occurring in this world recently,” he continued. “In Japan, they take a perfectly healthy tree from its natural environment. They snip it, trim it, twist it, prune it and they stop it from growing. An alarming practice.”
She thought he was talking about bonsai, but he had said ‘recently’. She knew that bonsai had been around for thousands of years. Exactly how old was he?
“Why do they do this? Do they consult the tree? Do they ask it if it would like to live in a small pot or garden in an altered state? Have they ever considered what the tree might think about the practice? And what would the tree think? The tree doesn’t think at all. It just accepts what occurs. It becomes a bonsai tree. Did you know that some bonsai trees are four or five hundred years old? They have been passed on from generation to generation in the same family. These trees would have died years ago had it not been for the torture they endured at the hands of the gardener. Paradoxical, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered unsure of what point he was trying to make.
“And in China,” he switched subjects. “Did you know that it is illegal to have more than one child?”
“Yes,” she answered somewhat relieved to know something about this subject. “But that is their way to control the population. There are too many people living in China. They can’t support themselves.”
“Of course they can,” he told her. “They have supported themselves for thousands of years. Population control is not something to be controlled by governments. It is a function of nature. Having children is a function of nature and natural laws control it. Nature will control populations. People have interfered too much with natural processes. That is where the problem lies. Would you like to have children?” This last question threw her completely.
“I think so... yes,” she nodded. “When I am ready.”
“People will readily accept a cure for their illness to save their lives,” he said. “But it is one thing to save life and another altogether to take it away. People are illogical. They will save the old and the infirmed and the defective and then kill perfectly heal
thy babies before they are born. It is senseless. Senseless life. Just like the vine. People do not want to face the consequences of their actions.”
“But surely you would not just let old people or sick people die?” She looked at him in disbelief.
“No,” he shook his head. “But if you want to control death, then you must control life. If you set yourself up to control life, you set yourself up as God. Then you must decide who lives and who dies. It was much simpler in the old times when nature was allowed to take its course.
“But people want to live. They don’t want to die,” she said.
“At what cost? Where do you draw the line?” He asked and took another wine cooler from the carton. “Would you go to Beijing with me?”
“What?!” She drove off the road again.
“I ask if you would go to Beijing with me to watch the vines grow?” He asked her again.
“What about Angelica?” She asked him.
“What about her?” He asked. “She can come if she wants to. It will make very little difference.”
“Maybe to you,” Maureen said softly. “It would matter a great deal to me.”
“She is not my wife.”
“Are you proposing to me?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “Maybe. I mean, I don’t want to go back alone and if you wanted to get married, we could, eventually.”
Maureen wanted to close her eyes, but thought it would be dangerous since she was driving.
“He thinks I am afraid of him!” Perry sat up straighter. “I am not afraid to be married! That is my father’s way of tormenting me. He wants to make me miserable. He sent him here to make a fool of me.” He was no longer making sense.
“Who? Your bro... Fred?” She glanced at him. She wondered what his father would be like. Another image of him?
“His name is not Fred,” he told her. “Please try to be more careful, Sweetheart. Your driving is most erratic.”
“Are you supposed to marry Angelica?” She asked him.
The Pandora Effect Page 53
