Clean Sweep

by E. B. Lee

  “I was just thinking of them,” said Carli. “I was imagining them taking charge of those expansive lawns. Scampering their hearts out.”

  “Lovely thoughts, indeed,” he said.

  “Speaking of closure,” said Carli. “I have some news. It’s confidential.”

  “Oh?”

  “I found my brother. Henry.”

  “Oh, my word, Carli. You must be thrilled.”

  “Yes and no. It’s not so simple.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “He’s Grant. As I suspected.” Carli let the news sink in.

  “Did you say, ‘Grant’?”

  “Yes. Grant is my brother, but no one can ever call him Henry again. And I will never be Tessie to him.” Carli had dismissed the crazy notion that Pastor Miller might be part of the cult, and gave the details of Grant’s escape and his continuing attempt to protect her. Then she said, “As far as I can tell, Henry really is gone. Grant is not the person I knew.” She neglected to say her brother was living in a self-storage unit.

  Carli’s next impromptu visit to Wilson yielded a single golden nugget. Wilson had studied chemistry. But that was all he shared. He didn’t say where he studied, worked, or learned scents. He simply couldn’t remember. After sitting quietly for another fifteen minutes, Wilson slurred out a single word. He framed it as a question: “Princeton?” Then he shrugged. Carli watched him settle into another foggy slumber. Finally, she thought. Then she went looking for Vera.

  She rounded the corner of Vera’s favorite block and stopped. Vera was in her usual spot, standing alongside the standpipe. Another woman stood nearby, and they seemed to be conversing. Maybe she was another Outreach worker, or maybe Vera had a friend, an actual friend. Something Carli knew for certain was she wasn’t part of the cult. She also knew the stranger was not part of The Sweep. Carli couldn’t quite make out Vera’s expressions. Didn’t know if she was enjoying the visit. As Carli continued watching, a blue city bus rolled alongside the curb. Several passengers stepped off. Right after, the woman near Vera slowly climbed the four steep steps into the bus, using arm strength and the handrail to ascend. Vera didn’t so much as wave. Just settled against the standpipe.

  “Vera. Vera Dear-a,” said Carli.

  A smiling Vera turned to watch her walk the final steps. “And what color socks are you wearing today?” Vera asked.

  “You tell me,” said Carli. “I don’t remember.” Together, they inspected Carli’s maroon socks, which sort of matched the rest of her attire.

  Vera said, “I gave my green ones a break today.” She lifted her pant leg to reveal a blue sock on one foot and a yellow sock covering the other. Carli hadn’t worn socks this mismatched since Halloween, decades ago.

  “What’s this?” asked Carli.

  “I don’t know. Just what I had,” said Vera.

  “You know ...,” said Carli, “well, maybe I’ll just ask you something, instead of telling you something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you mix your yellow sock and blue sock together, what do you get?” asked Carli.

  “A pair of socks, I guess.”

  Carli smiled. “Okay, let’s not say socks. What happens if you mix the colors yellow and blue together?”

  Vera stared into the air, then slowly started nodding. A smile began to show. “Uh-huh ... yes, ma’am. I see exactly what you’re saying.” Then she flashed her eyes straight at Carli and said, “You know what they call that?”

  Carli shrugged and shook her head.

  “Karma!” Vera’s eyes sparkled. Actually sparkled. Carli had never seen Vera so positively animated.

  “Let’s hear it for karma,” said Carli, raising her fist into the air.

  “Karma,” said Vera, raising her fist. As soon as she did it, Carli saw Vera’s smile vanish, and Carli immediately felt awful for having prompted the outburst.

  “Vera, oh Vera. That looked painful.”

  “I’m all right. ... I’m all right,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry I caused you to do that.”

  “Ain’t no one’s fault but my own. I ought to know I can’t go doing those things anymore.”

  A few months ago, Carli might have felt pity. Today, she reached an arm toward Vera, stopped just short of touching, and felt sheer determination. “Vera, I want to help, and I am pretty certain a doctor could make a few of these joints of yours feel less pain. Maybe even get you dancing someday. Four Bridges can help. I know I’ve said this before.”

  “That you have,” said Vera. “Plenty of times.

  “Just think of all the fist pumps we could do together,” said Carli.

  It got another smile out of Vera.

  “Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll go with you,” said Carli. Vera nodded and Carli asked, “Want a coffee? I’m getting one.”

  Vera smacked her lips. “Why not.”

  Carli’s eyes met Vera’s. “Two coffees coming right up.” She couldn’t believe it.

  When Carli returned, she placed Vera’s cup on the standpipe and handed Vera the sugar and creamers. “Did I see you talking with someone before I got here today?” she asked.

  Vera said, “Yeah. I don’t know who. See her here a bunch. Catches the M103 pretty regular.”

  “She must live or work around here. If you’re seeing her this much,” said Carli.

  “Work,” said Vera. “Said she was heading home.”

  “I wonder if she knows about the Minnix House,” said Carli.

  “Better not, or I won’t talk with her again.”

  “She could work there, you know. Someone works there. Cleans the rooms. Does the cooking. Works the front desk,” said Carli. “You think anyone else who used to live there when you did is around anywhere?” asked Carli.

  “Doubt it. Ain’t no more Minnix House like it used to be. Everyone’s got moved out. Me included,” said Vera. “Of course, there were those who were older. They’re likely dead and gone. Why you asking me this stuff, anyway?”

  “No reason. Just curious,” said Carli.

  “Well, don’t you let that curiosity of yours get you in trouble. Like that curiosity that killed the cat,” said Vera. “You heard of that one?” she asked.

  “Yes. Of course. Listen,” said Carli, “it was nice talking. You take care of yourself, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That I will. Always do.”

  Twice the following week, Carli met Grant at his storage-room home, for peace of mind. And to lay out options. It was a struggle. She continued to encourage him ever-so-gently to visit Dr. Greenberg. What she wanted to do was hurl him head over heels into her office. Grant wasn’t interested. One day, as they heard rain falling across the roof, they cleaned his bin together. In all respects, his room mirrored Grant: passable on the outside, and a mess within. Unread newspapers concealed more grease-splotched pizza boxes. Several contained entire pizzas, garnished with dead roaches and the skeletal remains of a mouse. Together, Carli and Grant bundled and tossed papers and boxes, along with a rainbow sprinkling of drugs – prescription, over-the-counter, and illicit. He claimed they kept him normal, just like, she learned, his many cups of coffee, which, oddly, calmed his body.

  Carli wondered how he appeared as cleanly dressed as he did when they sorted clothes into one pile dirty, one pile clean, and one pile unsalvageable. The clean pile didn’t measure up. On several occasions, what looked to Carli to be garbage items were quickly retrieved by Grant. From his “thinking chair” – a bright red beanbag chair now centered in the room – he gave his approval or disapproval of items she deemed suspect.

  “That? No way,” he said, as she confidently tossed a hole-riddled tee shirt into the trash bag. “Walked around with that one for over six months. One day, when it was snowing like a bitch, and I didn’t have the system down, it was the first and only thing I could find to tie around my head. I thought my ears would fall off, it was so cold. For some reason, I had to go outside. Needed something. That
skimpy tee shirt felt so warm, just getting the wind off my head. Yessiree, that tee shirt is a lifesaver and a keeper.” Grant smiled. “I considered using it for a brush rag – for paints – but couldn’t, not even in the shape it’s in. It would be like defacing it. No, that shirt is being retired, hung over the big arena. When Sarah says she wants to keep her bags, she means it.”

  Behind a pile of books, Carli found a slew of well-worn sketchpads, along with oil paintings coated with dust. “I thought you were an attorney. Look at these. Now I know what you meant by a ‘brush rag.’ Thought you were talking about something for painting a bedroom or something.”

  “For the record, I was an attorney, but I get inspired from time to time. It’s really just a hobby,” he said.

  It was clearly more. Several were finished and looked a lot like portraits of people she knew—Madison, Sarah, and Cedric included. Others looked like wild masses of colors, and still others, ponderings of the deepest depths of one’s soul.

  “Nice,” she said, looking at Cedric’s image. “You had formal training.”

  “Sure, in grade school,” he said. “The teachers weren’t impressed. You remember them, right? Didn’t like different, and mine were definitely different. No... I was trained by the masters in the museums.”

  Carli wanted to forget the museum. Grant did not.

  “I think about them, with their brushes and canvases,” he said. “Wonder if they sat or stood, if they threw a bunch of stuff on there, spur of the moment, or planned it all out. I wonder what the faucet looked like where Mr. Monet, or should I say, ‘Monsieur,’ got his water, and how different it was from Cezanne’s spigot. I wonder who sold Renoir his oil paints; if they worked at night or middle of the day. Wonder how they sounded when they spoke out loud, or to themselves.”

  “Ever sell any?” she asked.

  “When I needed money. A couple.”

  “Now that these are back out, maybe you’ll finish them,” said Carli.

  Grant smiled but said nothing.

  With one week left in June, Grant started another bout with the bottle. He hid it reasonably well from strangers, but Carli was no stranger.

  “Just enough to keep me down,” he said, responding to her probe.

  “Self-medication. Let’s get you home.”

  Inside his room, Grant sprawled on the mattress and said drowsily, “See why I chose you for Outreach? Won’t let me get away with anything. I still want to know why you said, ‘Yes.’ I mean, I know you needed to do Outreach, but I don’t know why. Were you still looking for me?” asked Grant.

  Carli hesitated. “I had my reasons. I saw everyone at the Church Run and Lucy’s church, and something pushed me. I had always hoped to find you, but I gave up believing it was possible. I knew how it felt to lose you. I didn’t want others to lose their loved ones. Helping two women seemed reasonable,” she said. “And it was time. For me to give back. After decades of work for myself and my company.”

  Grant looked intrigued and waited for more. Carli took a long look at Grant and said, “Please, let’s give Dr. Greenberg another try.”

  Grant took in a deep breath, and slowly shook his head. “You think she could help you?”

  “That’s just it, Grant. She is helping me. And I’m worried about you. Your slip is showing.”

  “Say what?”

  “What’s under is sticking out. Gretchen commented, and I wouldn’t put it past Wilson to offer you his bottle. How can you nudge them to get inside, when you are practically still out? They’re not going to trust you anymore. Things like not showing up for a week at a time will make a difference.”

  “Hah!”

  “We can’t let them down. I can’t let you down,” said Carli.

  “We aren’t letting anyone down,” he said. “At least, I don’t think we are. You come with me tomorrow and take a good look. You’ll see. We’re helping. We’re doing lots of good for them. And, if you think it matters, I’ll visit them twice as much as usual this week.”

  They set off together the next morning to make their visits. Cedric was a courtesy call of sorts. As he and Grant talked, the trends of thought were brief, cursory. Grant looked agitated. Cedric, wrapped well into his own dealings, seemed not to notice. Grant had been right. They left with the score Grant – one, Carli – zero.

  Canada was next. Surely, he knew as much about Grant as any of them. Grant was accepted, blemishes and all. It was another point for Grant. To Sister Anna and the kitchen crew, including Gretchen, Grant was always welcome. Any irregularities had long ago been accepted as quirks of his personality or sporadic deviations from the real Grant. The true test came when they caught up with Vera. Grant’s impulsive habits and words seemed to lighten the day’s load. Grant had been right. No matter how he came to them, they trusted him. What made him so good was he knew them, and he was always there for them. It was both reassuring and distressing.

  “We have another stop,” said Carli.

  “Who?” asked Grant.

  “Rocky.”

  “What do you mean? He doesn’t start his shift for hours,” said Grant.

  “I made an appointment. He’s waiting.”

  In a side room at Four Bridges, they found Rocky and Mercy sitting on the same side of a fold-up table.

  “Hey, man,” said Rocky.

  “Heyyy,” said Grant. “What’re you doing here? Everything okay?”

  “I need to talk to you,” said Rocky.

  “Anytime. What’s up?”

  “It’s not about me this time.” Rocky looked directly at Grant and brought his hand to his chin, as though to think a moment. When he lowered his hand to the table, Rocky said, “Hear you might be having a bit of a tough time with something.”

  Grant clenched his teeth slightly, enough for Carli to see the muscles of his face tighten. Grant looked from Rocky to Carli and, finally, to Mercy, before saying, “What do you mean?”

  “You know, all those years, you held me up ’til I figured out how to take better care of myself. ... I want to thank you for those years. I needed you,” said Rocky. “Could never have done it alone. I know I already thanked you before. But now what I’m wondering is, is this my time to help and really thank you for everything you’ve done for me?”

  “What are you getting at?” asked Grant.

  “Look, man, I’m just wondering if maybe you could use someone to lean on, or talk to.”

  “I’m not getting what you’re saying,” said Grant.

  “Okay ... right ... Here it is. Straight up. Just like it should be.” Rocky’s tone remained gentle, but it had grown more firm. He waited a moment, as though mentally composing his words. Then he said, “Grant, I understand, as well as anyone, what it is like to need help and deny that need. We both know what I was like and all the gyrations I went through to ignore these lifelines that people were tossing out to me. That includes you, of course. To me ... and others here ... it looks like you might just benefit from grabbing onto one of those lines. I see you sometimes in not-so-great shape. Not like you usually are. And I’m 100 percent positive you see it too. In yourself. No way you couldn’t. And you know, as well as any, what’s out there for you. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I bet you also know what’s out there if you don’t grab ahold of one of these pretty damned soon.”

  Rocky took in a deep breath to let his words settle in. “Look at me now. And think of where I could have ended up. Would have ended up. Grant, seems like sometimes you’re drinking on the job. You’re racing around the city with no time to stop. Or you’re out of commission for who knows what reason. Come on, man, don’t you think it’s time to see it in yourself? Aren’t those the words you said to me a bunch of times? See it in myself? And think of everything I could do once I did see it? Yeah, those are your words all right. So, I’m here talking as a friend. Someone who really needed you. And someone who still needs you. Still. Today. And someone who’s been in some mighty uncomfortable shoes. I’m here to say, you need to let
yourself get some guidance. Don’t just think about seeing a doctor, or whoever you need to see.”

  Rocky looked straight into Grant’s eyes. “Go and see them. Take that first step. That really difficult first step. Once you do, every step just follows. Well, maybe with a few detours, but it follows, man. It’s only one step. And it’s a step in a new direction. That, in itself, makes it scary. But think of all the people you’ve helped to take that first step. Last count, I think I heard you say you’d gotten over thirty of us moving in better directions just in the last few years. And I know, absolutely, for certain, no doubt whatsoever, that you’ve got a whole lot more people to help out here. Just look at everyone in that room behind you. And you’re so good at it. Grant, man, I’m here for you, but you know who’s got to take that next first step. Also know, if anyone can do it ... and if I did it ... you can do it”

  Grant looked around the room, avoiding eye contact, and began to nod. Then he looked directly at Rocky, turned his gaze to Mercy, and landed, finally, on Carli, all the while continuing to nod. Quietly and slowly, Grant said, “Thanks for your concern.” He returned his eyes to Rocky. “I’ll think about it. Pretty sure I’m okay, but nice knowing you care.”

  Mercy straightened up, pulling all eyes upon her. “Grant,” she said. “I’m in a tough position here. You know what I’m getting at?”

  Grant knew.

  “I’ll give you some time. But I can’t give it forever. More importantly, I want to see you doing what you do best because you’re in your best condition. I don’t want to lose you to something that can most likely be helped.”

  Grant continued to nod his head, slowly and gently.

  “And, Grant,” said Mercy, “you know I’m always available for you, twenty-four seven. My operator is standing by. And think about it ... Carli, here, came to me and is getting some help. Rocky ... well, you know he’s living proof of what good changes can take place when you let others help. And I know you had a lot of hardship going on, long before you got here. If nothing else, you might feel better just talking to Dr. Greenberg, or someone like her, about all of that. Get rid of some of those scars. Those lingering things can surely tear a body apart if they don’t get healed. See it all the time. All different situations. You know I do.”