Authors: K.B. Kofoed
Ark (15 page)
“Me casa, su casa,” said John.
The phone only rang once and Kas picked it up. “Jim,” she exclaimed. “Thank God almighty! I thought ...”
“I’m sorry, pooks. It took all day to get here and then I forgot to call. I hope you didn’t worry too much,”
“I was really worried. The news has been full of death and mayhem all day.”
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he said. “If I’d known.” He didn’t feel comfortable talking too frankly with her. The phone was only a few feet from the jacuzzi. “No, I’m okay,” he continued. “John and Gene are here and we’re having our meeting right now.”
At that moment, and much to Jim’s surprise, two women came into the room wearing only thong bikinis and carrying towels. They looked to be barely out of their teens, and both of them were jaw-droppingly beautiful; a blonde, short and cute, and a brunette who was almost as tall as Jim. They were giggling as they came toward John.
Kas heard the girls through the phone line. “Who’s that, Jim?”
Jim told the truth. “Two girls walked in just now. I don’t know who they are.”
The girls jumped into the tub next to John Wilcox and squealed as they snuggled up to him.
“Ooooh,” said the brunette. “Where’s your bathing suit, John?”
“Not so loud,” said John with a finger to his lips. “Poor Jim is trying to talk to his wife.”
“Where’s your bathing suit, John?” repeated Kas.
“Oh shit, Kas,” said Jim, “this just got real embarrassing.”
“What the hell is going on, Jim?”
“It was a hell of a trip, Kas. I got here, John was asleep. Gene was here and we were waiting for John. We got in the hot tub ...”
“Are you naked?”
They had a great connection. From the sound of Kas’s voice Jim would have sworn she was in the next room. “I borrowed some trunks,” said Jim.
“You said you were in a meeting ...”
“Arrrgh,” said Jim. “John got up about twenty minutes ago and jumped naked in the hot tub with me and Gene.”
“Really? Now I really want to be there,” said Kas. “Is Gene naked too? Are the girls naked in this meeting of yours?”
“Actually,” said Jim. “we were talking in the hot tub when I realized that I hadn’t called you, and I got up and dialed and these girls came in and jumped in the hot tub.”
Jim looked at the brunette. She blew him a kiss.
“Game over,” said Jim.
“What?” said Kas.
“Never mind. Listen, Kas, I swear to you I wish you were here too. John says, by the way, that you and Stephie can come up next time.”
“Isn’t that nice,” said Kas. Her voice had that even reasonable tone Jim recognized as blind rage.
Jim turned away from the jacuzzi and put down his drink. He held the phone close to his lips. “I have had a real shitty day, Kas. I know you’re pissed but I haven’t done anything behind your back. The only reason I said we were having a meeting is because I didn’t want you to think I was having fun while you ...”
“Are you having fun, Jim?”
“Not really, no, but I’m happy about one thing.”
Jim waited for Kas to ask him what it was but there was only silence.
Undaunted, Jim continued. “I have a check for five thousand dollars in my wallet, signed by John, and ten brand new one hundred dollar bills.”
“Ten?” said Kas. “He gave you six thousand?”
“Yup,” said Jim.
Jim’s confidence grew during the silence that followed from Kas’s end. He figured she was happily spending the money already in her mind.
“So he’s got you by the balls, now. Is that it?”
Jim had no idea how angry Kas had become. He thought that after twenty years of marriage he knew her well, but her response surprised him. He was speechless.
Jim looked back at the four in the hot tub. Then he asked John if there was another phone he could use.
Jim heard the phone disconnect. “Shit, Kas.”
“The ol’ ball and chain got you down?” asked John.
“I think she has the wrong idea about what’s going on,” said Jim sadly.
“Well, come into the jacuzzi and meet Suzie and Arlene,” said John. “They’ll cheer you up. This is Suzie Sherwood.”
The brunette waved at Jim while Arlene pressed against Gene. She was wearing his glasses. Gene stared at Jim and grinned.
Aaron came in from the kitchen with sandwiches and more drinks.
“Ummm, aren’t we supposed to be having a meeting?” asked Jim. Kas had never hung up on him before and although he was hiding it well, her actions had upset him to the core. “Hi, Suzie and Arlene,” said Jim weakly. “I don’t know, John. It’s a little crowded in the tub for me if you don’t mind. I am a bit hungry, though.”
“Fine, Jim,” said John. “Come on and sit down next to Suzie and we’ll all have a bite.”
“Go ahead, Suzie, give him a bite,” said Gene with a laugh. It was obvious that the mango daiquiri had a powerful effect on Gene.
In a way Jim was glad to see Gene having fun like this. He had been a long suffering husband to Fostia and since her death had little female companionship. Still, Jim felt that what was okay behavior for the two single men in the room was not okay for him.
Jim was a straight shooter with women, always had been. He loved Kas and didn’t want to risk losing her. He didn’t regard himself as excessively moral, but he believed that a one night stand was too frivolous a thing to risk destroying a marriage over. So he had never fooled around. Not once in twenty years.
Lou had tempted him on many occasions to go out and play around, but Jim wouldn’t go with Lou, even to a strip joint for a beer. Lou thought Jim was crazy to pen himself in so much, but Jim privately feared that if he ever let himself go his marriage would go down the tubes.
He thought of Stephanie. What if she were here? What would he say to her?
Jim was hungry. He went over to the jacuzzi to get a sandwich, but when he reached for one Suzie grabbed his hand.
“Come on Jim,” she said. “There’s plenty of room in here.”
Suzie was Jim’s type in spades. Auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes. She rose from the tub and revealed herself to him. It was almost more than Jim could stand. “Please,” he said. “I’m a married man.”
“My favorite kind,” said Suzie. “No strings.”
Jim looked at John in embarrassment. John only smiled. It was clear that he regarded the girls as entertainment. “Take a break, Jim. You deserve it.”
Suzie was still gripping his hand and caressing it with her thumb. The sensation sent a chill up Jim’s spine, but he pulled away. He forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Suzie, but I can’t.”
Gene stiffened up a bit and retrieved his glasses. “It was the drive, John,” he said. “Poor Jim’s been through a war zone, today.”
“Suit yourself, Jim,” said John, “but don’t go accusing me of not sharing.”
“I appreciate that,” said Jim, picking up a sandwich and taking a bite.
Jim heard Suzie whisper in John’s ear, “He’s so cute, John, try a little harder.”
John looked at her a bit sternly and shook his head.
Jim stood up, pretending not to hear her. Then he thought of the ark. “I have had some second thoughts about my drawings, John,” he said. “I wanted to check out the model in the rec room, if you don’t mind.”
“Second thoughts?” said Gene, looking past Arlene’s blond hair. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Suit yourself,” said John, still smiling. “Have a ball.”
Jim was nearly out of the room when he remembered why he was there.
He turned and looked back at John. Suzie was astride him with both arms around his neck. “Didn’t you say that you wanted a meeting?”
“I guess this is it,” said John. “We’ll talk more later.”
Jim got dressed and went to the rec room. He closed the door behind himself and sighed deeply. He leaned against the door with his eyes shut and counted to ten. When he opened them again it was as though he’d entered another universe. He couldn’t hear the storm or the laughter of the girls. There was only himself and the tabletop model of the ark and the tabernacle.
He sat on a chair and leaned his head against the paneled wall and stared at the Tent of Meeting.
A voice inside his head spoke softly. “Go out from among them.”
YHWH
Jim didn’t linger in the rec room. The voice had spooked him.
It seemed like he hadn’t been in the room long, but when he came out the storm had passed and John, Gene and the girls were nowhere to be seen. He found Aaron in the kitchen and told him to tell John that he had to leave.
Jim couldn’t wait to get home. He wanted to be with Kas and Stephie, even though he knew he’d have to take a little heat for Kas’s ruined Saturday.
Driving back to Philly, he pondered what had happened in the rec room. He’d heard the voice before, long ago when he’d worked in Manhattan. It had said the same thing. He’d always assumed that it was just his internal dialogue, the nonstop chatter that haunts everyone. He’d quit smoking and was going through changes back then, and he’d dismissed the voice as stress related.
Hearing the voice again upset him. It was indistinguishable from his inner voice except for what it said and the fact that it didn’t seem to come from inside his mind. It was more like a voice on a PA system, but he hadn’t heard it with his ears.
As soon as he’d left the rec room Jim dismissed the incident. He went back to the bedroom where he’d changed clothes and picked up the phone and called his wife again. Then he’d written a thank you note to John and Gene and headed back to Philly. In the note he’d said that he had learned that a client needed an emergency job done so he couldn’t wait to say goodbye in person. The truth was that since he’d met Suzie and Arlene he’d felt Hell at his heels.
It was late afternoon when Jim crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge to New Jersey. He switched on the radio. A rock station was playing the oldie,
Jesus Is Just All Right With Me
. Jim whistled along with the music. It felt good to be going home.
As Jim piloted his car toward Pennsylvania he remembered the first time he’d heard the voice. It had followed an odd revelation, one that had impressed him most deeply and may have been the reason he left Manhattan and decided to permanently settle in Philadelphia. He remembered that day at the agency. For some reason he’d been in a reflective mood and decided to check out Saint Patrick’s Cathedral across the street from the Rockefeller building.
He’d gone there once before, when he first tried freelancing in the Big Apple. It meant commuting every day, but the money was great. Though he’d never intended it, circumstances led to his working full time in an ad agency. He was new to the city and used his lunch time to explore.
He was standing near the altar at St. Patrick’s admiring a facsimile of Michelangelo’s Pieta; the immaculate flow of the sculpture, the perfect sainthood reflected in Mary’s face and the rapture of her dead son, Jesus, lying in her lap. The power of it, so close at hand, nearly moved him to tears. Suddenly a small man rushed between Jim and the statue, knelt down, took Christ’s marble hand in his and prayed intensely for a few seconds. As quickly as he’d come, the man genuflected and sped away.
Jim found the power and purpose of the church reflected in the man’s action. It was helping him through the hardships of life. Who would deny him that?
Someone did deny him, though, and it proved to be the church itself. When Jim returned to the cathedral some time later, he found that they had moved the statue so that the little man could no longer hold Jesus’s hand. Probably no one was really at fault. No one had tried to hurt the little man. After all, the artwork must be defended and preserved. But all he could think about was the man and how his routine of faith had been coldly and rudely shattered. He stared at Mary, then at Christ, and wondered what they would have made of what the church had done. He left the church and never returned.
When Jim stepped into the sunlight that day he was sad and reflective. The image of the little man stayed in his mind. He noticed the golden statue of Atlas holding up the world that graced the Rockefeller building across the street. “Funny,” he’d said to himself. “On one side of the street is an edifice to God and on the other is an edifice to man.”
Out of curiosity he decided to visit the lobby of the Rockefeller building. The first thing he noticed was a sign that said, “Programs for the Arts Today.” His eyes lifted to the sepia toned frieze that decorated the ceiling of the lobby, depicting the great works of man: the rise of the industrial west, immigration, the Pony Express, the railroads. It was done in a style reminiscent of Michelangelo.
On his left was the Chase Manhattan Bank, then the most powerful bank on earth; and on his right Manufacturers Hanover, the biggest insurance company in America.
Jim was almost overwhelmed by the symbolism in what he saw that day. “My god,” he’d thought, “this IS an edifice to man. This is the financial hub of the planet.”
He went back out the revolving doors and lingered for a moment in front of the building, reflecting on what he’d seen. He looked left and right as smartly dressed Manhattanites bustled by. Jim wondered if the symbolism he’d seen was as apparent to any of them. He looked up. High above the building, glowing brightly in pink neon, was the number 666, marking the famous ‘Top Of The Sixes’ restaurant.
That afternoon Jim first heard the voice. He was back at his desk working happily; his concentration was intense and he wasn’t thinking about anything but the layout. It was as if the voice had come over the public address system, but there was no PA system. Totally out of the blue, it said, “Go out from among them.” He stopped work and looked around. But that was all there was to it. Perplexed, Jim shrugged it off and returned to his work.
A few months later the voice spoke to him again, saying the same thing. Just like the first time, it occurred while Jim was performing some mundane task. Perhaps that’s why it was so odd. If he’d heard it in St. Patrick’s cathedral it would be at least explainable as a religious revelation or something, but this was in the middle of the day and without the influence of drugs, alcohol or religious rapture.
Now he’d heard the voice three times. It was always the same.
“I must be crazy,” said Jim as he turned on his headlights. “I hear a voice in my head and lose it? Maybe I’m a bit too caught up in this whole thing.”
Later that evening, after apologizing to Kas, he told her the same thing. She agreed.
#
On Monday, out of courtesy, Jim called John Wilcox to apologize for leaving so abruptly, but John seemed unconcerned. “No need,” he’d said in a cheerful voice. “Jim, you’re part of the family here. If you gotta go you gotta go. How did the job turn out?”
“Job?” said Jim, nearly forgetting the note he’d left behind. “Oh, yes. That’s long gone. I’m up to my ears in other deadlines now.”
Jim hated to lie, but it would have been worse if he’d complained about John’s lifestyle.
“I was concerned about one thing, Jim,” said John. “You said there was a discrepancy in your drawings? Something you had to check against the model in the rec room. We didn’t see you after that.”
“Oh, yes,” said Jim, remembering his excuse for leaving the fun and frolic in the jacuzzi. “I was concerned about a detail. That’s all.”
“What detail?” asked Wilcox.
“I’ve never been sure about the location of the poles on the ark.”
“The poles? What’s the problem?”
Jim had always been good at thinking on his feet. “In my drawing I show them at the base of the ark,” he said, “near the ground. All the drawings I’ve seen of the ark show the poles being attached at the top of the box, not the bottom. I’ve thought it over and I think they are right.”
John Wilcox considered Jim’s words.
“I can see why you’re concerned, Jim,” said John, “but does it really matter where the poles are attached?”
“It might,” said Jim. “I just want the thing to be right. Especially if we’re going to build it.”
“I can understand your concern as an artist,” said John, “but it seems to me you’re too worried about the aesthetics. The main thing is the fact that it’s a resonator. As Gene explained it to me, it is the box and the cherubim that are important.”
“It might make a difference where the poles attach,” argued Jim. “I really wish I had an independent consultant who could go through the same process as I did and make the drawings.”
“Well, as I understand it there have been a lot of them,” said John. "Hell, Jim, every time somebody does a picture of it they have to read the description. Right?”
“Most of them have been in or working directly with the church,” said Jim, “but I guess you’re right.”
“Well, don’t worry about it.”
“Have you ever considered bringing a rabbi or a priest on to the project?” asked Jim. “It might help give the thing credibility. Don’t you think?”
John was quiet for a moment. “Is that what you are worried about?”
“It might help us validate some of the design,” replied Jim.
Jim amazed himself. He’d just reached into a hip pocket and pulled out a problem with his drawings. It amazed him that he was able to make up an excuse for having avoided an orgy in the jacuzzi. Now he’d convinced himself that there was a problem. Like John said, it was a small thing but it might be important. It may have started as a made-up excuse, but the more Jim thought about it the more valid his concerns seemed. It was true that he’d never been clear about where the Bible said the poles were located on the ark, and considering that the poles were affixed permanently to the ark, it did amount to more than a minor detail.
John wasn’t convinced. “Gene told me you saw the computer simulation. So you saw it working yourself. How much more validation do you need?”
“It’s just MY interpretation of the text that you’re relying upon,” said Jim. “I keep telling everybody that I’m no biblical expert, and I’d like to have one on board before we –”
“Hold on, Jim,” said John. “Gene has been studying your drawings a long time. He’s checked them against the text and he says you got it right. This is no time to start having second thoughts.”
“Oh?” said Jim. “When is a good time?”
“Well,” said John, “a good time would have been BEFORE we copyrighted the drawings and BEFORE we arranged to get the gold.”
Jim wondered if he’d heard John right. “You’re getting the gold?” he asked. “Now?”
“Yeah, a few days ago. I told you my Dad has connections,” said John. “We’re rolling.”
“You don’t think we need somebody from the church in on this?” asked Jim. More than ever he was feeling out of the loop and sure that things were moving in the wrong direction.
“What for, Jim?” asked John. “What useful purpose could it serve?”
Before Jim could reply, John continued. “Look, Jim. Gene brought up that question long ago. He said the he’d talked to a rabbi friend who was willing to come aboard. I told him then what I’m telling you now. We don’t want the church in on this. It has nothing to do with them. This is purely scientific research. If they get involved, then before long we’ll be up to our ears in controversy and unwelcome advice.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say it has nothing to do with them.”
“Tell you what, Jim,” said Wilcox. “You go ahead and revise your drawings or whatever, but I want the plans finalized by the first week in June.”
All Jim had to change was one drawing, but something else occurred to him. “Not to act like I’m trying to stall the project or anything but if I change the drawings, shouldn’t we rerun the simulation with the new configuration?”
“Jim, my other phone is ringing,” said John. “Gotta go. Do what you gotta do.”
After he put down the phone Jim stared at it for a minute thinking over the conversation. He shook his head and muttered, “They’re getting the gold?”
Over lunch at Pat’s Steaks in South Philly, Jim told Lou about the weekend. Lou assailed Jim for having turned down Suzie and Arlene’s invitation. “If you’d screw around a bit more, Oh Moral One, I think you’d be a more pleasant sonofabitch to hang around with.”
Jim didn’t disagree. “Maybe,” he said, “but if I did Kas would know it.”
“That’s just because you’re so fucking honest.”
Jim took a big bite of his cheese steak. Tomato sauce ran down his wrist like a trickle of blood staining his shirt sleeve. “Shit!” He grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser on the counter. “Brand new shirt,” he hissed.
One of the Pat’s employees saw his accident and immediately slid open the screened window, shoving a paper cup of water toward Jim. “Soak the sleeve in water or it’ll stain.”
Jim was still blotting his sleeve when they got back in Lou’s car. Lou looked at Jim’s sleeve. “Messy sons’o’bitches, those steaks,” he said. “Your sleeve looks okay, though. Nice of Margie to give you the water.”
Lou knew all the waitresses at the places they went for lunch. He flirted with them openly and never seemed to get in trouble even when their husbands were on hand. He was always teasing people and they rarely took what he said seriously, but Jim knew that if he tried it he’d be shot dead for sure.
Jim could still feel the soft yet insistent stroking of Suzie’s thumb on the back of his hand. He could see her sharp nipples, her long wet hair and those sparkling blue eyes, so full of desire and promise.
“If ever I did fool around,” Jim remarked as they entered the studio, “it would have been with her. God, she was fine.”
Lou shook his head and smiled. “It’s history now, pal,” he said. “You may as well just go beat your meat.”
Jim nodded and returned to his desk. He was going to tell Lou about the voice, but he didn’t know how to describe it. Soon the phone started ringing and work began to pile up.
#
Nearly a week passed without contact from Gene or John. He’d made the modifications to his drawing on his computer and sent proofs to John, but had gotten no response.
Dan Slater called one evening to announce that he’d won the job he’d interviewed for and would be moving to town in a week. He wanted Jim to help him look for apartments. Jim agreed wholeheartedly, glad to help a friend and to get his mind off the ark project. Dan found a number of likely candidates in center city but all of them had something he didn’t like.
Then Dan hit on the idea of renting a bedroom at Jim’s for a month or two, and over dinner that night Kas agreed.