Heaven or Hell (22 page)

“The voices, the nightmares. I’m sure there was more to it than just that,” the priest said to encourage his friend to speak. This wasn’t confession, but he wanted Juan to relieve his mind.

“Well, yeah. I guess I did share some of it with you,” Juan whispered.

“Have you had any pain medicine?” Father Benjamin asked.

“Willa gave me something last night and they’re going to put me on the morphine pump today. I wanted a clear head to talk to Teresa and Jessie, and to meet JJ, though I don’t think it helped. I doubt they’ll be back. But I’ve made my own peace. I’m ready to go.”

Father Benjamin remembered the waiting room fiasco about five years before, when Juan was left to drown in his own bile. At the time he would never have thought they’d work side by side and become such good friends.

“Do you want your last rites?” the priest asked. He had come ready for just that.

“No, no. I’m thinking I’ve got a little life left in me and I don’t want you to jinx it.” Juan winked. “Don’t you find it strange—I’m talking one second, and the next second I could be dead.”

“Yes, death is difficult to deal with. I’m glad you’ve had some type of a warning.” Father Benjamin looked down at the floor. He’d attended dying parishioners before, but this was harder. This touched him personally.

“I appreciate you seeing me as a friend and not a priest.”

Father Benjamin smiled. Although Juan never admitted it, the priest knew that he prayed and believed in God. Juan worshipped in his own way, and that was okay with the priest. It had created some controversy with the elder clergymen, but they had gotten over it. A big part of their distaste dissipated when they learned Juan was working out on Skid Row, a job many of the folks at the church shied away from. It was okay for them to turn their backs on what they deemed Juan’s “lack of faith” as long as he was doing their dirty work.

At least that was Father Benjamin’s view of their hypocrisy. The priest silently reprimanded himself for being judgmental again.

“Any news on the General?” Juan asked.

“No. I keep thinking he’ll show up for dinner, but nothing,” the priest responded bringing his mind back to those poor souls he felt responsible for.

“Did we ever check the shelters across town, out of his area?” Juan put the back of his hand on his forehead. His breathing was labored.

“A couple of the gals made some calls. Why are you asking? You should be more focused on yourself, now.”

“That’s funny, Father.” Juan chuckled and then coughed. “Most of my life was all about me, which is why I’m in this situation.”

The priest spoke in a hushed tone. “Not really, Juan. You give yourself no credit for the last five years.” And surely God forgave Juan for all his decades of alcoholism when he wasn’t able to help even himself.

Juan ignored the priest’s prodding. “Well, I think the General is inside. Some kind of confined space.”

“What makes you think this? Did you have a vision?” Father Benjamin resisted the urge to laugh.

“Now you’re making fun of me like no priest ever should.” Juan somehow managed to wave a finger at the priest and then wink. “Angela did. She had the vision.”

The priest laughed and Juan joined him as well as he was able. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny,” said the father. “I’m trying to deal with my best friend’s death.”

“It’s okay. I can take it. I’m a big boy.” Juan’s tone sounded condescending to Father Benjamin.

The priest laughed harder, and Juan appeared to be attempting to join him in his laughter, but he paused and coughed a while. “Hey, Father, I think you’re taking twenty minutes off of my life making me laugh.” Juan snickered and then cringed slightly as if from pain.

“Well, at least you go down with a smile on your face.” Father Benjamin couldn’t believe he’d said something so insensitive.

“You got that right!” Juan winced as his voice rose up.

“After all, laughter is the best medicine.” The priest chuckled, hoping that was true and that he hadn’t added to Juan’s discomfort.

“I do feel a lot better,” Juan said, and then with a sober look on his face he continued. “No, really, I do.”

Father Benjamin sat up straighter in his chair and tried to focus on the more serious matter of Juan’s death. “Laughing is also a defense mechanism, isn’t it?” he observed.

“Well, yes. But it was more fun not thinking about that part of it. You know? It’s hard to believe my life’s almost over,” Juan murmured. His legs moved restlessly under the covers.

“Well, if you go soon, maybe you can find out where the General is and somehow tell me.” The priest wanted to take his words back as soon as they left his mouth. “I’m sorry, that was a really bad joke.”

“I’ll tell you what, Father, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

The words removed the smile from Father Benjamin’s face. “Yep,” he responded.

“Well, it’s all I’ve been dealing with for the last week. A part of me wants my simple life back.” He offered a weak smile.

Father Benjamin sat quietly and listened.

“I know it’s pathetic, but I had my routines. I felt safe. Now, I’m scared,” Juan said.

“For this God is our God for ever and ever; he will be our guide even to the end,” Father Benjamin whispered. He knew this was true, but he imagined he, too, would be frightened when leaving this familiar world for the next.

“No, no, don’t start, please,” Juan requested. He seemed to lie more heavily against his pillows, and he closed his eyes.

Father Benjamin sighed, sat in silence with his friend, and prayed for him.

CHAPTER 21
 

JESSIE OPENED HER LEFT EYE AND saw the tattered black and white essay book sitting on her nightstand. Darn, she’d hoped all of it had been her imagination at work, but she couldn’t be that lucky. Joe was back and definitely leaving chaos in his wake.

She sat up in bed and reached for her clock since a small bowl she’d used for popcorn last night along with the paper wrappers from her Big Hunk candy blocked her view. Joe had really rocked her world. She hadn’t eaten that late in years, and such junk to top it off.

The clock displayed 5:00 a.m. Why was she up so early? Usually she slept in later and stayed up late. As she began to age, she’d noticed she needed fewer hours of sleep at night, but yet her energy levels seemed to be diminishing. So difficult getting old—something that her brother, Joe, wouldn’t have to worry about.

Jessie decided to get up, make some coffee, and then head over to the hospital. She felt it in her bones—he was going to be gone real soon. Even though he’d handed them such a cockamamie story, she wanted to be around her brother for a while and help him through this last phase of his life. Her brother was a real deliverer of tales, and this was the most difficult part for her to comprehend. Why couldn’t he just stand up and be accountable for his actions? Crazy, crazy man.

Jessie hurried through her morning routine. She’d arrive before visiting hours, but she trusted that the hospital staff would let her in. Something about Joe’s rapport with these people during his dying days made her believe this would be okay. If the hospital in general were strict, Willa would look the other way—assuming she was there this morning. In the few moments Jessie had spent with Willa, they’d become fast friends.

A heartbreaker was what this would all come down to. Joe, or Juan—whatever the hell his name was—would stay alive long enough to make his family care again, and then he’d die. Leaving his daughter, grandson, and everyone else scratching their heads and wondering what had just occurred. Not much Jessie could do about it now, except for trying to talk Joe out of sharing his craziness with Teresa. Or if he’d shared it already, maybe she could get him to help convince Teresa he was mentally disturbed. Then he could, kind of like … take it back.

Jessie was glad she’d get to see Joe again, because the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of having closure. Finally just about ready to start out, Jessie allowed herself to leave a few dishes in the sink in order to exit quickly for the hospital. Opening the front door, she shuddered as the chilly early morning air slammed against her face. She laughed at her reaction, and told herself, “The people in Bismarck would think you’re crazy for being cold right now. Or crazy for talking to yourself. Ha!”

Jessie trotted to her car and immediately turned the heater on. “Sissy.” She aimed her insult at the air vent. “Crazy,” she then said to her reflection in the mirror and followed it with, “Torres family curse.”

As she backed out of the driveway, Jessie realized she’d neglected her weeding, and her yard was starting to look a bit frayed around the edges. She made a mental note to return to her yard work that afternoon. A little a day kept the messiness away. But at least the seediness wasn’t easy to recognize in the dark morning hours. God help her when she saw the yard in the light of day.

Jessie clutched the steering wheel and zipped through the neighborhood. Speeding over the morning roads made her feel a whole lot better. Control was what she’d lacked during the last twenty-four hours, and at the steering wheel she felt in control again. Yesterday had simply been no picnic whatsoever. Joe had sucked the life out of all of them in one fell swoop. Grief, sadness, regret, anger, hate, and love—just a few of the turns on the roller-coaster ride he’d been offering. Now, how much time did she have to convince him to leave it alone and simply say good-bye?

Jessie pulled into the hospital parking lot ten minutes after she’d left her house. With her head tucked down, she hurried through the front of the hospital and through the halls trying to show confidence, as if she were a hospital worker. She laughed to herself when she realized she didn’t need to feel she was going to be arrested. The halls were almost empty this morning, and the silence was soothing.

Jessie stopped short when she entered her brother’s room and saw Father Benjamin seated next to Joe. Both men were silent.

“I’m sorry, Father. Am I disturbing something?” she asked. These priests—who knew what nonsense they might hand out to a man at the threshold of death.

“Hello, Jessie.” Father Benjamin stood up and gestured toward the other chair. “Have a seat. I’m glad you’re here.”

“What’s happening? I woke up and thought I needed to be here,” Jessie told them both. “Joe, what does the doctor say?”

Joe appeared to be awake and more alive this morning.

“I’m still here. They don’t know for sure, but soon is what I’m hearing, and sometimes feeling,” Joe answered. “Earlier, we were talking about what to do with my remains.”

“Oh,” Jessie said, and she sat down.

“Your brother asked me to hold his ashes until Teresa’s ready to take them,” the priest explained.

“I thought you wanted them scattered in the ocean or something like that,” Jessie said.

“Why?” Joe asked.

“I don’t know,” Jessie said with a nervous chuckle. “Just something I thought you mentioned long ago.”

“I was probably drunk. I’m not much for water,” Joe answered without much emphasis.

“I know,” Jessie replied. “I always thought it was a strange request from you. So we could put your ashes near Marion’s grave. That’d take the decision away from Teresa, and she could visit once she … you know, once she gets past this …”

Joe’s eyes moved from Jessie to the priest. “What do you think, Father? It’s not a bad idea.”

“It works for me. I’ll research it and see what we need to do to get it done,” the father answered.

“What about the Church, Father? You’re okay with cremation?” Jessie asked. “And will Marion mind, Joe, that you’ll be next to her?” What, really, was she asking? Not if Marion, now, would mind—since his wife was long dead. Jessie meant, of course, did he think it would be respectful to her memory. But Marion wouldn’t have minded, would she have—what was she thinking?

“Marion always said the body is a shell, and she’d left hers years ago. So no, she won’t mind,” Joe answered Jessie.

“I’m okay with cremation. The Church, in general, has a different opinion,” the priest added in.

“How’d it go with Teresa and JJ last night? I haven’t talked to her yet.” Jessie was, frankly, curious.

“Not so good. She didn’t want to hear any of it. She pushed me to deliver and it all came out wrong.” Joe closed his eyes and mumbled. “Teresa’s really mad at me now. Worse than before we talked.”

“I’m not going to say it, but I’m thinking it,” Jessie said. She’d told him so.

“I had to try,” Joe answered her.

“Why?” Jessie shook her head.

“Come on now, let’s not start,” Joe whispered.

“Well.” Father Benjamin stood up. “I think I’ll head out and leave you two alone.”

The priest reached out for Joe’s hand and held it for a moment. Jessie watched Father Benjamin’s eyes meet her brother’s. The priest then nodded, turned, and slowly left the room.

“He’s not happy about you dying,” Jessie said. “That priest is going to miss you, Joe. How the hell did that happen?”

Joe laughed and suddenly cringed as if with pain. “I know,” he whispered. “It makes no sense at all. I’ve got a priest for a friend. Fancy that.”

“And no laughing, you.” Jessie pointed her finger at her brother. “Enough of this craziness—it’s time for you to relax.”

“I think I’ll able to relax a lot here in a few,” Joe said.

“How do you know that? You don’t know anything for sure, do you, Joe? So listen up, it’s time to let go, get pain medicine, and say good-bye. Enough already!” Jessie’s voice echoed against the clean, white walls. “Sorry, that was too loud,” she then whispered.

“Oh God, I missed you. I did.” Joe managed a slight smile.

“Well, what’s done is done.” Jessie slapped her hands together. “I’d like to take you to breakfast, but I see you’re all tied up.”

“Very funny.”

“But seriously, do you want me to find Willa and get you some pain medicine? This is crazy—you’re turning gray,” Jessie said.

“What? Where did my yellow tint go?” Joe asked.

“Don’t be so silly—it’s there. Underneath the gray,” Jessie answered.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Joe asked.