Удушье (Choke)

Leaning back even harder against the kitchen counter, Beth twists her face not to see and says, 'It looks like some kind of weird torture.'

'Maybe,' I say, 'maybe even Jesus didn't believe in himself at first.'

And I lean into Denny's face, and with one puff, blow out the flame. With one hand cupped under Denny's jaw, to keep him still, I slip the last of the paper tube out of his ear. When I show it to him, the paper is gummy and dark with the earwax the fire wicked out.

Beth turns on the kitchen light.

Denny shows the burned little tube to her, and Beth smells it and says, 'Stinky.'

I say, 'Maybe miracles are like a talent, and you have to start with the small stuff.'

Denny puts a hand over his clean ear and then uncovers it. He covers and uncovers it again, and says, 'Definitely better.'

'I don't mean like Jesus did card tricks,' I say, 'but just not hurting people would be a good start.'

Beth comes around, and she holds her hair back with one hand so she can bend and look into Denny's ear. She squints and gets her head around to see in from different angles.

Rolling another sheet of paper into a thin tube, I say, 'You were on TV the other day, I hear.'

I say, 'I'm sorry.' Just twisting the paper tube tighter and tighter in my hands, I say, 'That was my fault.'

Beth stands straight and looks at me. She shakes her hair back. Denny sticks a finger in his clean ear and digs around, then he smells the finger.

And just holding the paper tube, I say, 'From now on, I want to try and be a better person.'

Choking in restaurants, fooling people, I'm not going to do that kind of shit anymore. Sleeping around, casual sex, that kind of shit.

I say, 'I called the city and complained about you. I called the TV station and told them a bunch of stuff.'

My stomach hurts, but if it's guilt or impacted stool, I can't tell.

Either way, I'm so full of shit.

For a second it's easier to look at the dark kitchen window above the sink, the night outside it. Reflected in the window, there's me looking as wasted and thin as my mom. The new righteous, maybe-divine Saint Me. There's Beth looking at me with her arms folded. There's Denny sitting beside the kitchen table, digging in his dirty ear with his fingernail. Then he peers under the nail.

'The thing is, I just wanted you to need my help,' I say. 'I wanted you to have to ask me for it.'

Beth and Denny look at me for real, and I look at all three of us reflected in the window.

'Sure, yeah,' Denny says. 'I need your help.' To Beth he says, 'What's this about us being on TV?'

And Beth shrugs and says, 'It was Tuesday, I think.' She says, 'No, wait, what is today?'

And I say, 'So you need me?'

And Denny still sitting in the chair, he nods at the paper tube I've got ready. He lifts his dirty ear to me and says, 'Dude, do it again. It's cool. Clean out my other ear.'

Chapter 39