32.
We were in Middle Earth, surrounded by oaks and pines and a lot of rolling green hills. Students with laptops were banging away under trees nearby. Other students were soaking in the sun, and too few were making out. There was one couple, however, going at it like minks. Good for them. College at its best.
We were sitting on the grass. My back was up against the trunk of a gnarled ash tree, and Annette was leaning against her massive backpack which was filled to overflowing.
“Are you a senior?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you live at home?”
She shook her head vehemently. “I needed to get away. Far away. But I couldn’t leave mother and my sisters. So I compromised with my mother. I live in a dorm here at UCI, and my sisters and mother can come visit me anytime.”
I said, “Your father is abusive.” It wasn’t a question.
“Do you know where my mom called me from last night?”
I had a sinking feeling. “The hospital.”
She nodded. “You are good. Two broken ribs and a broken nose. Said she fell down the stairs. We don’t have fucking stairs.”
“Shit.”
“Shit is right. The man is a goddamn animal and I have hated him my entire life.”
“He abuse you?”
“Often.”
“Sexually?”
“No. Not me. I wouldn’t let him. I fought him. So he settled on beating the shit out of me. Broke my arm twice. In the same fucking place. Loves to grab it and shake until something snaps.”
“Were your sisters sexually abused?”
“I think so, and I’m pretty sure little Alyssa is getting the worst of it now, especially now that she’s alone with him.”
“Has your mother ever tried to leave?”
“No. He tells her he will kill her and her daughters. Classic shit. She’s terrified of him.”
“Has anyone ever gone to the police? Have any teachers ever noticed the bruises, questioned your broken arms?”
“The answer is no. Father is an assemblyman for the county. He can have anyone’s job. He knows it and they know it. Our plight has been ignored.”
“Plight,” I said, grinning at her. “You must be a writer.”
“Someday soon I hope to even make money at it.”
“Would you like your father to stop the abuse?”
“Of course. Stupid fucking question.” She leaned forward, hands flat in the grass. Not surprisingly, her nails were unpainted. “Are you going to stop him?”
I shrugged. “I could give a shit if he’s an assemblyman. I work for myself. I could make most men on this earth bend to my will.”
She actually laughed and clapped, and that pretty much made my day. She said, “That’s such a funny way to describe that you are going to royally kick his ass.”
“Royally.”
“He’s a big guy,” she said. “But you’re bigger.”
“I’m bigger than most. And if I happen to break his arm in the process?”
Her gaze hardened. “Tell him it was from me.”
A Frisbee landed next to us. I flicked it back to an embarrassed young lady. She caught it neatly with one hand and dashed off.
“One more thing,” I said. “Do you know why Amanda quit her school band?”
“Because the band director was a creep.”
“How do you know?”
“He made a pass at her,” she said.
“What did she do about it?”
“Told him to leave her alone.”
“I assume he didn’t.”
“No.”
“And then she quit?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did she often confide in you?” I asked.
She looked away. “Yeah, we were close.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“So am I.”
I gave her one of my cards, and she looked at it.
“Nice picture, Mr. Knighthorse,” she said.
“I know.”
33.
It was early morning and the crowd in McDonald’s consisted mostly of old men in tan shorts, white tee shirts and running shoes. Most didn’t look like they did much running.
I was eating a Big Breakfast with Jack at the back of the restaurant. He was sipping his lukewarm black coffee and looking very ungodlike in his bum outfit. Then again, according to him, this is how I expected him to look.
“So who’s running the universe if you’re down here with me?”
“I can be in many places.”
“Convenient,” I said. “Must make waiting in line for Zeppelin tickets a breeze.”
“And makes doing chores a snap.”
“Was that a joke?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“God jokes?”
“Who do you think invented humor?”
“The devil?” I asked.
“There is no devil, you know that.”
“I know that because you told me there’s no devil. I’m still not convinced.”
The man in front of me shrugged and sipped his coffee. I’ve noticed that Jack often didn’t care if I believed him or not. I found that interesting and a little disconcerting.
“Prove to me you’re God.”
“Prove I’m not.”
“Touche,” I said. “What’s the square root of one million?”
“Do you know?”
“No,” I said. “But I will later.”
“Then ask me later.”
“Fine,” I said. “Perform a miracle. A real miracle.”
“Like turning coffee into wine?”
