Lucky's Girl (19 page)

***

An hour later and Christie still hadn’t spoken, but Mary was still her own opposite; bright, chipper, flirtatious and lewd. Kenny managed to get Mary into some clothes and to help him collect empty and half-empty bottles and overflowing ashtrays to put them in a big black trash bag. He found air deodorizer and sprayed everything. He took the camera out of the bedroom. He couldn’t remember where Lucky had found it so he just put it in the living room. He swept. He cleaned up the puke in the bathroom. He went to Christie’s room and, finding a bathrobe, went back to her parent’s room and wrapped her in it, then walked her to her room and sat her on her bed.

She looked terrible. Beyond terrible; deathly.

He looked at the clock. They had to go. There was no way around it. They had to leave Christie here, despite her condition. There was nowhere else she belonged, and there was no place he and Mary belonged less. Time to go.

He pushed Christie gently back into her bed, and covered her with a blanket. She stared back glassily. No expression. Nothing.

He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Christie.”

He took the big black trash bag and wrangled Mary into her truck.

***

Mary leaned her head out the window, her big rock-star hairdo and smeared out mascara making her look like the ultimate music video bad girl. But her eyes weren’t bad girl eyes. They were brilliant, shiny and happy. Thrilled. Ecstatic. This wasn’t the girl he’d grown up with and, despite every reason to be happy for her, he wasn’t. This just wasn’t her. She was supposed to be silent and demure, even when Lucky made her dress like this.

She turned up every song on the ancient radio and screamed, “I love this song!” He promptly turned it down and looked around warily. There were no secrets in a town this size. Nothing ever changed, and this certainly
was
change.

She was
smoking
.

He reached over, grabbed her cig and threw it out the window.

“Mary, what the hell?”

She squinted at him through the thick black eyeliner. “What’s the matter, Kenny, why so grouchy?”

Then she grabbed his thigh and ran her fingernails up the inside of it.

“If you’re having a bad day, I can change that right now.”

She began working his belt buckle and zipper, and his treacherous teenage flesh kicked right back into robot mode.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her away.

“Mary, please, please snap out of it! I’m glad you’re happy. Really, I am, but I want to talk to you… the real you.”

She threw him a TV bad girl pout, then broke the façade and giggled like a preteen, because that’s who she really was, emotionally and psychologically. Mary had a child’s mind and a woman’s body. And in that moment, that became crystal clear to Kenny.

She hitched around in the cab of the truck and began to massage his side with the soles of her feet. “Okay, Tonto, I’ll be a good girl and answer all your questions.”

Kenny gulped and nodded, trying to keep his mind off of the view up her miniskirt. “Okay, Mary. I’m totally hung-over and sick. Why are you so happy?”

She looked at him like he was just as silly as could be. “Sure, I got a hangover too, but I had a great time with my Tribe last night. I love you. I love Lucky. I love Christie and you love me. This is how it’s going to be forever. Why should I be sad?”

Kenny’s jaw hung down stupidly. Lucky talked about Mary like she was a dog he wanted to put to sleep.
Way rearview mirror, man
. She didn’t see it at all. She apparently didn’t even suspect that was possible. She was completely blind to it.

“Mary, Lucky isn’t going to…”

His voice faltered, his mind going blank. A deep cold chill passed through his body like it was time to start puking again. He felt tingles in his arms like he was going to pass out. He shook his head to get the blood moving and slowed to pull off to her dad’s cabin. He breathed hard, gulping in air. He pulled in front of her place and put it in park.

Mary shook her head and put a finger to his lips.

“Take it easy baby, shhhh.”

She took his chin in her hands and looked into his eyes. She was bright, she was clear. “Kenny, I know you have doubts but that’s all behind us now. We’re gonna be together, and our family is going to grow. More members for the Tribe. You’re Lucky’s main man, his best friend. I’m his main girl, and always will be.”

Sweat was now pouring down his face. “How can you think this? You don’t know. You don’t know, Mary. It’s not like you think it is.”

She shushed him again. She smiled. “I know. I know, Kenny. I doubted too. But it’s all right. Lucky’s not leaving me, not ever. I’m his Alpha. He’s not replacing me with Christie and all the other girls. Last night proved it. We can all share our love. You, me, him, her and anyone else. We’re a tribe.”

Kenny could only shake his head. Mary nodded understandingly.

“Kenny, I went to the Big Tree. I was so scared,
faithless.
I thought Mason was replacing me but the Big Tree told me. It told me, Kenny. I’m his number one because I’m carrying his baby.”

Her eyes welled with tears of outrageous joy. “We’re going to be together forever. One big happy family, sharing everything. Now let me get you inside and get you in bed, you need to sleep this thing off.”

CHAPTER 8

Abby hated cigarettes, despised them. They killed people, innocent people who didn’t know any better than to start and then couldn’t quit until it killed them. When she was younger she’d smoked. Practically everyone did back in the 50’s and 60’s. Again, no one knew any better, but today they did. They caused cancer, emphysema and any number of other ailments. They were a violation of man’s covenant with God to treat the body as a temple. Right now however, she was smoking, pacing back and forth across the deck behind their house.

Officer Jerry had come up to the AA meeting to pull the Rev out, even though he was chairing it. Adding to the weirdness, was that Jerry was supposed to have chaired the meeting but didn’t show up ‘til thirty minutes later to pull the Rev out. They’d driven off without a word, leaving Abby to finish off the meeting and hand out the little coins representing various lengths of sobriety, try to pair up new guys with sponsors, then to drive some folks home in the church van.

She took a big drag and blew it out. Kools 100’s.

She preferred Winston’s, but this was what they had. They kept whatever smokes they could scrounge for the new guys drying out in the basement of the church. She felt bad about taking this one. They needed them more than she did.

But what the heck was going on?

She shouldn’t be saying things like that, that’s where swearing begins.

Heck, she shouldn’t be smoking.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at her internal arguments.

She wanted to call Slim, Jerry’s deputy, or Errol the mailman but that would be presumptuous. Not that they would ever say that, much less think it, but it would be nonetheless. She was the preacher’s wife, not the First Lady. She didn’t have any special privileges despite the fact they were pretty dang important in this little burg.

Maybe she could just pick up the phone and call Errol to see how he’s doing?

Along the way, she could ask if he knew what was going on.

But that would be dishonest. Not a lie, but still dishonest.

She’d smoked the cigarette down to the butt. Jesus, please don’t let it be a domestic abuse case which had turned into murder. That had happened before in Elton. That’s what alcoholism did. That’s where it ends up. Jails, institutions, or death. In Elton, it was usually death. Not the violent kind mostly, but the slow miserable variety. Nevertheless the violent kind did happen.

What if there had been some kind of a standoff? A guy with a gun, so they’d called the Rev out to try talking him down. That meant they probably knew him. Or her. How many people did they know who were candidates for that sort of thing? Well, probably none, but in Drunktown, you never knew for sure.

Now she was straight-up worried.

Her hands went for the pack of Kools. Menthol. Disgusting. But she wanted another one anyways. Then she heard the tapping on the glass, her heart almost leaping out of her chest.

It was Mary, standing on the other side of the sliding glass doors, looking at her from her own kitchen, smiling and laughing.

Well, her reaction probably was funny, as was catching the preacher’s wife smoking. But this was Mary. Mary didn’t just walk into someone’s home, startle them and laugh. Mary ordinarily had to be coaxed in and then would look at her shoes the entire time. She was one of those tragic American Indian girls who didn’t speak unless spoken to. And she was so beautiful! Caught in an unguarded moment when a faint smile would cross her face, it was so radiant.

But here she was, wearing jeans, laughing.
Glowing
. She slid the glass door aside and practically leapt over to her, giving her the giant hug Abby had always wanted from her. Ordinarily it was the other way around.

Abby melted. She had loved Mary from the moment she’d first appeared with Mason and Kenny. Three little angels. Abby was always concerned for Kenny, because of the hard hand he’d been dealt, but she knew Frank McCord was a good man. A damaged man, but a good man nonetheless. Mary’s father was a bum. He would leave her to care for her mother while he’d drink the little money he’d earned. Then her mother had died and he’d practically disappeared leaving Mary to fend for herself.

That was when Mason had taken that other girl, Christie, to the prom. She’d never been ashamed of him until that moment. He’d smiled reassuringly, saying it was just school politics, that she had been elected prom queen and he prom king, so that’s just the way it worked out. He said Mary was too shy for the prom anyways. Somehow the Rev was convinced. Somehow Kenny was convinced, but Abby wanted so badly for him to take this sweet angel to the prom to let her know how beautiful and special she really was.

But all of that was done and something else was happening here. Abby had a gut feeling she knew:
She’s pregnant
.

Mary stepped back from the hug, giving Abby and her cigarette a playful faux disapproving look. “Tsk tsk, Abby! What would the good folks of Elton Township say?”

Abby did her best to look nonplussed. She understood this would be a big talk, but Mary was acting downright weird. She had called her Abby, she had walked in their house unannounced and uninvited. She was wearing jeans, not the usual long straight skirt, plus her hair wasn’t straight and parted down the middle like she normally had it. It was styled like a city girl would do it. Like
Christie
would do.

“I’m so sorry, Mary, I hate for you to see me like this, I’m just… well don’t you worry about me, sweetie, I’ll just put this out.”

She reached over to toss the cig off the balcony but noticed that Mary had pulled out a smoke of her own and was lighting up. Sweet, shy, terrified Mary was lighting a cigarette in front of the preacher’s wife!

“Oh, don’t do that on account of little old me,
Mom
, because I’m gonna smoke.”

No apologies. No looking away. Smiling, happy, confident.

Abby couldn’t help but smile back. Abby didn’t care one whit about the people who said women had to wear their hair straight and parted down the middle, and couldn’t look beautiful. To see Mary like this was a dream, even if she was smoking.

Abby sank slowly into the folding chair, never taking her eyes off the girl. She was like a flower blooming in spring. Abby fought back a tear. “So what brings you by, honey? Mason’s off somewhere I guess, maybe with Kenny. Did you want to help me start slingin’ cookies for church this Wednesday?”

Mary sat at her feet, putting her head on her knee. “No, Abby, I came here to talk to you and the Rev. I guess he’s out?”

Abby’s chest tightened. They were about to have
that talk
every parent of this modern age dreaded. And there were ramifications. Abby felt like a bad person for even thinking like that, but it was unavoidable. They were in charge of a good-sized church and this wouldn’t look good. Mason had a big future as an evangelist and this would affect that. These thoughts came hard and fast until she realized that something was missing.

Where
was
Mason?

Shouldn’t he be here for this talk?

Shouldn’t he be here to say, “It’s going to be okay, we’re going to get married, and we’re going to make it work.”

It was obvious to everybody with eyes that they’d been together since little kids. They had been made for each other. He was larger than life, she was his anchor. Shouldn’t Mason be here for this?

Abby couldn’t help it, her voice cracked. “So what’s going on, sweetie?”

***

Thirty minutes later the Rev walked in the door, looking pale and ashen. Abby looked the same too, but Mary was still glowing and radiant. The Rev opened the sliding doors, sitting down without a word. He reached over to the pack of Kools and lit up.

Jerry should’ve chaired the meeting but hadn’t shown. Instead he’d walked in and had tapped the Rev on the shoulder while a guy called Food Stamp Fred was sharing. Food Stamp was three months sober and hadn’t sold any food stamps to buy Canadian the whole time. People laughed. Food Stamp wondered if he was gonna need a new nickname. The Rev had followed Jerry out of the door while Abby watched and tried to keep the meeting on topic. After they’d gone and Food Stamp had finished sharing, Abby had said a few rote things about sponsorship and fellowship, but her mind had wandered. From the little windows she’d seen the headlights of Jerry’s cruiser pulling away. After a few moments she knew the Rev had gone with him.