back three to five years.
She spent time with each document that came from the envelope. She read again and again, trying to put it together, their lives becoming more vivid now, the truth blending with the illusion of the memories in the shoe box. These people had been real, not simply whispers of romance that swirled away and landed safely somewhere else. Outside the rain fell and the wind pushed, but inside she was in another world, lost in Cohen’s creation.
13
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN —he is not dead he is risen.
Joe read it once. Twice. Three times. He sat up on the mattress, naked with a blanket across his legs. The white paper once clean and pure against the filth of his hands and fingernails but now smudged with the same filth. He had read it a hundred times over during the night as the rain and wind beat against the trailer. As the storm had dragged on and the winds became stronger, he drank harder and clenched his jaw tighter and by the light of the lantern he read that note over and over and over. By the end of the worst, he was no longer reading it but reciting it aloud, pacing across the short, narrow floor and rearing back his head and screaming it upward as if to join with the forces of nature. He is not dead he is risen! He is not dead he is risen! Turning up the bottle and reciting it louder and stripping off his clothes and falling drunkenly against the walls of the trailer as it rocked with the weather. Howling all night until the storm let go a little and the bottle was empty and then he fell face-first on the bed with the note clutched in his hand.
Joe sat on the bed with it now and thought of tearing it into a thousand pieces. But instead he held on to it as he got to his feet, put on his clothes, searched around and found a half bottle of water. He drank the water in one take and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and then he walked outside.
Aggie stood under a tarp, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. A coffeepot sat on top of a small gas burner and Aggie poured Joe a cupas he walked over. Joe took it and cast his bloodshot gaze out at the rain. He coughed some and spit and rubbed at his forehead. “I want to go off and look around some.”
Aggie leaned over and took the Bible from his back pocket and turned it back and forth in his hands, its cover worn and soft like sheepskin. “Might wait until it lets up some.”
“I can’t. I can’t wait.”
Aggie drank the coffee. “You all right?”
“I’m all right. Just a rough night, you know.”
“Seemed like it.”
“I guess you slept through it.”
Aggie shrugged.
“I’m getting out for a while. You might let them out, too,” Joe said and he motioned his coffee cup at the locked doors of the trailers.
Aggie nodded. “Go on, then. Keep your eyes out for stragglers and whatever else. God knows who’s running around down here now. Take that Jeep.”
“All right,” Joe answered. He drank his coffee. Waited for any more instruction from Aggie but it didn’t come. Aggie stuck the Bible back in his pocket and he took the key ring from his belt loop. He picked out the key to the Jeep and he took it off and gave it to Joe. As Joe took it, one of the women began to beat on her trailer door and call out.
“That was a bad one last night. Let em breathe,” Joe said.
“I’ll worry about that.”
Joe shoved his hands down in his pockets. Pushed his boot heel into the ground. “It was a bad one last night and it’s been like one long bad one here lately.” He waited for Aggie to say something, but he didn’t. “Seems like it’s badder all the time. Don’t it?”
“Don’t feel much different to me.”
“I didn’t say it feels different. I said it is different.”
Aggie turned to him. “So?”
“So, all I’m saying is, we got a plan for if it gets too bad?”
“It ain’t gonna get too bad.”
“You don’t know that. I damn near shit the bed last night.”
“Then you need to get your shit together,”
She spent time with each document that came from the envelope. She read again and again, trying to put it together, their lives becoming more vivid now, the truth blending with the illusion of the memories in the shoe box. These people had been real, not simply whispers of romance that swirled away and landed safely somewhere else. Outside the rain fell and the wind pushed, but inside she was in another world, lost in Cohen’s creation.
13
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN —he is not dead he is risen.
Joe read it once. Twice. Three times. He sat up on the mattress, naked with a blanket across his legs. The white paper once clean and pure against the filth of his hands and fingernails but now smudged with the same filth. He had read it a hundred times over during the night as the rain and wind beat against the trailer. As the storm had dragged on and the winds became stronger, he drank harder and clenched his jaw tighter and by the light of the lantern he read that note over and over and over. By the end of the worst, he was no longer reading it but reciting it aloud, pacing across the short, narrow floor and rearing back his head and screaming it upward as if to join with the forces of nature. He is not dead he is risen! He is not dead he is risen! Turning up the bottle and reciting it louder and stripping off his clothes and falling drunkenly against the walls of the trailer as it rocked with the weather. Howling all night until the storm let go a little and the bottle was empty and then he fell face-first on the bed with the note clutched in his hand.
Joe sat on the bed with it now and thought of tearing it into a thousand pieces. But instead he held on to it as he got to his feet, put on his clothes, searched around and found a half bottle of water. He drank the water in one take and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve and then he walked outside.
Aggie stood under a tarp, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. A coffeepot sat on top of a small gas burner and Aggie poured Joe a cupas he walked over. Joe took it and cast his bloodshot gaze out at the rain. He coughed some and spit and rubbed at his forehead. “I want to go off and look around some.”
Aggie leaned over and took the Bible from his back pocket and turned it back and forth in his hands, its cover worn and soft like sheepskin. “Might wait until it lets up some.”
“I can’t. I can’t wait.”
Aggie drank the coffee. “You all right?”
“I’m all right. Just a rough night, you know.”
“Seemed like it.”
“I guess you slept through it.”
Aggie shrugged.
“I’m getting out for a while. You might let them out, too,” Joe said and he motioned his coffee cup at the locked doors of the trailers.
Aggie nodded. “Go on, then. Keep your eyes out for stragglers and whatever else. God knows who’s running around down here now. Take that Jeep.”
“All right,” Joe answered. He drank his coffee. Waited for any more instruction from Aggie but it didn’t come. Aggie stuck the Bible back in his pocket and he took the key ring from his belt loop. He picked out the key to the Jeep and he took it off and gave it to Joe. As Joe took it, one of the women began to beat on her trailer door and call out.
“That was a bad one last night. Let em breathe,” Joe said.
“I’ll worry about that.”
Joe shoved his hands down in his pockets. Pushed his boot heel into the ground. “It was a bad one last night and it’s been like one long bad one here lately.” He waited for Aggie to say something, but he didn’t. “Seems like it’s badder all the time. Don’t it?”
“Don’t feel much different to me.”
“I didn’t say it feels different. I said it is different.”
Aggie turned to him. “So?”
“So, all I’m saying is, we got a plan for if it gets too bad?”
“It ain’t gonna get too bad.”
“You don’t know that. I damn near shit the bed last night.”
“Then you need to get your shit together,”
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