All the Major Constellations (13 page)

THE NEXT DAY ANDREW SPENT his lunch break skimming the Bible for something he could talk about at the study group. He read a little Old Testament and a little New Testament. Again he felt bored and frustrated.

He got permission from Neal to use the office for a long-distance call. Marcia wasn't at her hotel or the hospital, but one of the nurses told Andrew, even though she wasn't supposed to, that Sara was doing just fine. “Her status hasn't changed,” she said. Andrew wondered where Marcia was. Hopefully doing something unrelated to Sara. He pictured Marcia alone at the cafeteria, eating a sad slice of pizza and reading a big book of Spanish poetry.

Poetry.
He grabbed his Bible again. He flipped through the pages until he found where the text was broken into lines that
resembled poems: the Psalms. Poetry, or at least the beauty of it, was something he could understand. He read.

Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint;

O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony.

Finally, a connection.

• • •

When he got to Laura's house that night, one of her little sisters answered the door. She looked to be about seven or eight years old. Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a crown. She was pudgy and rosy cheeked.

“They're at the church. They tried to call you,” she said to Andrew before he'd said a word.

“Oh,” he said as she closed the door.

Andrew stood for a moment on the porch. He listened to the sounds of happiness, of children and adults giggling and having a good time. Perhaps they were playing a board game or doing something similarly wholesome.

“Was that the new kid?” he heard a woman ask.

Andrew stepped off the porch and got back into his car. He didn't like this “new kid” shit. He drove to the church. It was dark. There were only two cars in the lot. He grabbed his Bible and went to the front doors, but they were chained shut. He briefly held the large padlock and peered inside. Then he remembered to go around back.

The back door was open. He stepped inside the dark hallway. Where should he go? He figured they wouldn't be in the kitchen, so he tried some of the other doors. The floorboards creaked as he fumbled around and looked for a light switch. Then he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Shit!” he said, spinning around. He came face to face with a man.

“Don't curse in this house,” the man said.

“Sorry,” Andrew said.

“You're Andy?”

“Andr— Yes,” Andrew said. The man had not removed his hand from Andrew's shoulder. He still hadn't found the light switch, so they were blinking at each other, trying to make each other out in the dark.
This must be Chip,
Andrew thought, breathing a little easier. He moved slightly so that Chip's hand fell off his shoulder. Something about this action seemed to break the tension between them.

“Welcome!” Chip said. Then he turned on a light. The fluorescent bulb cast a yellow glow, which was perhaps why Chip didn't look so good. He had the face and body of a young person, but his skin was gray and pale, his hair prematurely balding, his eyes bloodshot. A few brown wisps were combed over his shiny forehead. “That way,” he said, and pointed down the stairs.

“You're not coming?” Andrew asked.

“Not tonight,” he said.

Andrew walked down the narrow staircase. When he got to the bottom, there was another door. He looked back up the
stairs, intending to thank Chip, or perhaps assure himself that he wasn't an apparition.

He was still there, still pointing. “Go on, go on,” he said.

Andrew slipped through the door. He found himself in a small room lined with books. In the center of the room sat Laura, John, Matt, and Goatee Seth.

“Hey, sorry, I'm late—” he started to say.

“Shhh,” Seth said.

Andrew stopped. Then he realized they were praying. Their heads were bowed and their eyes were closed. There were only four chairs in the room, and they were occupied. Laura was wearing a light blue sweater over a jean skirt. Her feet were tucked up under her. Her hair was braided and coiled around her head in the same fashion as her younger sister. They must have been playing with each other's hair. He gazed at her lovely face, at her slightly parted lips. Then he felt as if he were violating her while she communicated with her God, so he looked away. He studied the books. They were all Bibles.

He sat on the floor and opened his own Bible. While the group prayed, he read the Psalm he'd chosen, lingering over his favorite parts.

Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am faint;

O LORD, heal me, for my bones are in agony.

My soul is in anguish.

How long, O LORD, how long? . . .

I am worn out from groaning;

all night long I flood my bed with weeping

and drench my couch with tears.

“Cool,” he whispered. He liked the language, which struck him as overwrought, torrid, and even erotic. The “worn out from groaning” bit also meant something to him personally. It was the way he often felt about Laura. Exhausted from wanting her and not getting what he wanted. He wondered if Laura or Matt or even John would be able to discern this in his choice of Psalm.

He looked at the silent group again. They were still at it. He forced himself to shift his gaze from Laura to Matt, from Matt to John. He even studied Goatee Seth's stern serious face. He didn't have a watch, but he felt like he'd been there for at least fifteen minutes. He wondered about Chip. He remembered the strange story that Matt had told him about Chip at the Bible camp. The incident seemed to upset Matt because of Chip's apparent loss of faith, but it bothered Andrew for other reasons. Why would the youth pastor drag Matt off in the middle of the night? Why would he confess such a thing to someone so much younger than himself? And what was he doing here now, lurking around instead of joining his flock? Andrew tried to shrug off his apprehensions. It was none of his damn business. He was here for Laura. Andrew leaned back against a wall of Bibles and closed his eyes.

• • •

“Andrew?” Someone shook him lightly.

He jerked awake. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep,” he said. He looked at Matt.

“I know you've got a demanding job,” Matt said.

“Have you accepted Christ into your heart?” asked Goatee Seth.

Matt was crouching down next to him. John, Laura, and Seth were still seated in their prayer circle. John was looking at the floor, his hands loosely wound in his lap. Laura was fiddling with her necklace. Seth was frowning at him. Andrew extended his hand to Matt, who took it and hoisted him to his feet.

“Not yet,” Andrew said.

“We start with thirty minutes or so of silent prayer,” Seth said. His expression was severe, made perhaps more severe by his little beard. At first Andrew didn't respond, then he realized that something was expected of him.

“Sorry I missed the prayer part,” he said. “I didn't realize the location changed.”

“My fault,” Matt said. “I called you at the last minute.”

“Who'd you talk to?” Andrew said.

“Your mother,” Matt said.

“How'd she sound?” Andrew said.

Matt was about to respond when Seth said, “And
then
we discuss a chapter and verse selected by our youth pastor. Only he couldn't be here tonight.”

“Actually, I think he's here somewhere. He told me to come down here,” Andrew said.

“No one is here but us,” Seth said.

So he was just lurking around,
Andrew thought. Out loud he said, “Whatever. Someone told me to come down here. I didn't make them up.”

“No one is saying that,” John said, looking up for the first time.

“This is a waste of time,” Seth said.

“Let's talk about doubt,” Laura said suddenly. “Doubt and belief.” She looked at Andrew as she spoke. Her eyes seemed to twinkle, and she smiled invitingly. She closed her Bible and placed it on a table behind her.

“Chip said we shouldn't just talk without guidance,” Seth said, holding up his Bible.

“He certainly does,” Matt muttered. Only Andrew heard.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone seemed to be looking at John.
He's second in command,
Andrew realized. Goatee Seth was trying to take charge, but they didn't really respect him. And John was staring at the floor again. Andrew cleared his throat.

“I picked out a Psalm that I like,” he said.

“Will you read it to us?” Matt said.

“Yes, I'd like that,” Laura said, ignoring Seth, who was sputtering.

Andrew opened his Bible and ran his finger along the words of Psalm 6. He felt like laughing all of a sudden. The dynamics of the group amused him. He'd expected to be out of his league, to
be intellectually tested in some way that would demand he rise to the occasion, sort of like arguing with Marcia. But the study group was rudderless without Chip and with John apparently checked out.

Andrew cleared his throat and was about to read when the door opened and a girl walked in. Andrew recognized her immediately. It was Karen, the bitchy girl from the soup kitchen. She was dressed in a short tight skirt and white T-shirt that was knotted at her waist. Tan lines from her bathing suit graced her collarbones and long thin neck.

“What are you doing here?” Seth said.

“
He's
invited to your study group and I'm not?” she asked, jerking her head toward Andrew.

“John invited him. It wasn't
my
idea,” Seth said.

Karen flicked her eyes at John. “Oh,” she said.

Andrew looked back and forth between Seth and Karen. Those pointy severe features, he realized; they were brother and sister.

Laura rose from her seat and embraced Karen. The two girls held each other tightly for several moments until Laura pulled away. “Come on, sweetie,” she said. “You know you've never shown an interest.”

“I
am
interested,” Karen whined. “Take me seriously.”

“How can we when you barely show up for anything else?” Seth said.

“Guys, not here,” Laura said.

“Laura's right,” Matt said.

“We'll come back and do this right next week. And, Karen, you're welcome to join us,” John said.

“Really?” She smiled at John.

John clasped his hands together and bowed his head. The others followed suit. Andrew bowed his head too, but he didn't close his eyes. John recited the Lord's Prayer. His voice dropped to a deep murmur. It was very
natural
, Andrew thought, the way they prayed together, the way they carried each other's words. It was like a beautifully rehearsed play, the actors gliding around one another like a harmonious school of pretty fish.

When they were finished, Karen and Seth slipped off together. As soon as the door closed behind them, they started to argue.

“You're so immature,” Seth hissed.

“You think excluding
me
will get you in with them. . . .” Karen's voice trailed off as they walked up the stairs. Laura rolled her eyes at Matt.

They're the cool kids,
Andrew thought, and Seth is an interloper who wants, as Karen put it,
in.
It didn't surprise him, now that he thought about it. John, Laura, and Matt were attractive and smart and confident. The social dynamics of their youth group resembled the social dynamics of any group of teenagers, regardless of whether Jesus was involved.

“Brother and sister?” Andrew said to no one in particular.

“Twins,” Laura said.

“They really shouldn't bicker like that all the time,” Matt said.

“Seth seems kind of harsh,” Andrew said.

“We shouldn't talk about them when they're not here,” John said.

“You're so right,” Laura said to John. She smiled at him, and her eyes glowed with admiration and respect. Andrew grimaced.

“This isn't how it usually goes,” Matt said to Andrew.

“Oh?” Andrew said. His eyes were on John and Laura, whose heads were close together as they examined something in her Bible. John seemed to be explaining something to her.

“Last week we were discussing the power of redemption,” Matt said.

“What about it?” Andrew said, not looking at Matt and trying to hear what John was saying to Laura.

“Andrew,” Matt said.

“Yeah?” Andrew said.

“Your mom. She sounded kind of upset.”

Shit,
Andrew thought. He hadn't thought to check in with his mother while he was staying at the Avella office. She was probably upset because of the charges. Maybe there were some new developments? He would stop by later. In the meantime he would try and salvage what he could from the study group.

“You need a ride home?” he asked Laura.

“I'm all set,” she said. She barely glanced at him as she spoke.

“All right. Bye,” Andrew said.

“Call me later, okay?” Matt said to Andrew.

“Sure,” Andrew said. John and Laura were absorbed in their discussion. As he turned to go, he thought he glimpsed John's hand on Laura's knee.

He marched up the stairs, furious with himself, with Laura, and with John. How could he possibly compete with John? He reached the back door of the church and thrust it open. He took his Bible out of his pocket and glared at it, intending to toss it into the field.

“What am I doing?” he shouted at the book.

“What indeed?” said a voice to his left.

He turned, expecting weirdo Chip, and was nearly ready to punch him, but it was Seth who emerged from the shadows. Andrew glared at him and said nothing.

He got in his car and drove to his house to check on his mom. No one was home.

ON THURSDAY HIS MOM CALLED him at work. It was lunchtime. They were all huddled around the picnic tables when Neal came out of the office and told him she was on the phone.

“You should come home,” she said.

“It's only been three days.”

“Things are fine. Everyone feels bad about what happened.”

“Please. What's really going on?”

She sighed. Andrew could picture her furrowing her brow and tapping her foot. “Reporters are sniffing around. It would look better if we were together as a family.”

“Whatever,” Andrew said. He hung up.

When he came out of the office, he was met with some curious gazes. Most of the week Neal had him trimming bushes by himself or mowing lawns with Ben, but he'd had to fend off some questions about Brian at the lunch hour. The old-timers were
polite. Andrew admired their old-school everyone-should-mind-their-own-damn-business New Englander ethos. But they were a dying breed. The younger guys all wanted to know about the case.

“You okay?” Cory said to him.

“I'm fine,” Andrew said. He sat back down and started to eat.

“Was that your brother? Or a reporter?” he pressed. Cory fiddled with his water bottle. “I heard that it was these other guys and that Brian wasn't even involved,” he said.

Another college kid, Ted something, Andrew didn't know him too well, sat down next to him and Cory.

“If you ask me,” Ted said loudly, “it's all bullshit.”

Andrew swallowed. “What's all bullshit?”

“You know, the case. You know,” Ted said with affected nonchalance. It was like he wanted to bond over it or something. It infuriated Andrew.

“I don't know. Why don't you tell me?” Andrew said. He stood up.

“Simmer down,” said Neal.

“I think Ted's just saying that we all support you,” Cory said.

“Well, that's fucking ridiculous,” Andrew said. “I have nothing to do with it.” He packed up his sandwich and walked into the office. He grabbed his Bible and stared at it. Cory knocked on the door and opened it at the same time.

“What?” Andrew said.

“Sorry about that. Ted's an ass,” Cory said. “Hey, what are you reading?”

“The word of God. Why do you ask?”

“Oh.”

Cory stood in the doorway, looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. Cory was like an actor who couldn't figure out his role. A bros-before-hoes type, a college intellectual, a blue-collar worker, a peacemaker nice guy—nothing fit. He was just trying his best.

“Forget it,” Andrew said. “Sorry, I'm being a prick.”

“No, man, that's cool. I used to go to church.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Cory came into the office and sat down at Neal's desk.

“Which church?” Andrew asked.

“Saint Mary's. Catholic.”

“Do you still go?”

“Noooo,” Cory said. He leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. “I don't believe in God.”

“I guess I'm on the fence. I don't know.”

“So what gives?”

“It's complicated. There's this girl.”

“Cherchez la femme,”
Cory said.

“Huh?”

“It's French for ‘look for the woman.' When the shit hits the fan, when you're trying to figure out a mystery, or explain some inexplicable behavior,
cherchez la femme
.”

Neal poked his head in the door. “Back to work. And get your ass out of my chair,” he said. Cory leaped up.

“I like that
cherchez
thing,” Andrew said as they went back outside.

“French is full of stuff like that,” Cory said. “Perfect phrases.”

“Kinda sexist,” said Andrew.

“So is the Bible,” Cory said.

• • •

No one was home when he arrived. Maybe they'd planned it that way; maybe nobody cared. Becky, at least, was glad to be back. She jumped around the kitchen and sat in the place where he usually put her food bowl.

The answering machine was blinking. There were two messages from reporters, one message from his mother telling him not to talk to reporters, and a message from John, simply asking him to call back.

John. Andrew was both jealous and wary of John. He also felt sorry for him, and he wasn't entirely sure what inspired that feeling. But John was an avenue to Laura. He picked up on the second ring.

“I got your number from Matt. That's cool, right?”

“Yeah. Of course. What's up?”

“I just wanted to see how you're feeling.”

“I'm fine.” Andrew tried to relax. Why was he being such a jerk? “I've got to wash your shirt.”

“Don't worry about it. Keep it.”

“Um, okay.”

“Anyway, I'm planning a hike,” John said.

“Who's going?” Andrew said.

“Me and Matt, a few others. I'm still trying to put it all together.”

Andrew thought, if Laura was going, John would have said so. But he didn't want to ask directly about her. “I kind of have a lot going on right now. And I've got work tomorrow.”

“The hike's not tomorrow. I was thinking Sunday.”

“Sunday? Don't you have church?”

“God is everywhere. Besides, it's a sunrise hike.”

“A what?”

“We time it so that the sun hits when we're at the top of the mountain.”

Andrew thought for a moment. It actually sounded kind of nice. And Laura would probably be there, right? If she wasn't, he could at least further ingratiate himself with her friends.

“Which mountain?” he asked.

“Darren. Well-marked trail. Easy climb.”

“Can I bring my dog?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay,” Andrew said.

“Okay?”

“Yup.”

“Awesome. We'll meet at Matt's house. Three thirty a.m.,” John said.

“Should I bring my car?” Andrew recalled that Darren Mountain was a couple of towns over.

“I think we have enough cars. You can ride with me,” John said, then added, “I'll pick you up.”

“I might need my car for an emergency.” Something about John's tone was bothering him. Besides, if Laura came, he might be able to drive her and have Becky take up the backseat so they could be alone.

“That's cool,” John said.

A sunrise hike on a Sunday morning with a bunch of fundamentalist Christian kids. What was he getting himself into? He double-checked the answering machine and scanned the counter for notes—Marcia had apparently not called. Andrew was determined to get in touch with her. He hadn't spoken to her in almost a week, and he wanted to, badly. Marcia was
Reason
. Marcia was
Science
. Despite the spiritual distress she suffered from her father's death, her mother's illness, even Sara's accident, Andrew had no doubt that Marcia saw the forest through the trees. She was not, inherently, on the side of faith. She might envy those who had it, but it was simply not hers to have. He needed that kind of clarity. When the phone rang, he sprang up, almost, but not quite, wanting it to be Marcia over anyone else, even Laura.

“This is Glenn from the
Journal
. Is this Andrew Genter?” The man's voice was silky and deep.

“Shit,” Andrew said, and hung up.

A reporter calling and asking for him by name. What the fuck was that about? The phone rang again. He let the answering machine pick up.

“Listen, Andrew, we just wanted to get your side of the story—”

Andrew picked up the phone. “Leave me alone. It has nothing to do with me.”

“What doesn't?”

Andrew hung up again. This time the reporter didn't call back. He heard a car pull into the driveway. His first thought was to go upstairs to his room, but he decided to stay. The status quo needed to be reestablished. Might as well get it over with. Andrew knew how to walk away from a fight. The other night had been an aberration on
his
part; Brian had behaved exactly as was expected.
I control this,
he said to himself.

Brian walked in the door. “Hey,” he said.

“What's up?” Andrew said.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Seriously? Mom didn't tell you?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I won't either.”

“Fuck you, man.”

“Whatever.”

Brian went into the living room and turned on the TV. He was quiet, which was weird. Usually he yelled at the players or the sportscasters. Andrew had the uncanny feeling that Brian was listening to him, just as he was listening to Brian. He grabbed the phone to call Marcia.

“Who are you calling?” Brian said.

“I've to check on Sara,” Andrew said. “You know, the hot one,” he added.

“The lawyer is going to call any second. Stay the fuck off the phone.”

Andrew thought for a minute. He did not want to get hit again.
I control this. Eighteen and out.
He put the phone down, leashed Becky, and left.

He and Becky walked around the neighborhood slowly. He thought about visiting Laura. One of her little siblings was bound to like dogs. But he was tired, having spent the second half of the day mixing cement with Cheeve. He also didn't feel like getting all caught up with the weight of seeing her. The agonizing crush of desire he felt when he was with her was somehow made worse, even more intolerable, now that he was closer to her. He also felt somewhat unwelcome at her house. He played the cozy little scene between her and John over and over in his head. She admired John; she respected John. And John was tall and cut and good-looking. Better-looking than Pretty Boy Matt or Goatee Seth or balding Chip. Certainly better-looking than he was. He kicked a rock into the grass.

Becky woofed softly and leaned into his legs. He stumbled and caught himself. He sat on the ground and petted her for a while. Becky occasionally leaned on his legs as if to trip him. Her veterinarian said it was either a gesture of affection or a way of showing dominance.
Which is it?
Andrew had asked.
Both,
the vet said with a shrug.
They're fundamentally different from
us, Andrew. You can't always equate animal behavior with human behavior. It doesn't work like that.
But despite the advice, he tried to understand Becky through the lens of human emotion.
I love you so much that I'm going to dominate you, trip you, get the better of you.
It made perfect sense, he thought.

When Andrew got back, he saw a bunch of cars in his driveway and decided that Brian must have a crew of friends over. He could hear them in the living room as he fed Becky in the kitchen.

“Don't worry about it, man. It's going to be all right.”

“You don't know that,” Brian said. His voice sounded weak, hollow.

“You didn't do anything, right? It'll be okay.”

Must have been bad news from the lawyer, Andrew thought.

“I heard the door. Ty coming over?”

“No. It's just my brother.”

“Little Andrew? Hey, buddy, get us some chips!” the voice commanded. Andrew wasn't even sure who it was; all of Brian's friends seemed interchangeable to him.

“Leave him alone,” Brian said.

“But—”

“Just leave him alone. Let's get out of here. I'll drive.”

Andrew was startled by Brian's command to leave him alone. He must feel guilty as hell, Andrew thought.
He must actually be guilty
. His stomach lurched with a feeling he could not identify. He quickly crept up the stairs. His mother was sitting on her
bed with the door open. They exchanged the briefest of glances before he went into his own room and closed the door. He heard her walk downstairs. He thought she might be weeping. S
hould I go to her? What for?
He blinked tears out of his eyes and fished his Bible out from under a pile of clothes. He held it to his chest, trying to call up that feeling of comfort it had given him when he'd spent his first night in Neal's office. It no longer seemed sacred; it had lost something. Or he had lost something.