Callisto (6 page)

With food inside me everything seemed brighter. Bacon and eggs plus toast, what could be better? Bacon and ham, those are what Dean had called “pigmeat” which he didn't eat, so they must have been for Aunt Bree. I wondered when she was coming home from Florida. Dean hadn't said. Maybe she'd be home today! That got me thinking hard about what to do next. I went upstairs to see if Dean was awake and ready to eat but he wasn't, not yet awhile, so I went out to the porch again and considered the situation.

According to the lawnmowing schedule Dean has got four customers today, but it was clear he wasn't going to be ready to take care of things in that department any better than yesterday. Dean, he kept having these head problems that kept him from his work, and in a way I was the cause for both times, so I had an obligation to take care of business again today. That was the least I could do to make amends for slugging him, even if he asked for it with his dumb behavior, that's the way I saw it, so after tidying up the kitchen I got in the Dodge and drove away to mow some more lawns. I left a note for Dean on the kitchen table explaining things for when he woke up and wondered what the hell is going on.

Halfway through the morning I stopped at Wal-Mart and got myself a straw hat like they wear in Hawaii to protect my head from the sun and some shorts to keep my legs cool while I mowed, plus cheap sneakers because cowboy boots look ridiculous with short pants unless you happen to be a topless model wearing micro-shorts. Total outlay come to less than forty dollars. I zoomed through the work with time out
for lunch at McDonald's again, and then I got hold of a phone book at a public call box and looked up the address of the recruiting center, which is on Lincoln Avenue.

I went there directly, but the store front had windows that are painted over with whitewash on the inside, so it looks like Dean was right about that, which means the phone book was outdated and should've been replaced but they never do that in a phone booth like they should. Just to be sure I went in the store next door which is a hardware place and asked about it. The guy there, he says the recruiting center was dislocated to Manhattan, which is a much bigger town than Callisto. Manhattan, Kansas, not New York. So that was a big pain I hadn't counted on with my plan for military work. Still, if Dean let me work a few more days, I could buy a ticket and ride the bus to Manhattan and sign up anyway.

Driving along on the road home I got overtaken by a beige Cadillac going way over the limit. I had to wind the window up to keep his dust from coming inside. I didn't think any more about that Caddy until I pulled in off the road at Dean's place and there it is parked in the front yard and some guy standing on the porch by the front door. I pulled up inside the barn and took my time getting out, thinking Dean would be talking to the guy by now, but he wasn't. The guy's turned around and he's looking over at me. Where was Dean? He should've been up and about by now, or maybe he was just in a bad mood over what happened last night and didn't want to talk to anyone so he's ignoring the doorbell.

I went on over to the porch and the guy meets me at the steps. “Mr Lowry?” he says. I considered what to say. This is one of those times I mentioned about being slow with a
conversational response, only this time there's a reason for it, namely not knowing how bad Dean is, maybe still unconscious, which would be a bad thing, and not wanting to explain about last night's weirdness to this guy who might have been selling insurance for all I knew. So I just kept looking at him while my brain whizzed and sputtered, then I said to him, “What can I do for you?” That was the correct response to his question under the circumstances, because it showed politeness without me admitting I'm not Dean like he thinks I am.

He put out his hand which I had to reach up to take hold of because he's at the top of the steps and I'm at the bottom. He's an old guy, way past sixty with gray hair that's still thick and neatly barbered. He's wearing a suit and tie and there's a little neat mustache on his lip. I could smell the aftershave on him, which reminded me I hadn't shaved in a couple days plus I'm stinking with sweat after a long day pushing lawnmowers in the sun. “Chet Marchand,” he says. “Thought it might be you I passed on the road. Saw the sign on the truck door. How's business this fine day?”

“Okay, I guess.”

I come on up the steps and opened the door, still hoping maybe Dean's going to come out yawning and take care of this, but that didn't happen, so I had to step aside polite and let this guy into the house. I led him on through to the kitchen, glad I tidied it up this morning, and invited him to take a seat, then thought maybe I should've taken him through to the living room instead, but it's too late now. The living room was kind of a mess anyway, so this way is better. I sat down too, thinking maybe I should offer him a glass of
water, which I wanted one of myself but it could wait. Obviously this guy Chet was nobody Dean knew, so the visit couldn't be important and wouldn't take long to finish off. I was still thinking it's insurance he's selling. The note I left for Dean was still on the table so I scrunched it up good.

Chet gave me a smile, very friendly and says, “Is Mrs Wayne at home today?”

Who the fuck is that, I'm thinking, then it strikes me Mrs Wayne must be Aunt Bree. Where the hell was Dean who should be answering this family stuff?

“She's in Florida on vacation.”

“Florida on vacation,” he says. “That's a fine state to visit and see the natural wonders.”

“I'm going there someday myself.
The Yearling
, that's a Pulitzer Prize book, it happens there in Florida, only a long time ago.”

“That's a fine book. I remember reading it when I was young.”

He was starting to make me nervous. What did he want?

“Well,” he says, getting down to business, “I must say I'm a little bit surprised Mrs Wayne isn't here, but no matter, we can discuss matters just between the two of us. Okay if I call you Dean?”

“Sure.” He could call me Donald Duck, but that didn't make it so.

“Please call me Chet. Now about my little trip out here, Dean, has your aunt given you any indication what this might be about?”

I looked up at the ceiling like I'm thinking hard about it. “No.”

“Oh, well, I'm surprised about that, but that's okay. Given
the nature of the correspondence between us, I assumed there'd be discussion between the two of you concerning the matter.”

“Nope, she never mentioned a word about it, not to me.” That was a true statement. I was finding it's possible to tell people lies without actually lying. This was something I never thought of before and was a big surprise.

“Well, then,” he says, “maybe I should start at the beginning, as they say.”

“Okay.”

“Mrs Wayne is concerned about you, Dean. I might have said worried, I might even have said distraught, but the word I've chosen, just to keep things in perspective, is concerned. This good Christian woman is concerned for your future, Dean, and I apologize for the dramatic nature of what I'm going to say next, but she's concerned for your very soul.”

“Uhuh.”

“Mrs Wayne has been in touch with our ministry and expressed her deep concern about you, Dean, concerning recent developments in your life. Maybe I should say your interior life, by which I mean in your heart and your soul, Dean. I'm sure you know what I'm referring to.”

I shook my head. Dean never said a word to me about his heart or his soul. What he talked about mainly while we were drinking down my bottle of Captain Morgan was how lousy our dads were and it's a shame our moms had died young in my case and run off with another guy, that's what happened to Dean's mom and he never heard from her again. Even her sister, that's Aunt Bree, she never heard either, which is a shame when family breaks apart that way.

“You can't guess what I'm referring to, Dean?”

“Nossir, he never mentioned it. She, I mean.”

“Then I'll spell it out loud and clear. Your aunt has expressed deep concern to us at the ministry . . .you're familiar with our organization, the Born Again Foundation?”

That had a familiar ring to it, then I remembered it's something on TV late at night when it's mainly religious shows and infomercials about skin care products. Once or twice I have seen that show with the old guy with the slicked-back hair and the stabbing fingers when he gets all worked up preaching . . .what was his name again?

“Preacher Bob,” I said, remembering.

“That's what folks like to call him,” says Chet. “Of course, around the office, if I might use that term, we call him just plain Bob, that's how he likes it, informal and without pretension. Robert Jerome Ministries is the official title of our overall organization, but we don't need to get into that kind of detail today, Dean. What we're here to discuss is you.”

“Why?” I really wanted to know why a big name TV personality with his own Bible college near Topeka and his own network show that millions of people watched, I bet, what he wanted with me. With Dean, that is. It was a real mystery.

“Now, Dean, you must have some notion of what it is I'm referring to. I think maybe you're being just a little bit disingenuous here.”

Nobody ever called me a genius before, and it made me suspicious that he's trying to pump up my self-esteem so's he can sell me something. I know for a fact I am not a genius, so now I'm suspicious as hell, even if he's still smiling at me. I didn't say a thing, just smiled back, waiting for him to say why
he thinks I'm so smart. Thinks Dean is so smart, I mean, which Dean never struck me as being even very clever, never mind at the genius level.

“Dean, I'll speak directly to the problem. Mrs Wayne has written to us about your decision to reject the faith of your fathers and embrace . . .the religion of Islam.”

I stared at him. What was he talking about? Dean never spoke a word to me about being an Islamite. They don't look anything like Dean, with his
Bad to the Bone
T-shirt, and they don't drink liquor either, everyone knows that, but Dean did and I don't mean sipping. It made no sense at all. I couldn't think what to say, it's so ridiculous, but Chet was watching my face, waiting for a response. After he left I was going to wake Dean up and question him big time about all this.

“Are you still considering this radical and dangerous act, Dean? I can think of nothing more certain to condemn your soul, your
immortal soul
, Dean, to punishment so extreme it pains me to think about it happening to a young man like yourself with so much of life before you. Think carefully now.”

I was doing that, thinking at top speed, and it come back to me how Dean said he didn't eat pigmeat, which is something everyone knows the Islamites do because pigs are unholy creatures or something religious like that. So it was true what Chet was saying!

“Yeah,” I said.

Chet's face fell, I mean he really did look upset, like I'd just told him I drowned a sack of puppies. I felt bad about upsetting him that way, especially since it wasn't me that's going Islamite, it's the guy upstairs giving grief to his aunt and
Preacher Bob and Chet too. I was going to have strong words with Dean about this because it's so dumb to be a Muslim when you aren't even Arabian. Americans are Christians, everyone knows that. Now I have never been a churchgoer and my dad wasn't either, so you might say there was a bad influence in my life that kept me away from getting churchified like some do, but even so I could tell straight off that Dean was doing something dumb here with this religious conversioning intention he had. No wonder Chet was upset like this.

“Are you thinking hard, Dean?”

“Yessir, I am.”

“Take into consideration the feelings of others in this crucial decision. We're not just talking about the fate of your soul, we're talking here about the effect this will have on your loved ones like Mrs Wayne, who I believe has taken care of you ever since your mother departed. Consider the pain a decision like this will inflict on a generous and good woman. You don't want the responsibility of causing that type of person pain, do you, Dean? I know it causes me pain just to think about the rashness of what you're contemplating, and Bob too, he sent me out here personally to see if there isn't something we can do to help you change your mind and step back from this terrible mistake you're about to make. Or have you already made it? Have you received instruction in Muslim doctrine yet? I would imagine that's hard to come by in this area. Am I right about that, Dean?”

“It's rare out here,” I agreed, saying something truthful to make myself feel better. I saw now it was a mistake not to tell Chet straight off I'm not Dean, but there's no way I can go back now and change the situation.

“Can you tell me what it is, Dean, that makes you think Islam can offer you something that Christianity can't. What's the appeal?”

I couldn't answer that. Still no sound from upstairs, so I'm thinking Dean must have gone off somewhere. He couldn't still be asleep since this morning. Then again, how would he go anyplace without wheels?

“Mrs Wayne has hinted at a troubled upbringing, Dean, so I'm thinking this thing you're considering doing is maybe a reaction to personal difficulties that never got resolved. She says you started refusing to accompany her to church a long time ago and have been verbally abusive toward her about her own faith which has never wavered. Is it a personal issue, Dean? Talking to the right person can very often resolve those intensely painful inner turmoils people are prone to without guidance from the Lord. Is that the case here? You may think I've gotten very personal all of a sudden, and I won't blame you for that, there's nothing so personal as inner feelings, but there's a connection here, Dean, or maybe I mean a disconnection. You've gone and been disconnected from the natural and everlasting faith we know is true. Now I have respect for the lesser faiths, and I respect the right of people in other cultures to believe those things they choose to believe, but this is America we're living in, and this nation was founded on Christian principles. Any turning away from hundreds of years of history –
thousands
of years – is a mistake of the first magnitude, Dean. Can you see what I mean, son?”