Divine: A Novel (24 page)

“Filthy Porno Bird!” I yell, just in time
for my neighbor to hear my words as he lets his dog outside to do his business.
I smile calmly and wave to a man who doesn’t return the greeting. He and his
dog both believe I’m a loon.

The
whole world’s full of them.

I lock the sliding glass door and clean
up the bird poop around the house. No more birds! I can’t take anymore shit in
my life.

And just as I’m finishing up, my cell
rings. It’s Dan already, of course. He didn’t even give me ten minutes before
he called.

“What?” I yell into the phone.

“Man, you’re in a piss-ass mood.”

“God, there’s so much wrong with what you
just said.”

There’s silence on the line for what
seems like forever.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat, spurring him
to say something.

“Can we talk for a while?” he asks in a
distressed voice.

I pace and sigh, then agree. I should say
no, not today, Dan. I need time to chill out and think. But what I really need
are answers and not my own distorted interpretation of what occurred that
night.

“Has Bridgette been to class? Have you
seen her at all over the past two days?” his voice cracks. “She hasn’t been
home since I was arrested and we’re worried sick.”

“I haven’t seen her. She’s probably
afraid of you.”

Silence again.

That
was pretty damn rude, if I do say so myself.

I
am
saying so myself. Chalk up my added nastiness to PMS.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so crass, but
I’m really aggravated and confused about a lot of things. You lied to me,” I
scold.

He sighs and I hear him take a drink. “I
know. I’m sorry, Div.”

“First, you should’ve told me you were
Hayden Night. It’s complete bullshit that you kept that from me.”

“I would’ve if I had known about
your
books right away. Besides, at the
time, I thought they’d be a good laugh.”

“What, like I’m some joke? That it’s
funny you knew I was creeping around your windows at night and you thought it
would be clever to pick on me by putting my unhealthy habit in a book?”

Let
him have it!

“No, that’s not what... no.” I can sense
him shaking his head. “I didn’t know you when I wrote the ending, I only knew
of
you. But I admired you for months.
You’re definitely no joke. That’s not what I meant by it, by any of it.”

“Keep going.” I feel only a little sorry
that I’m giving him a hard time.

“I couldn’t believe a beautiful woman was
outside my home and wanted to watch me. I was embarrassed, but it was also a
turn on. I felt... it made me feel attractive. You know?”

“Nope, can’t say that if I saw someone on
my back deck that I’d pretend he wasn’t there and then masturbate in front of
him,” I say, sneeringly. “Not a stranger.”

“No, not a stranger,” he mocks me with
laughter. “Then why did you watch? Stop treating me this way, like I’m the
devil and you’re some sweet virgin nun.” He exhales and it sounds like he’s
joining me in pacing the floor. “Listen to me.
You
made me feel attractive. I mean, come on, someone would
actually be so captivated by me that they’d watch me through my window? Fuck.
You know all I wanted was to reach out and touch you, but I was afraid I’d
scare you away. You’re no joke, Divine Hallowell. Sorry if you felt that way
while reading the final book. I presented the woman as someone Zyn fell in love
with. She changed him. She was his princess and that’s the way I felt about the
mystery woman outside my window.”

“She wasn’t a princess; she was his
slave, Dan. Your books are troubling, vicious, and filled with hostility and
death.”

“I already told you they’re based on my
relationship with God, and to everyone else they’re just a dark erotic work of
fiction! Nothing more!”

That’s the first time I’ve heard real
frustration in his voice.

He whispers he’s sorry, again, and we
both sigh.

This
is complete craziness that you’re talking about the books and not Luke. Like he
said, they’re his fucked up take on religion. Let it go.

I was getting there.

“Look, I read them and they were
terrifying. You haven’t been totally open like you promised you would be, and
now you’ve been arrested for allegedly killing someone. What the hell? Tell me
what happened so I can start making sense of all this crap,” I demand.
“Goddammit, I feel like I’m in the middle of a dung fight”

“I’m not out to destroy your fighter
plane in some dog fight,” he says.

“Dung fight, Dan. Dung! It’s being hurled
at me from every direction, now tell me the truth. What happened to Luke
Barnes?”

“Hold on,” he says.

“No, wait!” Did he really just take
another call? Who the fuck gets a call right at that moment?

That
really only happens in the movies.

“Div, I gotta go. Something major just
came up.”

“Wait.”

“I’ll call as soon as I can.”

This is horseshit. He hung up. Either he
didn’t have the balls to tell me, or, or, or he didn’t have the balls to tell
me. Fucker.

Maybe
he just found his nuts, because he’s calling back.

“Tell me what the hell’s going on!” I
yell into my cell.

“Uh...Divine?”

Uh-oh.

Damn, it’s Richard. I place a hand over
my face, hiding my embarrassment as if he’s here in the room with me. “I’m so
sorry. I thought you were... sorry. Everything okay?”

“Considering the scene that took place
this morning during Margaret’s service, no, everything’s not okay. Did you file
a report with the police about your truck?”

“Yeah, it’s taken care of.”

“And you gave them my name as a witness?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. So, can I expect to see you at the
campus alumni luncheon that’s scheduled for tomorrow?”

Oh, I forgot. “Yes,” I say, and look at
the calendar next to my laptop. Sure enough, I have the Sunday event penciled
in and circled. “I don’t understand why we need to be at these things. I’m not
an alumna.”

“True, but a lot of our departmental
money comes from donors and most donors are alumni. It helps to be present at
these functions. Now that Margaret’s gone, I hope I can count on you to be the
face of the department, not to mention the eyes and ears as well. You never
know what you may hear at these gatherings.”

“I know, like gossip about our department
being eliminated.”

“Div.” There’s a warning tone in his
voice as he speaks my name.

“I was only kidding.”

“Can you be serious tomorrow?” he asks.
“And no matter what Hannah says, bite your tongue. As a matter a fact, bite
your tongue around everyone. As always, an event like this will be full of
Trustees and we don’t need yet
another
set back like this morning.”

I look up to the ceiling and shake my
head. “Why, God why, why is Hannah going to be there?”

“Her parents are both alums.”

“You know, this college feels like it’s
entirely inbred. I swear ninety percent of the faculty graduated from here and
then came back to teach. And everyone’s parents, mother’s uncle, Nana, and kids
have been, or are now, students. Is there anyone in this town who
isn’t
associated with the college?”

“Mmm. Okay. See, right there, Divine.
That’s what I’m talking about. Can you not say anything along those lines
tomorrow? Please?”

I laugh as if I’m about to ask for a gift
if I promise to behave. My mother always bought me a toy on the way home from
the dentist if I didn’t fidget in the chair or bite the guy’s fingers when they
were in my mouth. I’d say by Richard’s tone when he speaks to me, he’s gotta
have kids.

“Div, it’s really none of my business,
but is everything...”

“Everything’s fine,” I cut him off. “I’ll
be at the luncheon at eleven, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

You
should dress like a minion.

“Very well. Oh, and at some point, I’d
like you to help me go through Margaret’s office. We’ll need to do it soon,
since I need the students’ advising folders.”

“That room has fifty years of files. It
could take... oh never mind, forget it. Whenever you need my help, just let me
know.”

I hang up and collapse onto my bed, in no
mood to dig through Margaret Cole’s things, ever. It seems like I have a lot of
other issues I need to take care of in
my
life before I submerge myself in hers. Like this text that just came in from
Dan. All it says is that things are fucked up.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” I moan.

Alright,
Menstrual Queen, that’s enough. You’re whiney, which isn’t like you. We’re a
united front when you’re rude and vulgar, but don’t start acting girly on me.
Buck up, get headstrong and get your ass out of that bed. Come up with a plan
while you’re waiting for your penis pal to call. Otherwise, you’ll end up lying
here for the rest of the day, feeling sorry for yourself.

Don’t worry. I know what I’m going to do.
It’s time.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

S
hit, It’s pretty in here.

‘Shit’ and ‘pretty’ should never be used
in the same sentence
.

My front curtains are open for the first
time in years and my inner voice is correct, it’s very pretty in here.

Yesterday evening and into the night I
removed the remaining photographs from my walls. They’re packed neatly away in
three closets. Then I patched the nail holes and touched-up the marks with the
leftover paint from when I had first decorated the room. I didn’t even remember
they were painted violet. How ironic is that?

I did all of this because I couldn’t
sleep. Dan never called and his Cherokee’s not around.

Umm,
I believe that thing would probably be impounded, don’t you?

So I kept myself busy, while waiting, and
waiting, and waiting. I don’t get along all that well with the unknown. I’ve
just experienced several bouts of heavy-duty anxiety triggered by Dan’s
situation and from handling all of the photos. It was one of the most difficult
things I’ve done in years.

But to my surprise, I actually feel
renewed. Tired, even with three or four hours of sleep, but definitely renewed.
The room seems more peaceful now, brighter too. I even cleaned my front window
and brought an extra bookcase up from the basement to use as a small shrine.

Yes, my parents’ ashes are still here. No
longer in the middle of the room on the coffee table, but placed lovingly in
the bookcase, and surrounded with a few of their favorite items - books, their
wedding rings, small tchotchkes they bought for one another on road trips, and
two wallet-size photos of their parents perched next to them. It’s perfect, a
small area of my home devoted to the two of them, instead of encompassing my
entire first floor.

And the wall behind my couch now has
three photographs on display. Just three. I believe that’s okay. I’m allowed to
hang a few, right?

There’s
nothing crazy about having some photos on your wall.

I wouldn’t think so.

They’re portrait shots of my mom and dad,
along with the photo of the day I was born - the one that used to be amid their
urns on the coffee table - it’s now hanging between them. My three favorite
photos of my family are all in my freshly beautified living room that I can now
use for
living
.

It’s funny how I stared at the hundreds
of photos in this room each day, but never actually
saw
my parents.
There
were too many eyes, faces, expressions, to ever focus on just one. Now when I
look at my wall, I see one stunning woman and one handsome man. That’s the way
I want to remember them.

And after staying up half the night
working on this project, then driving to Starbucks for a coffee, scones, and a
newspaper first thing in the morning, it felt fucking amazing to come home, sit
on my sofa, read the paper with my bare feet on the coffee table, sip my drink,
and enjoy the warmth of the sun filtering into the room. This may become a new
weekend routine for me.

Well
hello there, Divine the adult. So if Dan goes to prison and you’re all alone
again, will you go back to watching porn and put the photos back on your walls?

No.

Wow,
you didn’t even hesitate.

There’s no news about Dan, which is the
reason I bought the paper. Nothing online either. I wish I knew what was going
on. Could he have done something so horrific out of revenge for his sister?
Damn, I just went from fucking amazing to fucking crap in ten seconds.

You
know, the dining room needs a lot of attention. You should tackle that space
next.

I’ll get to it. Be quiet for a while,
would you? God, it’s impossible to shut off my brain.

I spend the remainder of my morning
cleaning the other neglected spaces of my home, all but the dining room.

It’d be nice to say I’ve been bitten by
the spring cleaning bug, but the reality is I’m only doing this because things
on the ‘outside’ are in total disarray. If I can straighten up my interior
spaces then maybe everything else will fall into place.

Fat chance. That’s crazy reasoning, but
at least I kept busy until it was time to get ready for the luncheon. And I
have to admit, in the process of cleaning, I took a break to call Dan, but he
didn’t answer. I also texted him, sent him a Facebook message, called him a
second time, and knocked on his door... three times.

Just tell me what’s going on!

I wish life had stopped in that moment
when we were making love at the Comfort Inn.

Yeah,
because fucking in a cheap hotel room is so romantic.

It was! It was romantic. But not only
that
moment, our entire time together,
as short-lived as it was.

Now
you sound like it’s all over.

Yeah, well I become a bit overdramatic
when I’m left in the dark about things, like when my dad committed suicide. He
could’ve left a fucking note!

He
sort of did.

No. I wanted actual handwritten words
from him. All that remains are fantasies about what life
would’ve
been like if he was still around, if both of them were
still around. Just daydreams. I’m starting to do the same with Dan. Visualizing
our future together. It’s possible he could’ve been the man I married.

Conjugal
visits are always an option... ha, that made you smile. Try to keep that face
for the alumni and the Trustees you’re about to see.

The Kellers’ catering vans are in the
back parking lot of the alumni center, which doesn’t much surprise me. This
university is too small to handle a big event without the help of an outside
company. What
is
a shock, when I step
out of my truck and try to smooth the wrinkles from my black dress, is Dan
standing just outside the back door. He looks so different today, rested,
shaved, well dressed, with his shoulders back as he speaks to an employee. He
hands the woman a tray from the van and she disappears inside.

I step to the side of my truck, thinking
he won’t notice the love of his life in the lot. And I’m talking about my
F-150. The thing stands out like a sore thumb next to all the Toyota Camrys and
Honda Odysseys.

Dan sees it, then me, and I get the urge
to run to him for a warm embrace. I want to kiss this guy without having any
explanation as to what happened, just like you’d see on the Lifetime movie
channel, because everything else is second to our relationship. But I’m not one
of
those
women. I have standards, so
instead I just stare. He does the same, looking me up and down, studying my
black pumps, my tan legs. I mean, my fake tanned legs. I use a brand of sunless
tanning lotion that’s sorta cheap and my skin looks more orange than brown, but
Dan doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles and then his eyes move back to my face.
He’s about to speak only to be obstructed by Richard.

“Divine. Glad you could make it.”

“I told you I was coming.” I wonder if
Richard owns any other pants besides pleated khakis. He must make an easy
hundred grand a year. It’s not like he can’t afford to buy new clothes. And his
blonde ponytail has been unleashed today. His hair is combed straight and lays
flat against his head except for the ends, which curl naturally. With a
scraggly beard that he’s been growing for a week, I have to say he looks an
awful lot like a blonde Jesus.

Accept
for the khaki. Jesus would never wear khaki pants.

“Have you been inside yet?” he asks.

“No, I just pulled in.”

I look over to the catering van but Dan’s
gone, and as Richard and I walk around to the front door of the alumni center,
I see Hannah and an older guy walk inside together. Must be her dad.

Only a few of my colleagues are here
along with a handful of students who I recognize. Other than that, the room is
packed with grey-haired white men. Can’t say this campus has much of a rich
ethnic past.

And talk about something else that’s
appalling... events like these in general, that’s what.

Alumni gatherings, when you’re not an
alumna and you currently loathe the state of affairs surrounding your job, are
like going to your second cousin’s twentieth high school reunion. You pretty
much stand in a corner with your arms crossed and listen to conversations you
could care less about from a bunch of people for whom you have no feelings.

I act friendly, smile a lot and nod, but
my mind isn’t on anything other than Dan at the moment. I don’t see his parents
anywhere, which I presume means he’s taking over for them today. And, I know
he’s not the type to think this way, but I’m sure working right after you’re released
on bail looks good to someone. The cops, a judge, or a prosecutor, somebody
will take note of his actions over the upcoming weeks.

The alumni center is one of the original
buildings on campus and first used as a library, changing into a science building
before being used for other random classes. In the back is a large open space
with a wall of windows and plants everywhere. It’s bright and reminds me of a
greenhouse, humid as well. The Kellers’ catering company has a buffet of food
set up in the middle of this open room, but people spend most of their time
socializing instead of actually eating. Tables are out but not being used, and
when someone does fill a plate, they eat standing up while staying within their
circle of acquaintances.

I feel awkward and bored out of my mind,
anxious as well. When I finally see Dan, he’s too busy to approach, but I keep
an eye on him, waiting for an opportunity when he’s alone so we can talk.

Without
causing a scene. Remember, Richard said not to cause a scene.

I catch him laughing with his workers,
and then his face changes almost immediately, as if he quickly remembered his
arrest. He’s putting on a decent show, being professional and in charge as I’d
expect, but I can also sense that he’s tense. He catches me staring a few times
and reacts with a nod or a wink.

“Hi Professor.”

Oh, it’s the shit pot.

“Hannah,” I nod. My God, I can’t believe
her sorority not only has sweatshirts with their Greek letters embroidered
across the front, but dresses as well. It’s hideously butt-ugly. White satin
with pink lettering, pink lace fringe along the bottom, and puffy sleeves. Is
she attending a debutante’s ball?

“Professor? Why do you enjoy porn so
much?”

I clasp my hands tightly behind my back
so I don’t do anything foolish, like dragging her by her bouncing ponytail over
to the punch bowl for a face dunk.

“Why do you put on a sweet and innocent
act in front of everyone when in reality you’re nothing more than a
cold-hearted beast?”

Okay, I didn’t actually say that. But it
would’ve been great to stoop to her level for once. I’d love to be downright
nasty right to her face.

Hannah bobs away with a smile as if she
just won some big stuffed animal at the county fair. That’s all she said, that
one thing to me and then off she went. Little pissant. I’m unsure if the
pop-ups in my guest bedroom spurred that comment or if there’s more to her
question than meets the eye. I’ll be peeved if she, of all people, found out
about the mistake I made viewing those sites in my office. Richard would’ve
kept that to himself, but maybe not the person in Campus Operations.

No, she’s coming back over and she’s
bringing her father. Fuck.

“Professor, I’d like you to meet my dad.”

“Professor Hallowell,” he nods and shakes
my hand. “So you have my lovely daughter, Hannah, in your class this semester?”

“That’s correct; she’s a good student.”

That’s the bullshit that flies out of
every faculty member’s mouth when meeting a parent.

Your
daughter’s wonderful.

She’s
doing extremely well and has so much potential in this field of study.

She’s
smart, organized, and one of my top students.

And the one that really gets to a
parent’s heart...

You
must be very proud.

They love hearing those words, but after
I mention that Hannah’s a good student, her father shakes his head and gives me
the
I’m not an idiot
look. Okay, he
knows.

“Dad, I
am
a good student. Don’t make faces.”

Actually, I was telling the truth. Hannah
usually gets strong B’s in my class, but the B also stands for bitch. I never
said anything about her personality to him, just her work.

“I see,” he says. “So tell me, how long
have you worked here?”

“A few years.”

“Tenured?”

“Not yet.”

“And how well do you know Daniel Keller?”

Now I’m starting to sweat. Where’s Richard
when I need him? Why isn’t he cutting in this time? I look around the room and
find him piling food onto a plate at the buffet. Damn, I wish he’d look over
this way.