‘Naomi, he’s a part of this!’
‘That’s impossible,’ she said in a brisk this-closes-the-discussion tone of voice.
‘Dammit, the whole thing is impossible!’
They were nearing Angle Street now. Ahead of them was a pick-up truck rattling toward the Recycling Center, its bed full of cardboard cartons filled with bottles and cans.
‘I don’t think you understood what I told you,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t surprise me; Earth People rarely do. So open your ears, Sam. I’m going to say it in words of one syllable. If Dave drinks, Dave dies. Do you follow that? Does it get through?’
She tossed another glance Sam’s way. This one was so furious it was still smoking around the edges, and even in the depths of his own distress, Sam realized something. Before, even on the two occasions when he had taken Naomi out, he had thought she was pretty. Now he saw she was beautiful.
‘What does that mean, Earth People?’ he asked her.
‘People who don’t have a problem with booze or pills or pot or cough medicine or any of the other things that mess up the human head,’ she nearly spat. ‘People who can afford to moralize and make judgments.’
Ahead of them, the pick-up truck turned off onto the long, rutted driveway leading to the redemption center. Angle Street lay ahead. Sam could see something parked in front of the porch, but it wasn’t a car. It was Dirty Dave’s shopping-cart.
‘Stop a minute,’ he said.,
Naomi did, but she wouldn’t look at him. She stared straight ahead through the windshield. Her jaw was working. There was high color in her cheeks.
‘You care about him,’ he said, ‘and I’m glad. Do you also care about me, Sarah? Even though I’m an Earth Person?’
‘You have no right to call me Sarah. I can, because it’s part of my name – I was christened Naomi Sarah Higgins. And they can, because they are, in a way, closer to me than blood relatives could ever be. We are blood relatives, in fact – because there’s something in us that makes us the way we are. Something in our blood. You, Sam – you have no right.’
‘Maybe I do,’ Sam said. ‘Maybe I’m one of you now. You’ve got booze. This Earth Person has got the Library Police.’
Now she looked at him, and her eyes were wide and wary. ‘Sam, I don’t underst -‘
‘Neither do I. All I know is that I need help. I need it desperately. I borrowed two books from a library that doesn’t exist anymore, and now the books don’t exist, either. I lost them. Do you know where they ended up?’
She shook her head.
Sam pointed over to the left, where two men had gotten out of the pick-up’s cab and were starting to unload the cartons of returnables. ‘There. That’s where they ended up. They’ve been pulped. I’ve got until midnight, Sarah, and then the Library Police are going to pulp me. And I don’t think they’ll even leave my jacket behind.’
6
Sam sat in the passenger seat of Naomi Sarah Higgins’s Datsun for what seemed like a long, long time.
Twice his hand went to the door handle and then fell back. She had relented … a little. If Dave wanted to talk to him, and if Dave was still in any condition to talk, she would allow it. Otherwise, no soap.
At last the door of Angle Street opened. Naomi and Dave Duncan came out. She had an arm around his waist, his feet were shuffling, and Sam’s heart sank. Then, as they stepped out into the sun, he saw that Dave wasn’t drunk … or at least not necessarily. Looking at him was, in a weird way, like looking into Naomi’s compact mirror all over again. Dave Duncan looked like a man trying to weather the worst shock of his life … and not doing a very good job of it.
Sam got out of the car and stood by the door, indecisive.
‘Come up on the porch,’ Naomi said. Her voice was both resigned and fearful. ‘I don’t trust him to make it down the steps.’
Sam came up to where they stood. Dave Duncan was probably sixty years old. On Saturday he had looked seventy or seventy-five. That was the booze ‘ Sam supposed. And now, as Iowa turned slowly on the axis of noon, he looked older than all the ages. And that, Sam knew, was his fault. It was the shock of things Dave had assumed were long buried.
I didn’t know, Sam thought, but this, however true it might be, had lost its power to comfort. Except for the burst veins in his nose and cheeks, Dave’s face was the color of very old paper. His eyes were watery and stunned. His lips had a bluish tinge, and little beads of spittle pulsed in the deep pockets at the corners of his mouth.
‘I didn’t want him to talk to you,’ Naomi said. ‘I wanted to take him to Dr Melden, but he refuses to go until he talks to you.’
‘Mr Peebles,’ Dave said feebly. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Peebles, it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I -‘
‘You have nothing to apologize for,’ Sam said. ‘Come on over here and sit down.’
He and Naomi led Dave to a rocking chair at the corner of the porch and Dave eased himself into it. Sam and Naomi drew up chairs with sagging wicker bottoms and sat on either side of him. They sat without speaking for some little time, looking out across the railroad tracks and into the flat farm country beyond.
‘She’s after you, isn’t she?’ Dave asked. ‘That bitch from the far side of hell.’
‘She’s sicced someone on me,’ Sam said. ‘Someone who was in one of those posters you drew. He’s a … I know this sounds crazy, but he’s a Library Policeman. He came to see me this morning. He did . . .’ Sam touched his hair. ‘He did this. And this.’ He pointed to the small red dot in the center of his throat. ‘And he says he isn’t alone.’
Dave was silent for a long time, looking out into the emptiness, looking at the flat horizon which was broken only by tall silos and, to the north, the apocalyptic shape of the Proverbia Feed Company’s grain elevator. ‘The man you saw isn’t real,’ he said at last. ‘None of them are real. Only her. Only the devil-bitch.’
‘Can you tell us, Dave?’ Naomi asked gently. ‘If you can’t, say so. But if it will make it better for you …
easier … tell us.’
‘Dear Sarah,’ Dave said. He took her hand and smiled. ‘I love you – have I ever told you so?’
She shook her head, smiling back. Tears glinted in her eyes like tiny specks of mica. ‘No. But I’m glad, Dave.’
‘I have to tell,’ he said. ‘It isn’t a question of better or easier. It can’t be allowed to go on. Do you know what I remember about my first AA meeting, Sarah?’
She shook her head.
‘How they said it was a program of honesty. How they said you had to tell everything, not just to God, but to God and another person. I thought, “If that’s what it takes to live a sober life, I’ve had it. They’ll throw me in a plot up on Wayvern Hill in that part of the boneyard they set aside for the drunks and all-time losers who never had a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of. Because I could never tell all the things I’ve seen, all the things I’ve done. ” ‘
‘We all think that at first,’ she said gently.
‘I know. But there can’t be many that’ve seen the things I have, or done what I have. I did the best I could, though. Little by little I did the best I could. I set my house in order. But those things I saw and did back then … those I never told. Not to any person, not to no man’s God. I found a room in the basement of my heart, and I put those things in that room and then I locked the door.’
He looked at Sam, and Sam saw tears rolling slowly and tiredly down the deep wrinkles in Dave’s blasted cheeks.
‘Yes. I did. And when the door was locked, I nailed boards across it. And when the boards was nailed, I put sheet steel across the boards and riveted it tight. And when the riveting was done, I drawed a bureau up against the whole works, and before I called it good and walked away, I piled bricks on top of the bureau.
And all these years since, I’ve spent telling myself I forgot all about Ardelia and her strange ways, about the things she wanted me to do and the things she told me and the promises she made and what she really was.