The Bighead (28 page)

“
Come on, Balls,” Dicky
pleaded. “Just let’s ferget it.”

“
Ferget it, hail.” Tritt
Balls’ eyes looked crossed he was so mad. “Ain’t no man on this
green earth gonna whup Tritt Balls Conner, ’specially no holy
man…”

Dicky idled the El Camino just at the
entrance. He gulped, then dared ta ask, “So’s…what you figgure on
doin’?”

“
I’se gonna
kill
that there priest,
Dicky Boy, I am,” Balls assured from his shotgun seat, his eyes
glarin’ up that road like a jackal’s onna big, fat chicken. “An’
that blondie bitch he were with?” Balls made a sound like a
chuckle. “I’se gonna fuck her ass so hard my dick’ll come out her
bellybutton. Yes sir. I’se gonna
bust
her hole…”

Dicky gulped again, sweat tricklin’.
Yeah, he knowed Balls quite well, he did, and he knowed how crazy
he could git once he were riled. Knowin’ Balls, he’d bust right
inta that boarding house right now an’ put a ruckin’ an’ killin’ on
ever-one there, then they’d problee wind up gettin’ caught an’
goin’ to the slam fer the rest’a their lifes. Balls weren’t one ta
think things smartways whens he were this mad.

“
Please, Balls,” Dicky
pleaded. “We cain’t just march on in there an starts
killin’—”

“
Shore
we’se can, Dicky!”

“
But that priest,” he
reminded, “he whupped us good, an’ he’s might whups us
agin.”

“
Naw, no way, Dicky Boy.”
Another chuckle, another leer up the dark road. Then Balls reached
under the seat and—

Awwwwwww, no,
Dicky thought.

—
pulled out his dear dead
Daddy’s big-ass Webley .455 revolver. He brandished the weapon,
weighed it in his hand, keeping that grin’a his. “He may’a whupped
us once, Dicky. But he ain’t gonna whup us agin, that’s fer
dag
shore!”

“
Not tonight, Balls,” Dicky
about begged, his fear frantic as a caged field ferret. “Please,
not tonight.”

And then this weird diffusion passed
over Ball’s face’n eyes. The bill’a his John Deere cap turnt his
face dead black. He was starin’ up that road, to where the boarding
house was.

“
Naw,” he whispered. “Not
tonight, my man. What we’ll’se do is wait fer the time ta be
perfect.
” He turned his
head. The wicked grin beamed. “Then we’ll’se have us some
big
fun…”

—
| — | —

THIRTEEN

(I)

In the morning, something
seemed strange.
Leftovers from last
night,
Charity guessed.
Murders. Heading our way.
Not that
she herself was terribly concerned—these murders the trooper had
mentioned were so far away, she felt certain the killer would be
caught soon. The police were working on it fulltime.
They’ll catch him…

But Aunt Annie looked awful. She
looked depleted, pale, as she feebly served breakfast.

“
Let us do that, Annie,”
Jerrica volunteered, taking the pan of hoecakes and sorghum syrup.
“You look so tired.”

“
I am,” Annie admitted and
sat down at the table. “I didn’t sleep at all. Kept havin’ awful
dreams.”

The comment reminded
Charity of her own dreams: the recurring dream of her own
insolvencies in love. It was a cryptogram, or perhaps only a cruel
replay of her life.
The minute I get into
bed with a man, he’s turned off completely. Why?

“
I had awful dreams,”
Father Alexander announced, appearing at the dining room entry.
“Second night in a row. I feel like I didn’t get any sleep at
all.”

“
You and me both, Father,”
Aunt Annie said.

“
Maybe my brain is just
having a bad reaction to all this clean air,” he joked. He poured
himself orange juice from the iced pitcher, lit a cigarette. “I’m
used to Richmond smog.”

Jerrica’s eyes seemed to go
alight at the sudden presence of the priest; Charity duly noted
this. But she noted something else.
Jerrica,
she thought quizzically. Her
friend didn’t seem herself. She seemed on edge, wired.

“
And speaking of Richmond,”
the priest continued, “I have to drive back today.”

“
What!” Jerrica exclaimed.
“I thought you were staying here to reopen the abbey.”

“
I am,” he told her. “But
those papers I found in the administration office yesterday?
They’re really messed up, can’t make hide nor hair of ’em. I’m
going to have to show this stuff to my boss, see what he can make
of them. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

And Charity, then, couldn’t help but
notice the way Jerrica was suddenly squirming in her
seat…

“
Goop, my handyman, should
be back this afternoon, Father,” Annie said. “He can drive you if
you like.”

“
No, that’s not necessary.”
Alexander paused over his orange juice. “Where did he go, by the
way”

“
Yes, Aunt Annie,” Charity
added. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since yesterday
morning.”

“
That’s because I sent him
to Roanoke last night, to buy some vinyl trim,” Annie
revealed.

Which didn’t make sense to
Charity. “You sent him to Roanoke at
night?
”

“
Well, I didn’t need to,
and I don’t really even need the trim,” her aunt began to explain.
“I sent him last night deliberately.”

“
Why?” Jerrica
asked.

“
Well, hon, because I
wanted to make sure he stayed there overnight. Goop Gooder’s a
wonderful, helpful young man, but he can also be quite a gadfly—as
far as women as concerned, I mean. I couldn’t help but notice what
a likin’ he’s taken ta you, Jerrica. So I thought I’d send him
out’a town fer a day, keep him out’a yer hair.”

Jerrica blushed. “Oh, Annie, you
didn’t have to do that. It’s no big deal.”

“
It shore is if ya ask me.
You’re a guest, after all, and a friend’a my niece. I can’t have my
handyman houndin’ ya.”

Alexander raised another brow, but
Charity couldn’t help but smile. “When are you leaving for
Richmond, Father?”

“
Right now,” he said and
stood right back up. “I’ll be back late afternoon or early evening.
See you all later.”

“
Bye, Father,” Annie and
Charity said nearly at the same time. But Jerrica jumped up and
chased him into the foyer. Charity tried not to appear that she was
eavesdropping, but she couldn’t help it. “Father!” Jerrica said
from the other room. “Let me go with you!”

A pause. “Oh, all right,” the priest
agreed.

Then they were out the front
door.

“
Poor girl,” Annie said.
“She’s taken an awful fancy to Father.”

“
It seems so,” Charity
said.

“
But I gotta admit, I find
him a might attractive myself, an’ even more so on account’a his
faith.”

`“Priests always have that effect. I
guess because they’re off-limits, so to speak.”

“
You got that right, dear.
Ain’t nothin’ more attractive than a man ya cain’t
have.”

Charity sat still, thought
about that.
Why can’t
I
have a man?
she wondered.
How come everything
goes to pot, and I don’t even know why?
She
felt inclined to talk further on the topic, maybe even take her
aunt into confidence. But what point would there be in that? All
she’d do is make herself look foolish.

“
But let me ask you
somethin’, Charity. Is it my ’magination or does Jerrica look a bit
funny?’

She noticed too,
Charity thought. But what could she say? “I think
you’re right. She seems…anxious. But it’s probably just because
this is so different for her,” she excused. “She’s a city girl.
She’s not used to the country.”

Annie nodded. “Never thought’a
that.”

Charity changed the subject. “Would
you like to gather some flowers now, walk out to the
cemetery?”

Her aunt canted her head, put a hand
to her brow. “It ain’t reglar that I miss a day, but honestly,
Charity, I feel so pooped out, what I’m gonna do right now is take
a nap, if ya don’t mind.”

“
You should,” Charity
agreed. “With all that excitement last night? Go get some rest.
I’ll be fine.”

“
You shore?”

“
Of course, Aunt Annie. Go
take a nap, and we’ll talk later.”

“
You’re such a dear.” Annie
got up, heading for her room. “But I promise, tonight I’ll fix us
up a supper like you won’t believe.”

“
Okay, Aunt Annie. Rest
well.”

Charity watched her aunt trudge off.
Then she found herself alone, wondering what she would do
today.

Then—

Her eyes opened wide.

I know,
she thought.

(II)

“
Out with it,” Alexander
demanded.

“
What?” Jerrica said,
buckling her seatbelt as the Mercedes turned off the exit to
23.

“
Don’t give me that
what
shit. You’re high.
You’re fucked up, Jerrica. You’re acting like you’re sitting on the
third rail to the fucking Metro.” The priest scowled. “What is it?
Coke? Flake? Speed? You’re on something.”

Her head could not have hung lower.
“Coke.”

“
Asshole! I
knew
it!” Alexander came
close to shouting. “I won’t even bother with the lecture,
Jerrica—you’ve heard it a hundred times. All I’ll say is this. Life
is a fuckin’ gift from God…and look at what you’re doing with
it.”

She sobbed silently; she knew it was
all true. “I—” she began. How could she explain it? How could she
tell him about her curse, and how if it isn’t one thing, it’s
another? He’d bury her. So all she said was this: “I have some
problems.”

“
Oh give me a break!” he
bellowed. “Let me rosin up my fucking violin, Paganini!
You
have problems. Shit,
Jerrica,
everybody
has problems, but they don’t use those problems as an excuse
to be a drug addict.”

The
term—
drug addict
—chinked, like a hammer to stone.
I’m
a drug addict
, she realized, but deep down,
even for the years she hadn’t touched the coke, she knew that. The
priest was simply infuriating. “I stopped for years,” she said, her
throat hitching. “I didn’t want to do it again until I met
you.”

“
Oh, so it’s
my
fault you’re a
cokehead, huh?”

Her teeth clacked shut, her fists
clenched. “It’s because I fell in love with you!”

Now he really went off.
“Are you
out of your mind?
I’m a fucking PRIEST, Jerrica! I can’t be in love
with you or anybody!The only person I’m in love with is JESUS
CHRIST! What, some cute blond says she loves me and I’m supposed to
throw my collar out the fucking window, forsake my vows to God, and
piss it all away?”

“
I’m just telling you how I
feel!” she shrieked.

“
Yeah? Well how you feel is
fucked up! You just sit there and shut up and you don’t say a word
for the rest of the trip!”

“
God, you’re an
asshole!”

Alexander lit a Lucky,
laughed. “That’s right, baby. I’m an asshole. Asshole is my middle
name. But you want to know what
your
middle name is?” For a moment,
he looked like he might actually strike her. “
Your
middle name is junkie.” And with
that, he slammed the brakes, screeched to a halt on the sunny
shoulder. “I’ll bet you’re
carrying
that shit, aren’t you? Give it to me. Where is
it?”

Her throat felt so thick she could
barely speak. “I-I-I—”

“
I-I-I
what!
” he bellowed.

“
I don’t have
it!”

“
BULLshit!”

“
I don’t! I swear! I used
it all up last night! I was just telling you how I
feel!”

He shot her a look, then, of such
disdain, she felt like she might dry up right there in the car
seat, like a little puddle.

“
Just keep your face shut
for the rest of the drive,” he repeated, and pulled back onto the
road. “If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass right out of the car and
let you hitchhike back to D.C. or Luntville or Coke City or
anywhere else you might want to take your busted, fucked up life.
But
don’t talk!
Don’t
say a word to me!” He settled
back down behind the wheel.

“
Because I don’t talk
to
junkies,
” he
said.