The Universe is a Very Big Place (41 page)

He picked up a book that had somehow fallen to the ground. It was covered in dust; Sam had to blow the cover clean in order to read the title.
A Christmas Carol.
First edition. Signed by Dickens. His legs felt sticky.

Thunder boomed in the background and Sam saw a flash of lightning that coincided with the darkening of the sky, as if God had turned off one switch and turned on another. He looked at his watch. It was going to be full darkness and night soon and he knew he should leave, come back the following day when he had sunlight on his side. But he couldn’t go. Not yet. He had waited too long for this.

He raced to his car and opened the hatchback. He ran to and fro, carrying whatever books he could shelter in his arms. When the rain began, he tucked the books beneath his shirt to protect them.

"Fuck me," he said, when his car was full, but the storage unit was still overflowing. "I guess I'll rent a U-haul." Sam shut the doors to his car as water fell in thick drops all around him.

As his fingers inserted the key back into the lock, he was suddenly reminded of the portrait of God and Adam in the Sistine Chapel. God breathing life into Adam. A shock jolted through him and he collapsed, reaching for books as he fell through a hole in the Universe.

"I’m not sure what he’s saying," said the joweled one who kept trying to offer him a towel. "He’s been blubbering like that since we woke him up."

Sam looked at the man and his lips tried to form the words
Fucking Idiot
but all he could muster was bu-bubu-bumm-bum.

"T’aint never seen no man sleep through a storm like that," said the skinny sidekick who was wearing overalls with so many patches Sam could hardly see the denim beneath.

"That weren’t no nap he was taking, you ignoramuses. He was hit by lightnin’. Why you think he’s smellin’ like burnt toast?" This was the fat one who had a few years, and pounds, on the others. "Lewis will know what to do. Lewis always knows what to do." His lackeys nodded dumbly. The three turned their attention to a dirt road, awaiting the mystical Lewis.

Sam looked at the building behind him for the first time since his awakening. The doors were swung open and there were books everywhere. A few were charred. Most were wet. Everything was ruined. Armageddon had come. But only to the storage house.

"Gone," he wept, picking up book after book and watching it turn to mush in his hands. "Everything. Gone."

"Hey, he said something," said the skinny one, nodding encouragement. "Good boy. Goooood boy." He reached down to pat Sam’s head and Sam swatted the hand away.

At last, a newly-painted yellow station wagon came into view. Sam watched as a face appeared behind the wheel, belonging to a round man with large, square-shaped frames balanced precariously on his blunt nose. The three yokels cheered in unison and Sam wished that Allah had taken him when he could have. Lewis emerged from his car carrying a brown leather briefcase. An expensive one from the looks of it.

"I’m Lewis," said the man slowly, stooping to meet Sam’s gaze. He seemed familiar. "I am here to help you." He touched the small of Sam’s back to show that he was non-threatening. Sam nodded and took the handkerchief the man handed him.

I’m not sure there is anyone who can help me
, thought Sam, his lips not quite ready to form a sentence of that magnitude. Instead Sam buried his head into his hands and sobbed.

"There, there," said Lewis. "I’m going to take you to the hospital and see that you get proper medical care. Then I will request that you be released to me and I will help you through this trying time. I’m a lover of books myself."

Sam nodded, blowing his nose.

"I know you’ve suffered a loss but your grandmother tells me the books were insured. That’s got to be some consolation."

Sam looked at his library that sat in ruins. His life’s dreams lay fallen like the city of Gomorrah after God’s wrath. He sniffed twice.

"I’m gonna set you up for therapy twice a week until the crisis is over. It will be okay," Lewis said, lifting Sam’s chin to meet his eyes. Beautiful, gentle, warm eyes.

In a moment, all of the books that had been lost were forgotten. Sam nodded and the man squeezed his hand. When Sam squeezed it back he knew that everything really was going to be okay after all.

6 Months Later

Spring drove down the highway, smoothly merging into the right hand lane of traffic. She smiled and nodded at familiar faces that she passed. The boys sat buckled in the seat behind her, talking excitedly about their second-grade field trip to the Sedona Art Faire.

"Where are we going, Mommy?” Blaine asked, craning his neck to see evidence of familiar landscape. Towering red rock formations on either side of the car formed an interesting corridor and Spring smiled to herself. The scenery of the land never failed to amaze her.

"Home. I wanted to try out a new route."

"That rock looks like the one in John’s paintings," Shane said, pointing to a smaller mound alongside of the road.

"They all look like the ones in John’s paintings," Blaine laughed and Shane nodded in agreement.

Spring found her exit and pulled onto a narrow rocky path right outside of town. The boys bumped in their seats. Spring stopped the vehicle in front of a row of three trailers that sat on a large plot of crimson sand.

In front of the middle trailer, Lanie and Bob were engaged in an elaborate, snake-like dance while Buttermilk watched from the porch. "It’s my boys!" Lanie stopped dancing and turned to face the twins, opening her arms wide to receive them with a hug.

"Grandma!" they said in unison, covering her cheeks in kisses. Bob adjusted his glasses and smiled warmly before nodding at Spring.

The door of the far right trailer swung open and Jason emerged, carrying a guitar that had lost one of its strings. "Hey, beautiful," he said, winking at Spring as he settled on to the steps of his front porch. "Want to hear me play Sister Goldenhair? I’ve been working on it all day."

Spring smiled. "Not now, Jason, but maybe tonight. I’m sure your sons would love to hear, though." Jason shrugged and began to pick away at the instrument. Bob took Lanie’s hands and twirled her around as the boys patted Buttermilk.

"I’m gonna go for an hour," Spring hollered out to Jason and her mother who nodded in response. "But I will be back to feed the twins dinner." Spring ascended the three steps into the first trailer and made her way to a small card table near the kitchen. On it sat a stack of mail that Spring quickly sorted through and stuffed in her purse. She hopped down the stairs and into her car. "Bye, then. See you in a bit."

It wasn’t a long drive. Within five minutes he was within view. Her face warmed as she took him in, leaning against his truck, arms relaxed and folded across his chest.

"About time you got here," he said, his eyes twinkling. He opened an arm for her and she settled into the nook.

"Sorry, had to drop off the twins. They said your stuff was quite the hit at the fair today."

"Yeah, tourists never get tired of rock paintings, it seems." The sun had settled itself behind a large chunk of rock, casting an ethereal orange illumination in all directions. "Wish I had brought my paints."

"I can’t wait ‘til it’s built," Spring said, turning her attention to the frame that was beginning to look like a building. "I’ve never had a home."

"You have one now. Maybe next we build you your very own park."

"I can’t believe books are worth that much," Spring said, recalling the insurance check Sam had endorsed and sent to Spring shortly after disappearing.

A bird chirped in the distance and Spring sighed contentedly. "Oh, I forgot. We got mail." She produced two letters from her purse. She handed one to John and took the other for herself.

"We’re invited to a wedding," said John, showing her the invitation in his hand.
 

Spring read the names Amy Strick and Trevor Donnelly and shook her head. "How in the world...? He told me he already was married!"

"Well, not anymore, I guess," John chuckled. "...Although soon to be again. The Universe is a very strange place, Spring. I don’t doubt anything. What does yours say? Good news I hope."

"It’s a letter from my parenting classes." She carefully opened the envelope and read the letter several times, thinking there was a mistake. "John. They want to hire me. As a counselor."

John took the letter and studied it. "They know a good bet when they see it, Spring."

Spring tightened her lips and turned to face him. She tilted her chin up in his direction. "I love you, John Smith."

John took her in his arms and kissed her forehead. Spring could smell the strong scent of his soap when she was so close to him. "I love you too, Spring Ryan Smith."

The rock stole what was left of the sun and they watched it disappear into itself, surrendering to the Arizona night. "Of all the things I’ve ever painted," John said. "Nothing can ever match the beauty of a moment like this."

Spring closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Nope. Fairy tales are best left up to writers, I think."

"I agree, Spring. I agree."

End

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are many people I would like to thank:

 My husband Shawn, for supporting me, inspiring me, and believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. I couldn’t have done any of this without him.