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A deep voice, a strong voice that is already growing more familiar: “That water was cold! Shit. The truck. Oh, I love that truck. Looks like I’m going to have to drive. Unless you want to wake up and take over. That would be great, right about now. I’m not sure how good I’m going to be at driving. I get the idea, but sometimes things are harder than they look.”
My mother says, “He’s gone, Benji. Oh my God, Big Eddie is gone. I don’t know how it—oh, Christ. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. My heart—oh, how my heart hurts.”
Christie Fisette says, “You can sleep now, finally. We’re going to stay here as long as you need us. Sometimes it’s harder to ask for help the more you need it. So there is no need to ask us. We know what you need. You sleep and let us carry you for a while.”
Big Eddie says, “And then I got down on one knee and—Lola, you stop hitting me! Ha ha ha! Benji should hear this! He’s old enough now! So, as I was saying, I got down on one knee and I said, ‘Lola Fisette, I don’t have a ring right now. I don’t have a lot of money right now. I actually don’t have a lot of anything right now aside from my big dick, but if you promise to marry me, I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.’ And you know what she said? She looks me straight in the eye and says, ‘Your dick ain’t that big!’”
Sheriff Griggs: “I’m sorry, Lola. There just doesn’t appear to be evidence of foul play involved. It loo
ks like Big Eddie just got distracted on his way out of town and lost control. There’s just not any indication that he was run off the road, and believe me when I say we looked. I’d not close the book on this matter if I wasn’t 100 percent sure. You’ve known me since we were kids, and Big Eddie knew me longer. We all grew up together, along with your sisters. You know I am a man of my word. I promise you.”
Mary Fisette, overheard: “I know he loved you, Lola, but he worshipped the ground Benji walked on. There is nothing Big Eddie wouldn’t have done for him. But he’s not here and you are. And you need to help him. You’re losing him, Lola. It’s been almost two years since the accident, and Benji is pulling further and further away. You’ve got to do something before it’s too late. He’s drowning, honey, and I don’t know how much longer he can last. You lost your husband, but he lost his father, the only one he will ever have.”
That strong voice: “Okay, how hard can it be? You’ve seen people do this for decades. Just put that key thing into the slot thing and move the stick thing to the ‘D’ thing. I can do this. I am a driver. I can do this. Bless me, Father. Please.”
Big Eddie says, “You are my son, the only one God saw fit to give me.” Big Eddie says, “You must be strong. You must be brave.”
Big Eddie says, “Wake up. You gotta wake up, Benji. He’s come down from On
High because you called him and you’ve got to wake up. He’s been waiting, yes, but you helped bring him here, down to this place. You’ve got to help him. He’s going to act big, he’s going to talk big, but deep down, you two are the same. You must remember this. You are the same. You grieve. You think yourself alone. He will need you as much as you’ll need him. It’s almost time for you to stand. It’s almost time for you to stand and be true.”
I—
Wake up.
Dad, I can’t just—
Wake up.
I miss you so damn—
WAKE UP!
I—
—open my eyes. I’m in the cab of the blue Ford, and we’re flying through the
dark, the engine of the truck roaring as the headlights illuminate the road before us. I’m covered in my dad’s old coat, my skin still slightly chilled. I look over at the man who fell from the sky, his big hands wrapped tightly on the steering wheel at ten and two, just like I was taught at sixteen. His eyes are wide, his forehead scrunched up in concentration, his lips pulled back in a grim smile. I gasp and reach for the passenger door, trying to put as much distance between us as I can.
“Uh,” I say articulately. He glances over at me, dark eyes flashing, his smile growing wider. “I’m driving!” he says with an excited rumble. “I didn’t think I could get the hang of it, but I’m driving.” His gaze never leaves my face.
“Watch the road,” I whisper. He ignores me, his eyes still on mine. “Sure as shit, I didn’t think I’d get it that fast. I mean, I’ve seen you people drive before, and I thought, how hard could it be? I mean, you obviously weren’t going to do it, because you decided it was a good time to pass out.”
“Slow down,” I say.
“I mean, I’ve seen you drive this old truck before, but you never go this fast. You drive like Abe does in that little car of his—”
“Slow the fuck down!” I scream at him.
My sudden outburst startles him, and he jerks the wheel to the left and the Ford
follows with a groan of metal and rubber, the rear beginning to fishtail and swing to the right. There’s a moment when all the weight of the truck seems to be on the passenger side and I think we’re going to flip, but then that passes and we’re spinning out. The truck comes to a halt in the middle of the two-lane highway, having spun in an almost complete circle before stalling in the road. The only sounds are the ticking of the cooling engine and our panting breaths.
Then, “You’ve got a loud yell for such a little guy,” he says, arching his right eyebrow in appreciation. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you yell that loud before, Benji. Not even when you were really angry.”
My brain can’t compute this, this intimacy, him speaking as if he knows me. My brain doesn’t seem to be computing a whole hell of a lot, now that I think about it. It’s probably because I’ve completely lost it, I tell myself. I’ve gone completely and utterly batshit insane. It’s the only thing that would make any sense.
“Who. The fuck. Are you?” I ask, ignoring the waver of my voice He rubs a hand over the rusty stubble on his face. He appears to be trying to choose his words carefully before he speaks, but seems to be having difficulty doing so. This, of course, only makes it worse. People who choose their words can choose to lie. “Calliel,” he says finally, averting his eyes from mine. “My name is Calliel and I’m the guardian angel for Roseland and its people. And I’m here because of you. You called me, Benji. You called me and I came. Oh, and I’ve always wanted to tell you, because it hurt me to see you so. I’ve always wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your dad. Big Eddie was a great man. He was a great man and I’m sorry.”
