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Ed wondered if Helen had gotten over that holy-roller crap and decided to test her. “Sometimes I find the snake in the Book of Genesis sympathetic. He promised to make us like gods. I’d certainly like a shot at that.”
Helen rose to her feet.“Shut up. Don’t be stupid. Don’t welcome evil spirits or mock God.”
He licked his new mustache. “It’s all myth, so what’s the worry?”
Helen leaned her weight against the balcony rail. “Haven’t you ever felt Satan’s presence?”
He shook his head. “As a child, I used to try to contact both teams, asking for magical powers. I think I’d still welcome any confirmation spirits exist.”
She turned and gripped his hand. “Don’t invite Satan into your life unless you really want him.”
“Never tell me to shut up or call me stupid again. Angels and spirits don’t exist, so what’s it matter?” The fear in her eyes amused him, so he decided to tease her. With a low chanting voice, he said: “Satan, come to me now. Enter my heart, sharpen my mind and mold my will, first among revolutionaries.”
A buzzing sound rose from the street below, giving Ed the chills.
“He’ll come to you, and he’ll be too beautiful for you to resist. You’re not ready to look into his eyes. You’re too weak!” Her pupils grew larger than normal, seeming to pulsate with each syllable she spoke.
He felt tension pinch his neck. “You call me weak? Only the weak believe demons can be summoned. Besides, I’m more cunning than any demon you might dream up in your imagination.”
“What about the guy who directed Rosemary’s Baby?”
Down on the road, the passing cars reminded Ed of ravenous piranhas eager to devour Helen if she fell. He lit a cigarette and flicked the ashes over the edge. “What about him?”
“He focused attention on Satan, and, by coincidence, Charles Manson sent his followers to the director’s home where they carved up his pregnant wife and wrote on the walls in her blood. Manson didn’t know who owned or lived in the home. Satan connected all things. The murders happened on August 9, the Roman Catholic feast day of St. Jean-Marie Vianney who was supposedly tortured by the demons near the end of his life and whose incorrupt body is on display in a church in France.”
“Incorrupt?” Ed watched a breeze sweep more ashes into the darkness.
“The corpse hasn’t decomposed, and scientists can’t explain why. August 9 is also the same date the atomic bomb struck Nagasaki.”
Ed laughed, pulling her away from the rail and kissing her neck. “Are you hiding an almanac somewhere? And, why do you pretend those random events mean anything?”
“Take back your invitation. You’re too weak to withstand them.”
“I’ll say what I like to you and anyone else. I wish demons existed, and I’d give them absolute control of my soul. At least, they’d be interesting.”
Helen walked inside, slamming the sliding-glass door behind her. He resolved not to chase after her, believing she had called him names just to push his buttons. As he finished the rest of his wine and decided to open a bottle of whiskey, he heard high-pitched laughter and attributed it to an over-active imagination.
Chapter 9: A Rendezvous
Weeks later as Helen ran errands, Ed reflected on recent events as he sat on their antique wood-armed sofa. Plans seemed to unfold so fast, especially his parent’s scheduled visit next week. He wished he could adopt the positive outlook he’d read about in Helen’s self-help books and felt like 1000s of different personalities inhabited his conflicted mind. He wanted to be more aware of any transcendent goodness speckled across daily life: A child's laugh, a kitten's purr, a phone call from a caring voice, a feeling of accomplishment after a hard day or a parent's loving sacrifice. The high-pitched voices told him none of this mattered and reminded him all humans and the entire universe were “destined for oblivion.” He covered his eyes, wondering if he should see a psychiatrist. Maybe pills would stop the doom and gloom that looped through his mind at random intervals.
Craving a cigarette, he found Helen’s pack empty on the kitchen table, so he decided to put the top down on his Porche and drive to the supermarket. He wandered through the crowded, narrow supermarket aisles and stumbled upon Kenny at the checkout counter. He refused to believe this schemer would actually shop for groceries this far from home.
As the cashier took her time ringing up the purchase, Ed tried to ignore Kenny’s trickle of prying questions: “Is that your fancy car? Where do you live now? Are you still dating Helen? Weren’t you planning to go back to school?”
The last question struck a nerve. How had Kenny learned of his college plans without talking to Helen? He wondered why she would go behind his back to contact this loser.
“Who told you this?”
Kenny flashed a smug smile. “Mrs. Miller. Don’t you remember? Why are you always so paranoid?”
Ed seized Kenny by the collar and threw him to the ground. “I’m going to cripple you if you ever follow me again.”
“You’re crazier than your girlfriend.” Kenny stood up and brushed the dirt off his shirt. “Have you met the congressman, yet? I think you’ll be quite surprised. I wanted to tell you earlier, but Helen hasn’t been entirely truthful with you.”
Ed wanted to choke Kenny. Instead, he left for his car. On the drive home, he phoned Helen, who told him she was “shopping for furniture in Georgetown.”
“Have you had any recent contact with Kenny?”
