Chapter Twelve
The steaks were nothing short of divine. I’m the grill master between us, but Norrah pulled it off splendidly, I couldn’t have done it better. Our starving pastor was wolfing his down like… what was it I said last time, like it was his salvation? Yeah, like that. It was a cozy atmosphere—candles on the table, lights set low, Rachmaninoff playing the piano softly from invisible speakers, bubbly being sipped liberally by us (Pepsi by him), a fire crackling not too far away. Aaron didn’t say much during supper. He was too busy inhaling his food. We spoke of our history, summarized life living on the mountain in a community small enough that everyone knows everyone.
When he was winding down, slowing his pace as he became full, he spoke of his church, of how they had been considering expanding it when they accrued enough tithings to do so; the church seating was so limited that there were always a dozen or so people standing in the back. Norrah fixed on me when he said this, twitched her brow. I knew what she was thinking, that maybe her monetary donation could go toward the expansion.
“Tomorrow,” Norrah said to Aaron, “any plans?”
He swallowed a mouthful of food before saying no.
“Come by around eight. Not for dinner but for cake or something. I believe I’ll have some exciting news for you.”
“Oh? Intriguing.” He cut through the last of his steak lazily, speared a bite and reconsidered. He was too full to take the bite, but it was too delicious not to; in his mouth it went.
Norrah selected a roll from the basket and stared at it vacantly, her mind elsewhere. She addressed Aaron. “At the party, were you Frog?”
He abandoned the fork to the plate, straightened his posture. “Why yes I was. How’d you know?”
“I had lunch today with Brittney. She told me everything about the party.”
“Brittney? Which one was she?”
“Black Cat.”
“Oh,” he said disappointedly.
“Would you estimate that I’m a decent judge of character? Would you judge that I can distinguish between what constitutes a good person and a bad person?”
“I believe so, yes,” he said in earnest. “My affection toward you creates a little bias, but I would think that absolutely you can distinguish between the two.”
“Then believe me when I tell you that Brittney is a good girl. Nobody’s perfect, as you well know. Not you, not me, not anyone. I’m aware of what she did at the party. Yeah it was in bad taste, but she was out of her element, and had a lot to drink. And if you ask me, Jonathan took advantage of the situation. She has a good heart, is more modest than her actions that night would lead you to believe. If you had never heard of Tiger Woods and went to a golf tournament, watched Tiger shoot a ten-over-par, you’d form the opinion that he’s a lousy golfer, when all it was was a bad day. Bad days happen. I doubt Brittney would do what she did twice in a hundred times.”
“Okay,” Aaron said indifferently.
“When she spoke of what ‘Frog’ was telling her there on the bed, I suspected that it was you, because of the God references. And if I may be blunt, I was pissed off at you when she recited what you said to her.”
“What did you say to her?” I asked Aaron.
Norrah answered before Aaron could. “He said Brittney should consider herself blessed that she lived to see that day. Because if she had died, Jonathan would have an eternity to finger her before an audience in hell.”
“Ouch,” I said and winced.
Aaron lowered his gaze and shook his head, wearing his remorse on his sleeve. “I apologized to her. I cannot believe I said that to her. It was inexcusable, an abominable thing to say. Not twice in a hundred times, as you just said, Norrah. It was a rash remark from an emotional person. She didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m glad you see that,” Norrah said and smiled her sweetest at him. “She forgives you.”
“Good. Maybe that kind of stuff is commonplace, I don’t know. It just seems a little personal, don’t you think? That guy had his hand up her dress like he was mining for gold. At least six or seven people were watching it happen, and it’s not like the dress was obscuring the act. Her body was in plain view. Am I that out of touch? Is that what occurs at parties? A couple were having sex in the bathroom, loudly.”
“I don’t know,” Norrah said. “That stuff happens, I guess. Kids will be kids. College is only half about education; it’s a social thing, a time for figuring out who you are, who you will grow up to become; experimentation is a part of that.”
“I don’t blame her as much as I blame him. He was capitalizing on the situation. What kind of guy allows his friends and strangers to observe him penetrating his date? It’s despicable.”
“I agree,” I said. “Boobs are one thing—I’m pro-mammary—but hoo-ha’s are another thing entirely.”
“Like I said, I don’t get out much. I’m not one for parties.”
“What brought you to this party?” I asked him.
He looked at us both, his brow raised. “So we’ve arrived here once again, have we?”
We humored, nodded.
“I don’t know if what I’ll tell you will be believed,” Aaron muttered. “I suppose that’s why I haven’t said anything.”
“A pastor wouldn’t lie to us,” Norrah said.
“I am not without sin. But you’re right, I wouldn’t lie to you. I still don’t think you’ll accept the things I say.”
“I could say some stuff that I’m not so sure you’d accept, either,” Norrah said.
“Such as?”
She checked with me: I nodded my consent. “I saw everyone. Dead.”
He sobered. “Did you, now…”
“I did. A hallucination, sure, but it was real to me.”
“What did you see?”
“Like I said—”
“I mean specifically. Did you see me?”
“You were Frog?”
He nodded.
“Yes, I saw you.”
“Dead?”
“Dead.”
“Croaked,” I said, trying my hand at humor. It was misguided, nobody laughed.
“How did I die?”
“You were on the bed, on your stomach, back opened up.”
He swallowed dryly. “Back opened up?”
“Like torn open. I could see your spine and ribs.”
He nodded gravely, dabbed his forehead and mouth with his cloth napkin.
“Don’t take it to heart,” I said to Aaron, “it was just a hallucination.”
“You really believe that?” he replied.
“Yeah, of course. Don’t you?”
“She’s more right than you might think. Right to have figured us dead.”
Neither Norrah or I had a response to that. We awaited his elaboration.
“You say you saw me with my back ripped open. You know what I think?—I think what you saw was real. In fact, I know it was real. It happened.”
“Come on,” I said thickly, “you can’t mean that.” I waited for him to break character and laugh, say, ‘I got you.’ But he was humorless.
“I suppose I should start from the beginning, and let you be the judges.”
Part 3: