That’s How I Roll: A Novel (32 page)

hen we pulled up in the van, Mrs. Slater came out onto her porch. That’s the way folks do. No need for a doorbell when your driveway is gravel or chipped stone. Or if you have a dog.

She looked like most of the women around here do after a while: gaunt, hard lines cut into her face. Worn hands, suspicious eyes.

But all that changed when the van’s side door opened and the release system lowered my chair to the ground.

“Esau? Esau Till. Is that you? My goodness. And this is—”

“This is my little brother, Tory,” I said. “That’s why we chose Mother’s Day to visit. Had it not been for your saintly kindness, he wouldn’t be standing next to me right now. The way I always looked at it, you’re Tory’s real mother. I’ve been telling him about you since he was old enough to understand.”

She clapped her hand over her heart, like she was about to faint. “My goodness! I’d heard … Well, just listen to me! Like I was raised in a barn. Can you sit a spell?”

“Yes, ma’am. I came out here for that very reason. There’s something that’s been worrying at me for a long time, and now that I’ve been led to the righteous answer, this was the place I had to come to.”

I could see she was puzzled by what I said. And she drew quite a breath when she saw Tory-boy pick up me and my chair the way another man would pick up a newspaper.

He carried me up to the porch; then he pulled back Mrs. Slater’s chair for her. I believe that may have shocked her even more—good manners count for a lot around here, but the older folks never get tired of saying that young people just don’t know how to act anymore.

Both Tory-boy and me said we’d love a glass of the lemonade she offered. We weren’t lying, either—the month of May can get brutal around here.

We each took a little drink, and Tory-boy beat me to telling her it was delicious. I was never prouder of him than that day—there wasn’t a single thing he did that wasn’t perfect.

When I told Mrs. Slater I was deeply sorry for her loss, she just nodded. I took that for what it was: an acknowledgment, maybe even thanks. But nothing more than that. Showing the truth of herself—this was not a woman who would ever seek sympathy, especially from a man who knew all about suffering firsthand.

Still, me and Tory-boy bowed our heads. A moment of silence for the departed.

She understood without a word being said.

After that, we went back to visiting. In the midst of all the polite talk, I saw the opening I’d been waiting for.

I almost never went to church when I was young. Even the most devoted of the congregation—the folks who’d come and carry you to church if you didn’t have your own way of getting there—they never came near our shack on a Sunday. In fact, Mrs. Slater was the only one who had ever dared.

But I’ve read my Bible and taught myself. I can talk Christian with the best of them. I knew I’d have to call on that skill if I was to succeed on that special Mother’s Day. In a way, I was just like the
sniper who fired at Lansdale. My intent couldn’t have been more different from his, but, like him, I’d only get the one shot.

“Mrs. Slater, the reason I’m here today is because I’ve done wrong, and you’re the only one who can help me put things right.”

“What could you have done, Esau?” I didn’t get my feelings hurt. In fact, I felt some pride. I knew Mrs. Slater. I knew she wasn’t questioning what a crippled man like me could do, not after knowing how I’d raised Tory-boy all by myself. No, she was speaking of my character, of my reputation.

“I don’t want to come off as some kind of boaster, ma’am, but … well, I’m generally considered to be a pretty intelligent man.”

“Intelligent? Esau, you’re the smartest boy we ever had come from here. It was in the papers when you won first prize at that Science Fair, and everyone says you’re doing so well, earning such good money with your business and all. I’m not sure exactly what it is you do—”

“I’m a consultant, ma’am. It’s work I can do from home, and, what with the Internet, I can deal with problems all over the country. All over the world, in fact.”

“I am not one bit surprised.”

“And I thank you for that, ma’am. But let me explain what I meant about doing wrong. Now, you know what is written: if a man is blessed with powers, he is obliged to use them only for good.”

I waited for her nod of agreement—and the confused look on her face that came with it—before I went on.

“Well, the good Lord has blessed me with a fine mind. And I’ve used that mind to make a good living, for myself and my brother.

“So I had no need for money. But I was tempted, and I fell. Somebody told me about this big poker game they have in town every Saturday night.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone into a gambling den, but I told myself I was only curious about such things. And maybe that was actually true, at first. I couldn’t say what brought me there, because I honestly don’t really know.

“But what I do know is that I ended up studying that poker
game. Not only the game, but the men who were playing. And I kept on doing that, week after week.

“If I had stopped there, if I had gotten bored, if I’d had my fill of the foul language some of them used, or the whiskey they swilled, there would be no story to tell.

“Only, it didn’t end there. One night, I brought my own money to that table, and sat down to play.”

Mrs. Slater sat there, waiting for me to finish my story. She worked at keeping a shocked look off her face, but she couldn’t do anything about her eyes.

“From the second I put my money down on that green felt table, I knew I was doing wrong,” I told her. “But my sin was much worse than gambling. You see, I had all the advantages over the others. I know how to compute odds in my head faster than this,” I said, snapping my fingers into a sharp
crack
. “And from having watched them so close for weeks, I knew what each man was holding. I could tell by the way they acted when they looked at their cards.

“This is what I mean: one man, every time he’s bluffing, he always takes a tiny sip of his whiskey while he’s waiting for other people to decide. Another one, he has a little tic in his right cheek that goes off every time he’s holding top cards.

“The plain truth is that there was no way I could lose. I wasn’t playing poker; I was using a poker game to take money from others. The only difference between what I did and sticking up a bank is that I didn’t use a gun.

“I have repented what I did. I know that’s not sufficient, and I accept the responsibility of that knowledge. But surely you understand that I can’t just give the money back. Not to those people—that would only cause more trouble. And I can’t keep the money, either.

“So I went over to see Pastor Knight—I don’t know if you’ve ever met him; his church is way over the other side of town. I was looking for guidance. To be honest, I thought he was going to tell me to give the money to the church.

“But the pastor told me he didn’t have an answer. He said such a question was too big for him—it was a question for the Lord Himself.

“I understood that to mean I would have to pray for guidance on my own. If my prayers were sincere, the Lord would answer. And I did pray on this. I prayed long and hard. Time passed—but the Lord finally answered. It was almost as if He was punishing me for my sins, making me prove I was truly penitent before He would show me how to truly atone.”

I drank some of her lemonade, as if it was a strength-giving elixir.

“The Lord told me that I must make an offering. Not to the church, but to a person who had both sacrificed greatly and suffered unjustly.

“And then it came to me, like a bolt of lightning in the night. A true vision, it was. I looked back on how you had sacrificed to make sure that I could raise my baby brother. I saw how you had suffered the loss of your husband.… God’s truth, there was nobody else I could see—the harder I prayed, the more you flooded my mind.”

“Now, Esau—”

“Please forgive me interrupting, Mrs. Slater. But Tory and me, we are each bound to ask you to grant our greatest wish. Each of us has a wish, and you are the only person on God’s earth who could grant either one.”

“Esau, you know if there’s anything I can do …”

“Two things,” I told her. “For me, I must hand this over to you, and I beg you to accept it.”

I had the money in one of those oversized yellow envelopes, the kind that are bigger and stronger than the regular ones. I reached it out to her. Reached out to her as I had so many years ago.

The way I put it, she couldn’t refuse. I knew that, just as I knew she wouldn’t open the envelope until I was gone.

She tucked it into her apron, signifying my part was done. Then she turned to Tory-boy.

Oh, sweet Jesus, he was just perfect. Better than perfect. I swear there was a glow all around him when he leaned forward and said:

“Mrs. Slater, ever since I was old enough to understand, I always called you ‘Mom’ in my heart. On this day, if you would allow me, I would like to say it out loud, just this one time. It would mean the world to me.”

Even though I expected tears, I wasn’t prepared for Mrs. Slater crying and smiling at the same time. She didn’t say anything, but I nodded at Tory-boy as if she had.

He reached over and took her hand. “Thank you, Mom,” he said. “Thank you for giving me life.”

We stayed with her for quite a while after that. I didn’t think she would ever stop crying, but she finally did. Then she had to hug Tory-boy and kiss him. Over and over.

I hadn’t prepared Tory-boy for all this, but he took in every drop of that mother’s love he’d been starving for his whole life.

It was the finest day any man was ever blessed with. I can’t say it any better than that.

ven if Mrs. Slater had wanted to check into my story—and I knew that was highly unlikely—there were any number of folks who’d tell her that winning $18,475 in one night wasn’t anywhere near unusual, not with the stakes those people played for.

She was a strong woman, there was no doubt on that score. When I first heard about her husband passing, I feared what we call “busted nerves.” I never heard of a man getting a case of it, but it’s not uncommon for a woman who’s lost her husband and has no children.

They don’t get thoughts of suicide, but you can tell they have no real interest in living, either. Like flat tires with punctures that can’t be repaired. Just sad and empty. Sometimes they have all kinds of physical pains, too, but the doctors never find anything wrong with them, so they write them up as depressed or whatever, and they end up on Disability.

I don’t know what this place would be without those kind of
paychecks. Probably like that little mining town built all around Grant’s Tomb.

The next time we went, Tory-boy took her a gift as natural as you please. Miss Webb had shown him how to make a bouquet from wildflowers, and he’d done a beautiful job.

Miss Webb even looked up the records, so we knew when Mrs. Slater’s birthday was.

When Miss Webb told me the date, I wasn’t surprised. But when she told me it was Tory-boy who had asked her to find it for him, my hopes for my baby brother took off like a bottle rocket.

Tory-boy handed over the bouquet the next time we visited. “For you, Mom,” is all he had to say.

After that, he said it a lot.

ver since we’d given up selling my drugs, I’d kept Tory-boy a good distance away from crime. I never tried to cut myself in on anyone’s operation. I never wanted to run anything. I didn’t even want to have anyone working for me.