Heaven or Hell Page 2

  “I just want to talk to her, if nothing else to at least give her closure. I’ve been wanting to do this for the last five years. I’ve got to talk to her.” Joe held back the details of why he needed to see his daughter. Some things weren’t meant to be known by everyone. Besides, he was fully aware the priest wouldn’t believe his story or the important business he had to complete with Teresa. No, this matter was best left within the family.

  “Will you at least help my daughter?” Joe whispered.

  The whirs and beeps of the hospital echoed in Joe’s ears as he waited for what seemed like hours for the priest to answer.

  Father Benjamin appeared to be having some type of an internal struggle. The man took a long time to finally exhale and then respond. “Yes. I will help your daughter.”

  The priest then frowned and focused on a spot at the foot of the bed just in front of where he stood. “I’m thinking your family doesn’t know you go by the name Juan, now, correct?”

  “No, but it shouldn’t matter in the long run. My name is Juan. I still think of myself as Joe, anyway.” The space between his ears felt like mush. He was so tired now, he couldn’t think straight. He didn’t understand why the priest was fighting him on this topic, and seemingly focused on all the wrong things.

  What did his name matter, anyway? His life was over. He’d never thought of himself as Juan—that was just fiction. Now, Joe—well, that guy was brutal reality. Thinking back to the time he’d decided to change his name to Juan Torres and completely drop his middle name “Joe”—the name he’d used his entire life—he really couldn’t remember why. He did know if people called him Juan they’d probably only seen his—later in life—saintly side, the part of him that felt like pure fiction. If they thought of him as Joe most likely what they thought was bad. Maybe that was the reason.

  “Father, all I’m asking is that I see my daughter before I die. If you can’t get through to her, contact my sister, Jessie,” Joe whispered with his last bit of energy. His eyelids weighed heavily on his face as he gave in to his exhaustion.

  The priest was trying to tell him something, but he didn’t understand. His mind turned off as his body went to sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  TERESA’S HEART FLUTTERED. WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT the smell of soap mixed with a tad bit of bleach could make someone so happy? Her nostrils tingled a little as she inhaled through her nose and enjoyed the moment. Something about the whole process of cleaning soothed her soul to its very core. Last night she’d scrubbed her entire bathroom well into the morning hours leaving no area untouched.

  With her body braced against the edge of the bathroom counter and her hip pushed into the tile, Teresa moved her face up to within inches of the mirror—then she frowned. Her forefinger pulled at the newest wrinkle around her left eye, but she decided to ignore the aging process or half-hoped she could simply cover it up since it would never go away. So she dipped her brush into the pale mineral powder and moved the bristles slowly across her cheek, then around the corner of her eye.

  Fog covered the mirror as she exhaled and thought about her real age. She felt as if last week weren’t her real fortieth birthday because parts of her life seemed to be missing.

  Where did my twenties go? Teresa wondered. And then my thirties … I must’ve cleaned them away. She chuckled nervously.

  It was true that in years gone by Teresa had spent too many hours trying to wash away her tears with a scrub brush in one hand and a bucket of sudsy water in the other. Probably not normal activity for a young, healthy woman, but a habit she’d developed over time.

  Odd that she’d think of all that today. It’d been years since she’d let herself dwell on the nightmare of her past. Especially reaching so close to the dark time, a period when she’d lost … everyone. A shiver of remembrance shot up her spine. Teresa closed her eyes and very deliberately pushed back those thoughts, down into the hidden recesses of her mind. For years she’d managed to keep those heartbreaking times away from her life of today, far from the world she’d created for herself and her son.

  She stepped away from the mirror and took a deep breath, but didn’t notice the brush slip from her hand until she heard the clanking sound when it landed on the bathroom floor. Her head spun as she bent over to pick up the brush. She stood up too fast. Dizzy, she grabbed the counter to regain her balance.

  “No more,” Teresa scolded her reflection. And soon, as she’d done so many times before, she forced a happy face and focused on the present, leaving the past where it belonged, in the past.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” JJ shouted from the hallway. “We’re going to be late.”

  She had to hand it to him—the kid had excellent timing, and this certainly was a welcome interruption.

  She smiled at the thought of her son, JJ, a typical teenager. Nothing abnormal happening with him. In fact, he’d informed Teresa on more than one occasion that when he had his own place he was going to throw his clothes around and sit on the living room furniture. “I just don’t get having a room we can’t use,” JJ had told her over and over again.

  Teresa thought about her pretty, nearly perfect room and for a single second she even considered lifting the boundary, but then—no.

  “I’ll be there in a second,” Teresa yelled to her son.

  She flipped her wrist around to look at her watch. God, if they didn’t leave in the next few minutes they’d be hung up in Los Angeles traffic, and late for both school and work. What had gotten into her? Nostalgia wasn’t usually a part of her life. Hurrying now, her hands seemed to lose all coordination as she fumbled through her jewelry box trying to find earrings. She finally settled on a pair of silver hoop dazzlers.

  “Mooooooommmmm …” A loud singing, whining sound came from JJ’s mouth and carried throughout the house all the way into Teresa’s bathroom.

  “Okay, hold on,” she yelled toward her son.

  She brushed the final touches of powder across her cheek, dropped her makeup bag in the drawer, and slammed it shut. Her earrings snapped into place easily as she trotted to the front door where she found JJ with his backpack slung over his left shoulder, his right hand busy text messaging.

  “Let’s go, JJ.” Teresa in a panic grabbed JJ’s shoulders and spun him around. She pushed him out the front door toward the car. “Move it. The longer we take, the longer the drive will take.”

  “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you.” JJ stumbled down the sidewalk balancing his backpack while he continued to send out a greeting to whatever friend.

  “When you start driving in a few months, you’ll understand.” Teresa closed and locked the front door, jogged to the driver’s side, pressed the open button on her car key, and within a second was in the driver’s seat ready to go. JJ was still standing outside the car, with the door open, focused on a text message.

  “Get in. We need to go, now,” Teresa snapped.

  “Okay, okay.” JJ landed in the passenger seat.

  Aunt Jessie’s words came immediately to mind—“That boy is a true product of his generation, helpless without a remote control, a calculator, and a mom to drive him to school.” Teresa dismissed her aunt’s voice, checked the mirrors, started the car, and moved through the neighborhood.

  Her heart pounded rapidly over the last-minute rush. “Cross your fingers and say a prayer to the traffic gods,” she requested.

  She pulled her seatbelt across her lap while she drove.

  “Jeez, Mom, you’re supposed to do that before you step on it.” JJ talked while he tapped out another text message on his phone.

  “That’s rude to be constantly on the phone texting.” Teresa pointed at JJ and his phone. “Why don’t you put it away for a while, JJ? You don’t do that in class, do you?”

  “Mom, both hands, please. I want to live to my sixteenth birthday,” JJ said. “Everybody texts in class.”

 
“John Joseph Reynolds—the teachers let you?” Teresa demanded.

  “They don’t know.” JJ laughed. “I’m good at hiding it—most of the kids are.”

  Teresa made a mental note to deal with JJ’s texting later; she shook her head and focused on the road.

  She was relieved to find only the first bell ringing when they arrived at Grant High School. A fast commute on the freeway in the morning was rare in Southern California, and she felt as if the world had magically opened up to aid in this on-time arrival. Teresa sighed and relaxed a bit.

  “It’s a good sign.” Teresa’s voice rose a pitch as she clapped her hands. “We made it, and now it’s going to be a good day.”

  “It’s always a good day, Mom.” JJ leaned over and kissed Teresa on the cheek, a practice he had never been ashamed of. “I’ll try and find a ride home after school. See you later, alligator.”

  Teresa watched her son, amazed at how like an adult JJ appeared, yet how like a child he behaved. In a moment, JJ jumped into the middle of a group of teens, many of whom he’d been friends with since kindergarten. He slapped knuckles and giggled like an overgrown infant. As Teresa watched, JJ’s long legs lost all of the athletic agility she’d witnessed only seconds before. “Goofy” appeared to have taken over his body.

  He swatted at the dark curly locks that covered his eyes and rested slightly above his shoulders. Time for a haircut, Teresa thought. She pulled away from the curb and felt a sense of calm roll over her body. In this aspect of her life, at least, she knew she’d done well.

  Teresa thought about work while she maneuvered through traffic. It’d been almost a decade since she’d opened The Soap Store and had become her own boss. Soap, of all things. An appropriate product for a clean lifestyle. “Natural cleaning products for the body, the house, and industry.” What a thrill for her, owning soap products and selling cleanliness. Uncle Joe, her friend Rita, and a few others thought she was insane for taking on such a huge risk. “So specialized …” Rita had said. Teresa hadn’t talked to Rita since. Not one of them understood Teresa’s passion for cleanliness. But her Aunt Jessie, full of endless faith, had loaned Teresa the seed money for the store. She’d always been Teresa’s biggest fan.

  It was a disappointment to Teresa that The Soap Store didn’t take off as she’d anticipated, but she’d managed to make it work anyway. She didn’t want Rita coming back around and saying, “I told you so.”

  When Teresa allowed herself to think about it, she didn’t understand how she’d managed to stay in business for so long. She had even paid back her aunt, in full and with interest. Thank goodness for the Internet, which had been the best thing for her store, and lately produced more than enough revenue to make up for the loss of foot traffic at the mall. She might not be driving a Mercedes Benz, but Teresa had been a good provider for her son. Certainly better than her ex-husband with his never-seen child support checks.

  Deep in thought, Teresa almost drove past the entrance to the mall where the soap store was located. She frowned when she turned her car into the parking lot and spotted a beat-up old sedan parked over the line, invading her favorite spot. Her hands squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white, and she drove past that vehicle toward the back of the lot, where she chose a corner space and parked diagonally to avoid door dings. Teresa’s car might be slightly aged but it was in excellent condition and she intended to keep it that way.

  After she pulled her bag out of the back seat, Teresa wiped the door handle clean and dabbed at a spot on the side of her car. Clean as clean could be, it left her with a feeling of satisfaction until she looked around the lot. The asphalt was lined with pieces of trash—again. She’d have to call the landlord and get him out here to straighten up this mess. Barney’s Pub must’ve had another busy weekend. The bar was located on the other side of the parking lot, not attached to the neighborhood strip mall where Teresa’s soap store was located, but close enough to create disorder for the entire retail area.

  A typical Monday.

  Teresa walked the distance to the back door of her store with her keys in hand. She moved into the building quickly and heard the alarm beep as she ran to the keypad and punched in the code. Inside, she felt for the light switch along the wall in the dark back room and flipped the light on. Her heart fell to her toes.

  Clutter everywhere. Shipping labels, boxes, and orders unfilled. The place looked as if it’d been ransacked. Her part-time help must’ve been in a hurry over the weekend.

  A light blinked on the answering machine that sat on the desk in the corner of her makeshift office. For the moment, she ignored the chaos and walked through the room toward the machine, where she hit the play button on the antiquated device. The mechanical voice said, “You have three messages.”

  Beep. “I’m looking for Teresa. It’s Sunday evening. My name is Father Benjamin. Please call me back at (310) 548-1100.”

  Beep. “Hello, Teresa, are you there?” Teresa laughed at the sound of Aunt Jessie’s voice. For someone seemingly so young at sixty-two, the woman sure had a hard time with technology.

  Beep. “Teresa, call me. These darn machines. Why isn’t your cell phone on?”

  Teresa pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and pushed the call log button—three missed calls. It was unusual for her aunt to call her on all her phones. She picked up the landline and dialed her Aunt Jessie’s number.

  “Hello.” Her Aunt Jessie had refused to get caller ID or call waiting on her phone service. If Teresa hadn’t insisted, she’d still be using a rotary dial.

  “Aunt Jessie?” Teresa spoke. “It’s me, Teresa. What’s going on?”

  “Teresita. My baby, hello.” Teresa’s aunt had a habit of yelling at the phone. “I want to talk to you. I need to see you.”

  A rush of blood fell to the bottom of Teresa’s feet. The woman was like a mother to her. If anything happened to her aunt, Teresa didn’t know what she’d do.

  “What’s going on, Aunt Jessie?” Teresa’s heart pounded in her ears.

  “It’s about your father. Why don’t you step out for a while and come over to my house? I’ll explain,” she responded.

  “My father?” Teresa’s head began to ache. She squeezed her jaw shut and felt her cheek muscles flex—her breathing sped up. “What’s going on? It’s been years …”

  “Please, come over. I tried to catch you on your way to work so you wouldn’t have to backtrack. But you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “Is that bastard finally dead?” The words flew from Teresa’s mouth.

  “No, he’s not dead.” Her aunt sighed. “I need to explain.”

  “Okay, Auntie.” Teresa put her hand on her forehead and exhaled. “Let me tie up some loose ends here, and I’ll be right over.”

  “I’ll put on the coffee and see you in a little while, then,” her Aunt Jessie said. “Oh, and Teresa … mind your potty mouth.”

  The sound of dial tone filled Teresa’s ear. She set the phone back in its cradle, walked to the front of the store, and stared out the window. She hadn’t seen her dad in over twenty years. Her last remembrances of him were awful and framed by that period of time she’d like to leave forgotten altogether.

  The worst moment in her life was when her dad disappeared during her mother’s final days, a memory she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in ages. Oh, how she missed her mom. Her body constricted as she squeezed her hands shut and let the weight of her fists dangle at her side. Teresa closed her eyes, allowing a single tear to fall while her thoughts carried her back to the place she’d avoided for so many years.

  She’d sat with her mom hour after hour, holding the cool washcloth on her mother’s forehead while the cancer and the chemo wreaked havoc on the poor woman’s frail body. Her mother remained continually awash with sweat, and hallucinating. Without an okay from the hospice nurse—who was gone for the night—th
e doctors wouldn’t prescribe any more pain medicine.

  Teresa, at eighteen years of age and having recently buried her only sister, sat alone comforting her dying mother. She’d kept back the tears for her mother’s sake, and she’d repeatedly lied about her father hurrying on his way home.

  She left her mom’s side for a quick second to make a frantic call to her Aunt Jessie. Teresa told Jessie her dad had gone to work as usual that morning but hadn’t shown up at the factory where she’d been trying to reach him all day long. Her aunt said Teresa shouldn’t call the police, that Jessie would look for him at the bars he frequented. Teresa’s aunt knew exactly where she would find her older brother.

  A few hours later, Aunt Jessie arrived at the house with puffy red eyes and a ripped sleeve. She’d said Teresa’s dad was okay, and that he’d be home soon, but she refused to discuss the matter further. After that, Teresa and her Aunt Jessie had sat together with her mother until they both had fallen asleep sitting upright in the chairs next to her mother’s bed.

  Then the following morning, Teresa found her dad in the front yard. He lay in a pile of vomit and smelled like a latrine. God only knew how he’d gotten home since the driveway was empty, and his car wasn’t parked on the street. Teresa had forgotten what was so important that morning that her aunt had to leave, but she remembered her aunt’s anger toward Teresa’s father. Teresa was given strict instructions to leave him in the yard.

  “He’s alive. Let him wake up in his own filth.” And as her Aunt Jessie spoke, she stepped around her brother’s limp body and spat on him. “And don’t help him into the house. He needs to find himself in this mess. Maybe he’ll snap out of it.”

  Now, thinking of that day so many years later, Teresa felt wetness run across her cheeks. She went to the mirror on the back wall of her store and examined her red eyes. Then she pulled the window cleaner from under the counter, put on her rubber gloves, and scrubbed the mirror. The energy he took … Just thinking about her father brought heaviness into her world along with the old feelings that she hated.