In the Tears of My Saints

Chapter 8: Destiny or Decision

Saturday: 9:29 p.m.

“So, what do you think?”

The three of us have been sitting quietly together for the last half hour, and I can’t take it any longer. To my discomfort, my heart is still pounding in my chest, and there are thousands of thoughts parading themselves through my mind. I have to seriously discuss them with someone soon if I want to get them into anything resembling order. Paul does not respond to the question, but Matt does.

“Duh, he’s completely out of his mind,” he curses. “What was he going on about? It was like a mixture of poems and riddles. Sounds like text-book-crazy to me. I wonder what Old Dave will be able to get out of him. What do you think, Paully?”

Paul shakes his head but remains silent.

I need to say more. “The Old Man is going to tear him up—I’d bet money on it. Willus totally creeps me out, but I still feel a little sorry for him. What do you think he was talking about when he said that thing about ‘walking with angels and demons’? You think he’s some sort of religious nut or something?”

“I dunno,” Matt yawns. “I’m tired.”

It bugs me that he’s not as worked up as I. We learned nothing of value, and just being in the same room as Willus gives me the chills. What was he talking about? I have never been around a person that is so obviously insane.

When Paul finally speaks, I am glad to hear that his voice has returned to its customary calm. He suffered from a horrific temper as a child, so I’m always a little worried that, given enough provocation or stress, he will lose it.

“That kid made me very angry, I think.”

Matt chuckles, “Really? We had no idea.” His sarcasm is evident.

Paul shakes his head in some exasperation. “No, I’m serious. For a moment, I was about to hurt him.” Then, after a short pause, “I just did not like the way he was talking about us. I’m glad we found him when we did. There’s no telling what he could’ve done to Jen or the kids if he had had a chance. How long do you think he has been following us around?”

“Who knows? Who cares?” Matt scoffs. “From what he said, it sounds like the crazy old dude has made a career out of it, though.”

“Why now?” Paul persists. “Why reveal himself to us now after so long? It doesn’t make sense.”

I suspect that nothing about Willus makes much sense. Besides, he did not exactly “reveal” himself so much as “get caught” and also “punched in the face.” I am about to share this with Paul when we all turn simultaneously to a pounding on our door. I am the first one to reach it and pull it open quickly for Jeremy, who stands before me looking annoyed.

“Why doesn’t anyone answer his phone? I have been calling forever.”

I fish mine guiltily out of my pocket. The small screen indicates four missed calls. I apologize profusely as I back up to let him in. He does not enter, but instead continues to stand in the door way, motioning for us to join him there. This behavior is very unlike him, and I become instantly curious. As soon as the other boys gather around, I get my answer.

“Directly behind me is a van that Old Dave sent over for Willus.” Jeremy’s voice is confiding but a little condescending.

I glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, there is what looks like a moving truck idling in the back driveway. The three of us nod our comprehension as Jeremy continues. “Inside of this truck, there are two men. One you know as Old Dave’s son, Dave Jr. The other you do not know. He is a friend of Dave Jr., and his name is Terry. Terry was friends with Little Dave when Little Dave was in prison. This makes Terry as nasty a character as Little Dave Jr. I do not want you talking about anything important in front of these two. I want you to treat them like the outsiders they are. Don’t be excessively ‘pally’ or friendly with either of them. They are not good people. That’s it. Does anyone have any questions?”