Chapter 44: Estimated Prophet 1 A few weeks later I got back to the suite and no one was there.

It was dinnertime and I was hungry so I decided to walk over to Rotiers. I had a hankering for either a grilled cheeseburger or a bacon cheeseburger on French bread. Or maybe a weinerburger.2 Or even a fried oyster platter. It took a few minutes to walk over on a warm spring night but I was still pondering the weighty questions posed by Rotiers menu when I opened the front door and saw that it was more crowded than I was expecting. Of course. It was Friday night. Nevertheless there was an empty barstool so I took it. I found myself seated next to an older bearded man dressed all in black. The bartender recognized me and had a large glass of water waiting for me almost immediately. The bartender turned his attention to a waitress at the service rail, which was just to the other side of the man in black, who took a swallow of his drink, which allowed me to see that he wore a priests collar and had a beard. He looked vaguely familiar, but I didnt think it through because I didnt know any priests. I took a sip of my water and wished Id brought something to read. The bartender was mixing several drinks with multiple ingredients. Whaddya want, bud? he asked me. He didnt look at me because he was watching a yard-long stream of Kailua pour into an old-fashioned glass half-full of cream. He was wearing a red and white striped French sailors shirt and black pants. Looked a little out of place. Double bacon cheeseburger. American cheese. Mayo, pickles, no ketchup. Fries, I said. Lettuce, tomato? he asked, flipping his Kailua bottle back to the rack and splashing in vodka. He tossed the vodka bottle back to the service rack with an experts flourish and reached above his head for peach schnapps, a substance I did not know existed before that moment. He set the cream drink on the bar at the service rail as he started the next drink. The waitress moved the finished one to her tray. On the side, I said. Comin right up, he said, adding orange juice to the peach schnapps and placed it on the waitress round tray. She vanished with the drinks and the bartender scribbled on an order pad and handed the slip through the kitchen window. My dinner. I glanced to my right, casually, and my eyes were locked by the priest, who seemed to be looking at me intently. Hello, I said. I didnt really have a choice. Hello, he replied. You are Henry?
1

Thank God for the fair use doctrine, and thanks to the Grateful Dead and for Estimated Prophet and everything else on Terrapin Station. 2 A weinerburger was several hot dogs split and grilled then served in place of a burger patty. I cant defend all of my tastes in food but Im honest about them.

Yes. And you are? I asked. , he answered. It all came back. I remember you, I said. You were one of the crazy guys who hung out at the Hixson Lanes. You had a friend. What was his name? Dodge? You may be referring to Ford, said . Ford. Thats it. So since we last spoke I took a year of New Testament Greek, so what youre telling me is that your name is Thomas? I asked, somewhat smugly. is Greek for twin, after a fashion, which got anglicized into Thomas, or two minds, more or less. Thomas the doubter was of two minds. No faith. A simple Greek pun that became hard to see as it got translated once then again. After a fashion, he said, shrugging into his drink, which looked and faintly smelled like a gin and tonic. I could also be telling you that Im one of a pair of twins. Greek speakers seem to like ambiguity a little too much. Wheres Ford? I asked. He and his friend Arthur have gone off with the Vogon constructor fleet, answered. He rattled his ice cubes at the bartender, who appeared immediately. Another Vic and T? the bartender asked. Si, was the response. Your double BC with fries will be right out, he said to me. The guy sitting to my left, whom I had not previously noticed but who looked a lot like Casey Potter, stood, put some cash on the bar and left. The bartender quickly cashed him out. I could feel the front door open behind me, then a few seconds later, Beatriz was seated on the empty stool to my left. Hi, Henry Baida. Hi, Tom, she said. Hi, I said, surprised. The priest waved at her. Okay. So for several reasons this was really odd. I had been to Rotiers maybe fifty or sixty times before and had never before run into anyone I knew. And now there were two? Plus the dean of housing? Vogon constructor fleet? Focus.

So you two know each other? I asked. Yes, of course, Henry Baida, said Beatriz. Thats Father Tom from Wadley. The priest nodded and smiled, first at me, then at Beatriz, then at the bartender, who had just brought him a new gin and tonic. Did you expect to see him here tonight? I asked Beatriz. No, she said, shaking her head briefly, as though surprised I had asked. Then why arent you surprised to see him? I asked. Weve discussed this before, Henry Baida, she said. Strange things happen every day. I learned this from Father Tom. I looked at him. Si. I told her this, he said. Okay. So did you know Beatriz was going to be here tonight? I asked the priest. No, he said, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. Heres your BC and fries, said the bartender, to me, placing a really appealinglooking cheeseburger in front of me. I was really hungry. I salted my fries and tried to eat one but it was too hot. Okay, so you guys just bump into each other in a random Nashville bar and it doesnt strike either of you as weird? I asked, although I didnt really want to talk. I grabbed my cheeseburger and took a bite. It was cheesy, beefy, bacony perfection. Or at least it would have been with a little Guldens mustard. The bartender was at the other end of the bar. The burger was beginning to cool. I ate a French fry, then another. I waved for the bartender. He acknowledged me, but he was in the middle of pouring a pitcher of beer, so it was going to be a minute. Si, said the priest. Yes, of course, said Beatriz. Henry Baida, you are much too focused on probabilities. Everything that happens is as equally improbable as everything else that happens. What? I said to Beatriz. Shed said something important. Yes? asked the bartender, who appeared out of nowhere, to me. Could I get some Guldens mustard? I asked the bartender.

Sure. He reached somewhere behind him and plopped down a small glass jar of it. I opened it as Beatriz prepared to query me, confused. I dipped into the mustard with my knife and smeared some onto the bite wound Id left on my burger. What, what? she asked. The priest signaled the bartender for yet another gin and tonic. I took a bite of my mustard-smeared bacon double cheeseburger and enjoyed the last perfect bite that burger had to offer. It was cooling fast. I chewed and swallowed and picked up some still-warm salty fries. What was that about everything being equally improbable? I asked Beatriz, eating some more fries. Still warm but cooling, the way fries do, especially the straightcut ones. The crinkle-cut ones like they serve in North Carolina stay warm and crispy longer. I sprinkled a little more salt and had a few more fries as she answered. Oh, that, she said, dismissively. I went to this lecture the other night about the JFK assassination. And the speaker, who was not particularly insightful, Henry Baida, had performed a lengthy series of calculations that indicated that the odds were hundreds of millions to one against the fact that Lee Harvey Oswald and several other people whose names I dont remember happened to be in Dallas on November 22, 1963. And so in the question period I raised my hand and asked had he calculated the odds that Lee Harvey Oswald would be anywhere else and he seemed baffled by the question. But the point is that Lee Harvey Oswald had to be somewhere on November 22 and the odds that he was going to be at Dealey Plaza were the same as the odds that he was going to be in Wadley, she said. Everybody is going to be somewhere all the time, and the odds against that person being there with all of the other people who happen to be there are always going to be trillions to one against. Yet it happens all day every day. I took a healthy bite out of my not quite warm enough burger. Still tasty. She had a point. Every outcome of every day is highly improbable. My time coming any day, dont worry about me no! said a surprisingly loud, unexpected and new voice coming from what was (at least while I was talking to Beatriz) my blind side, between me and the priest. I swiveled and saw a surprisingly close, strangely familiar face, with sunken dark eyes and a grey beard and full head of grey hair, both of which were longer than fashion would usually permit. His clothes were disheveled but clean, also all gray. Been so long I felt this way, Im in no hurry, no, he said, too loudly for polite surroundings. Pastor Leslie? I asked, after a pause of a few seconds. He ignored me. I ate a few fries. They were still warm but beyond their prime. The priest was trying to ignore the preacher. Okay, look. He reminds me of a guy I knew when I was a kid, I said to the priest. And maybe I ran into him a few years ago on a train, I said. Si. The train fits, said the priest. We all know him as The Preacher.

Rainbows down that highway where ocean breezes blow. My time coming, voices saying they tell me where to go, said The Preacher. He wandered off, taking the priests gin and tonic with him. What do I want to eat, Henry Baida? asked Beatriz. I highly recommend the double bacon cheeseburger, I said, but you want to eat it before it cools, which means you want to ask for Guldens when you place your order. She nodded matter of factly and waved for the bartender. Ahem, said the priest. Yes, Father Tom? Beatriz asked. It is Friday. During Lent,3 said the priest. Okay, Henry Baida, we need a plan B, said Beatriz. The bartender had appeared and was waiting for an order. Talking this through with Beatriz might try the bartenders patience. Mr. ? I asked. Please call me Tom, he answered. Thank you. Tom, what is Beatriz talking about? During Lent Catholics do not eat meat on Friday, he said. It is part of a Lenten fast he began. Thanks, I said, and turned to Beatriz. You want the fried oyster platter, I said to her. She turned to the bartender and opened her mouth to speak. Got it, said the bartender, scribbling on his pad and turning towards the kitchen. Yo, keep! she said, loudly. The bartender turned back around with a cocked, interrogative eyebrow but said nothing. Heineken draft and a shot of Jack green, she said. He gave her the thumbs up and handed in her order. At the corner of the room farthest from me, which was still pretty close, The Preacher was standing on a caf chair that wobbled slightly. The assembled bar patrons looked at him expectantly while carrying on their conversations
3

Easter would have been on April 19 that year, because the first full moon following the Vernal Equinox fell on that day, a Sunday.

with each other. The Preacher fluttered his fingertips as he stroked the air with outstretched arms, like a magician about to do a new trick. Dont worry, bout me, nah, nah, nah, dont worry bout me, no, he called out, almost singing. And Im in no hurry, nah, hah, nah. I know where to go. California preaching on the burning shore. Here he paused and the bar patrons applauded amusedly. This seemed to confuse him slightly and he seemed to lose his train of thought. Whoever was sitting to the left of Beatriz put some money on the bar and left. The bartender, who had just set down Beatriz shot and beer, quickly cleared the plates and glasses and wipes down the bar place. I felt the door open behind me and a few seconds later Cisco was sitting on the stool next to Beatriz. Cisco, I said, in greeting. Yo, he replied. Never seen you here before, I said. I heard Beatriz was down here, so I came, like a moth to a flame, he said. He smiled his most charming smile at her. She liked it, but didnt swoon. She knew him pretty well. Hey, whatcha want? the bartender, appearing out of nowhere, asked Cisco. Cisco smiled at himthat smile worked on men, tooand held up a finger to ask for a few seconds. What are you having? he asked Beatriz. Heineken and a shot? she answered, smiling shyly. Me, too, said Cisco, to the bartender. And another round for Miss Beatriz here. Whats your name? Im Casey, sir, said the bartender, kind of surprised to be asked. Casey, whats your story? What do you do when youre not tending bar? Um, Im a divinity school student, sir? he said. Excellent. Casey, Id like to talk to you about that, but I know you have other duties. I would like a menu when you have a sec. Im Cisco, by the way, he said, extending his hand. Casey shook it, briefly, as though bewildered, then smiled, and went off to bring their order.

So whats going on here? Cisco asked Beatriz. Nothing at all, friend Cisco, she said. Friends having supper and a drink at a local eatery. rattled his ice cubes for yet another refill. Casey didnt look up but gave him the thumbs-up to indicate hed heard. You should introduce , I said. Oh, sure. Father Tom, this is my best friend, or one of my best friends, or one of the best friends a person could have, Cisco Atwater. Pleased to meet you, said Cisco, shaking his hand over my cheeseburger. What did you call him? Cisco asked me. Didimas? , I said. Henry Baidas showing off. Like he does, said Beatriz. Cisco looked at me, slightly confused. Casey the waiter placed a beer and two shots in front of each of Cisco and Beatriz, then stood ready to take Ciscos dinner order. Henry is displaying erudition, said . My name, Thomas, means twin. is a name in Greek that means much the same thing. Dude? Cisco asked me. Last time I ran into him he and his friend Ford were pounding down drinks in a bowling alley outside Chattanooga in the early afternoon. I just recognized the name this time. So youre Father Tom? Cisco asked him. Si. Im Catholic, padre, so consider me one of your flock, Cisco said, then tuned his attention to the menu. Casey, my good man, I dont want to detain you, so what do you recommend? The bacon cheeseburger is always a good choice, sir, said Casey. Then lets have that, with fires, Cisco said, and mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce and tomato, downing one of his shots and taking a sip of beer. Ahem, said . Yes? asked. Cisco, looking at the priest. There was a pause.

Father Tom heard you say you were Catholic? said Beatruz. Yes, of course. Who isnt? said Cisco. Father Tom knows that its Lent? she said. No shit? Cisco said. I had no idea. Yes, well, Easter is coming up, and during Lent, Father Tom would probably like to remind you that as a Catholic your fasting rules obligate you to refrain from eating meat on Friday during Lent? said Beatriz, sheepishly. She smiled shyly then downed a shot of bourbon in a single swallow. Is this right? Cisco asked . Si. All right, then, Casey, and thanks so much for your patience, what do you have from the ocean? Cisco asked. Right now, fried oysters, Casey answered. Excellent. Bring me lots, with fries and tartar sauce, said Cisco. Casey left us, scribbling on his pad. Cisco smiled at Beatriz, then drained his beer. Thanks, kid, he said. So padre, when is Easter? Cisco asked. A week from Sunday, the priest said. So Palm Sunday is coming up? Si. So I need to confess my sins before Easter? Si. So can I confess to you? Cisco asked, waving to Casey for another round. Somehow both Cisco and Beatriz had finished their beers and both shots. Si. Okay, padre, so in the name of the Father the Son and the Holy Ghost my last confession was maybe six years ago, Cisco started. Understand that he was talking to Father Tom, who was seated two stools down from him, past Beatriz and I, and that to

speak above the noise of the bar he had to speak loudly enough that everyone around him could hear as well. Thanks, bud, he said to Casey, who had set down a mug of beer and two shots in front of each of Cisco and Beatriz. Have you examined your conscience? asked the priest. Oh, yeah, all the time, Cisco answered. It may be lacking in some respects but its always there. And, hell, Im always examining it. How else to keep it in its place? So I say unto you, unless you do penance, you shall likewise perish, said the priest. A few people around us had stopped to watch. I sipped my water. Bless me padre, for I have sinned, and I guess most of my sins are wing-wang related, said Cisco, knocking back a shot and taking a healthy sip of his beer. Beatriz shrugged and knocked back one of her shots. Que? asked the priest. Beatriz thought for a second. Father Tom, friend Cisco is telling you that he believes that most of his sins are sexual in nature. The priest still looked confused. Friend Cisco has sex with women to whom he is not married, she said. Ah, said the priest, nodding and taking a sip of his gin and tonic. And have you made amends with this woman? he asked. Hmmm, said Cisco, knocking back another shot. Well, padre, I dont in any way mean to suggest that youre slow on the uptake here, but this is more of a pattern than an isolated incident, said Cisco. Excellent! he said, as Casey set down Ciscos oysters and fries. Are you guys doing a confession? Casey asked . Si. Sure, said Cisco. Mind if I listen? Im protestant, said Casey. No go ahead, said Cisco, eating his first oyster. Man, thats really good, said Cisco, salting his fries. He dipped his next oyster into the folded paper cup full of tartar sauce and rolled his eyes as he chewed the result. Father Tom, if I may assist you in bringing Cisco back to the table of the Lord, what he means to convey is not that he has had an inappropriate sexual relationship with one woman, but that he has had many inappropriate relations with many women, said Beatriz.

Yeah, I dont know about inappropriate, but the nuns in my grammar school taught us that any sex that had any purpose other than procreation was sinful, so pretty much everything Ive devoted my time and energy to for the last, oh, say ten years has been a sinful. I promise you I never meant to procreate with any of them, and honestly, a lot of that stuff we did couldnt possibly have resulted in procreation, no matter how fun it was, Cisco said. He dunked another oyster in tartar sauce and popped it into his mouth. I must assume these women are now angry at you, said . Not so far as I know, Cisco said, downing another shot and taking a swig of his beer. They all seem pretty friendly. Most of them seem to call from time to time. glanced at Beatriz as he took a gulp of his g&t. Girls like him, Beatriz said to . He frowned as though he didnt understand. They dont mind sinning with him, she said. cocked an eyebrow at her. Not with Cisco, Beatriz said. frowned as though dimly aware that her response contained information that he didnt like. He shook his head and looked back at Cisco. The Preacher appeared out of nowhere at Ciscos elbow. California, Ill be knocking on the golden door, he said. Thanks, bud, said Cisco, eating a handful of fries. Like an angel, Ill be standing in a shaft of light. Rising up to paradise, I know Im gonna shine, said the Preacher. He reached over to grab the priests drink and wandered off into the bar. signaled Casey for another drink and Casey was able to mix it and hand it to him from where he stood. Where were we? asked . Okay, so I have, what? Ciscos address started towards but the question was directed to Beatriz. Known, said Beatriz, waving at Casey for a refill. Okay, so I have known many women, said Cisco. And do you feel remorse for your sins? asked . No, not at all, said Cisco. I had a good time. No regrets. Showed them a good time. Confession without contrition is meaningless, said , gulping down half of his new drink.

Oh, sure. Padre, you misunderstand me. Im not confessing the sin of knowing those women. Im confessing the sin of disobedience. Of not understanding why its a sin to have sex with a willing partner when everybody involved has their eyes open and has a good time. So since I know Catholic doctrine is that I shouldnt do that, and I do it all the time, and I dont see it as sinful, I figure the sin Im committing must be some form of disobedience. I confess this sin, he said, finishing his last oyster and signaling for a drink. Casey had a new beer and two new shots I n front of him in a heartbeat. Jesus, said . These people are all kind of smart. And kind of difficult, in a nice way, said Beatriz. Not like Wadley. Sorry, what did I miss? Can I get absolved? Cisco asked. The Preacher appeared on the other side of the bar, next to Casey. My time coming, any day, dont worry about me, no, said the Preacher. Not worried, dude, said Cisco. Its going to be just like they say, them voices tell me so, said the Preacher. You hear voices? Cisco asked. Sorry, sir, you cant come behind the bar, said Casey. We have to work here. The preacher rached across the bar and grabbed what was left of the priests gin and tonic and disappeared. Casey mixed him another and placed it in front of before he had time to ask. You think he hears voices? Cisco asked Beatriz. Si, said the Priest. So, padre, I wanted absolution. As I recall you tell me my penance and then I say the Act of Contrition and then you absolve me. Or have I fucked up the order? And what, exactly, are you confessing? I think of it as disobedience. Or maybe ignorance. Of Catholic doctrine. I know the nuns taught me that it was wrong to have lots of great, fulfilling, thrilling sex with lots of beautiful, enthusiastic, extremely willing women but I just think they must be wrong. So since I dont think Im doing anything wrong Ill admit its possible I might be missing something. So maybe Im confessing the possibility I might be wrong. Or something. Cisco knocked back a shot and then looked at the priest earnestly.

Dios joder un patos, said . Beatriz frowned at him but didnt say anything. I dont speak Spanish. The priest drank off a lot of his drink and stared off into the middle distance in silence. Father Tom? Beatriz asked. He frowned. Sometimes he gets stuck, she said, to me. Father Tom? His eyes seemed to come back into focus. Okay, so I absolve you of whatever this sin is you think youve committed, said . He then looked at Cisco expectantly. Cisco stared back blankly. Friend Cisco, Father Tom is expecting that you will say the Act of Contrition now, Beatriz said. Oh! Fuck! I forgot! Cisco said. Okay, so O my God I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins, because I ..fear the pains of Hell? because of Your just punishments said Beatriz. Oh, fuck! Right! Because of Your just punishments, but most of all because they offend You, who are all-good and deserving of all my love, and I firmly resolve, with Your grace, to sin no more and to avoid something about the near occasion of sin. Amen. How was that? Reasonably close, said Beatriz. So penance, said . Right, said Cisco. Now for the hard part. I want you to go to church every Sunday until Pentecost, said the priest. How long is that? Cisco asked Beatriz. This Sunday plus seven more, said Cisco. This confession was pretty steep. He knocked back his second shot and drank about half of his beer. Dont worry. Henry and I will go to keep you company, she said. What the fuck is this? I demanded. I hate church. Im not even Catholic. Its for the good of Ciscos soul, she said, placidly, taking a sip of her beer. Soul? Cisco doesnt have a soul. He doesnt even have a good break shot, I said.

Well, if you and Henry will be joining me, I guess I can endure, said Cisco. We will, she answered. They looked at each other like young lovers without glancing at me. Cisco waived for another round. Casey was near at hand and refilled all of us. So padre, the Bibles divinely inspired? asked Cisco. Si. Then why does it disagree with itself? Cisco asked. What do you have in mind? the priest answered. Lets start with cape color, Cisco answered. Was it purple or crimson? frowned at Beatriz. Among these people, the only person who could possibly have been talking to Cisco about the color of the cape the Romans put on Jesus is Henry. He is fond of reading the New Testament and then complaining about it at great length, she said. looked at Cisco. Henry may have been involved, yes, said Cisco. frowned at me. Actually I can handle this one, said Casey. We all looked at him. The red and white stripes still struck me as a little off for Rotiers. Matthew 27:28 says that the Roman soldiers placed a crimson robe on Christ as a way of mocking him as the king of the Jews. Mark4 and John5 both indicate say the garment was purple. Thats just the kind of thing Henry complains about, Beatriz said to the priest. At great length. He scowled at me. I shrugged. So if God wrote it, why does it disagree with itself? Cisco asked. Wouldnt God know what color it was? scowled at me again. Youre self-taught, arent you? the priest asked me. I was opening my mouth to say Not entirely, but didnt get a chance. Completely, she said. He goes to class, but all the important things he thinks through himself.

4 5

Mk 15:17. Jn 19:2.

Heres a lesson for you, then, said , to me. He turned to Casey. What do you think it means, my son? he asked. I gotta admit, it worried me. But then I prayed on it, and it occurred to me that scarlet, red, is the color symbolically related in early church liturgy with martyrs. And purple is the color associated with regal power. So one was talking about Christ the King and the other was talking about Christ the martyr, so they were both right. Whoa, said Cisco. Bless you my son, said , to Casey. This is what comes of listening to teachers, he said. An educated mind doesnt just notice inconsistencies, it recognizes patterns and harmonies as well. But wait, said Cisco. Thats a pretty story, but purple and red arent the same. So didnt it have to be one or the other? Henry, arent you a student of physics? the priest asked. Yes. Then you understand, he said, draining his drink. You are not doing this, I said. Que? he asked, innocuously. Conflating two entirely different concepts from two entirely different fields of learning in and entirely inappropriate way, I said, perhaps bit too loudly. People turned to look, and at first I thought it was at me but then the Preacher cleared his throat behind me. Seems so long I felt this way and time is passing slow. Still I know I lead the way, the voices tell me so, said the Preacher. What two concepts? Cisco asked, downing a shot. Dont worry about me. No, no, no, dont worry bout me. Not worried, bud, said Cisco. And Im in no hurry, no, no, no, I know where to go. You know, if youre in no hurry, I bet there are some guys in the back room who would be really, really interested in this bullshit, said Cisco. The Preacher, still

glowering off in the middle distance, nodded grimly, then grabbed the priests new drink and shuffled off towards the back room. Casey made another gin and tonic for the priest. What two concepts? Cisco asked me. I think he wants me to go to wave/particle duality but Im not going to do it, I said. Beatriz? Cisco asked. Basic quantum mechanics states that sometimes small particles like electrons or photons appear to be particles, other times they appear to be waves. The math works with both states, and both states are essential to the math. An electron is both a wave and a particle. This has nothing to do with historical reality as applied to martyrs capes, I said. Interesting, said Cisco. If you do an experimentrun them through a prism or pass them close to a magnet, do they act like particles or waves in the real world? Experimentally they all behave like both? said Beatriz. No shit? None, friend Cisco, of the many lady friends. They interfere with each other like waves but scatter like particles in the most basic of experiments. Always have. Look, this is not some validation of a homiletic I began. So a physical thing can be two things at once, Cisco said, as though I were not present, or had not said anything. Interesting. Yeah, okay. Thanks, padre. Thanks Casey. And Casey, while youre there Casey brought another round. This is wrong, I said to . Why is that, my son? Because youre conflating two things that have nothing to do with each other, I said. Everything in the universe has something to do with everything else in the universe, he said, blandly, and gesturing thanks to Casey. I could hear the Preachers voice faintly over the crowd noise, although it must have been booming in Rotiers back room: Dont worry bout me, no, no, no. Dont

worry bout me, no. And Im in no hurry, no, no, no. I know where to go. California, a prophet on the burning shore. California, Ill be knocking on the golden door. Why does he keep saying that? I asked, irritably. What? asked . Dont worry about me. Who does he think is worried about him? He assumes we all are, said . Why? Because he is worried about us, said . And look, my son, you need to stop thinking of me as . This will lead to trouble. Okaay. I said, looking at Beatriz. Yeah, he can be a little spooky, she said. And what I began. As I said, earlier, call me Tom. You can feel proud of yourself for understanding the link and will not make me feel uncomfortable for thinking of me in a way that is 1,750 years out of fashion. I looked at Beatriz. Like I said, spooky, she said, shrugging. She may have been as relaxed as I had ever seen her. Yo, keep! she shouted out to Casey, at the other end of the bar, waving her shotglasses for refills. God only knows how many shed already had. And why Tom do you think the Preacher is worried about all of us? I asked as Casey put two shots and a beer in front of her. She knocked back a shot and pumped a fist in the air. Arent you listening? He wants us all to move to California. Why? Because he believes it to be the will of God. At this point the Preacher came through, walking quickly, pursued by two young men who may have been Rotiers busboys. As he passed by our end of the bar he deftly snagged Toms drink and motored quickly for the exit. As soon as he was gone the busboys shrugged and sauntered back into the kitchen. Casey noticed all of this and prepared another drink for Tom. I have to say, seemed to me to suit him better. Why would God want us all to move to California? I asked.

Do you understand Gods plan for your life? he asked. No, of course not. At this point Beatriz drained her second shot, finished her beer in a gulp and shouted out Take me home, you beautiful protestant whitebread bastard! to Cisco, and grabbed his hand to lead him away. As Cisco stood to follow I grabbed his collar. No, I said. I know, he said, reluctantly, but you gotta admit shes really cute. No, I said. Yeah, all right. No it is, he answered. I let him go and she led him through the crowd to the front door. Sorry. Where were we? I asked Tom. You just said you didnt understand Gods plan for your life, he said. No, I didnt, I answered. Yes, you did. That might not have been what you intended to say, but that is the only logical interpretation of what you did say. Okay. So, what I think, regardless of what you think I said, is that I dont know Gods plan for my life because there is no such plan, because either there is no God, in which there can be no such plan, or there is a God, in which case he has many more important things to do than worry about me, I said. I noticed that Casey seemed to be hovering nearby, trying to listen in nonchalantly. Interesting, said Tom. He took a patient sip of his drink. He didnt seem disposed to move the conversation forward. Why? I asked. Why, what? he answered. Why is that interesting? I asked, weighing the value of finding out what he thought against what appeared to be the large cost in dragging responses out of him. For several reasons, he said. For one, you seem quite confident that you know what God worries about. I dont recall talking to anyone who seemed outwardly sensible apart from you and here he paused, clearly expecting me so tell him my name.

Henry, I said. Henry, who was so sure of what God thought. Certainly not recently. He took a healthy draw from his drink. And its interesting that so quickly again we run into this ambiguity/duality idea. I often go decades without running into it and here it is twice in an evening. Its not really here, as a principle of physics, I said. You introduced it artificially. You might as well say this is a problem of owls or asphalt. So you know something of owls? he asked. No. Nothing. Pity. I waved for the check Casey smiled, reached around to several different places, and turned to an adding machine. What he handed me was maybe fifteen little green sheets stapled together. I paged through and not only my fried oyster dinner, but everything Cisco, Beatriz, and Thomas had ordered for the entire evening was on my bill. The total was just over $375.00. So none of my friends paid before they left? I asked Casey, who was smiling cheerfully in his red and white stripes. Um, no, no, he said. Understand, my dinner would have cost around six bucks. About five pages of the bill consisted of gin and tonics. I looked at Tom. Unfortunately, I have taken a vow of poverty, he said, earnestly, rattling his ice cubes for another drink. This ones on the house, Father Tom, said Casey, pouring him another. So, Casey, I said, reaching for my wallet and stacking four hundreds6 and a twenty on the bar, do you understand you were lucky here? His eyes lit up at the sight of the cash. Oh, yes, sir. But then the Lord always provides. I looked at Tom. Well, usually, he said, somewhat sheepishly, over his new drink.. Good night, Tom. Good night Casey, I said. They bid me farewell. Outside on the sidewalk the Preacher had gathered a crowd. He was standing on top of an upended wastepaper basket addressing the assembled group as sincerely as though theyd been gathered in a cathedral. I paused to listen. Although he was completely unhinged there was always something compelling about him.
6

Gamblers always have cash.

Like an angel, he cried, passionately, standing in a shaft of light. Rising up to paradise, I know Im gonna shine. Youve all been asleepyou would not believe me. Them voices tellin me, you will soon receive me. Standin on the beach, the sea will part before me, fire wheel burnin in the air! You will follow me, and we will ride to glory, way up, the middle of the air. And Ill call down thunder and speak the same. And my work fills the sky with flame. Here he gestured up dramatically with both arms, looking to the sky, fingertips twinkling to indicate fire. The second coming of Savaronola. And might and glory gonna be my name! And men gonna light my way. My time coming any day, dont worry bout me no. At this point I left. Like all good preachers, he was magnetic and interesting, but like all fundamentalists, he was repetitious. On the way home, I decided to cruise past my post office box. I hadnt picked up mail in several days. There was a fat envelope from an institute of higher learning in Southern California. Because I knew shed be pleased, I called Mrs. W. as soon as I got home, although I knew it was late for her. Hello? she answered, after two rings. I could hear her lighting her cigarette as soon as she answered. Hey, I said. Hello, Henry! How in the Hell are you? she said brightly. Just checked my mail. Got an envelope from Pasadena, I said. A thick one? she asked. Yes, maam. The enrollment one. Thats just great. You go ahead and enroll. Let me know where I need to send checks, she said. You dont want me to wait until I hear from Berkeley? I asked. No, no. Youre a better fit for Pasadena, she said. She would know. So I was going to graduate school.