The hair stood up on the back of Monica’s neck, and her grip subconsciously tightened on the knife handle. She turned around quickly to face the voice. “Joe! You startled me. What’re you doing here, and how did you get in?” She didn’t trust him for a minute.
“Easy. Back door to the garage was unlocked, as usual. And this time the door inside to the house was too. I would’ve been here waiting for you when you got back, but someone called the cops earlier.” He moved closer to her and ran his finger along her jaw. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Pet?”
Monica glanced at the cordless phone she was absentmindedly clutching to her chest, and replaced it in its crook. She pleaded silently with God to help her know what to say. Monica took a second to study Joe’s face before answering. He looked stoned. Depending on how much he took, she had about thirty minutes to stall him before he’d be ready to crash.
“Well,” Monica said, trying to sound casual. “It was me.” She backed up to the dishwasher and placed the knife in the back of it. Though it had just finished its cleaning cycle, she pushed the steam dry button again. The door couldn’t be opened now for at least forty minutes.
Monica continued the dialog while she worked. “You see, I didn’t have the money I owed you, and I was afraid the neighbors would get nosy. We don’t want that, now do we?” She pulled two mugs from the cupboard and started a pot of coffee. “Do you want cream and sugar, or straight black?” Monica asked over her shoulder.
The closeness of his voice at his reply startled her. She turned and found him staring right into her eyes. “Listen, Pet. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I didn’t come here to chat over coffee. I want my money.”
Joe reached up and caressed Monica’s cheek with the back of his hand. “And since when do you care about what the neighbors think? Have you forgotten how wild you can be?” He gave her a knowing look. Then the fire returned to his eyes and he grabbed her harshly by the upper arms. “Where’s my money?!?” he yelled, shaking her.
Monica was truly frightened. Usually when Joe was this way she was high herself and didn’t take anything he said seriously. But she was fully sober and knew the situation was serious indeed. She didn’t like the way his eyes roved over her body.
She decided the best course of action would be to tell him the truth of all that had happened in the last day. He’d probably think she was joking, and who could gage his reaction in this state. But the Lord honored honesty.
Monica decided to make some popcorn too. Anything to distance herself physically from him. She gently shrugged free from his grip. “Joe, I need to level with you.” She backed up toward the pantry to get the popcorn. She took a deep breath “I got right with God last night.” She waited for him to react, but he didn’t. He just stared blankly at her and sat on one of the bar stools at the island. Monica decided to continue.
“I know I’ve really made a mess of my life. But God has forgiven me, and I’m ready to start over. I’ll pay you what I owe you, and then I don’t want to see you again.”
Joe’s gaze was fixed on her, his jaw taut. Suddenly he burst out laughing. “You did what? God forgave you?” He gestured in a mocking way towards her. “You? Have you forgotten who you are? What you’ve done? No. It won’t last. This is a phase. You’re feeling guilty about things, but you’ll get over it. Religion is for old people. Or stupid people.” He shook his head in disgust.
Monica’s voice was filled with determination as she countered, “I’ve made up my mind, Joe. I don’t want anything to do with my old life. I’ve wasted enough time as it is. Somewhere out there I have a daughter that I very much need to make things right with.” Guilt flooded her just thinking about Sarah.
Monica threw the popcorn into the microwave and slammed the door. “I don’t expect you to understand.” She said. “You’re buzzing right now. Tomorrow you won’t even remember this conversation, but I won’t forget. I promised God I would obey no matter what. And I intend to keep my promise. No more drugs, ever.”
This statement got a reaction. Joe jumped up from his perch on the stool and backed Monica against the pantry door. “No more drugs, huh? We’ll see about that. What, you think because you ‘spoke to God’ that now you’re somehow better than me? You’re a slave just like I am. The cocaine rules you just like it does me.” He pulled a bag from his coat pocket. Monica glanced down at it, trying to will it to go away.
Joe held the cocaine under her nose, taunting her. His voice became soothing, seductive. “Remember how good this makes you feel? When you're bawling your head off about your baby, or that fool Brad, or how your life is over; one hit of this and you’re flyin’ high. It's like magic. No dead babies, no stress, just sweet peace and relaxation.” He kissed her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. “Remember how good we are together?”
Monica had been staring at the bag in his hand. She remembered all too well the sensations of absolute peace and relief that washed over her from one hit. Her past couldn’t touch her. There was no guilt. Only a self-made reality where she felt invincible and extremely happy. Her baby was there with her and Brad had never left. Sarah was with them too and they were all one happy family. No guilt, no shame, no regrets. Monica reached for the bag.
*********************
The Lepleys had been held up by a semi that was jack-knifed across the only road that led from their house to Monica’s. They prayed all the while they waited. The were just pulling into Monica’s driveway when the apprehensive feeling struck Joyce again.
“Oh God, please!” she managed to get out before exiting the car and running up the walk to the front porch. Hank followed close behind. Within seconds they stood before the door. Joyce reached out and rang the bell repeatedly while Hank pounded on the door.
**********************
Joe stiffened and looked ready to strike her. His hands were balled into fists and the vein in his neck was pulsing. Suddenly the doorbell rang, followed by urgent pounding on the door.
They both turned toward it in surprise. Joe leaned in close enough to her ear for Monica to feel his hot breath on her neck. “You’ll be back. When you’ve come to your sense and have seen how God is nothing but a joke," he spat out, "you’ll be back. Crawling on your hands and knees begging for just a fingernail full. And when you do,” he shook the bag in her face, “we’ll be waiting.”
Monica ducked out from behind the press of his body and went to answer the door. She recognized the voice of Joyce Lepley on the other side. Monica undid the dead bolt and let in her new-found friends.
Joyce was breathless as she spoke. “Dear, are you alright? The Lord woke me and I just had this feeling you were in danger. We got here as soon as we could. Is everything ok?” Worry lines decorated Joyce’s forehead as she glanced about her.
Monica didn’t know what to say. She felt like bursting out crying, or vomiting, but didn’t want Joe to hear. She was ashamed at what she’d almost allowed to happen. Monica led the Lepleys into the kitchen. The door to the garage stood open and Joe was nowhere in sight. Monica exhaled a sigh of relief at not having to explain his presence.
“Um, I’m fine.” She glanced about warily, making sure Joe was really gone. Monica stifled a yawn as she went to shut the door. Then she remembered that Joe had gotten in through the back door of the garage, and she asked Hank if he would please check out back and lock up.
After Hank stepped outside, Joyce looked at the counter and spoke in hushed tones. “Is there anything I can do to help? I see you made a pot of coffee. Who’s the other mug for?”
Monica looked over at the counter where the mugs sat. She walked over and put them back in the cupboard. She didn’t want to get into it right now. She needed time to process what had happened. Her body suddenly felt very weary. She yawned aloud this time.
‘Well the garage is all secured.” Hank said, coming in at last. “Looks like someone left in a hurry. I don’t need to know who it was, or what happened, but I’ll tell you one thing- you’re coming home with us.”
Monica didn’t have the heart or the energy to protest. The hours she spent cleaning mixed with the emotional and frightening episode that just occurred left her weak and weary. She ran a hand through her hair. “Let me just run upstairs and get some things together. I’ll be down in a minute.”
After Monica went upstairs, husband and wife looked warily at one another. Monica hadn't slept, that was for certain. She was in old work clothes, not pajamas. And she seemed distracted, scared. But she wasn't high, and that was a good thing. Well, they reasoned, they'd have plenty of time to talk about it after they all calmed down and had some good strong coffee.
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