"Do you always answer the phone so rudely young man?" a vaguely familiar voice asked.
"Who the hell is this?" I asked.
"Father Jones from Sacred Heart Parish. Is this the Morrison residence?"
"Wrong number." I hung up again. If I didn't have a brain injury, I would have figured out I could have left the phone of the hook.
"James, don't hang up," Genise pleaded. "Please."
I asked my sexy menace, "What makes you think I want to help you?"
"I know, I know. Despite what went down between us, I always respected you James."
"Bullshit," I cried.
"I'm serious." she pleaded.
"I'm going now." I enjoyed her distress.
"No don't! I'll do anything, I need your help," Genise said.
"Anything?" I questioned.
"Anything," Genise replied.
***
On a September afternoon when Shannie was embroiled in the intricacies of law and Fernwood hadn't a grave to open, I took a road trip. With an arm out the window, and the wind tussling my hair, I drove towards Atlantic City.
Nagging thoughts of getting lost cast their shadows across the sunny day. Despite tracing and retracing the way upon my map, I still doubted my ability to find the way. I wasn't quite a year removed from my accident and eight months from the horrible day I got lost wandering the streets of Beyford. A greater fear was driving in traffic. Just stay in the right lane and take your time, pay attention, read all the signs; don't zone out; don't go too fast; don't go too slow; ignore the assholes. I coached myself, repeating the mantra over and over.
Three hours and a couple of near misses later, I arrived in Atlantic City. The salt air never smelled as good as it did that afternoon. As the hooptie made its way into Lower Chelsea a smile washed over my face. "I did it!" I said aloud. Driving onto Genise's street I reminded myself no matter what happened with the crazy Shoshone, this trip was already a success.
I parked the car, took a deep breath, and climbed the steps to the beast's apartment. The afternoon sun radiated off apartment building's tan bricks as I knocked on the side door. When Genise didn't answer I rapped again - no answer. I gazed through a partially open window; her apartment was dark and silent. Shit, I thought. Images of fighting rush hour traffic flooded my imagination as I watched the sinking sun. I strode across the street, stood upon the sea wall, and watched the tide. There wasn't a single boat as far as the eye could see. The entire neighborhood seemed asleep, so unlike what I remembered. I may as well been standing at the end of Cemetery Street.