Touch (1987)

Touch

Elmore
Leonard

*

A Michigan woman was blind and now she can see, after being touched by a young man who calls himself Juvenal. An evangelist and a wacko fundamentalist see dollar signs in this magic kid but Juvenal's got a trick or two up his own sleeve.

Chapter
1

FRANK SINATRA, JR., was saying, "I don't have to take this," getting up out of the guest chair, walking out. Howard Hart was grinning at him with his capped teeth.

Virginia was saying, "What's Frank Sinatra, Jr., doing? What's Howard Hart doing?"

Elwin sidearmed an empty Early Times bottle at the TV set, shattering the sixteen-inch screen, wiping out Howard Hart's grin and Frank Sinatra, Jr., going out the door. Elwin took down the presidential plates from the rail over the couch--Eisenhower, Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson and Lady Bird, Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, all the portraits done in color--and sailed the plates one at a time at the piano, trying to skim off the silver-framed photograph of Virginia seated at the console of the Mighty Hammond organ. He missed five out of five but destroyed each of the plates against the wall back of the piano. The Early Times bottle was still good, so he smashed the photograph with that, looked around for something else, and threw the bottle end over end, like a tomahawk, exploding the big picture window for the high ultimate in glass-shattering noise.

Then he grabbed Virginia, the real Virginia--thirty pounds heavier than the smiling organist in the photograph--and as she pushed and clawed at him, trying to get loose, he threw a wild punch that grazed her head and set her screaming. Finally he was able to connect with a good one, belting her square in the face, grazing that long, skinny nose, hitting her hard enough that he hurt his hand and had to go out in the kitchen and run water on it.

When Bill Hill arrived Elwin let him in and went back through the living room to the kitchen, saying only, "She called you, huh? When she do that?" Elwin didn't care if he got an answer. He reached up to a top cupboard shelf and pulled a fifth of Jim Beam from behind the garden-fresh canned peas and cream-style corn.

Bill Hill had on his good light blue summer suit and a burgundy sport shirt with the collar open to show the heavy gold chain and medallion that was inscribed Thank you, Jesus. He had his dark hair swirled down over his forehead and sprayed hard, ready to go out for the evening, almost out the door when Virginia called. She was on the sofa now sobbing into a little satin pillow. He bent over her and said, "Here, let me see," gently taking the pillow from her face. The dark hollows of her eyes were wet, her rouge smeared and streaked, one side of her face swollen as though she had an abscessed tooth. The skin was scraped, beginning to show a bruise, but it wasn't cut or bleeding.

"What'd he hit you with, his fist?"

Virginia nodded, trying to raise the pillow again to her face. The satin material was probably cool and it was a place to hide. Bill Hill held onto the pillow, wanting her to look up at him.

"How long's he been drinking? All day?"

"All day, all yesterday." Virginia was trying to talk without moving her mouth. "I called the Center, it was about an hour ago, but nobody came. So I called you."

"I'll get you a wet cloth, okay? You're gonna be all right, Ginny. Then I'll have a talk with him."

"He never was this bad, all the other times."

"Well, they get worse," Bill Hill said, "from what I understand."

It was hot and close in the house and smelled of stale cigarette smoke, though the attic fan was going, sounding like an airplane in the upstairs hall. Elwin had a hip pressed against the sink, using a butcher knife on the Jim Beam seal. His shirt was messy, sweat-stained. His old-timey-looking slick hair hung down on both sides of his face from the part that showed white scalp and was always straight as a ruler no matter how drunk he got.

Bill Hill said, "You're a beauty. You know it?"

"I'm glad you come over to give me some of your mouth," Elwin said. "That goddamn woman, I got her shut up for a while, now I got you starting on me. Why don't you just get the hell out of here. I didn't invite you, I know goddamn well." He got the top off and poured half a jelly glass full of Jim Beam and added a splash of Seven-Up from a bottle on the counter. The sink was full of dishes and an empty milk carton. Elwin said, "You want a drink, help yourself."

"I want to know what's wrong with you," Bill Hill said, "beating up on Ginny like that. You realize what you did?"

"I realize I shut her goddamn mouth. I warned her," Elwin said. "I told her, Jesus, shut your mouth for a while, give us some peace. She kept right on." Elwin's voice rose, mimicking, as he said, " 'What're you doing, you drinking again? Getting drunk, aren't you, sucking on your whiskey bottle.' I said I'm having a couple for my goddamn nerves to lie still."

"For a couple of days," Bill Hill said. "But I guess you know what you're doing, don't you?"

"I got her shut up," Elwin said. "How many times I said, Shut up! She kept right on, yak yak yak, her mouth working like it'd never stop. Yak yak yak yak, Jesus."

"Well, you stopped her," Bill Hill said. "You gonna take her to the hospital or you want me to?"

"Hospital, shit, there's nothing wrong with her. I give her a little shove."

"Well, what if she's got a concussion of the brain," Bill Hill said, "you ever consider that? You want to come out and take a look at your wife you got up the courage to belt in the face with your fist. You're pretty brave, Elwin, I'll say that for you."

"You won't be saying nothing you keep it up," Elwin said, "you'll be spitting your teeth."

"Okay, you're tough, Elwin, and I'm scared," Bill Hill said. "But you want to talk to me a minute? Try to explain to me what happened? See, maybe I'm dumb or something. I don't understand a man taking a punch at his wife and tearing up his living room. You remember doing all that?"

"I'll tell you what the hell happened," Elwin said, "feeling that goddamn woman watching me, following me around--"

"Now wait a minute," Bill Hill said, "you're watching yourself is who's watching anybody and you know it. That's called having a guilty conscience. You hide those bottles you're hiding them from yourself."

"Bullshit, you think she can't find them? She feels all over this goddamn house, buddy, and she finds them."

"All right, you know what I'm saying," Bill Hill said. "You try not to drink for a while, you go to meetings and you get along pretty good, don't you? Then you give in, and you know what happens every time. You smash up your car. You run clear through your garage wall out the back. You start punching people--hitting guys, that's bad enough. Now you're punching your poor, defenseless wife--"

"Poor, defenseless shit--"

"Listen to me, all right? Will you just listen a minute?"

"Poor, defenseless mouth going all day long."

"Elwin, what happens every time? You smash something, don't you? Or somebody. And you end up in jail or back in the Rehabilitation Center. Is that the way you want to live?"

"I got a good idea," Elwin said.

"Okay, tell me what it is." Bill Hill looked up at him calmly. Elwin was several inches taller than Bill Hill's five nine and with big, hard bones and big, gnarled hands that looked like tree roots, working man's hands.

"Why don't you get out of here," Elwin said, "before I heave you right through the screen door. You believe I can't do it?"

"No, I believe you can," Bill Hill said, "but instead of that, why don't we see if we can get Ginny fixed up a little. What do you say?" He took a dish towel that was fairly clean and ran it under cold water and wrung it out and folded the cloth, trying not to get his suit wet or mussed up, while Elwin told him again how the woman never shut up from the time she got out of bed in the morning to the time she crawled back in at night and lay there bitching in the dark, all day while he'd be trying to do some work around the house or else reading the want ads in both Detroit papers and the Oakland County Press, but was there any construction work? Shit no, cause they was letting the niggers in the union and giving them all the jobs. Then Elwin dropped his drink on the floor and had to make a new one.

Virginia looked worn out and in pain, a poor, battered wife of a laid-off construction worker. Bill Hill got her stretched out on the sofa with a pile of little pillows beneath her head. She'd moan something as he wiped off her face. He'd say, "What?" Then finally realized she was just making sounds, down in there being miserable.

He went out to the kitchen to rinse the dishcloth and told Elwin why didn't he, instead of standing there getting shit-face drunker than he already was, why didn't he straighten up the mess in the kitchen.

That was a big mistake.

Elwin said okay, he'd straighten up the mess, and began taking dishes out of the sink and dropping them on the floor, saying to Bill Hill how's that? Was that straight enough for him?

Bill Hill went back to the living room and laid the cool, damp cloth over Virginia's eyes, hearing Elwin dropping dishes and the dishes smashing on the floor. Bill Hill had a date and was going to a disco. He was thinking, Shit, he might never make it and the girl would get mad and pout sitting home with her hair done and her perfume on.

The young guy in jeans and a striped T-shirt and sneakers opened the aluminum screen door and walked in. Standing there with his fingers wedged in his pants pockets, he said, "This is the Worrels', isn't it?" Then seemed to smile a little as he saw Elwin in the kitchen dropping dishes. He said, "Yeah, I think I recognize somebody." He looked at Bill Hill and then at Virginia on the sofa. "What happened?"

"You a friend of the Worrels?" Bill Hill was guarded. He didn't know who this young guy was. But maybe the young guy had seen this show before and that's why he wasn't surprised or seemed disturbed.

"I know Elwin a little bit," the young guy said. "From when he was at Sacred Heart. They just called me to see if I could stop by, maybe talk to him. I'm Juvenal." He was looking at Virginia again, frowning a little now. "Is she all right?"

"Oh, you're from the Center," Bill Hill said. "Good. You're just the man we need." Though the young guy--Juvenal?--didn't look anything like an AA house caller, a man who'd been there and back and could understand what the drunk was going through. This one looked like a college student dressed for a picnic. No, older than that. But skinny, immature-looking, light-brown hair down over his forehead, cut sort of short. He looked like a nice, well-behaved boy that mothers of young girls would love to see come to the house.

"You said your name's . . . Juvenal?"

"That's right." The young guy raised his voice and said, "Elwin, what're you doing?"

"He's breaking dishes," Bill Hill said. What was the young guy smiling about? No, he wasn't smiling. But he seemed to be smiling, his expression relaxed, as though nothing at all was on his mind. He certainly didn't look like a drunk. He hardly looked old enough even to get a drink. Bill Hill bet, though, he was about thirty.

Elwin was hollering now, swearing goddamn it he'd get the goddamn kitchen straightened, reaching up to the cupboard to get more dishes. The young guy, Juvenal, walked past Bill Hill out of the living room to the kitchen. Bill Hill heard Elwin's voice again, then nothing. Silence. He could see the young guy saying something to Elwin, but couldn't hear him. Elwin seemed to be listening, nodding, the young guy talking with his hands in his pockets.

Bill Hill said, "Christ Almighty."

Maybe the young guy did know what he was doing. Bill Hill walked over to the kitchen doorway to see Elwin getting a broom and dustpan out of the closet. The young guy, Juvenal, was picking up Elwin's drink.

Now he'll pour it out, Bill Hill thought. Jesus, help us. And Elwin'll go berserk again.

But the young guy didn't pour it out. He took a good sip of the Jim Beam drink and put it down on the yellow tile counter again.

What the hell kind of an AA caller was he anyway? The young guy came toward Bill Hill but was looking past him into the living room.

"Is she all right?"

"I think so. He belted her a good one, but I don't believe he busted anything."

Now Elwin was leaning on his broom looking at Bill Hill. "All done," he said. "You gonna stand there with your finger up your ass or you gonna help me?"

Bill Hill said, tired, "Yeah, I'll help you." He started past the young guy.

"What's the matter with her?"

He was staring at Virginia on the sofa with the dishcloth folded over her eyes.

"He punched her in the face," Bill Hill said. "She's got a big bruise, so I put a cold cloth on it."

"No, I mean what else's wrong with her?" the young guy said. "Something is, isn't it?"

"Oh," Bill Hill said. "Well, yeah, she's blind."

"All her life?"

"Ever since I've known her." Bill Hill glanced over at the sofa, keeping his voice low. "Ginny got hit in the head in a car wreck about fifteen years ago. Yeah, in Sixty-two. It left her blind."

Juvenal moved past him.

Bill Hill watched him go over and look down at Virginia, his hands in his pockets, then the hands coming out of the pockets as he sat down on the edge of the sofa, his back to the kitchen. Bill Hill saw him raise the dishcloth from Virginia's eyes.