Zero Main Street

Redemption by the Slice

A novel by david wayne black

(3rd Draft – April, 2007)

FOREWORD

I started this around four years ago and shelved it for numerous reasons. The first portion (about fifteen pages) was written in 2003 when things were very different for me. As I unearthed this last summer, I believed that the “abandoned work” had potential, though the emotional turmoil that fueled it had largely subsided. I hope you agree. If not, it is my sincere wish that you do not hold back…

Before beginning THIS journey, please note the following:

While I have edited the original “short story” and rewrote a few lines here and there, I chose to preserve the TONE as I extended it to “novel” length. Be warned that there is very coarse language, potentially blasphemous themes, rampant drug and alcohol abuse, and explicit sexual situations contained herein! If you are easily offended or have no sense of humour whatsoever, this may not be very enjoyable.

Unlike Dream Warriors, this is a work of FICTION! I know that you will perhaps quickly recognize a few “autobiographical influences,” but I make no claim to report the truth here. And any similarities to real-life characters and situations are PURELY INTENTIONAL. Pick up the pieces of your broken life and move on already. Or call your therapist. Whatever works for you.

Time, location, setting, and the Laws of Physics do not always mesh in a harmonious fashion throughout this narrative. Multiple storylines with many of the characters are woven together in a seemingly haphazard manner. Patience and close attention may be required to thoroughly appreciate what I think is a worthwhile tale. (Yes, I really typed that.) A smidge of extra focus just may bring you into agreement with me. Though the “flow” may jump and skip abruptly, it DOES travel in the general direction of a linear conclusion.

As always, Happy Reading!

“Redemption comes in little pieces.

In little slices…

I believe that Redemption isn’t always meted out all at once. I believe that it is more than likely awarded in smaller portions.

The typical pizza is a Circle. A Circle is sacred – a never-ending line, traveling magically and eternally.

But the average pie – beautiful and perfect as a whole – achieves its majesty only as a sum of its individual parts. Or SLICES, if you will. And the essence is truly greater than said sum.

Together, all the separate pieces work in harmony to make Nature’s – God’s – most perfect shape, figuratively and literally, scientifically and mathematically:

The CIRCLE!

The Circle represents continuity, rebirth, integrity, unity, commonality, resurrection, community, family, reincarnation, life, order, mystery, protection, universality, purpose.

And the FULL CIRCLE represents REDEMPTION.

COMPLETE Redemption.

Redemption for ALL!”

(Doggerel found scrawled on the employee bathroom wall of the East Blythesville Pizza Shak. Date and author unknown – it was discovered behind a set of lockers during a massive renovation.)

One

College degree and here I am washing dishes in a goddamned pizza joint, Kyle steamed silently. Another glorious night spent cleaning up after the fuck-offs. He slammed the umpteenth rack of pans into the Autochlor. Looking for something, anything to blame for his fortune, he could not deny his own part. This only served to fuel the rage. It seemed like just yesterday that he had a halfway decent job and a halfway decent life.

Though he had bitched about it then, it felt like manna from Heaven now. Kyle wondered more and more if he would ever be happy. When he had it all, he was miserable. When he dumped that for what he wanted he was miserable. When he had Her, he was miserable. Now he was without Her…and miserable.

Yes - only capitals would do for Sam. Even though he could have strangled her most days, he knew that She was The One. He’d always thought that the concept of “the one” was a fairy tale; hell, he’d even used it to get in someone else’s pants more than a couple of times. Kyle now knew the despair of trying to prove the cliché wrong like no one else.

Damn. There I go again. I’m not that fucking special.

Another rack of pizza sauce hell.

“KYLE. You’re up!”

Shit. He looked up at the clock. Five minutes ‘til close. Jesus!

“Alright! Lemme try to pull myself from Paradise.”

Pam glowered at him. “You need to get going. There’s only ten minutes left on this one and it’s all the way across town.”

God, did she get hit with the holier-than-thou stick since her promotion! What is it with these single moms and their “mission from God” minimum wage existences? Why is everything so epic? It’s a freakin’ pie delivery for Chrissake. Probably some pothead with the munchies to boot.

“Out the door, dear.”

Kyle grabbed the bag and stopped cold.

“Is this another one of your silly pranks?”

Pam softened a little and almost allowed a grin, “No. I know, I know. I already called. It’s a nice lady, and she says she’s used to it. I didn’t believe it either, but the phone number’s good. Just go and check it out. Worst case - you’ll have a pizza to take home.”

“’0 Main Street.’ I lived on Main for several years. That doesn’t seem possible. It’s not worth the gas.”

“Just go. You’ll get paid for it either way.”

The smile was disappearing. Kyle headed out the door in a dark cloud of fed-up.

“Have a good run!”

Kyle looked blankly at the source of the saccharin sing-song wish. Rhonda took a drag off her cigarette and smiled blithely. No matter how many years had passed since school, that certain type of loathing reserved for teachers’ pets never seemed to abate. He chose a noncommittal grunt in response and continued towards the car.

Now I know what it’s like to be the victim of sexism...

He backed out and let auto-drive run the car while he chewed on this fresh stream of mental bile. Pam had seemed alright when he first started here, but now she was merely a stereotype. He had the small decency to not drag her sexuality into his assessment, but he still privately wondered how it played into the favouritism here. None of the girls were expected to work or work hard. Consequences were reserved for guys. Kyle didn’t mind much at first, but after only two months, it was starting to get old. This shit never went on down South. That pizzeria had been far from perfect, yet Kyle did not recall this level of bullshit. Maybe it was because he had been fucked up most of the time. No matter. It was wearing on him now.

Hard work was fine. He just expected everyone else to keep up their fair share. The previous manager had the same opinion, and he thought Pam did, too. Since her ascension, however, things had changed somewhat. He was sure that his sobering up affected it as well. To think that she had accused him of being high the other night. Maybe his problem was that he wasn’t on drugs…

All these weeks later and he still couldn’t believe he had thrown it all away over Her. More than a decade of sobriety gone in one drink. Shit… He shook his head. No sense in dwelling on it now. What was done, was done. Besides, he was going to pass up his delivery if he didn’t get out of his own thoughts.

One hundred Main Street.

Kyle plainly did not believe this was a legit delivery. Broadway was only a block away, and he had never noticed numbers dropping to single digits around there. Come to think about it, he never paid any attention to the houses here at all - even though he used to jog this way several times a week. Is the house gonna be on the right or left? That’s a question! Is “zero” an odd number? The Romans didn’t even have a “zero.” “0 Main Street” – what a friggin’ hoot!

Whoops. Just passed “two...”

He slowed down. That was it. The convenience mart and the brake shop, both facing Broadway. He pulled into the store lot. Here goes fifty cents… If it wasn’t a prank, he’d better get a tip. What a crock of shit! He pulled the ticket and started dialing. If he hadn’t been over his minutes, he could have used his cell. This was undoubtedly cheaper.

“468?” Kyle hadn’t seen that exchange. Around this neighbourhood, it was mostly “462.” Didn’t surprise him much- the city had just released “467” a few years back. Must have run it dry...

An odd click – then, “Hello?” He relaxed. It sounded like a nice older lady

“Ma’am? I’m sorry to bother you. This is Kyle, your pizza delivery guy. I’m having a little trouble finding your house…”

She chuckled, “That’s all right young man. This happens from time to time. We’re right next door to ‘two.’ It’s a gravel drive that’s not well marked, and we’re set back from the road a piece.”

He brightened. “I’m sure I musta just passed it. I’ll be right there with your pie.”

He hung up. Kyle did not remember a gravel drive there, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

He got in the car and turned left back onto Main.

There it was, clear as day.

A gravel drive in need of weeding, sure. Still Kyle couldn’t imagine how he missed it. And just to the right was a yard light in front of “two.”

But when I drove past here a minute ago… He relinquished the thought. Likely he wasn’t paying attention - as usual - and was only focusing on finishing up for the night. THAT never happens…

He pulled off the road. The house was probably built later than the rest, and some Mensa reject decided to number it “zero.” Can you really number something “0?”

He felt a strong chill as the house finally came into view. It definitely was set back “a piece.”

Still shaking off the “cold,” he exited the car. Must have been one hell of an angel passing over my grave this time.

He walked up to the considerably newer nondescript house and rang the bell. Footsteps preceded the opening of the inner door. A diminutive, smiling woman in her sixties peered at him from behind thick glasses.

Kyle painted on his standard artificial-sweetener grin, though it felt wrong somehow. Really wrong.

“Ma’am. I’m sorry about running behind, but –“

The woman stopped him short, “Kyle, you are right on time.”

He started. “How did you…”

She responded by holding the screen door for him. “Come on in, Mr. Nametag.”

Relieved and chuckling, he held the pie high to squeeze through into a small and tidy sitting room. Having no television, it truly lived up to its traditional name. Two well-padded high-back chairs faced a coffee table and a fireplace. Although it was presently unused, the occupant had found an alternate function with houseplants and live flowers. Stunning live flowers. Not usually taken with foliage, Kyle was awestruck with the quality and variety of hues. A similarly impressive display of colour and vitality filled the aquarium by the front window.

When he finally caught himself, Kyle turned with the pizza to the beaming woman. She had not made a sound while patiently waiting for his appreciation to subside.

His mouth had started to open, but instead he smiled back at her. He hadn’t felt this way in such a long time. It escaped him a moment, then the word appeared: Serenity. All of that Robitussin had indeed claimed some brain cells as collateral damage, yet a few continued to function feebly. Again he opened his mouth; again he smiled. He couldn’t seem to remember exactly why he had been so irritated on his way over.

“Just set it on the table, dear.”

It was almost as if she knew his capacity to speak had taken a scheduled work break. He placed the box down next to the coffee service that had escaped his notice: Fiesta Ware, featuring fresh brew from the smell. Two cups had been poured, still steaming. In addition to cream and sugar, two packets of Sweet’N’Low had been set aside specifically for one of the beneficiaries. Next to the tray were two matching dinner plates and an equally cheerful napkin holder.

Kyle turned to the lady, still grinning. “Ma’am, the damage is fourteen even. I don’t want to keep you from your company.”

She retrieved a small change purse from the pocket of her sweater and handed him a twenty. “Kyle, dear, you’re my ‘company.’ Put that in your pocket and have a slice with me. I did order a ‘veggie,’ after all. It would be a shame to let so much go to waste.” She gestured towards the far chair. “Have a seat, dear. Please.”

His smile did not falter as confusion crowded in, “Ma’am, I’d love to, but…”

She sat down, “’But’ nothing, young man. The store’s closed and they won’t miss you for a few extra minutes. Those dishes will be waiting for you when you get back. Now sit down with me for a little bit. I’ve been waiting for you for some time now.” Her smile receded slightly. “And don’t call me ‘Ma’am’ again. I’m known as ‘Mother’ to everyone I care about.”

Kyle glanced down at the receipt in the warming bag window.

“Don’t worry about that, child. Call me ‘Mother.’ Now let’s have some pizza.”

He took the proffered chair but did not really know why. Despite the weirdness of it all, he simply felt happy, almost relieved. “Mother” seemed appropriate, if unconventional. She put him at ease like his own mom used to.

“My car…” He jumped up.

“Is off as it should be. Sit down, hon.”

Kyle opened a sweetener packet and emptied it into his coffee. This is so surreal. The pizza, the coffee. She even knows about the dirty dishes and pans at the restaurant. And he didnot remember shutting the car off. He never did that on delivery. It was pointless. Yet it did not bother him. Kyle swallowed each anomaly as commonplace, everyday happenstance. Mother handed him a plate. As he accepted, he noticed that his name tag was not on his shirt. Of course, it was in the car - where he had left it an hour ago. Back when he thought he would be done on time for a change.

Somehow she had known his name. He did not care. Kyle was going to get verbally raped over “computer time.” He did not care about that, either. This sense of peace dwarfed the best high he’d ever had. He did not want it to end.

They ate and sipped coffee quietly. Light jazz drifted softly from a back room, uninterrupted by the normal level of traffic noise. In fact, there was not a sound from outside; the light drone of crickets and cicadas was also noticeably absent. During his years of former residence a few blocks up the road, Kyle had never witnessed such a quiet Thursday night – not even in the aftermath of a heavy blizzard. Though it seemed impossible, the house must have been set far enough back to muffle the usual din.

He dismissed the thought and started on the succulent second piece.

Mother set down her cup and looked at him thoughtfully.

“Kyle, things aren’t right with you.” It was not a question.

The pizza stopped inches from his mouth.

“Go ahead, dear. Keep eating. You don’t need to do nothing but listen. I ordered this mainly for you, anyhow. I know we’re both sick of this.” She pointed to a neat stack of various empty competitors’ boxes in the recycling bin just inside the kitchen door. He snickered. How that got by him, he did not know. She must be a hell of a pie fiend. “It’s one of the only ways, though. Somehow, most of you guys tend to end up in the same business. I don’t really recall how that came to be, but…” Mother drifted off, lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” It was excellent coffee. He poured another cup and topped hers off. The most natural setting in the world - a visit amongst close friends. Except he did not know her, and he was supposed to be back at work. Probably been gone about an hour now, yet no cell phone activity. The notion to check it never fully materialized. He took another bite and grinned at her quizzically.

“Never you mind, child. We got to make us a do-over - a mulligan, if you will. Things just ain’t right. But that’s okay. We’ll fix it, hon. Somehow, you went off the track. I know you know that already. What you don’t know is that it ain’t part of the plan. And I don’t think you knew we could fix it.”

Kyle finished the pizza. This woman was crazy, but hell - so was he. And the sense of “okay-ness” was intoxicating. Nothing added up tonight, yet everything seemed right.

“Mother, there’s a lot broken right now.” That is the freakin’ truth. He’d only been sober a short time now. Suicide was still a daily thought. So was drinking. Once that a long span of clear-headed years was gone, what was twenty-plus days?

“You might be surprised what can be done, sweetheart. The only catch is that you have to do it. Why don’t you finish up your coffee, dear? I’ll show you what has to be done. Would you like another slice?”

Mother replenished his plate before he could answer.

Kyle walked out to his car, which was indeed dormant. He felt completely…sated. Yes, sated. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. The problems of the night and past months seemed ethereal and insubstantial. What was I mad at Pam and Rhonda about anyway? Whatever it was, it did not seem to matter now.

Mother trailed behind him to the vehicle. “Thanks for obliging me, dear. They did not miss you at work, by the way. So don’t trouble yourself at all over that. You’ve bigger fish to fry, sweetheart.”

He grinned. How she knew him so well he did not know. Or care.

“Goodnight, Mother. I hope to see you again soon.”

Her smile dimmed slightly. “Oh, I hope not, Kyle. You might understand one day. Just remember – it’s all up to you now. I don’t want to see you for a very, VERY long time - if at all.”

With that, she turned and made her way towards the house. Kyle looked puzzled and drew breath to speak.

She cut him off from over her shoulder. “Just remember what I said, dear. You don’t have to question anything else. Now run along.” Dismissing him like a child, she closed the door.

Kyle started the automobile and sat a moment, trying to take everything in. A headache shimmered on the horizon.

It’s all up to you, now.

Up to me. He shook his head and put the car in gear.

He was still turning the strange delivery over in his head a few minutes later when he realized that he had not yet returned to the road. The house was set back, given, but this seemed wrong. He could not see even the glow of any of the streetlights that he knew should have been visible. From the penetration of the headlamps, either he was in a deep fog or… Or what? This made no sense.

He finally stopped the SUV and got out. Gravel and grass showed to the extent of the lights in front of and behind the car. Beyond that, nothing. Deep night, no illumination anywhere. No stars above. Nothing.

Kyle felt his sense of serene purpose fade. This was starting to feel like a bad existential movie where he couldn’t…