3

MICKEY HAD TO ADMIT THAT FRANCISCO WAS quite remarkable. What did he have? Magnetism, charisma? But once Francisco had gone, their encounter quickly faded. By the next day the whole thing seemed like a waste of time. His goal in life wasn’t to be fearless. Why should it be?

When Payback jumped on the bed to wake him up, Mickey didn’t take her for a walk. He had decided to avoid the beach, in case Francisco might be waiting there for him.

He felt restless all morning. He flipped through some magazines, but that didn’t take long. And he was too jittery to sit in front of the TV. Around noon the phone rang. Mickey jumped, even though he had no reason to be spooked.

It was his sister in Atlanta. “I’m just calling to see if you need anything,” she said.

“What would I need?”

“I don’t know.”

His sister’s name was Janet, and she and Mickey didn’t talk very often. When their parents were divorced, brother and sister were split up. Half the family stayed in Chicago, and the other half moved to Atlanta. Mickey, who remained behind with his father, didn’t see Janet unless he was visiting his mother, and that had only happened for one week every summer. He wasn’t surprised when she’d decided not to come out for the funeral.

Janet said, “I keep thinking he suffered. They say that nothing hurts like a heart attack. It’s like having a truck drive over your chest.”

“Sis, don’t.”

“You’re sure he didn’t feel anything?”

“No, it happened like that.” Mickey snapped his fingers.

“But we can’t be sure, can we?” Her voice quivered. “Dad could have been lying there for a while, all alone and in pain. He might have been going through hell.”

“It doesn’t do any good imagining things.”

“I guess you’re right.” Janet paused, pulling herself together. “I wish I had your certainty,” she said.

What did that mean? It reminded Mickey that the two of them didn’t know each other very well. When his career took off, his sister had never called to offer congratulations. She didn’t use the free tickets Mickey sent to her when he was on tour or a new movie opened.

“Do you think I’m funny?” he asked.

“What?”

The question had come out of left field. Mickey didn’t know why he asked it. But it only took a few seconds for Janet to reply.

“I grew up with you,” she said. “You never told jokes. You weren’t the class clown or a jerk. Mom and Dad’s divorce changed you.”

“Meaning that I suddenly became a jerk?”

“Don’t get defensive, Mickey. That’s not what I mean. You just changed. You wanted to be funny all the time. It was weird, that’s all.”

“Really? So to you I’m not funny. I’m a … what? A kid brother who turned into a motormouth?”

“Now you’re mad.”

Mickey didn’t deny it.

“You asked me a question, Mickey. I just thought we shouldn’t be so distant with each other,” said Janet.

“Sorry. It’s been crazy stressful around here the last few days.”

Janet accepted this peace offering. She mumbled that she was sorry, too, and hung up.

Suddenly the big, airy house felt like a shoebox. Mickey wandered out onto the beach deck. At the far end a man was sitting in one of the low white lounge chairs Mickey used for sunning. It was Francisco.

“Things like that will start happening more now,” he said, not getting up.

“What are you talking about?” Mickey snapped. He skipped any friendly greeting.

“Once the process starts, you open a door. Then the unexpected peeks in.”

“Screw the process,” said Mickey sourly.

Francisco wasn’t offended. “Poor Mickey,” he murmured. He took a moment longer to enjoy the brilliant expanse of ocean spread out before them, then he got up.

“We need to go in your car, and you need to bring a joke with you. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Still agitated by the conversation with his sister, Mickey decided he wouldn’t mind some company. “Okay,” he said.

A moment later they were speeding along the Coast Highway. Francisco pointed to Sunset Boulevard when the turnoff came.

“Wherever you’re taking me, it’s cool,” said Mickey. “But just so you know, I’m not what you think.”

“Which is what?” said Francisco.

“Scared of life. Worried. Anxious.”

“All right.”

“You don’t believe me.”

Francisco shrugged. “What I believe doesn’t matter. You’re taking what I said too personally. Everyone is born into fear and almost everyone stays there until they die.”

“What makes you special?”

“When you aren’t living in fear, you see the truth. It becomes obvious.”

“If you say so,” Mickey muttered. He was keeping his eyes on the road as Sunset made broad sweeping curves through lush neighborhoods. Francisco didn’t direct him to turn off anywhere.

“Did you bring a joke like I asked?” Francisco said.

“What kind do you want?”

“A dog joke.”

Mickey shrugged.

“A man walks into a bar with his dog. He says to the bartender, ‘My dog Fido can talk. If you give me a free drink, I’ll prove it.’

“The bartender is curious, so he pours the man a drink. ‘Can you really talk?’ he says to the dog.

“‘Indubitably I can,’ the dog replies.

“The bartender is so impressed, he takes out some money. ‘Here’s five dollars,’ he says to the dog. ‘Go across the street and talk for my friend Paddy.’ The dog takes the money and leaves.

“A few minutes later his owner comes out of the bar, and what does he see but his dog humping another dog in the gutter. He’s shocked.

“‘Fido,’ he exclaims, ‘you never did this before!’

“The dog says, ‘I never had five dollars before.’”

It wasn’t the greatest joke, but when Francisco didn’t laugh, Mickey grew irritated. “I get paid big money to tell jokes,” he said.

Francisco cut him short. “Turn there,” he said, pointing to a house on the left.

“You know these people?” Mickey asked.

“No,” Francisco replied calmly.

Mickey felt nervous about turning into a stranger’s driveway. Once they were parked, he followed Francisco, who didn’t go to the front door but went around the back. After a few yards Mickey could hear loud barking. When he rounded the corner he saw two German shepherds, who began barking even more furiously. They lunged frantically at the two strangers, straining at the chains around their necks.

“This is wrong. We have to leave,” Mickey said with alarm. He expected the owners of the house to come charging out at any minute.

“Come closer,” said Francisco.

“No way.”

He wasn’t normally afraid of dogs, but these two were big and dangerous. Their fangs were bared now, and they were making a deafening noise. Mickey could feel his heart pounding.

Francisco plucked at his sleeve. “They want to hear your dog joke,” he said. He pulled Mickey within a foot of the dogs, who became frenzied. “Go ahead.”

“A man walks into a bar,” Mickey began. He could hardly get the words out. One of the dogs began to foam at the corners of its mouth.

“This is nuts,” Mickey screamed. He pulled away and ran back around the corner of the house, heading for the car.

To his surprise, Francisco didn’t object. He followed, while behind them the dogs kept barking madly.

“You would have calmed down in a few minutes,” Francisco said.

“I doubt it.”

They got into the car and backed down the driveway. Mickey was in no mood to listen until they were back on the road and well clear of the house.

Francisco said, “I did that to show you that thinking you’re not living in fear is deceptive. Fear is your silent partner, and it jumps out when you least expect it.”

“I don’t need a stupid stunt like that,” Mickey grumbled. “Those dogs were killers. Anybody would have been scared.”

“Their owners? Are they scared?”

“They don’t count.”

“You’re not catching on. People get used to fear, and they mistake that for overcoming fear. The owners are used to their dogs, but if they came out one day and found two alligators instead, that would change in a hurry,” said Francisco.

Mickey was still rattled. “You’re right, I’m not catching on, because for some amazing reason I don’t keep surprise alligators around.”

“Stop resisting. I’m trying to get you to look inside yourself,” Francisco said. “Even when you don’t notice it, fear has you in its grasp. Anytime it wants to, it can jump you, and you’ll be powerless to resist.”

Mickey kept brooding, but at some level he was taking this in. The tall stranger certainly believed what he was saying. And on his terms he made sense. Maybe it was time to loosen up a little. “Just show me where this is going,” Mickey said.

Francisco said, “Imagine that your worst enemy comes over to your house. He sits down in the living room, and no matter what you do, he won’t go away. Day after day he refuses to leave. What do you do? You begin to ignore him. You pretend he’s not there.”

“I’d call the police,” Mickey pointed out.

“Stop fighting me,” said Francisco.

“All right, all right.”

“Your home isn’t your home if there’s an enemy living there. It doesn’t matter if you toss a drop cloth over him, or if you decide to completely redecorate the place. Until you figure out a way to make your enemy leave, you’ll never feel safe.”

Francisco made his points matter-of-factly. Now he leaned into his next words. “The world is your home, and it is safe. God created it that way. But fear crept in. Big problem. Nobody feels safe anymore.”

“Amen to that,” Mickey muttered.

“As long as you live in fear, the world is a threat. If that doesn’t matter to you, okay. But living that way you’ll never know the joy of your own soul,” said Francisco.

Mickey grimaced. “Are you always this upbeat? I’m not getting a sugar rush.”

Francisco chuckled. “You think I should lighten up?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

Francisco looked out the window at the perfect blue sky. When he didn’t resume talking, Mickey was relieved. There was too much to absorb, and his stomach felt faintly queasy.

On the day you were born I poisoned your heart.

How depressing. It seemed like a month since he’d run into Larry’s ghost, or whatever it was, in the TV. And God still wasn’t laughing, at least not so that Mickey could hear.

Janet was right, though. After their parents divorced, he had turned into a joker. But she didn’t understand why. Mickey hadn’t been sad or lonely. He had just wanted to be happy, and he had figured out, as early as fifteen, that nobody else could do that for him. Hearing other people laugh was pure pleasure, and the only comfort he could give himself.

“Want to hear a joke about the end of the world?” Mickey asked.

Francisco turned his head. “Sure.”

“A little old lady goes into a restaurant. She eats a salad. Then she says to the waiter, ‘I’ll have an ice cream sundae.’

“‘I’m sorry to tell you, madam,’ says the waiter, ‘but in five minutes the world is coming to an end.’

“The little old lady thinks for a second, then she says, ‘In that case, heavy on the whipped cream.’”

 

“NOW FOR A dose of abject terror,” Francisco told Mickey. “It’s going to be intense. Don’t fall apart on me.” His warning would have been more believable if they were somewhere else.

“Here?” said Mickey. “This is a toy store.”

“Just wait.”

Francisco was looking around as if he expected to find something. After a minute he found what he was looking for: a mother and a little girl of around three. The mother was bending down to show her daughter a baby doll in a pink cardboard package. Nothing could be more innocent.

Then the mother’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse and answered it.

“Hello? What? You’re breaking up.” She looked frustrated and began to walk away.

“Here’s where it happens,” Francisco said in a low voice.

The little girl, mesmerized by the doll, didn’t notice that her mother had stepped away. Now the mother was out of sight around a corner, and her child still hadn’t noticed. Thirty seconds passed before she looked up. Her chin began to quiver.

Mickey knew what was coming. Not seeing her mother, the little girl looked around for a moment, and began to cry. The doll was forgotten. She started to run, unfortunately in the wrong direction.

Mickey winced. There was no mistaking the child’s distress, but there was nothing he could do. If he ran over to her, it would only frighten her more. Just then the mother reappeared from around the corner.

“It’s okay, Mommy’s back.” She picked up her little girl and rocked her in her arms. “I didn’t go away, silly. You don’t need to be scared.”

But anyone could see that the little girl was still paralyzed with fear. She didn’t let up screaming and sobbing. The mother looked embarrassed and quickly walked away.

“Abject terror,” said Francisco. “I never get used to it.”

“I don’t want to sound like an insensitive jerk,” said Mickey, “but—”

“But things like this happen every day. I know. To you it’s a small moment. But she’s never going to forget it.” Francisco turned and faced Mickey. “You have memories like that, too.”

“I suppose.”

“Can you see how important that is?”

Before Mickey could answer, Francisco’s tone softened. He put his hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “This isn’t about who’s afraid and who’s not. Fear is one of the strongest layers of illusion. It’s like a fog bank inside each person. But if you could pierce the fog, you’d see that something incredible lies on the other side. Something you can’t even imagine.”

Suddenly an idea hit Mickey. “Is that what my father saw? Was that what he was trying to tell me about?”

“Did your father love you?” Francisco asked.

Mickey was startled. “I guess so. I’m not sure.”

“He absolutely loves you now.”

Francisco sounded so sure. How did he know?

Mickey said, “Is my dad talking to you now?” He knew about psychics who communicated with the dead. He’d surfed past them on cable channels late at night.

Francisco hesitated. “You’re asking the wrong question,” he said. “Talking to the dead assumes that they are dead. They aren’t. Death is life on another frequency. The music doesn’t end just because someone can’t hear it.”

He could see that Mickey wasn’t satisfied.

“Everything you want to know will become clear,” he said. “Let the process unfold. If I told you in advance you might know the truth, but you wouldn’t own it. I want you to own it.”

Without waiting for Mickey’s response, Francisco headed for the door. Then he paused for a moment.

“Could you feel that little girl’s terror?” he asked.

“I guess so.”

“I think everybody can. You saw a moment that girl will never forget. She’ll just get older and hide it from sight.”

Mickey felt a shiver. “What did we say about lightening up?”

They walked through the parking lot until they found Mickey’s car. Francisco leaned against the passenger door staring at the ground. Quietly he said, “I know this is hard for you. That little girl’s terror made you feel your own.”

“Jesus, give it a rest!” Mickey glared into Francisco’s fathomless eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Once they were on the Coast Highway again, Mickey began to calm down. He thought about Larry, and the possibility that his father loved him more than he could show. A memory came to him.

When he was twelve Mickey had been sent away to summer camp. He’d been to camp before, and he looked forward to what he had loved the summer before: campfires, ghost stories, canoe raids on the girls’ camp across the lake. But the bus didn’t go north where the lakes were; it went south.

When Mickey got off, the first thing he saw was a huge man in army fatigues, screaming at the kids to line up as they stepped off the bus. Veins stood out on the man’s bull neck; his face was purple. Mickey’s legs shook with terror. Nobody had told him he was being sent off to a new camp that summer. Mickey’s father hadn’t even hinted at a reason why his son might be sent here.

As kids do, Mickey adapted. He shaved his head and made friends in the barracks. He learned how to make hospital corners on his bed and not to complain about push-ups at dawn. To his surprise, by the time the bus brought him home, Mickey wasn’t angry. He was proud that he had toughened up; he was glad his father had wanted him to become a man’s man.

But he could never answer one question: why did his father want to scare him so damn much?

Was Larry trying to make amends now?

“No debt in the universe goes unpaid,” said Francisco. He seemed to find it easy to tune in on Mickey’s thoughts. “That includes good debts,” he added with a smile.

Mickey shook off the memory of that boot camp for kids. He glanced over at Francisco. “I’m going to tell you the last joke that made my dad laugh.

“A Wall Street lawyer is desperate to get promoted. He works his tail off, but nobody in the firm notices him. One night he can’t take it anymore, so he calls on the Devil.

“‘Okay, I can fix it so you make partner,’ the Devil says. ‘But in return I want the souls of your wife, your children, your grandchildren, and all your friends.’

“The lawyer thinks for a second. ‘What’s the catch?’”

A flicker of amusement crossed Francisco’s face. He looked thoughtful. “A lot of your jokes are about things you might be afraid of if you didn’t laugh at them,” he remarked.

Mickey wished the man would just laugh and not try to find the meaning of everything. Francisco picked up on this.

“You think I’m grim. I’m not,” he said. “I’m leading you out of the darkness where I found you.”

Mickey had expected something conciliatory. This wasn’t it.

“What do you mean by darkness?” he asked.

“The place where you feel lost and alone.”

Mickey’s face twitched nervously. “Am I still in that place?” he said.

Francisco nodded.