Vernon God Little

'Lalo, oh my God, Lalo? I ran out of groceries, Lalo, please…'

Lally's lips dance uncontrollably, his eyes flash across the room. 'Oh – oh it's you,' he trembles.

'How could you leave me so long,' cries the lady. 'Es que no queda nada Eulalio, hasta mi cama se lo ban llevado…'

'Tell us in English!' I yell toward the phone. Lally's foot whips off the floor, dislodging me backwards onto the rug. He switches off the speaker.

'Oh you poor souls,' he says into the phone. 'I left strict instructions with the network to keep up my charity visits while I was away…' I go for the speaker button again, but he keeps me at bay with his leg. 'Yes, I know, sweetheart – but mental illness can be cured, that's why I contribute, that's why I share myself with your cause – you and all the other beautiful ladies at the home…'

I reach the far side of the phone table on my belly, but Lally quickly says goodbye, and slams down the phone. It rings again. He rips the cable from the wall. All breathing in the room gets canceled, along with platelet aggregation and whatever else your body does for kicks.

Lally turns to face everybody. 'I guess I have – something to share.' I squint through a waterline of smoke, to the dark of the sofa where the ladies sit, riveted. Their knees stick tight together. 'Some time ago, I decided to share my resources with the less fortunate.'

'Amen,' says the pastor softly.

Lally's face falls. 'I surprised myself – I'd been so ambitious, so wrapped up in Me. Then I became involved with real people – real problems.' He pauses to dab a ringer at the corner of his eye. 'The voice you just heard is one of my ladies – one of my Sunshine Souls.'

'Wow, she sounded so together,' says Leona.

'Shhh, Loni, God,' says George.

'Tragic, isn't it?' says Lally. 'Confined through no fault of her own. They all are.'

'Bull-shit,' I say.

'Vernon Gregory, that's enough,' says Mom.

'Were you – supporting them?' asks George.

Lally sighs. 'Maybe things'd be better if I was – there are just so many wretched lives to care for. And I have so little to give…'

'No, son,' scalds the pastor, 'you're giving the greatest gift of all – Christian love.'

Lally shrugs helplessly. 'If you see me a little short of cash – you now know why. I just feel so guilty having anything at all.' His eyes crawl over the sofa, snuggling into the ladies' pouts, sliding down their weeping lashes, before collapsing on the floor. He shakes his head. 'I guess the real tragedy is – they now know where I'm staying.'

It takes a full second for Spooked Deer to take hold of Mom. She twitches. 'Well – why is that tragic?'

He flicks a glossy eye at me, sighs. 'The home's strictest rule is non-disclosure of carers' identities. If they found out about this, I could be prevented from giving in future. I don't know if I could survive a month without visiting my special girls. It means – I'll have to move along.'

There's a stunned silence. Then my ole lady implodes. 'Well God, Lally, no, I mean – no, God…'

'I'm sorry, Doris. This is bigger than the two of us.'

'But we can disconnect the phone, change the number… Lalito? You can't walk out after this whole month of bliss.'

'Week of bliss,' corrects Lally. 'I'm sorry. Maybe if Vernon hadn't called the home, maybe if he didn't harbor such a grudge – but no. Things'll only get more challenging after I call the sheriff.'

'Shoot,' says George, 'I'd call him myself if he wasn't tied up at the Barn meeting.'

Trickles then torrents of blood and vein soak through the bottom of Mom's legs, her brownest organs sweat through her pores. In the end just these pleading eyes poke up, the eyes of a well-kicked dog. Squished Kitten even.

Leona watches her quiver become a sob, then turns to Lally. 'There's space at my place.'

'My God,' he says. 'The pure charity of this town…'

Mom's eyes pop. 'Well, but, but, the home might find you there, as well – that woman, she could just as easy find you at Leona's as here…'

'I'm unlisted,' says Leona with a shrug. 'I have call-screening and closed-circuit security.'

Mom's eyes fall to the tan-line where her wedding ring once sat. 'Well but Vernon could just as easily give that number to the patients, you saw his behavior – couldn't you, Vernon, just give Leona's number to the home…?'

'Ma, the guy's a goddam psycho, I swear to God.'

'Well see? He could call them right now, see his attitude? I think Lally and I should take a room at the Seldome for a while… Lalito? And do all those other things you want to do, around town…?'

'Tch, the Seldome's full.'

'Well but they'd always find space for me, I mean, I was married at the Seldome.'

Leona picks her bag off the sofa and fishes in it for her keys. 'Offer's open.'

My ole lady's already halfway across the room. 'What's the Seldome's number?'