The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror(27)

 

"Sure. Sure, she told me. I just, you know, I thought you might have some ideas. I mean, your friend is right, Dale's not really missing, officially, for another twelve hours or so, but, you know, it's a small town, and I, you know, have a job and stuff."

 

"Thanks, Theo," Lena said, waving to him even though he was only a few feet away and wasn't moving away from the house. The pilot was waving, too, smiling. Theo didn't like being around new lovers who had just gotten laid, especially when things weren't going that well in his own love life. They seemed smug, even if they weren't trying to be.

 

He spotted something dark swinging from the ceiling of the porch, right where the wind chime would have been on his and Molly's porch, if he hadn't just sacrificed their security by relapsing into dope-fiendism. It couldn't be what it looked like.

 

"So, that's a, uh, that looks like —»

 

"A bat," said Lena.

 

Holy fuck, Theo thought, that thing is huge. "A bat," he said. "Sure. Of course."

 

"Fruit bat," Tucker Case clarified. "From Micronesia."

 

"Oh, right," Theo said. Micronesia was not a real place. The blond guy was fucking with him. "Well, I'll see you guys."

 

"See you at Lonesome Christmas on Friday," Lena said. "Say hi to Molly."

 

" 'Kay," Theo said, climbing into the Volvo.

 

He closed the car door. They went inside. He let his head hit the steering wheel.

 

They know, he thought.

 

 

* * *

 

"He knows," Lena said, her back against the front door.

 

"He doesn't know."

 

"He's smarter than he looks. He knows."

 

"He doesn't know. And he didn't look dumb, he looked kind of stoned."

 

"No, he wasn't stoned, that was suspicion."

 

"Don't you think if he was suspicious he might have asked where you were last night?"

 

"Well, he could see that, with you walking out there with your shirt off, and me looking so, you know — so —»

 

"Satisfied?"

 

"No, I was going to say 'disheveled'." She punched his arm. "Jeez, get over yourself."

 

"Ouch. That is completely out of line."

 

"I'm in trouble here," Lena said. "You can at least be supportive."

 

"Supportive? I helped you hide the body. In some countries that implies commitment."

 

She wound up to punch him, then caught herself, but left her fist there in the air, just in case. "You really don't think he was suspicious?"

 

"He didn't even ask why you have a giant fruit bat hanging out on your porch. He's oblivious. Just going through the motions."

 

"Why do I have a giant fruit bat hanging from the porch?"

 

"Comes with the package." He grinned and walked away.

 

Now she felt stupid, standing there, her fist in the air. She felt unenlightened, dense, silly, unevolved, all the things she thought only other people were. She followed him into the bedroom, where he was putting on his shirt.

 

"I'm sorry I hit you."

 

He rubbed his bruised shoulder. "You have tendencies. Should I hide your shovel?"

 

"That's a horrible thing to say." She almost punched him, but instead, trying to be more evolved, and less threatening, she put her arms around him. "It was an accident."

 

"Release me. I have to go spot bad guys with my helicopter," he said, patting her on the bottom.

 

"You're taking the bat with you, right?"

 

"You don't want to hang out with him?"

 

"No offense, but he's a little creepy."

 

"You have no idea," said Tuck.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

HOLIDAY HEARTBREAK

 

 

 

 

Christmas Amnesty. You can fall out of contact with a friend, fail to return calls, ignore e-mails, avoid eye contact at the Thrifty-Mart, forget birthdays, anniversaries, and reunion  s, and if you show up at their house during the holidays (with a gift) they are socially bound to forgive you — act like nothing happened. Decorum dictates that the friendship move forward from that point, without guilt or recrimination. If you started a chess game ten years ago in October, you need only remember whose move it is — or why you sold the chessboard and bought an Xbox in the interim. (Look, Christmas Amnesty is a wonderful thing, but it's not a dimensional shift. The laws of time and space continue to apply, even if you have been avoiding your friends. But don't try using the expansion of the universe as an excuse — like you kept meaning to stop by, but their house kept getting farther away. That crap won't wash. Just say, "Sorry I haven't called. Merry Christmas." Then show the present. Christmas Amnesty protocol dictates that your friend say, "That's okay," and let you in without further comment. This is the way it has always been done.)