20

Darlene puckers her lips in front of a heart-shaped mirror, the gold edges swoop down to a pink sparkle vanity covered in small bottles, brushes and a half-empty Miller Light. Her red nails click on the Formica, over to her beer, gives it a little shake before turning up the volume on her 1962 flamingo radio, the small speaker set in the perforated plastic, neck curving up to a glossy black eye staring back.

“Every night I hope and pray
a dream lover will come my way
A girl to hold in my arms
and know the magic of her charms”

She caps her lipstick then moves to the blush, tilts her head as she dusts her cheeks, wipes it away, adjusts her pigtails then stands, walks over to a window and looks out. The peach garden fairies are toiling in the fields, chained to the trees, the sun beating on their fraying gauzy gowns.

“Cause I want
a girl 
to call 
my own“

She turns toward the floor-length mirror, takes herself in, a blue checked country dress, white blouse, wicker basket. She does a twirl then walks down the thin-carpeted hallway. Guards stationed on either side bow as she passes, her ruby slippers pushing into the pink and purple swirl carpet below.

The song carries as another door opens. There are men everywhere, tearing down walls, replacing fixtures, moving plastic-covered love seats. There’s a twenty-foot-tall crystal flamingo fountain six of them are carrying not sure where to put it as the foreman yells and points. Two heavenly servants have just dumped a wheelbarrow full of orchids on the floor and are busily trying to pick them back up as a man squeezes by, arms full of Virginia Slim cartons, Crown Royal and Abba-Zabba candy bars.

Outside she plops down in the passenger seat of her pink EZ-Go golf cart, looks for her driver then takes in the majesty of The Royal Palace, the procession of arhats, immortal ones, bodhisattvas, holy monks, emperors and star lords, all the people she doesn’t know, stream through the front door. A flamboyance of flamingos is being ushered out onto the lawn, the birds looking somewhat annoyed as they’re hearded towards the staircase. Her driver waves to her as he hurries over, hops in and zooms down the small winding concrete path as her pigtails are blown behind her.

They stop in front of the entrance. Darlene doesn’t get out. Puts a cigarette between her lips and lights up.

“So what’s your name or should I call you buddy?”

He takes the keys out. Puts them in his pocket. Leans back.

“Siddhartha.”

Darlene rolls her eyes.

“Are you kidding me? What do your friends call you?”

“Buddha.“

She takes a drag.

“I’ve heard of you.” Blows a cloud then tilts the pack in offering. “How come you aren’t going to this thing?”

He shrugs, “I’m not a party person.”

“Aren’t you that fat smiling statue in all those Chinese restaurants? You know, hands in the air with your belly out?”

“They can build all the statues they want,” he says waving at the clouds. “It doesn’t change how I feel about parties.” 

“I suppose.” She takes another drag. “You actually know all these people?”

“I do.” He turns. “I don’t know you though.”

“Darlene,” she thrusts her hand out which he warmly shakes.

“So what brings you to Heaven Darlene?”

“Boy, that’s a long story.” Folds her arms. “Started hanging out with this monkey. They came to my diner. They being The Pig and the little girl and the monkey like I mentioned before. Wanted to go to The Keyes to look for one of my ex’s who was a no-good-son-of-a-bitch, God rest his soul, though I did love the man.” Takes another drag. “ We didn’t make it on account of some accidental murdering. Got shot in the head. Died. Came back. I’m leaving parts out, but it don’t matter. Let’s just say some shit went down and we split up. The monkey and me. Found myself pouring a bucket of tears into a shot glass on the strip. Ate some mediocre Mexican food with a fancy Asian man who swore he was king and now I’m here talking to you. Killing time. Trying to avoid going in there. You know how it is.” She adjusts her collar. “Keeping my head above water.”

Buddha looks back at The Heavenly Peach House as men scurry around with firehoses spraying pink paint, dousing the landscape and covering the hills.

“Seems like you’re doing better than that.”

“Suppose.” She takes another drag then gives him some side-eye. “You here to give advice or something?”

“I don’t give advice.”

“All those gold statues and fortune cookies and you got nothing for me huh?”

He looks up to what should be the sky.

“Since you’re asking, why don’t we sit for a moment.”

“I’m already sitting.”

“ I mean, sit in silence.”

“Oh, so you want me to shut up?”

He clasps his hands together.

“This is why I don’t like to give advice.”

“Fine.”

Darlene stops talking. Puffs furiously on her cigarette.

“Could you…not smoke?”

“I thought we weren’t talking?” She rolls her eyes. Smashes her cigarette in the ashtray. “Happy?” He doesn’t answer. Takes a deep breath and exhales. Then another. Darlene imitates then starts coughing. “Sorry. I’m not good at this.” He pats her hand lightly and keeps looking ahead. Darlene takes another breath. The procession has thinned. There’s a dragon surrounded by his crab officers in their colorful regalia waiting by the front steps. A group of monks dressed in brown tuxedos is talking off the side. “So why’d you get the shit job of…”

“Shhhh,” Buddha says closing his eyes.

Darlene takes an aggravated breath, closes her eyes and thinks, “What’s this supposed to teach me? Nothing. God damn heavenly beings can’t come out and say what they mean. I’ve tried this before and… Oh god. What am I doing? Getting involved with another psychopath. You know this ain’t going to end well, but you just can’t… Why’s my left leg tingling? I’m having a heart attack. I just know it. Is it the leg or the arm? Think the arm. Not a heart attack. Maybe a blood clot. Isn’t that what killed grandma? Another psychopath. Shit Darlene. Stop thinking like that. What’s wrong with you? That stupid monkey’s got you wrapped up in all this and now you’re hanging out with… Damn I want a cigarette.”

She opens her eyes, peeks over at Buddha to make sure he’s not peeking then closes them again.

She sees Monkey’s head resting against the window of her car, looking out to a dark Floridian landscape as it passes him by. She sees her old house, a squatty beige bungalow, Sand lying on the couch, his demon-quelling staff on the floor. ‘Pick that shit up,’ she hears herself say. He looks at her with those eyes and she falls into them. Then there’s…nothing. Nothing but the haze of pinks and greens that swirl like a bad lava lamp, morph into two flamingos, necks intertwined, strangling each other, their spiky tongues hanging, eyes bulging as they fall limply to the ground, catch fire and burn. Their pink feathers turn a strange green before being swallowed by a cloud of soft ash floating in the dark, Darlene in the middle, as the contours of an invisible palace poke through. The faded rectangles of a yellow brick road twist toward iron gates as she looks to the one window illuminated in a soft glowing light. A dark shadow behind a breezy cotton curtain stares down. An overwhelming sense of dread pours over her. Black sand. Pouring. She tries to cry but the sand gets in her mouth. Her eyes. Down her throat. Fills her lungs. She suffocates, taking her last breath before a jolt shoots through her whole body.

“Fuck this.”

She jumps out of her golf cart, climbs The Great Heavenly Palace Steps, flings open the doors and pushes her way toward the bar. A line curves around as people wait their turn. The twelve zodiac signs surround her, all drinking and chatting, and yelling.

“You’re such a Pisces,” she hears someone say.

She looks over at a two-headed fish monster guzzling down his drink, its large bulbous lips soaked in whiskey. Next to him is a goat wearing black leather pants, a tuft of grey hair sticking out of his starched shirt as he scratches behind his ears with a hoof and peers at her with his rectangular eyes.

“Beer me,” she says as the line starts to move and she approaches the bar.

The server motions to the bottles on display.

“We have eight hundred and eighty-eight heavenly selections.” 

“Just a beer.” She looks at the menu. “Regular beer.” She squints at the Chinese script. “You know what, just don’t give me something stupid like peach or pumpkin, ok?” She’s handed a slender brown bottle with a cloud sprouting angel wings, a gold dragon with red eyes swoops curled around a lighting bolt with musical notes shooting out. “Jesus Christ.” She takes a drink then looks at the line behind her. “Why don’t you give me four more.” A crab monster turns to her as she puts the bottles in her wicker basket. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She stares him down as he side-walks away, takes a swig and surveys the crowd. There’s the Dragon of the Southern Sea talking to his Turtle General. Nezha is riding his fire wheels doing tricks on the dance floor. The zodiac signs have assembled in a line doing a synchronized dance routine around the room. She spots a couple in silver masks, a pig snout sticking out. Her eyes fix on them as they nervously look around. “What the…”

She walks over, taps Pig on the shoulder who jumps, but stays closely pressed to Mara.

“Holy shit. You scared the…” He takes Darlene in. “What are you doing here?”

She throws her arms around them.

“What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing… We looked everywhere for you.”

Pig glances around the room.

“Is Monkey here?”

“I thought he’d be with you. He never found you?” He shakes his head. “Well, I ain’t gone lie. We didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

“Join the club.”

“What are you doing here,” Mara says dancing Pig around so she can see Darlene.

“I live here now,” she says trying to smile but failing. 

“You live…in heaven?”

“They’re supposed to introduce me like a god damn debutante. Guess there’s not much else to do besides throw parties and hand out titles. It’s all a little over my head, but I’m having a good time.” She drains an entire beer in a matter of seconds. Puts the empty in her basket. Cracks another. “It’s great up here, don’t you think?”

Mara and Pig look at each other.

“It’s terrible here,” Mara says concerned.

“Oh, stop. The Jade Emperor’s nice enough.”

Mara and Pig exchange another glance.

“Where is he?” Pig asks turning Mara to get a better look at Darlene.

“Probably fitting himself into some stupid outfit to impress me.” She downs another in a few swigs. “He has a thing for me you know.”

“The Jade Emperor?”

“Ol’ Darlene has a few tricks up her sleeve.” Cracks another beer. “So what’re you two doing here?”

“We’re going to kill the Jade Emperor,” Pig says smiling. Mara looks up furiously but he shrugs it off. “Who’s she going to tell?”

Darlene sucks down another.

“Can you get him close to us? Ask him to dance. Lead him over here and then we can take care of the rest.”

She takes another drink. Rubs her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.

“Darlene?”

She finishes in a couple swigs.

“Look. I aint’ gonna lie. This is a lot to lay on a woman who’s three beers deep and wasn’t planning on…” She pats herself down. “I need to smoke on this.”

“Please?”

“I said I need to think!”

She pushes past a Tortoise General and his Krill officers, makes her way to the front door and sits on the steps, lights up watching the smoke mix with the heavenly clouds. Out of the corner of her eye she sees her golf cart whizzing by.

“Hey! Get over here!” Buddha stops the cart, looks over, points to himself. “Yeah, you!” She gives a hard wave and he turns the cart around. “I got a question for you,” she says patting the step. Buddha gets out and sits beside her. She takes another puff. “Why’re you driving that cart anyway? Shouldn’t you be sitting on some lotus blossom with billowing smoke and some stupid peacocks around you?”

He thinks it over.

“It’s easier to drive a cart than to rule heaven.”

“Oh, so you’re some kind of slacker god.”

He smiles.

“Unburdening yourself takes a lot of work.”

“Have to take your word on that Buddha. Looks to me like you’re tooling around on my golf cart not giving a fuck.”

His smile flattens.

“Did you have a question for me Darlene?”

“In a bit of pickle. Could use some of that wisdom people are always going on about.” He sits patiently listening. “You know The Jade Emperor?” Buddha nods. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s…” Buddha scratches his chin. “Everyone has their part. Some are better than others. But all the roles are important.”

“I could probably ponder that for a while Buddha baby, but I don’t see how that’s going to help me make a decision in the here and now.”

“You want me to tell you what to do.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t like giving advice.”

“I can appreciate that and normally I’m not one that’s seeking it out, but I have to…this thing that was just dropped in my lap… It could change…everything. I mean I have no idea what’s going to happen, so, how am I supposed to know what to do? And I don’t want to hear, ‘just go with your gut’. My gut don’t know shit anymore than my feet or my big toe. There ain’t no wisdom in my intestines ‘cause I squeezed them plenty and all that comes out is shit.”

Buddha takes this in.

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on.”

Darlene takes a deep breath and explains the whole thing in half a cigarette. 

Buddha nods, listening, folds his hands in his lap.

“It sounds like you want a short-term solution to a long-term problem.”

“Buddha. I’m a simple woman.”

She flicks her cigarette on the steps.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“Short.”

“Stop drinking.”

“What’s the long version?” 

He laughs. Rubs his belly.

“The first thing I wonder is, why is this the decision you think is important? Think of all the decisions you’ve made that led you to this point. Each one was just as consequential as the last. The decision to go with Monkey. The decision to leave him in Florida. The decision to flirt with The Jade Emperor. You made all these casually. They didn’t seem to matter, or at least, you didn’t think they were important enough to sit and think about them like you’re doing now.” Buddha puts his hand on Darlene’s shoulder. “So you asked my advice. I told you I don’t like giving it, but here it is. You’re an imperfect being living with imperfect knowledge, not knowing how your actions affect anything around you, but,” he raises a finger, “you’re at least starting to care how they affect people. Drinking blinds your sensitivity. It makes important decisions seem insignificant. It causes you to get to moments like this, where you’re confronted with a true catastrophe and you wonder, ‘how did I get here’ and the truth is, you got here by a million tiny unthoughtful decisions you probably don’t even remember making.”

Darlene looks off into the clouds.

“Harsh.” She holds on to her bottle but doesn’t take a drink. “Go on.”

“So I say you want a short-term solution to a long-term problem and here’s what I mean. There’s no immediate way to get ahold of yourself. That takes discipline and self-reflection, and there’s nothing anyone can tell you that will get you there quicker. No one can examine your own mind but you and come to the realization of how it works. No words of wisdom will help. I could tell you something profound and you could believe me. You could make a needlepoint and hang those words on your wall, but in a month it will be another object in your house that fades into the background like the sofa or your kitchen table and then it will be gone.”

“Home is where the heart is, huh?”

She finishes her beer, sets it down on the concrete steps.

Buddha glances over.

“Where is the heart?”

All the color drains out of her. Her face hardens and she looks at her feet.

“I think Monkey has it,” then cracking another beer. “Who knows where it is.” She takes a drink. “Well, thanks for the pep talk. Just want you to know you’ve been absolutely no help.”

He touches Darlene’s shoulder.

“Perhaps I should stick to driving carts.”

“Hate to break it to you. But you’re not good at that either.” Points back toward her house. “Almost clipped the gardener when we were making that curve up the hill.”

She stands, a basket of empty beers, gives Buddha a hug.

“I like you. You’re the first nice person I’ve met up here.”

He clasps her in his arms.

“Make sure you keep that head on your shoulders.” 

“Where else would it go?”

He takes a slender finger and touches it to the center of her forehead.

“Heads have a way of disappearing.” 

He starts up the cart and drives away with a wave. 

“I told you none of that mystical bullshit!” but it’s too late. He’s gone. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean? My head’s on just fine,” then somewhat worried she touches it to make sure. Laughs. “Son of a bitch.” Laughs again. “Well, what’s it going to be Darlene? Who’re you going to disappoint tonight?”

She walks through the door as the voice of Kitty Wells fills the room. The bodhisattvas, arhats and dragons dressed in their finest sway back and forth to the plunking country tune as they nod their heads, laughing at the simple country melody.

Darlene’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t you fucking laugh at Kitty,” she says under her breath.

She pushes through the crowd, the empty beers jingling in her basket, not sure where she’s going, bumping into Erlang, who turns his three eyes upon her. She dances around him then makes her way to the front, the people pushing against her, the white tuxedos blinding under the overhead light. She pulls herself on stage, stumbles forward and catches herself on the giant red curtain. 

She's no angel
she's no angel
her wings are not real
She'll ruin your life
it's your heart she can steal
She'll tell you tales
to bring tears to your eyes
but don't you believe them
for they're only lies”

The lights dim and a giant spot hits her as she turns toward the audience. Everyone stops dancing, watches as the band keeps going, the country twang reverberating as she looks around not sure what to do, sees a mic a few feet in front of her and lurches toward it.

“Don’t you fucking laugh.” A wave of feedback swells then dies down. “If there’s any god damn woman that deserves to be in heaven it’s Kitty Wells.” She looks around the audience as three guards fast walk on stage, locks eyes with a tortoise in the front row wearing a bow tie. “Are you fucking laughing at me?” The tortoise looks around the room nervously. “I’m talking to you Tortoise.” The guards grab her and carry her off as she tries to swat them with her basket, the empty bottles shattering on the floor. “Y’all can go fuck yourselves!”

“Darlene everyone,” a guard says into the mic motioning his hand as she’s dragged off kicking and screaming. “Our newest,” he looks down at a card in his hand, “Heavenly Angel in charge of the Royal Garden of Immortal Peaches.”

There’s scattered clapping as she’s yanked off stage, her ruby slippers still kicking as she’s thrown backstage into a holding room. The door slams behind her, followed quickly by Darlene’s middle finger smacking into the small window as the guards position themselves on either side. She punches the door a couple of times then gives up and looks around. Someone’s scratched a cloud into the wall above a crumpled mattress. A simple puffy cloud etched into the plaster walls. She reaches in her basket and pulls out a file, carves a lightning bolt coming down and then inside writes, “DARLENE”. She takes two drunk steps back and looks at her work, nods in approval then slumps in the corner and passes out.