Sacred and Profane

“I’ll sue your ass off. I’ll ruin you.”

“I’m sure you will.” He stood up and trudged over to the Hals with his hands in his pocket. “I was at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam in 1970. Unbelievable-a place like that buried in the midst of all that decadence. Back then Dam Square was triple-stacked with dropouts. I’ve heard they’ve cleaned it up since then.” He glared at Arlington. “It’s good to do housecleaning and take out the garbage, don’t you think?”

“I’m not interested in a travelogue, Decker. If you have nothing further to say, leave and we’ll both get on with our business.”

“You know,” said Decker, “I figure, what the hell! Time for a career change. I’ve been thinking of doing something more spiritual anyway. Jesus, you work on the street and see shit pile up day after day-burnt out runaways, hookers, pimps, murderers, rapists, burglars, robbers. And kinky rich scumbags with influence buying their way out of retribution.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sick of this job. I’d like to get away from it all. Maybe you’d be doing me a favor, Armand. Let’s put it this way. If I don’t hear from you by, let say…” Decker glanced at his watch, “this time tomorrow, you make your move and I’ll make mine.”

“Get the hell out of here!”

“Thank you for your time, sir.”

23

Decker decided to ride bareback. He threw a woolen blanket over the black stallion and mounted the rippling back. The horse protested by lurching forward and breaking into a gallop around the pen. Decker dug his heels into its haunches; the animal neighed, stopped, and reared. He tightened the reins and pulled backward, but again the horse rebelled, sprinting wildly, racing toward the fences. Decker jerked tightly to the left, forcing the horse to turn to avoid collision. The stallion sprinted, slowed down to a canter, then down to a trot, panting from the sudden burst of activity.

The horse was a beauty, too thickset for show, but light on his feet and full of spirit. Decker loved breaking in the animals, but once they were tame, he felt guilty. Afterwards, they never seemed quite as spunky, always carrying themselves with an air of wounded pride. On a rare occasion a horse would defy his best efforts. He’d curse his failure, but couldn’t help admiring the animal’s tenacity. Way to go, he’d think. Some fires just can’t be put out.

He exercised the horse for an hour, changing directions with a simple pull of the reins, picking up speed with the slightest increase of heel pressure on the hindquarters.

Cut another notch for Cowboy Pete. Why, he’s just a good ole boy, herding them dogies, riding the wilds of Lake Okeechobee, Florida.

Florida cowboys. A proud tradition. His uncle had ranched all his life, took over the place from his grandfather. As a kid, Decker would spend summers on the central plains of the state, hanging out with the ranch hands, laughing at the western hot shots who’d wilt in the humidity of the swamp’s heat.

Them boys never had to deal with ’gators, skeeters, and swamps, the hands would say. They mighten be big men in Texas, but out here, they’s pussies.

Eat shit, Waylon and Willie.

If things didn’t work out with Arlington, he could always go back and ride with Uncle Wilbert, or even go back to Dad and the store.

Uncle Wilbert and Dad. Just your typical down-home millionaires. One day, while herding near Orlando, Uncle Wilbert had discovered Disney scouts sniffing land. Dad had been reluctant at first, but at last agreed to fund Wilbert’s real estate ventures.

Mucho moolah, and in the end, it didn’t make any difference. Dad went back to his hardware store in Gainsville, Uncle Wilbert continued to ride, and all the money was still sitting in the bank collecting interest. No fancy stocks and bonds, just plain old cash clogging up the bank. Millions accumulating for a rainy day.

Lack of sleep was catching up with him. He dismounted and led the horse back into the stable, with Ginger nipping at his heels. He patted the setter’s head and offered both animals water-dog and horse, drinking a toast together. Taking out the combs and brush, he began to methodically groom the horse. An hour later he headed for a hot shower.

He turned the pages and sat upright as he read the climax of the novel. Bam! The cops just blew away the society lady. A righteous shooting but strong stuff for fiction, he thought. The author hadn’t crapped out the ending because the woman was delicate, and he liked that. But he felt sorry for the cops. All the paperwork. Then there’d be the visit from Internal Affairs. And since the family had money, no doubt there was going to be a hell of a lawsuit. The superior breathing down their backs. Not to mention the bad press!

The doorbell rang. Ten pages from the end. He glanced at the clock-11:30. He’d been reading for three hours straight.

Who the hell could that be?

Reluctantly he put the book down and got out of bed. He threw a robe over his nude body and went over to the front door. To his astonishment, it was Rina.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah…Sure.” He stepped out of the way. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine.”

Her eyes ran down his body, arousing and embarrassing him at the same time. She turned away and sat down in a buckskin chair, folding her hands tightly in her lap. Decker took a seat opposite her and waited for her to speak. But she didn’t.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“You didn’t return my calls. I wanted to come when I was sure to catch you home.”

“I was going to return them-”

“But you never got around to it.”

“I’ve been swamped with work, Rina.”

She said nothing.

“Who’s taking care of the kids?” he asked.

“They’re at my parents for the night.”

Decker ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, let me get dressed-”

“Don’t bother. I’ll make it quick. I’m leaving for New York tomorrow night. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“I’m moving there.”

Decker’s mouth dropped open.

She shrugged.

“Bye,” she said.

“You’re moving?”

“Yes.”

“Permanently?”

She nodded.

“You’re leaving the yeshiva?”

“It was a womb for me, Peter-nurturant, protective. It served its purpose. Now I have to get on with my life.”

“Just like that? You’re picking up your kids and moving to New York?”

Again she nodded.

Decker was dumbfounded.

“What do the boys think about it?” he managed to choke out.

“They’re very excited.”

“What are you going to do there?” Decker got up and began to pace. His heart clopped against his chest and his head began to throb. “I mean have you thought about what the hell you’re going to do there?”

“My husband’s parents have found me an apartment very close to them,” she answered calmly. “I’ve always gotten along very well with my in-laws. Much, much better than with my own parents. They’re delighted to have me come out, and especially happy to get a chance to really know their grandchildren. I’m also very close to one of Yitzchak’s sisters. She’s found me a job.”

Decker began to panic.

“What kind of a job?” he asked.

“A bookkeeper in her husband’s factory.”

“What kind of factory?” he asked. As if he gave a shit!

“He’s a wholesale furrier. He makes furs for the major department stores.”

“What do you know about bookkeeping?” he said, challenging her. Why am I asking her stupid questions?

“I’m a math teacher, remember?”

“That’s not the same as bookkeeping!” How can she be so fucking clam!

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” she said. “Peter, there is nothing here for me anymore. My house is a nightmare of lost love and what should have been. If I stay in this town any longer, I’ll rot.”