Page 38 of Half Blind

“Since I was 13. He is a few years older than me,” Lemon said.

“Ah, so you're the same age as the Shakespeare-loving brother,” Helen said, subtly hinting she knew the family.

Lemon, surprised at Helen's knowledge of the details of the family, asked, “You know Bleu?”

Helen smiled and told her, “I also know Mile Marker, as well as his blue berry muffin baking wife. Whatever you do, don't eat those muffins. I didn't know you could have blue poop. I went to wipe and thought I needed a trip to the emergency room.”

Lemon burst into laughter. “I have never met anyone like you, Helen,” she paused and asked, “Why did you ask how long I've known him?”

“Because he evidently knows you well enough to pick Jared Bane to be a husband and a male role model for those girls. Mr. Bane has already taught them basic self-defense moves, how to check the oil and fluids in a car, and how to change a tire. The Archangel knows what you need in your life, and he's sending it.” Helen said. “Question for you, my brainiac of a chemist: tell me the one memory when that man became your hero. It shouldn't be hard since you trust the Archangel.”

“Prom,” Lemon spoke softly. “I wanted to go to the prom, but because we lived in Amish country, and the school I attended was predominately white, my Gran said I couldn't go. He called to check on me and I was crying. I explained everything and on prom night, he showed up to take me.”

“Oh, come on. You're leaving out the details,” Helen chuffed.

“Fine, he arrived in a white stretch limo, holding a dozen roses and a fairy princess prom dress,” she said. “He was dressed in a white tux with shiny white shoes, and his hair was slicked back on his head. He rarely wears contact lenses, but that night he did. I went to the prom with the Archangel.”

Helen's eyes were wide, as if a bit of the juiciest gossip ever was about to land at her feet, “Wait, can he dance?”

“Oh yeah,” Lemon said, laughing. “That's when I decided I wanted to have his babies. The way that man moves on a dance floor is sin personified. Girls at my school were trying to cut in and ask his for a dance, but his eyes were only for me.”

“Keep going; did you get to bump uglies, feel what he was working with it, get in some tongue action with Preacher Boy?” Helen asked.

“No!! And you've got a nasty mind!” Lemon said. “He was a gentleman who walked me to the door when it was over. I thought he would want the dress back, but I still have it.”

“Nooo! Ooh! Ooh!Oooh!” Helen shouted. “You should have a small wedding ceremony and wear it when he marries you and Mr. Bane. It would come full circle for him. He would crumple inside of that dark heart of his and maybe actually cry some of those tears he's been holding inside for way too long.”

Lemon's face turned serious. She eyed Helen with a newfound appreciation and understanding which hadn't been clear before now. The woman was odd, but observant. The next words Lemon spoke were carefully measured, “I thought I was the only one who saw that in him.”

“Everyone sees it in him, Lemon,” Helen said. “He shows up when you're at your lowest and hands you a shiny object which fascinates you and your broken winged arm flap. He makes you believe that even with that crumpled wing, you will still be able to fly. The only thing he doesn't ask is for you to come down to Georgia and play in this little guitar competition he's putting on.”

“You think he's the Devil?” Lemon said with a chuckle.

“I think he believes in his heart that what he's doing is right. Whether it is for the right reasons or the wrong reasons, it doesn't matter. He's seen some things which made him put together this team of deadly do-gooders,” she said. “The real question is, and no one ever wants to ask, if you make 1,000 of the dissolving bullets per year, who the fuck pulls the trigger to use them? You only have two trigger pullers on your crew, Bad Apple and now me. Is Mr. Jared part of the boots on the ground team who storms the castle to rescue the maidens in distress?”

“You're frightening in your thought processes.”

“No, I am a realist,” Helen said. “This training program I'm in isn't totally to teach me what you do. One of the reasons, I was sent to you is for the very reason that we are doing right now.”

“To what, talk to me?”

“Yes,” Helen said. “We can have an open, honest conversation that you can't have with anyone else. Yes, the little Hispanic chick Passion Fruit is on your team. The woman who looks like she heads up the Junior League in St. Paul...yeah, Sour Grapes, could you talk to her about this?”

“No, I couldn't.”

“I, on the other hand, have been sent on this tour of ‘Meet the Killers’ to bond with each of you. Let you teach me and let me get to know you.”

Lemon said, “So you don't need to learn about poisons.”

“Technically, no.”

“Why not?”

“When I need a bullet to melt inside of a creep, I'm going to call you and order one. What do I look like, making my own when that is actually your damned job,” Helen said. “Yeah, it's cool to know this stuff, but I'm better on my feet and on the move. I will never have a greenhouse with wolfsbane and hemlock. I may plant some tomatoes in a raised bed, maybe, possibly...and that's that.”

“So, you feel you were sent here to get to know me?”

“And to be your bridesmaid,” Helen said, laughing and doing her awkward sexy wiggle dance again.

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