A Double Life
Quinn thought about driving around, looking for the beige sedan. He thought about driving to Shady’s, seeing if the man was there. Instead, he went home.
The condo was stuffy. He opened all of the windows. The air conditioner would cool the place down faster, but it was only April 29. Quinn had a self-imposed policy that his own AC would not be turned on until at least May 15. No exceptions. Five months was long enough to hear the clicking of the unit on and off and to turn the television louder when the air was blowing, then down again when it clicked off for 10 minutes. No, the air would stay off. He turned on a fan to help move the warm, stagnant air. His home felt claustrophobic. The walls appeared to be moving toward him, trapping and suffocating him as he ran out of places to hide.
He needed to talk to someone but didn’t know who to call. He had already canceled dinner with his girlfriend, and he didn’t want to ruin any plans she may have made in the meantime.
He turned on the TV for an update:
“We have good news for you tonight, Arizona. Fr. Patrick McSorley, who was randomly attacked early this morning along the Arizona Canal, has had his condition upgraded to critical but stable condition. His doctors expect him to survive the attack, but it is unknown how extensive his recovery will be.
Phoenix police continue to investigate the crime, but have yet to name a motive or person of interest. There have been no arrests, but sources close to the investigation say there may be a witness to the attack.”
That was the best news Quinn had heard all day. He was disturbed by the man’s appearance on the Hotel Clarendon roof. There was a part of him that wanted to leave the city for a few days, to not face the reality that a priest he knew was attacked and a stranger was telling him the police and media had it all wrong. He thought about calling his friend George in California. He could drive there in six hours and be in a complete change of scenery. Plus, Quinn was curious how the screenplay was coming along. He knew driving away would in all likelihood mean there would be no more chance meetings with the man. If he stuck around, Quinn could see him again. It was hard to admit this to himself, but he wanted another meeting. He didn’t care where.
“Surprise me,” Quinn said to himself.
Quinn remembered when he first met Lana. They were introduced by a friend; she was a couple of years younger. He wasn’t in the mood for a relationship at the time, but there was that connection right away. He tried to deny it at first, and he believed she did too, but he thought about her all the time. He liked the way she smiled at him and looked into his eyes from just an inch below. At the beginning, one would always look away after a couple seconds, lacking the confidence to stare into the soul of the other. But that slowly began to change. Now, after dating more than a year, they felt comfortable looking into the other’s eyes for what seemed like minutes before they locked lips and shared the passion and connection that only two people in love could share. Those kisses were unlike anything he had ever experienced.
He stood up, grabbed his card, and began to move his eyes left to right, then right to left, staring at the Ace of Spades. Three times a day he stared at that spade, training his eyes to adapt to the permanent change in his equilibrium. There was no cure, his physical therapist said. But you should adjust and be able to live a normal life. Should.
But this night, Quinn’s mind was wandering. Even the jazz on the local public radio station was not calming his nerves. The temperature was beginning to rise and a possible madman was on the loose.
He was fascinated by all the Ace cards. Was it a 1 or an 11? Was it the highest card in a deck, or the lowest? Sometimes that was your call. Other times your fate was decided for you.
The Ace card was living a double life. Quinn began wondering if he was headed down that same path where a part of his life would become hidden from the view of those who knew him best.
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Start reading from the beginning: Ace of Spades I
Three Leaf Publishing House 