O'Connell Bridge - Pt. 3

LC walked in and saw Arthur and Big Mac lounged on the couch playing a video game. “Hey.”

Mac looked over his shoulder, “Hey. There’s pizza on the bar. Some dude ordered pickup but never showed. Boss even tried to call the guy. Finally, we were ready to throw it out and I said, hey, I’ll share with my roomies cause—ya-know we ain’t got much money.” He said, 'cool,' so we get free pizza. It’s anchovies.”

LC grimaced, “Uh, I’ll pass. Had Mex for dinner, and I just watched Cait barf her guts up. Anchovies don’t even sound good. Anything going on I need to know about?”

Mac held up a controller. “New game sucks. Murph agrees.”

“Alright, well, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey, any word on the stalker?” Arthur called as LC flipped on his room light.

“Nope.”

“What stalker?” Mac was suddenly interested.

“He’s got someone leaving him love notes,” smirked Arthur.

LC turned. “First of all, I don’t know it’s a stalker, and second of all, everyone assumes it’s a female and therefore a love note. Mike gave me an idea, it might be some wacko from ER.” LC dropped his jeans in a pile and pulled off his shirt. “Bed, I’m off tomorrow; but still I need to catch some Z’s. If I don’t wakeup at midnight, tap on my door.” LC flipped off his light as he pulled the door closed scooting his jeans away from the sweep of the door. He knew a nap was okay but he had to keep from getting off his working hours. Normally, he clocked in at 9p.m. and got off at 5:30 AM.

Two hours later, Big Mac shook his shoulder.

LC grumbled, “Really?”

“Midnight guy. I’m going to bed, but church is at 9. You going? I think Phil is back from his latest adventure.”

“Plan to, then crash officially after lunch, maybe do the Harp brunch.” LC pulled himself out of bed. His usual routine would be to watch Sports Center or a Netflix movie. Days off for third. shift workers meant wandering the streets at odd hours when other folks slept. “Think I’ll go to PF and work off the tension. Plus I need to pick up some stuff at Wally World.”

“If you think of it get some corn chips, you know game watching supplies.”

LC slipped on sweatpants. “As if, you guys eat everything then I get crumbs. See ya tomorrow.”

Big Mac closed his own bedroom door; minutes later, LC heard Mac’s personal TV come on. LC bounded out the door and down the stairs, a quick peek in the girl's apartment window proved to him that they were sacked out for the night. “Cait will feel it in the morning,” he mused.

“Ah, Planet Fitness at 1:30 AM Sunday morning.” The brightly colored exercise facility was usually fairly empty. LC always noted that the early hours were frequented by a couple of dedicated weight lifters, two runners trying to lose the last ounce of body fat, an old guy who couldn’t sleep, and a crazy woman who tended to haunt the night. The all night guy didn’t even bother to cover the front desk. Just left a card reader on the counter for members to log themselves in.

LC took a frustrated deep breath and then ran his 10 minute mile on the treadmill; cheated through the 30 minute workout, 10 minutes of free weights, and zipped through the machine weights. “Sheesh, I gotta get those messages out of my head. Concentrate.” He worked out for another hour, and then drove the short distance to WalMart to pick up some needed supplies. By 5 AM, he was sitting in the Waffle House on Market Street.

“Coffee please. I’ll order breakfast in a few minutes.” LC looked around at the nearly empty restaurant. “I feel like crap.” He scanned the tiny restaurant. A couple bikers sat at the counter and distraught looking older couple was huddled in a far small booth. By 6 AM, a different set of people were seated in the all night restaurant, none of whom did LC think were capable of sending him messages. He looked at the newspaper sports page when the paper was delivered and generally wasted an hour plus. Finally, he headed for his apartment.

A sticky note greeted him at the top of the stairs. “Ah, crap, another note?” Almost to his relief the note staring at him was from Arthur. “Clean the bathroom.”

“Okay. I’ll do the down and dirty clean up and shower at the same time.” He grabbed his towel and a change of clothes and stacked them in the sink with the toilet paper and carefully arranged his towel to cover them; then he got in the shower without closing the curtain and pointed the nozzle around the tiled bathroom. Minutes later, the bathroom was soaked.

“Cool.” He dried himself with his damp towel and used the same towel to wipe down the walls, floor, and every surface; then he squirted some cleanser in the toilet, swished it around with a corner of his towel and flushed.

“Done, almost.” He wiped down the outside of the toilet, dressed, and then after brushing his teeth he used his towel to wipe down the sink and mirror.

“Maybe I should send Arthur a clandestine note—Arthur, imminent danger in bathroom.”

LC tossed his wet towel across the dirty clothes basket in his room, popped in a coffee pod, and collapsed in an overstuffed chair while pulling out his phone. There was a message from a coded source. O’Connell Bridge 2200 June 30 Before I die.

LC stared at the message. “I wonder if I should forward this to Mike. If I don’t, he’ll yell at me, and if I do, he’ll yell at me.” He forwarded the text.

Ten minutes later his phone rang. “Why am I getting text messages from you at 6:30 on Sunday morning?”

“Did you read it?”

Mike’s voice seemed irritated. “Yes, it’s no different.”

“Just thought you should know.”

“Tell you what LC, don’t bother me with these duplicate notes unless it changes. This wacko just wants to get in your head. That doesn’t include me.” He clicked off.

Arthur came out of his room wearing a white shirt and tie.

LC made a show of looking him over. “You must be going to Shallotte.”

“Mom wanted me to come down last night. I begged off because of studying; but she made me promise to come to church and lunch; I’ll escape about 3 PM with the same studying excuse.”

“It’ll be true.”

Arthur waved as he exited the apartment. “See ya.” Arthur’s hometown of Shallotte was about thirty minutes south of Wilmington.

A minute after the door slammed shut, Big Mac came out of his room. “There’s enough noise in this apartment to drown out a cat fight. Did you fix breakfast?”

“There’s the left over anchovy pizza in the frig. You should know, you brought it home last night.”

Mac dug through the cabinet. “Body needs infusion of caffeine, you got any pods?”

LC grinned. “My private stash is behind the cracker box. I grant you one pod.”

“I brought home pizza.”

“Like I said, it’s cold Anchovy, remember.”

“Okay, I owe you a pod.” Mac dug deeper into the cabinet and found LC’s box of coffee pods. “Bless you, my child.”

“Your sins are forgiven.”

“Really? Cool. Then I don’t have to worry about the decant thoughts I have been having toward a certain, shall we say ‘generously supplied creature,’ who always asks for me at the store. I do hope she’s over 18 years of age. I can’t believe a goddess like her could be otherwise.”

“Mac, you’re a dirty old man. She probably has an angry pro wrestler father who will beat you into a pepperoni if you look too long at his precious young daughter. Tomorrow’s newspaper will read, 23-year-old man convicted of statutory rape of a juvenile; angry father threatens retaliation.”

Mac laughed. “I have done naught but little more than take her order.”

“I bet you don’t even know her name.” LC leaned forward to take a sip of coffee.

“Ah, not true. It’s Aideen.”

“So you asked her?”

“Well technically yes. She signed the credit card slip. I asked her if she pronounced it Ai-deen.”

“Oh, her own credit card? She responded?”

“Yes, and Yes. Aideen Kelly.”

LC looked into his coffee cup. “Anything more?”

Mac took his coffee cup from the coffee machine. “Not much yet.”

“Good luck.” LC leaned back I on the barstool nearly tipping.

“She gets a pie almost every Tuesday and Saturday. But said it’s for her brothers in the shop.”

LC didn’t respond just took a big gulp of coffee.

“I’m going to get ready and go to church, you going?” Mac headed toward his room.

“Yeah, maybe brunch at the Harp. Then back here to crash. I work tonight.”

“Good, Aideen might come to the Anchor. And maybe I can invite her up after you leave for work.”

LC turned on the bar stool. “Why, uh, how can you do that?”

Mac pushed open the bathroom door, “Cause I told her that’s where I go—to the Anchor. Hey cool somebody cleaned this place.”

“I thought you said you only took her order.”

Mac ignored him and closed the bathroom door.

At 8:30 AM, both Mac and LC trotted down the stairs toward the on street parking. “Driving or walking?” LC looked up the street at his truck expecting to see a note pasted to the windshield.

Mac pointed at his car. “I’m driving cause I might need to carry you know who out to lunch.”

“That mean’s I’m walking back.”

“Right.”

“Go ahead, I’ll just walk both ways. I want to check on Cait anyway.”

Mac jingled his keys. “You’re a mother hen.” He slid into his Honda Fit and started the engine. With a nod, he rolled away.

LC turned toward the front door just as Betty Jo came out.

“I have a split today. Work the brunch, AM off, then work dinner. It’s a bummer, but at least the dinner tips are better.”

“Yeah, I screwed around all night. I go in at 10 tonight, so I’ll be sleeping today. How’s Cait?”

Betty Jo laughed. “See for yourself.”

LC climbed the porch stairs and pushed open the front door, Caitlin was sprawled across the couch. A washcloth, two empty Pepsi bottles, and a tissue box were idling on the coffee table.

“So how is the belle of the Mexican fiesta this morning?”

Caitlin flipped him the bird. “I think I ate some bad chips.”

LC smirked. “Had nothing to do with the tequila?”

Caitlin held out her hand. “I understand you carried me home and even put me to bed, too bad I was so out of it to enjoy it,” she grinned. “Thank you. I’d hug you, but I stink like puke, but you can hold my hand, I washed it.”

LC moved to her side. “You know I clean up vomit, blood, and more almost every night, things that even make the nurses gag.”

“You’re one of the good guys, LC. Oh, I seem to remember some hanky-panky last night. We didn’t you know? I mean I don’t feel like it.”

“Hardly, something about a barfing female that’s a bit of a turn off.”

“Oh, I guess I’m not worthy.”

“Cait, you’re still drunk. I said nothing of the kind.”

“LC you better move, I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Nice thought. I guess this means you’re not going to church? Do you want me to pick you up some lunch or something?”

Caitlin held up a finger then rushed to the bathroom.

“I take that as a no.” He let himself out the front door and walked down the sidewalk toward Water Street. The Anchor church was a mission of the United Methodist Church and held services on a barge tied to the city dock. Although the church was open to anyone, it truly catered to those living on the street and to those who served them.

Big Mac was standing next to his car talking to a tall blondish woman. “Must be the famous Aideen Kelly.” So, LC just waved and walked by. A homeless looking man handing out church bulletins quickly crossed the parking lot to give LC one of the folded papers—which contained song lyrics as well as the order of service.

“Thanks.”

LC boarded the barge and found his way to a platform table near the back. Phil, the affable young pastor spotted LC and poured a cup of coffee before he climbed the platform where LC was sitting and shook LC’s hand. “I come bearing coffee. How’s it going, guy? Still working the night shift?”

“Yep. Still at the ER. Nothing too exciting Phil, usual array of car accidents, knife fights, heart attacks, and overdoses. Thanks for the cup of coffee. How about you? Still on the barge I see.”

“Yeah, I think we can stay here awhile. Even in the winter, the sides are plastic and roll down and with heaters, I think it’ll be fine.” He shook hands with congregants climbing the steps and joining the platform. Phil turned back to LC. “New Summer Associate starts today. That’s pretty exciting for us.”

LC laughed. “I know a summer at the Anchor will be an eye-opening experience for he or she. They will go back to Duke Divinity School with a whole new prospective on mission service.”

Phil patted him on the back. “It’s a she and I think she has a pretty good idea of what she’s getting into. You’ll have to meet her; I haven’t seen her come in yet, but when she gets here I’ll introduce you. I think her husband is coming too.”

“Cool.” LC sipped his coffee.

“It’s going to be a great summer.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh, hey.” Phil rose to greet some other folks, before returning to LC. “Listen LC, you need to come out to Carolina Beach for Beer and Hymns sometime; it’s held at Good Hops Brewery; it’s a blast.”

LC grinned. “Next time I get three days off in a row and am not on call, I’ll do that.”

“I know you’re busy,” said Phil. “If you want, there’s a number of mission projects you could get involved with that wouldn’t take much time. I know you rebuilt your truck; we might think of doing something along those lines.”

“That sounds cool Phil, let me graduate in a couple of weeks and work up some ideas maybe.”

“Any plans after graduation?”

LC ducked his head. “Trying to get into med school, no takers so far.”

“Have faith.” Phil grinned, shook LC’s hand again and turned to greet other folks. Eventually, he left LC sitting on the metal chair sipping coffee.

LC signed the attendance pad and chatted with folks sitting around him until the service finally started.

He held up his bulletin to read the cover page and then opened the fold for the lyrics of the first song. Scrawled across the page were big bold black letters: “O’CONNELL BRIDGE 2200 JUNE 30 BEFORE I DIE.”

To be continued...