Chapter Eighteen: Enthusiasm

Enthusiasm: expression is our highest calling, but those who use enthusiasm for destructive purposes create a whirlwind of devastation…try explaining this one to your dog.

Mimi finishes her barn detail, takes a drink of water from the pump, and, cooing sweetly, quietly walks to Cajun’s stall. Cajun lifts his noble head from his fresh timothy hay and spins to turn his good eye toward Mimi, then stretches like a cat and meets her at the wide stall door. Mimi reaches in her pocket for a mint, and her best friend nuzzles her hand, accepting the treat with soft, velveteen rabbit lips. Then he snorts, and shies violently; something disturbs him. Mimi freezes as someone behind her shouts, “Boo!” She quickly turns around, barely able to control her anger. She softens slightly when she sees Warren, but immediately lets him know she’s displeased. “Warren, what are you thinking? That wasn’t cool.”
“Well, damn, it’s good to see you, too, Mimi.” Warren’s talk has a swagger, but his body language doesn’t; he’s uncomfortable in his skin. As Mimi calms Cajun, Warren lights a cigarette, chalking up another wrong move. “Good Lord, man, where’s your brain? Take that outside, you can’t smoke in a barn. If David catches you, it’ll be both our asses!”
“Is David your new boyfriend?”
“No, Warren, David owns this barn; he’s my boss. Go on now, and pick up your butt, too; stick it in your pocket.” Mimi shifts her attention back to her scattered horse. “Easy, Cajun. It’s okay, babe.” After a few more seconds, Cajun eases to the stall door and loudly sighs. “When you come back in the barn, Warren, start talking to me, okay? It’ll help him settle if he hears you; he’s blind in one eye and a little freakish because of it.”
“Maybe I should just stay here instead, then.” Warren’s feeling freakish, too.
“Nope, come on in; just be smart this time. The more Cajun’s exposed to new things, the more desensitized he becomes; he’ll calm down. See? He already has. Here, give him this.” Mimi hands Warren a peppermint.
“No way am I putting my hand in there. Horses and I don’t get along that well.”
Mimi grins at Warren, cuffs him on the shoulder, and pulls him in for a hug. “That’s because you smell funny. How did you find me?”
“I called Dee last week, and she told me you were mucking stalls for a living somewhere near your house, so I drove around until I saw this barn.” Warren’s voice changes to a lower register, and his face loses its boyish vulnerability. “Listen, Mimi, something’s happened.”
“What? Are you alright?” Mimi turns her attention away from Cajun, who is calmly munching hay. She and Warren walk out of the barn and onto the wide gravel driveway. They lean against the aged fence amidst a thick border of pink cosmos; the old farm, functional and worn, wears its new party clothes to lovely effect. “Yeah, yeah,” Warren answers, but nervously shifts his weight from left to right, never meeting Mimi’s gaze. “It’s just that I think I made a big mistake and I need to tell you about it.” He stops, takes a breath, and looks at the ground before continuing. “Do you know Sam’s restaurant caught on fire this morning?”
Mimi is stunned. “No, but now you’re scaring me. Does this have anything to do with your mistake?” Mimi sniffs Warren’s shirt. “Or the fact that you smell like gasoline?” Warren shuffles, but he tells the truth; lying has never been his strong suit, and he looks up to meet her stare. “Mimi, you know I used to love Sam to death; he was like a father to me. But he really embarrassed me that night I tried to talk to him about drinking.”
“Yeah,” Mimi says, “I know he did. But you helped me figure some things out, and good came from it; you need to know that.” Warren shakes his head, unwilling to accept Mimi’s affirmation. “I saw Sam the other day, and he did it again, Mimi. I was walking by the restaurant and Jesse was outside sweeping the front steps, so I stopped to say hello.”
“What made you go down there, Warren? You shouldn’t have done that.” Unable to tap into goodness anywhere, the young man droops like a wilting wildflower dying from domesticity. “I know, but I walk by there all the time.”
“You can go another way, Warren.” Mimi is gentle with the broken child; he has a lot of heart and the passion of a warrior, but his brain doesn’t connect the dots when it comes to learning self-preservation survival skills. She watches Warren’s face contort as he fails to dam a river of hot tears. “Sam made fun of me in front of Jesse. He thinks he’s Jesus Christ Superstar now that he’s been in Playboy Magazine; he made me mad, and I couldn’t help myself.”
Mimi’s heart sinks with the weight of her next question; she already knows the answer. “Did you start the fire?” Warren kicks at the dirt and reaches in his pocket for another cigarette. “I filled up a bottle with gasoline, stuffed a rag in it, lit it, and slammed it through the front window. It felt good for a minute, but now I’m afraid I’ll get caught. I need you to help me.” Mimi knocks the cigarette from Warren’s hand before the match reaches its intended target. “You ought to be afraid! That was a really dumb thing to do. Dangerous. You’ve committed a felony, Warren. Damn it, why did you tell me this?”
“I don’t know, I needed to tell somebody and you were the first person I thought of. You can keep a secret,” he says, begging for understanding. “You know how Sam is, he treated you like shit!”
“Yeah, I do know how Sam is; he’s a sick man. But that doesn’t mean I want to set his restaurant on fire! You shouldn’t have told me.” Mimi shakes her head, trying to dislodge the unwelcome information Warren shares. It sticks, though; she can’t move it.
“Why not?” Warren gapes; he’s surprised by Mimi’s reaction.
“Who do you think the police will call first, Warren? Probably me. And if they don’t call me first, they’ll call me second, or third, and they’ll question me, and they’ll ask me if I did it, and I’ll say no, and then they’ll ask me if I know who did.”
“And what will you say?”
Mimi looks Warren hard. “Well, I’m not going to lie about it; I’m not a good liar, and even if I did lie, and they found out I lied, I’d be sitting in the cell right next to you! I’d be an accomplice; do you get that?”
“No, Mimi, you can’t rat me out. Please don’t do that.” Dust devils filled with Warren’s agitation swirl around them. He paces away from Mimi and reaches for a cigarette. This time Mimi lets him light it, grabs the pack from him, and lights one herself. “I need a place to stay, Mimi, will you let me stay with you? You can’t tell anyone. Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have come here. You don’t understand.” Mimi takes a deep draw, and then another before answering. “Oh, I understand, Warren; you’re in a boatload of trouble. Best thing you can do is turn yourself in. God, how did I ever smoke these things?” She tears the cigarette apart in frustration – frustration for smoking, frustration for playing a part in Warren’s drama.
“Turn yourself in for what?” Mimi jumps at the sound of her boss’s gruff voice. “What’s going on here? Who is this?”
“David, damn it! What’s with all you people creeping around scaring me? Am I deaf?” David’s weather face turns rock-hard. Without taking an eye off Warren, he demands Mimi’s attention. “Mimi, answer me! What’s going on?”
“David, this is Warren; he used to work for me. And he’s in some serious trouble.”
“Trouble’s the last thing we need around here, son. Keep moving.” Warren puts out his cigarette, and remembering Mimi’s earlier request, picks up the butt, puts it in his pocket, and looks at Mimi. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he says. “Thanks for nothing, Mimi.” He walks a few yards down the driveway, then turns right and jumps the pasture fence.
“David, you don’t know what’s going on.” Mimi looks from one to the other so fast her head hurts. “Wait a minute, everybody, just hang on.” Warren looks dejectedly at Mimi. “I can’t believe this, Mimi. You’re going to rat me out.” He continues walking through the pasture toward the woods.”
“Warren! Come back here! David, the kid just set Sam’s restaurant on fire – threw a gas bomb or something through the window; we can’t let him go!” David’s response surprises her. “Yes we can; he’ll get caught.” David looks at Mimi, shrugs his shoulders, and walks toward the barn; Mimi intercepts him. “Of course he’ll get caught; he just told me about it, and I can’t lie for him. But that’s not the point right now.” David’s male perspective brings out Mimi’s indignant mother gene – all women have it, regardless of the number of children they choose not to bear. “I can’t let him go like this, he’s a basket case. Oh, no, what was that?” Mimi looks hard at David. “What was that noise, David?”
“Stay here,” says David, as he breaks into a bad imitation of a fast run – best he can do with a bum knee and a bad back. “Call 911!” Mimi wastes no time ignoring David’s first order and fulfilling his second as she runs like a track star to the barn’s dusty black wall phone. She dials, and breathes for the first time in what seems like hours, only she’s on the verge of hyperventilation.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I think someone just shot himself.”
“What’s your location, ma’am?”
“900 Double Tree Lane, Double Tree Farm, off Jenkin’s Bottom Road. Please hurry!”
“An ambulance is on its way now; stay calm, stay with me. What’s your name?”
“Please send a police officer, too; the young man’s in trouble.”
“Ma’am, don’t hang up; stay with me.” Mimi hangs up the phone, collapses by Cajun’s stall, and begins to softly keen…until she sees David dragging Warren back to the barn by his arm and yelling like he’s in a hollering contest. “What were you going to do with this gun, punk? Hold Mimi hostage? Kill yourself?” David looks at Mimi and shakes his head. “This idiot can’t even kill himself. You damn dumbass,” he shouts at Warren. “Stop being a baby.”
“But it hurts!” Warren is crying hard. “Oh, damn, my ear, my ear.”
“It should hurt, dummy; you ought to be dead right now, and you would be if Mimi wasn’t here. I’d kill you just for the fun of it.” Mimi moves in for a closer look, and is relieved to see only a profuse amount of blood dripping from Warren’s head, but no brain matter. “God, what happened, David?”
“Dumb kid says he shot the no trespassing sign and the bullet ricocheted and hit him in the head. Just grazed his ear by my measure. How close were you standing to the sign, you stupid piece of shit? I ought to shoot you myself for scaring the horses. I think I will. Stand back, Mimi, I’m gonna shoot this kid between the eyes and put him out of my misery.”
“David! Leave him alone. Warren, sit down; the ambulance is on its way. David, can you get a clean towel or something? He’s bleeding all over himself.”
“Aw, Mimi, go back to the barn, please. I’m not gonna shoot this coward, the cops will do that! Stop crying, you big sissy. Look at you; you’re a fucking mess, bleeding all over my gravel. Now every raccoon on this property will be coming around looking for a snack. I ought to tie you to the tree and leave you for ‘coon bait.”
“Warren, sit still,” Mimi instructs. “I’ll be right back; David’s not going to hurt you. Just breathe, baby. Help is on the way.”
“He can’t hear you,” David says, sitting on the ground and tenderly cradling Warren’s head in his lap. “He just passed out, but he’ll be alright.” And he is, although he will never again hear out of his deformed right ear. But he makes the paper, his picture beside Sam’s on the front page above the fold. Mimi, refusing all interviews as advised by attorney Jim Morris, is exonerated, but not before viewing Sam’s slick underbelly one more time.