He planned the trip to New Orleans after Jenny left him, but before the divorce was final. Those were the in between days where everything ran together in his memory. When asked about that time in his life, Foy would shake his head and say, “It was just a time when I wandered around. I don't know what I was thinking back then.”
Foy lost his job at the church two days after he was served with the divorce papers. It was hard to say how that happened. His energy had been draining away for a year or so. There was talk in the halls, people saying that the pastor was losing it. He knew what they were saying but didn't care. He'd been fantasizing about leaving anyway. He wondered what it would be like to be a regular person.
He met with the leaders of the church and it happened. They didn't fire him, and he didn't exactly quit. It was more like two lovers staring at each other and both saying, "We need to talk" at the same time. Officially, he resigned for personal reasons.
When he took off his collar for the last time, it seemed like he should feel sad. But it was so heavy in his hands that he couldn't wait to lay it down. He left it on his desk with the keys to the church. He took all his toys down from the shelves. The G.I. Joes, the Monty Python stuff, the pictures and the little things children had given him over the years. All the wacky stuff he was famous for. He gently laid them all into a cardboard box, sealed it with duct tape, wrote "Foy's Stuff" on it, and shoved it against the wall.
He couldn't bear to look at his beloved books. It was a damn fine library. Everyone said so. Ministers would turn their heads sideways, looking at the titles to see what he had. He didn't want to look at the books because he couldn't bear to face the fact that he didn't care about them anymore.
He wrote a note to Ben. Ben was a deacon in the true spirit of that office. Ben would always love him, no matter what.
Ben,
We've been friends for sixteen years. I'm going to call upon that friendship now. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I must ask you to do something for me.
Please come to my office and box up my books and store them for me. I can't do it. I can't even look at them. It's probably going to take you 25 or 30 boxes. Get Michael and some of the guys to help, maybe. I hope it's not too terrible an inconvenience, but I need you.
I'm including money to rent a storage place for a few months. Have them bill me at my parent's house after that.
Who knows, one day I might come back for the books. Or maybe I'll sell them after awhile. I have no idea.
I think JoAnn has my parents' address from that time that Jill watched our dog.
Also, there's a big box in my office with my name on it. Get that one too, okay?
Foy
He put the money and the note in an envelope and left it in Ben's box. Ben always checked his box.
When Foy stepped outside, the sun reflected off the sidewalk and made him squint. It seemed like one of those movies where some guy gets out of prison. But there was no one there to pick him up.
He had nothing to do and nowhere to go. He couldn't remember a time when he had nothing to do and nowhere to go.
He thought maybe he'd crash on Tim's couch tonight, or maybe Adrian and Cynthia's.
Yeah, Cynthia's couch. Get a good meal in me. Then take a trip maybe. Go somewhere. Maybe New Orleans. Never been there. Isn't Mardi Gras sometime soon?
He felt in his pockets for his sunglasses, took them out, but didn't put them on because he hated them. They were the big kind that old people wear over their glasses. He lost his prescription sunglasses when he took the church kids to the beach that one time.
"Stupid Ocean," he said out loud.
Then he whirled around and went back to the church door. It was locked because everyone was gone for lunch. He grabbed his key ring and flipped through it for a few seconds before he remembered that he didn't have keys to the church anymore. He cupped his hands on the window by the door to look inside, then tapped on the glass a few times. No one was there.
"Damn."
He went around the corner and found the side door unlocked, as usual. He went back to his office and ripped open the cardboard box. He rummaged through all the trinkets until he found a little wooden vial that Rolf the German pastor had given him. It held a tiny container of rose oil used for anointing the sick.
Foy opened the vial and smelled the heavy, floral scent. Impulsively, he put his finger over the opening and turned it upside down. He touched his finger to his own forehead. A short laugh burst out of him. "Jeezus, I must be losing my fuckin mind."
He dropped the vial into his pocket, kicked the box back against the wall, and left through the side door, locking it behind him.
rlp
