Page 50 of Vespertine
Mrs. Wells lifted her eyebrows and cleared her throat,restacking some papers on her desk. “Well, how can I help you?”
“I thought I’d stop by to see Jazz—Per. Um, Jasper.” Shenarrowed her eyes at him. “Uh, I mean the Father?” She nodded and then glaredat the mehndi tattoo on his left hand. Nicky sighed and shoved his hands in hisjeans pockets. “I wanted to see what he’s getting up to these days. My parentsare really impressed with this place and all he’s done here.”
Praising Jazz seemed to be just the thing because Mrs. Wellssmiled (had he ever seen that before?) and nearly glowed as she agreed thatJasper was a virtual saint. “I know your parents don’t share our faith, but I’mso glad to see that his good works are visible outside of our little Catholiccommunity.” She seemed to take an almost vain delight in telling him, “He’ssuch a good person, such a devoted man of God. He’s a blessing to everyone whoknows him.”
Nicky nodded. “I’m sure he is.”
“Well, he’s about to start his morning Mass but he’ll bearound shortly. You could wait.” She nodded to a blue overstuffed chair and acoffee table covered inCatholic Digests. “Or I couldlet him know you dropped in and schedule an appointment for you to come visitlater this week.”
“I’ll wait,” Nicky said, but he had no intention of sittingin that chair under her watchful eye. “Mind if I have a look around?”
“Oh, I…well, I…” She looked flustered. “We don’t usually letpeople just walk in off the street and move freely about the facilities. I’msure you understand the obligation we have to keep the children safe.”
“Of course. But maybe you could give me a tour? If there’sanyone who knows this place as well as Jazz—the Father, I’m sure it’s you.”
Flattery seemed like it wasn’t going to be enough to work butthen the phone rang and Mrs. Wells answered. “Blue Oasis. Oh, Father. Yes,there’s a man here to see you. Nicholas Blumfeld.” She said this meaningfullylike she was trying to tell him Satan had made his way into the walls of BlueOasis without alerting the fallen one to her indiscretion. “Oh? Are youcertain? Some of the children are…” She turned away from him and whispered loudenough for Nicky’s old deaf Aunt Ellen to have heard perfectly, “Veryimpressionable. All right. Of course. Whatever you say, Father. I’ll be happyto show him around.”
After a short discussion about the original purpose ofJasper’s phone call, something to do with sermon notes accidentally sent to hisBlue Oasis email, she hung up and said, “Well, then, Nicholas. It seems like I’mgoing to be your tour guide. Follow me.”
She showed him the cafeteria first, which to his pleasantsurprise, looked nothing like the gray metallic coffin it used to be. Acacophony of colors screamed at him so loudly he wanted to laugh in delight. Hecould imagine a group of kids hanging out here, talking, joking around, anderupting into the occasional friendly food fight. He glanced at the stern Mrs.Wells with her tightly bound hair and neatly folded hands in front of her. Foodfights when she was on vacation maybe.
Mrs. Wells was very thorough in her tour, taking her timeand showing Nicky everything. He wasn’t sure if she was dragging her feet orjust that dedicated.
“As you’ve seen, most of the building is still the same. Weconverted ten of the classrooms and added baths so there was one to share forevery four children. Most of the other rooms are closed but we use some forhomeschooling if needed, therapy sessions and recreation too. And, of course,if we get the funding to expand the program, we could convert more space.” Hereshe looked at Nicky significantly.Oh, she’d decided hemight become a donor!That must be why she was giving him the long tour.He wondered if Jazz had planted that idea or if she’d come up with it forherself.
When Nicky didn’t respond, she went on, “The gym is stillthe same, and we have one large recreation room where more of the kids hang outduring downtime.” She eyed him. “That’s where they’ll be now.”
“Cool beans. Can we go say hi?”
She hesitated and he was convinced she’d say no. “Justbehave yourself, please.”
What did she think he was going to do? Strip down naked andstart pulling syringes full of heroin out of his ass? Maybe sprinkle them allwith cocaine like it was fairy dust?
“I’ll keep my potty mouth under control,” Nicky said, andMrs. Wells rolled her eyes and began to climb the stairs to the second floor.
The tiles of the massive room were covered with rugs of variouscolors and textures. A long red plush sofa was pushed up against one wall, anda cream and black plaid couch, made of some fuzzier material, was pressed upkitty-corner, making a little gathering area around a broad wood coffee table.There were bean bags and large cushions all around, some close to the cozylittle meeting area and others farther away. And on these surfaces, teenagersof all shades, genders, and sizes stretched, curled, or flopped. In a corner,there was a big, full bookcase, and against it leaned an acoustic guitar. Nicky’spracticed eye thought it was an Epiphone Pro-1 Plus, not a bad starterinstrument, but it was a Les Paul and Nicky preferred Fenders. Next to it was aYamaha keyboard on a sad-looking stand, a box of egg shakers, and a tambourine.
“Children, may I have your attention,” Mrs. Wells called out.Nicky noticed none of them seemed especially intimidated by her; all of themremained in their same positions, at most swiveling their heads to see herbetter. “Father Hendricks’ friend, Nicholas, has come to pay a visit. Can weall give him a warm Blue Oasis welcome?”
“Welcome,” the group mumbled, not exactly enthusiastically,but not as though they really cared either.
“Let’s try that again, with some life this time, shall we?”
“Welcome!”
A boy with dark black hair and freckles on his nose wore anEvil’s Tool T-shirt and was hunched over a pile of books, studying and ignoringMrs. Wells completely. A young black girl—boy? no, girl—satclose to him and she nudged him with her foot.
“Jason, manners,” Mrs. Wells said, and the boy looked up.
His eyes went wide. “Holy crap. You’re Nico Blue.”
“Jason!” Mrs. Wells scolded though she sounded almostdesperately helpless, like this was only to be expected, of course.
Nicky smiled. “Nah, I just play him onTV.”
“No, man. Holy craparoni! You’re really him!”
Nicky shrugged. He didn’t want to be Nico Blue anymore. NicoBlue was an addict and a disaster, and no one these kids should ever be lookingat with eyes like that. Still, he didn’t think he should lie either. He lookedto Mrs. Wells, hoping she’d save him. But she just frowned at him like he (andJasper) should have known better.
