I wrote this one way back in 1995, while I was still in high school. It’s kind of neat to go back and see embryonic versions of my favorite themes, moods and rhythms appearing in these old stories.
\nLike Auld Lang Syne, Luna<\/i> is a mood piece, this one primarily about religion and friendship. It’s awkward and clunky in places, but I still like it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Luna Solzhenitsyn was dressed in his usual tweed coat, his rumpled trousers and once-white sweater, and his balding head was covered with the same old grungy Giants baseball cap, pulled down low over his eyes. Still, I knew something was wrong. In the twenty-odd years I had been serving Luna he had always kept that beard of his tidy and trim, even when he was drop-down drunk, but now it was sticking out all over the place like an old washer-woman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s featherduster, little droplets of spit clinging to the tips of the beard for dear life.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Luna?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I ventured, giving the bar a long, slow wipe with my apron as I watched him sit down on one of the few empty stools.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hrrrrack.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/i> Luna cleared his throat, his fist rising to his mouth, a wet blowing coming out into the stained handkerchief clutched in his paw.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Uh-huh,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I nodded, turning to the nozzles so he wouldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t see the look of growing concern that I knew was growing in my eyes. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The regular, then?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nLuna groped around in one of his pockets and then dropped a fistful of ten-dollar bills onto the counter. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153As many as you can find in there,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he rasped, his voice whiskery.
\nI threw a quick glance over my shoulder at the bills. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Rough night, huh?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I asked quietly.
\nLuna lifted his head to look at me, then opened his mouth to say something, but another fit of wet coughing took over. His whole frame shuddered with the force of the spasms as he snatched the soiled handkerchief back up to his mouth. But he was too late, I had already glimpsed the dribble of dark liquid that appeared at the corner of his mouth.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll get the drinks,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I murmured, but as I turned back to the nozzles I picked up the phone off of its cradle.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No ambulance!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna bellowed, almost knocking his stool to the floor. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153No ambulance! No hospital!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Easy, easy,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I hushed him, bringing the phone up to my ear. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You want to make a scene or something? I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m just calling a friend, that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s all.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No ambulance,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he rumbled one last time before he sat back down. He tried to clear his throat, but the coughing took him again. This time it was worse than before, a deep, rasping wheeze that seemed to come all the way up from the bottom of his soul.
\nI watched all this for a long moment, then started to dial quickly, keeping the phone in my left hand as I scooped up two mugs in my right and brought them to the tap. The phone rang. Luis picked up on the second ring, just like always. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s me, Joe.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I threw a glance over my shoulder before I continued, not letting him get a word in edgewise. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Luna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s here. I think maybe it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s time…\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I glanced over my shoulder again. Luna was hunched over the bar, wiping his brow with a sleeve. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yeah, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d say you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d better hurry,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I added.
\nI dropped the phone back in the cradle, finished filling both glasses and then brought them back to where Luna was waiting.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No ambulance, Joe?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna murmured.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No ambulance, Luna,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I replied.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Ah,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna nodded, lifting his eyes. An odd expression passed over his face as he saw the two glasses. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I am a big drinker, Joe, but two at once…?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nI smiled thinly at him as I pulled one of the glasses over to me. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a good thing I own this place,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You should see the size of my tab.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nLuna grinned weakly, then lifted his glass and drank, though I noticed he winced as the beer went down his throat.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153So,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I began, then took a heavy gulp of my own. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Did you ever get things settled with that daughter of yours?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nLuna nodded slowly. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153She and I had many, many… arguments. But a time comes when such things must be… let go.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He took another drink. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You know.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nI nodded, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Amen, brother.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Amen,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna agreed. He sighed and shifted on his seat. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I rewrote the will, Joe. Now she gets it all.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d A chuckle came from somewhere in his enormous barrel chest. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Besides, what would a dog do with it?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nWe both laughed at this and drank again, but no sooner had our glasses struck the bar then the bell over the door rang out over the din of the pub, and a tall man with grey hair walked in, water dripping from his long brown raincoat. He shook his head and shoulders, spraying droplets everywhere, and then sauntered up to the two of us.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Father Luis,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said.
\nLuna looked up at him and grinned. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Good,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he chuckled. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I just beat the storm. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s you that got wet and not me!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nThe priest grinned back. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Lucky for you, Luna,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You know, the Lord said that he would never flood the earth again, but nights like this make a man wonder if He ever changes His mind.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nAll three of us had a good laugh at this, but after the priest and I had stopped Luna kept on, his laughter transformed into another long coughing fit. Father Luis looked at me with an eyebrow raised, and I nodded.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Let me get you a drink,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said to him, and moved off down the bar, but still remaining close enough to hear what was going on.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Father,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t figure you to be a drinking man.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest admitted as he sat down. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But a man can get thirsty once in a while for other things. Like company, for instance.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nI returned long enough to set down the priest\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s water, then retreated again down the bar.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thank you, Joe,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest called after me.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I should\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve known,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna laughed weakly, pointing at the water, but his first chuckle already trailed off into another hacking fit. Up came the handkerchief, but again the gesture was too late. The blood trickled from his mouth and onto his beard like his tobacco juice had a thousand times before. The only difference was that this time, Luna didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t curse as he wiped it away.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Looks like it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s time, eh, Father?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna mumbled after he had caught his breath.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Let me take you to the hospital, Luna,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest whispered. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153My car is right outside – ”
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153No hospitals.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna shook his head wearily. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153If it is my time, then it is my time.”
\nThe priest took a long drink from his glass. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do you want to call your daughter?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nLuna shook his head again. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153No, Father. Things are solved there as much as ever they will be.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nThe priest pursed his lips and frowned. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So, then, tell me. Is there anything I can do?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nLuna paused, coughed once, paused again, and then looked up at the priest. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I was never a religious man until I moved here, Father,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he rumbled. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153My country, that provided me no hope. Religion there offered me nothing. Everything, it fell apart — even my own daughter and I had a breaking of the ways. So I came to America, with a rich friend. But America was not all it should have been, until I began to attend your sermons with neighbors, to meet people. Your words, Father, gave an old man hope, a new feeling for me. So I kept coming, every Sunday.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He coughed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You are the finest priest ever have I known, and I would like you to do one thing for me before I must go on.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nThe holy man nodded slowly. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Anything, Luna.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nLuna gazed into his beer. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I have never been baptized.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nFather Luis stared at him for a moment, then down at his glass. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How much time do you think you have, Luna — ”
\nBut Luna cut him off with another fit of coughing. This one was different, though. The others had been violent but had passed quickly, this bout seemed to last forever. I came back from my hiding place behind the kitchen door with a fistful of tissues and a wastebasket. Luna took them gratefully. Each Kleenex was dropped into the basket blackened.
\nThe priest looked at me. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I need one of your pretzel bowls, Joe.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nI reached down the bar and pulled up an empty one. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s this?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I asked.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Fine,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest replied, taking it in his hands. He set the bowl on the bar, then placed his right hand over the top of his glass and picked it up by the handle with his left. Slowly he began to pour the water into the bowl, straining it through his fingers as if cleansing it, as he mumbled a prayer under his breath.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153There,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest nodded when he had finished, setting the glass down and wiping his hands on his coat. He turned to Luna, who was still shaking with the coughs. The priest reached up and drew off the old man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hat.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Just a moment,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said to the priest, then I turned to the rest of the bar patrons. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hey everybody – shut up a minute!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\nThe pub fell silent, all eyes turning to the priest, the old man, and me. For a long moment, everything was still. My eyes flitted from face to face — old customers, new customers, businessmen, drunks. A wildy-varied crowd, I knew, but I also knew not one of them was about to say a thing.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thank you,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest nodded again, then dipped his fingers down in the bowl. Slowly, carefully, he brought them up over Luna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s head and sprinkled a few drops onto the man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s high forehead, murmuring another prayer under his breath. The water shivered and gleamed, shaken up by the old man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s restrained coughing, mixing with Luna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s sweat until it ran down his face and into his eyes.
\nFather Luis began to speak, slowly and clearly. Luna lowered his eyes, trying to control his coughing. I lowered my head as well, just like I was taught to do. In fact, everyone in the room removed their hats and even dropped their eyes.
\nAs the priest spoke, however, I kept my eyes on Luna, the sweat and holy water running down his face, tracing the wrinkles it found there, not unlike a child counting the rings of a tree trunk. It trickled down past his nose, through his mustache and onto his lips and beard, mingling with beer, saliva and blood. Then the water drizzled down the grey hairs of Luna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s beard, riding the loops and curls before finally dripping from the ends and onto the old man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hands folded dutifully in his lap.
\nThe minister finished, crossing himself.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thank you, Father,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Luna whispered, looking up at him as his coughing subsided for a moment. He stood up, took his hat and handkerchief in his left hand, and shook the priest\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hand with his right. “And thank you, Joe,” he said to me, his voice solemn and oddly noble. Then he reached up, smoothed out his beard with a long sweep of his hand, and slowly made his way out the door.
\nThe priest and I both watched him go, then turned to face each other. I glanced down at Luna\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s four or five ten-dollar-bills still lying there on the counter. I handed them to the priest. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Here,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Put this in the plate when you get the chance.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Thank you,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he nodded, taking the money without looking at it at all. He just looked at me, an odd look in his eyes. Then he cast a glance back towards the door.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Do you think he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll get home all right?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said then, thinking out loud.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I do believe, Joe,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the priest answered softly, not taking his eyes off the door as the din wound up again, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153we just took him there.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I wrote this one way back in 1995, while I was still in high school. It’s kind of neat to go back and see embryonic versions of my favorite themes, moods and rhythms appearing in these old stories. Like Auld Lang Syne, Luna is a mood piece, this one primarily about religion and friendship. It’s […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-407","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/s4e5QR-luna","jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=407"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=407"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=407"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.geoffreylong.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=407"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}