The Fall of Saints Read Online Free Page B

walked to the window, squinting really hard.
    What in the world was Alaska E-S? Zack had never talked about Alaska except in connection with Sarah Palin. I went downstairs and pulled out the directory. There were hundreds of businesses named Alaska. I looked at the paper again, determined to figure out what the other letters were. I could not make them out. Convincing myself that I was seeing a mountain where there was a molehill, I tore up the piece of paper and threw it into the incinerator. I laughed at my paranoia. So absurd. I put the incident out of my mind and resumed my family and social life, which amounted to a party now and then.
    One lazy Sunday, I woke up, my head pounding as if someone were inside it playing drums. Zack and I had drunk more than our fair share of alcohol at a party the previous night. I’d hoped that father and son could go to the soccer game without me, but a quick glance at Zack sprawled dead asleep on the bed told me I’d be going with Kobi, without Zack. Kobi was very proud of Dad and Mom as witnesses to his heroics. His team, Park Boys FC, was playing against the formidable Little Giants FC at Macombs Dam Park, across from Yankee Stadium. I swallowed a painkiller, drowned it with liters of water, and forced myself to pack some snacks and juice. I dragged myself alongside an excited five-year-old Kobi, strutting about in his cute little blue uniform.
    My car would not start. The battery was dead. I must have left the lights on. I rushed upstairs. Zack was still fast asleep. I scribbled a note: Honey, took your car, mine won’t start. Call AAA.
    Kobi had a way with the ball and scored both of the team’s goals, not unusual for him. One was a spectacular shot from the top right corner of the field. It earned him a roar from the crowd. We decided to celebrate by treating ourselves to some ice cream.
    The little shop at Concourse Village East wasn’t far from Zack’s alma mater, the Alfred E. Smith High School, and Kobi was always happy that we got our ice cream from the same place his father had gone to as a boy. I parked on the street next to the shop. Kobi jumped out to get the ice cream. He loved this little responsibility, as it made him feel grown up. I never let on that I could see exactly what was going on right from the car. He had adjusted well and was growing taller by the day. I felt so proud of him.
    Briefly, I turned my gaze from Kobi to the car, and it became clear why Zack liked taking my car when we went out. Mine was always clean. Rosie and I saw to it. The condition of his car was a complete contrast to that of his office and clothes. A thin carpet of dust covered the dashboard. Torn McDonald’s and Burger King wrappers lay scattered on the floor and crammed into the ashtray. No wonder his waist had been getting thicker. And couldn’t he at least throw away the napkins? How disgusting, I thought, assuming the thing was soiled with ketchup. I pulled the ashtray, took out the napkin, and stuffed it into a paper cup that had been lying about. I looked at the ashtray again only to see yet another piece of white paper. I tried to remove it, using my index and middle fingers, but it got stuck. I got a hairpin from my handbag and started digging it out from the sides, then pulled again. This time it came out easily. I was about to roll it up when I saw Alaska Enterprises and a phone number written on it. Intriguing, I thought. “Enterprises” must be the missing word from the other piece of paper, though the telephone number seemed different. I should have kept a record of the other number.
    Kobi was making his way back, balancing the ice cream cups. I had the urge to jump out and assist, but I held back. It would feel so much better for him later, when he narrated how he bought the ice cream by himself and safely brought it to the car. He came around to the driver’s side and handed me my cup of ice cream and his to hold as he jumped into the backseat.
    “Thank you,