Sunday Uncle Clarence called just before we left for church. "You up for lunch and some putt putt this afternoon?" 

"Sure," I hesitated, "but..."

"I know, I know," he interrupted. "You have to get Mom's permission."

"She's already made plans for me with Seth and her," I admitted.

"Put her on. I'm sure she needs some alone time with her man."

Momz listened to Unk for a minute and then laughed. "Alright, alright, you win. Pick him up outside church around 12:00." Her expression changed to surprise. "Okay, cool. See you."

She hung the phone up and handed it back to me. "Clarence is going to meet us at church for worship at 10:30." 

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, and it was his suggestion. I've invited him a bunch of times, and he always has some excuse not to come. I didn't even invite him this time, and he decides to show. There's no figuring the man out."

My mind was gnawing at the problem of Uncle Clarence volunteering to come to church. It just didn't add up. Then I started to get excited. Maybe he was trying to get into Momz good graces for a reason. Maybe Popz had told him where to find the key to Blue Ox.

I had trouble sitting still during worship, stuck between Momz and Uncle Clarence. I was jiggling my leg, a habit I'd had as long as I could remember, but one I usually pretty much quashed during church. About five minutes into the sermon, Momz reached over and put a hand on my leg and gave me the look. It said, "You're disturbing me; BE STILL."

I looked down at my bulletin. I turned it to the blank page where you're supposed to take notes and began to doodle a picture. I used to draw the sermon all the time as a kid, but hadn't done it in a while. The preacher was talking about some guy in the Bible named Jonah and how he ran from God. While the preacher told the story for those who hadn't been forced to go to Sunday school for most of their lives, I drew cartoon boxes. In the first was Jo, aka Jonah, on a Harley, riding up the ramp onto a ship. The next was a fierce storm. The third had a bunch of sailors throwing Jo and his bike into the drink. The fourth had Jo hopelessly trying to clean the gunk off his hog in the belly of a whale. Next Jo and his ride were being barfed up on a beach. Finally Jo was riding the Harley through a town. He was talking into a mike clipped to his shoulder and a couple of speakers were strapped to the back. "Repent or be damned" was in a bubble above the bike.

As we stood to sing the closing song, I started to fold the bulletin. Uncle Clarence reached over and stopped me. "Wait," he whispered. Once the song was over, he continued, "Your Dad would dig that. Sign it and mail it to him."

"This?" I was incredulous. "Why? It's just church doodling."

"You've got talent. He'll like that. Maybe he can post it by his bed or something, sort of like the prison version of the fridge magnet. And, he's into church now, you know."

"I figured. He told me Momz was right about God."

"Let's do Fuddruckers for lunch." He grinned. "I need a man-sized burger."

We got our burgers and found a semi-quiet corner to light. "So, tell me about your visit," I said around a wad of meat.

"Let's chow down and then we'll talk." He pointed in my direction. "A mouth full of hamburger ain't too pretty."

As soon as I choked down my burger and fries and chugged my shake, I demanded, "So did Popz tell you where the key to Blue Ox is? Is that why you came to church, to butter Momz up so you could take me for a spin?""

"Slow your roll, man," Clarence said. "What gave you that idea? I told you to ask your Dad."

"I did, but he wouldn't tell me. He said if I knew where it was, it'd be rebellion bait. I thought maybe he told you. You're the adult, the one who's suppose to be immune to the rebellion bug."

Clarence laughed. "No one is immune, Bud. Look at Jonah."

"Aw, man, you're not going to start preaching to me, too, are you?"

"Naw, just making an observation. Your Dad wants what's best for you. He'll let you in on his secret in due time."

"Four whole years! That's how long he's going to make me wait, until I can legally get a license."

"Maybe not. Maybe if you show him you're not a Crash Test Dummy, he'll tell you sooner."

"Crash Test Dummy?"

"Yeah, your Dad said the young guys who come to prison are usually mad and acting out. They keep doing things against the rules and getting caught. They get thrown into lockdown, a place just above isolation. Instead of being in a dorm, they're in two man cells, and all privileges are revoked.  They usually have to stay for at least three months. When they get out, they stay clean for a week or two, flash out over some perceived slight and end up back on lockdown. He said they're just immature. Prison lingo dubs them Crash Test Dummies."

"I'm too smart to get caught."

"Are you now? I think a two month grounding is the free mans equivalent of lockdown." He laughed. "You don't have to be young to be a Crash Test Dummy, though. Your Dad said he was one for his first couple of years behind bars, and he wasn't exactly wet behind the ears."

I turned red at Uncle Clarence's reminder about the grounding. "I learned my lesson." I was emphatic. "I'll not get caught again."

"That's what all crash test dummies think."

"I'm not a CTD." I punched each word like a roofer hammering a nail home. "You'll see," I ground out. Then realizing I sounded just like a CTD, I cooled my jets and added in a less ominous tone, "Anyway, what else did Popz say?"

Uncle Clarence got up from the table. "Let's bounce. We'll talk while we're on the move."

As we drove to putt putt, he continued, "He said that he's starting college in January. He had to bone up on his math and grammar to pass the entrance exam, but he passed on his second try. He took the prison version of remedial math and English after he failed the first test. He said to tell you he wishes he had your brains. He had to take pre-Algebra, and he's afraid Algebra is going kill him."

"Man, if Momz would let me go visit him, I could help him with his homework. I can do algebra equations in my sleep."

"It's a new angle to try." Uncle Clarence glanced over with a grin. After parking, he reached across me and took a package out of the glove box. He handed it to me. "Your Dad made this for you."

Inside was a wallet. CW was tooled onto the front. On the back was a guy on a Harley.

I ran my fingers over the imprint. "Bad ass. But why a guy on a bike when he won't give me the key."

"Maybe the guy on the bike is Paul, or maybe he wants to remind you to save your money for when you're 18." He laughed. "Bike upkeep ain't cheap."

We got out of the car and selected our clubs and started banging our way around the course. We weren't either one much into putt putt, but it was a place where we could talk.

"So if you didn't come to church to butter Momz up, why'd you show?" I asked as my ball bounced off of a windmill blade and ended up back at my feet.

"I sort of promised Paul," he admitted.

"Dad coerced you into showing up for church?"

"No coercion involved, not really." Uncle Clarence putted his ball into the hole for a four-stroke count on a par 2. "He retold me what he calls his 'Road to Damascus' experience."

"You mean Paul's encounter with God in the Bible that turned him into a Christian instead of a killer of Jesus followers? The time when God spoke to him in the middle of a raid on the Christians and blinded him for a few days?" I recounted my school training. "That Road to Damascus?"

"Yeah." Uncle Clarence laughed. "He said he can finally get the Paul in the Bible. He said some of the guys at the prison take a new name when they find God, to show they're changed, you know. He didn't have to; he was already Paul. He said he'll just have to start trying to live up to the name. Evidently Paul was quite the hero of the New Testament, but his name means humble." He chuckled. "Your Dad's never been humble. Anyway, he said he needed to practice telling his story cause he was supposed to 'testify' – his word, not mine – at the service today."

"They let him out to go to church?!"

"No, not hardly. They have church inside the prison. The prison has a chapel inside the fence. They have their own inmate pastors. There are two different groups that hold services as part of the church. He was going to tell his story at the service that targets young guys who aren't into God."

"There are inmates who are pastors?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, and evidently they're all lifers. Angola, the prison where lifers end up, has a Bible School. They train lifers to be pastors and send them to other prisons as missionaries."

"Bizarre."

"It is strange, but it evidently works. Paul introduced me to a guy in the visiting shed. He was visiting with his wife. They guy was one of the pastor's at the church."

"You mean he's in there for life, and his wife was still visiting him?"

"Yeah. Evidently not all women are bitter like Patty, or at least don't stay that way. Evidently this guy's wife took years to come around. Another pastor in the church is divorced and his wife finally let his daughter meet him, but she's 15, and he's been in jail since she was four. Paul said they're praying for Patty with him."

"He's praying for Momz?"

"Evidently he is now. It's the first I've heard about it, though. I guess that made me listen more closely to his story. Paul told me how he found God before, but this time it sort of got me here." He tapped his left breast with his fist and laughed. He cleared his throat, took aim and cleared a water hazard. "Before I knew what I was doing, I told him I'd go with you to church today. Dumb, huh."

"Yeah, but I'm glad you didn't back out. I sort of need a buffer between Momz and me right now. We don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Tell me about it!"

I whacked my ball so hard it jumped the barrier and made a hole in one on the green next up. Luckily we had the course pretty much to ourselves. Most putt putt places were closed this time of year.

"I get to count that," I crowed.

"Not," Uncle Clarence said.

After that we concentrated on our golfing skills, or lack thereof. When we reached the end, I won, but only because I counted the accidental hole in one. Uncle Clarence said I was a cheat, and I said he was a poor loser.

When we got to the house, Uncle Clarence reached out and buffed me under the chin. "Look, CW, try to put yourself in your Mom's shoes. Instead of making war, tell her about the things your Dad writes. Let her know he's in school and that he said she's right about God. Maybe those things will help her let go of her anger and bitterness. She and Paul always had a sort of love/hate relationship. They loved each other but were so different. They hated the actions that resulted from those differences. Paul still loves her, but he understands why she's so protective of you. He said if they switched places, he'd probably be just as angry and bitter. He said to tell you that he prays for you, too, every day."

I looked down at my feet. I was so confused. This was not the Popz I expected. What happened to the rebel on Blue Ox?

Uncle Clarence reached over and pulled me close. "I told him I'd give you this." He cleared his throat before continuing gruffly. "I know you're not into hugging right now, and you know I'm not. But this isn't from me, it's from Paul."

When he let me go, I quickly opened the door and climbed out. I averted my face so he couldn't see the stupid tears that were threatening to spurt out of my eyes. I swiped my sleeve across my eyes as I skirted the back of the car on my way to F2. I stopped at Uncle Clarence's window.

"Thanks, Unk, for everything." 

"Sure thing, Bud." He waved out the window as he backed out and drove off.

I hadn't been home long when I heard a car door slam and voices. Momz and Seth were home. I peaked out the window. They stopped on the porch and sat down on the swing. I went back to my game.

About an hour later, I heard a car start and drive off. Momz knocked on the door to F2 before pushing it open.

"Did you and Clarence have a good time?" 

"Yup," I didn't taking my eyes off of my game. I was trying to reach a higher level.

"Um, can you spare a minute," Momz asked.

I jumped for a star and fell to my death. "Damn!" I put the controller down.

"Wayne!" Momz glared. "Language."

I looked over at her. "It's C.," I shrugged. "I know you're not into swears, but that's the same thing as saying darn. Everyone knows you mean damn but are too wimpy to say it."

"Is that what your new homies are teaching you?"

"No, Momz. I'm not your baby any more. I'm just growing up. Your values don't call the shots anymore. I gotta battle it out on my own."

"You do have to determine your own values, but while you're in my house, you have to honor mine."

"I'm not in your house. I'm in my crib." I didn't really know why I was picking a fight when I wanted to ask her about visiting Popz, but I couldn't seem to stop.

"Who do you think pays the electric bill for your crib?" A warning edge crept into her tone.

While she was talking, I was forcing myself to take deep breaths and get my funk under control.

"Yeah, I know. Honor your mother and all that." I gestured limply. "Sorry, Momz. I still sorta got the reds because Popz won't tell me where he put the key to Blue Ox. He didn't tell Unk, either."

She took a deep breath. "Thanks, for the apology." She squared her shoulders. "I didn't come out here to fight. I have something I need to tell you."

"Whassup?"

"Seth and I set a wedding date; we're going to get married on Valentine's Day." She sort of rushed through it, running it all together.

"Valentine's Day? That's in like less than three months."

"I know, but we've been engaged for over a year."

"Uh huh. And?"

"Seth would like for you to be his best man."

"His idea or yours?"

"It was his idea, but he wanted me to sort of feel you out and let you mull it over before he talked to you."

"I thought a best man was supposed to be your closest friend or something."

"Sometimes, but we want a small intimate family affair." 

"It'll be small and intimate alright. Let's see, there's you, Uncle Clarence, Aunt Glory and me. And Aunt Glory is in Hong Kong. She might not be able to get here."

"I'm sure Glory can work something out. Mawmaw and Pawpaw will fly in from Ajijic." She sat on the edge of a chair. "And Seth has family."

"Oh, that's right, I have grandparents." I feigned shock. "They've been so busy helping out those orphans down there in Mexico that they've forgotten all about their grandson."

"You know that's not true, Wa...CW," she said. "They usually visit sometime in the summer. And they keep inviting you to spend the Christmas holidays with them in Mexico."

"Yeah, like that's any fun. Ajijic is Old Geezerville. Their church only has people over 60, unless you go to the Spanish service, and I don't do Spanish. They don't have a pool where they live, and nobody else has grandkids visiting. They all go see their grandkids or meet them at the beach."

"So, you'll stand up with Seth?"

"I didn't say that. My being up there with him implies that I'm down with him as a step-dad." I shook my head. "It ain't so. But, maybe we can cut a deal."

"We're not going to bribe you, CW."

"It's not a bribe, really. Just some tit for tat, you know." I saw the frown and rushed on before she could react negatively. "Popz is starting college in January. He's going to get an Associate Degree in Business. Unk said he's sort of struggling with pre-Algebra and is afraid of the Algebra class he's going to have to take. If you let me go with Uncle Clarence to see him the three weeks a month he gets visits, I can help him pass Algebra. I'm good at Algebra."

She put her hands on her hips. Before she could say anything, I plunged ahead. "You want me to mull over being Seth's bestie. Why don't you mull over letting me go see Popz? Talk it over with Seth before you say anything, alright."

That's how we left it. I knew Momz planned to nix visits, again. But then, Seth seemed down with me talking about Popz and stuff. Maybe he could use his psyc skills to get through to Momz. If he could do that, I could be his bestie for a night.