Part 2: Marilyn Marplethorp

Marilyn Marplethorp squeezed through the crowd to reach the bar at Packy’s, just a few blocks west of Greek Town and about a mile west of the Sears Tower.

"Thought this was your slow night, doll face," Mackenzie the barkeep greeted her for what he guessed to be the third or fourth time this young evening.

"Yeah, must be a convention at MacCormick Place or something. Hicks. All of them hicks. None of them understand the value of quality merchandise."

"Seems that would work in your favor."

"Shut up, Mac."

"Here," he passed her the usual.

"Forget it, Mac. I just came in here to say so long."

"So long? But you’re working, ain’t you?"

"Not no more. I quit."

"Ok, honey, what’s wrong?"

"That’s what I like about you, Mac. You know how to talk to a lady."

"Well, if I see one, I’ll talk to her."

"Shut up, Mac."

"Sure, kid, whatever you say."

"You got a good ear, Mac. I like you for that. Maybe I love you for that, I don’t know. But if you can spare a few minutes I’ll tell you a story that’ll stand your hair on end and I’m not talking about the couple of strands still on top of your dome."

"Go ahead, babe, I got all night. What’s troubling you?"

"You’re a sweetheart, Mac. You’re the one chump in this neighborhood whose memory I’m pleased to take with me. I want to tell you about the old man."

"Who? You’re father?"

"You nuts? I’m talking about the old man. Strange old bird. Came up to me real proper even if he was all bent over a cane. Some wino, you know? Says he wants to give me something I need, a free gift. Well, he no sooner says that then he keels over on his back. Heart attack or something, you know what I mean? So like an idiot I kneel down next to him to see if he’s ok, but he ain’t. The old black face is faded and his eyes, they’re just burning with love, Mac. Like nothing I ever seen. Like he doesn’t know who I am or what I do. Like I’m his kid, you know? Those dying eyes were the most beautiful things I ever saw. Give a girl a hanky there, will you?"

"Sure, babe, here."

"Thanks, Mac. You’re a good one, I got to say. You were always a good one. So the old man’s laying there and he whispers to me. He’s dying, see, and he says, ‘This is for you.’ I look at him like he’s nuts. So he whispers again, ‘Despite everything, God still loves you.’ Then he dies. Just like that, Mac.

"So what did he give you?"

"Nothing, really. Just a crumpled up old dollar. But it was those eyes, Mac, I tell you it was spooky. That’s it, I told myself soon as I got up. That’s it, I’m going home. Don’t you see, Mac? I found the love of God in that old man’s eyes. I’ve got to go home, I tell you. I’m out of here. Buck asks for me, tell him I quit. Will you do that for me, Mac? Tell that freaking jerk I quit and went home. Tell him I got religion. That’ll tickle the old buzzard."

"Well, good luck to you, kid. Hope it works out."

"Yeah, it’ll work out. Here." Marilyn Marplethorp tossed the crumpled up dollar across the bar and Mackenzie the barkeep caught it in midair. He flipped it up like a coin, caught it again and pocketed the tip. "Despite everything, God still loves me."