Free Deviation by Scott M. Williams Page A

before.”
    “Think about it now. This is an opportunity for
you. Remember, it's your world. God has given it to you. And it's
your life. What would you like to do with it? God doesn't care.
He wants you to do whatever you want.”
    The room was silent as Dianne considered the question.
She realized that she'd never in her life really considered what
she wanted. “It's kind of pointless, though,” she
concluded. “I could never do what I really want to anyway.”
    “Stop shitting on yourself, Dianne.”
    She looked at him, feeling slightly offended. “I
didn't realize I was.”
    “You are. And
I know you well enough by now to know that you're better than that.
Far better. You're one of the most capable people I've ever met.
You're young and you're free and you have your whole life ahead of
you, and the world is yours. And you're telling me you want to wake up in the morning and spend
your day sitting in front of a computer monitor, typing in endless
lines of information that have absolutely no meaning to you, in
exchange for what? Twelve dollars an hour?”
    She frowned. “Ten fifty.”
    Frank laughed. “Come on now. What do you
really want?”
    Dianne drained her beer. “Another Pabst.”
    “That's the
spirit!” Frank got up at once and brought them each another
can. Once they were opened and they each took another drink, he
leaned forward and studied her. “Anything, Dianne. What do
you want from this life? From this world? It's a question very few
people ask themselves, unless it's already too late. For you it's
not late at all. For you it's just the beginning. You can really live. ”
    She took a deep
breath and sat back in her chair. “For the sake of answering
the question honestly, I guess what I really want is to just do
whatever the hell I feel like doing at the time. All the time.”
    Frank was grinning. “Keep going. I was afraid
you might tell me you wanted to be a lawyer.”
    “Hell no! I suppose I wouldn't really want a
job at all. Or that shitty little apartment. If it's really my
world, I think I'd like to see it. Not just go home to the same
four walls each day, but really see it. Travel. All over the
place. See what there is to see, and do whatever I want.”
She sipped her beer. “I've been rooted to the same spot for
26 years, and I think it sucks.”
    “You're finally being honest with yourself.”
    “That's true, but it's still not realistic. I'd
need money, and I don't have any. To get it I need to work, so my
crappy job downtown is still going to be necessary. So is my shitty
apartment, and right now there's a dead body in it.”
    “You're tying a rope around your own neck.
Forget the body. And forget money. Did the Indians need money when
they traveled the country on horseback, doing whatever they damn
well pleased?”
    “Probably not. But there was nothing to buy.
Or rent to pay. Or health insurance.”
    “Fuck health insurance. Open your mind.”
    She took another long drink of beer, regarding him
casually. “Maybe it's time for the Wild Turkey again.”
    Frank sat up straight. “Would you really like
some?”
    “I think so. I'm kind of hungry, too.”
    “That's good, Dianne. Tell me what you want.
I'll show you, we can make it happen.”
    “Maybe just some of that bourbon for now.”
    “What about a little meth? Are you up for it
yet?”
    Dianne smiled. “You're crazy. You know that,
right?”
    Frank's expression was very solemn. “I'm glad I
met you, Dianne. But your perception is a little bit skewed.
You've become accustomed to crazy. I'm very much sane.”
    She took another long drink. “I'm glad I met
you too, Father. But I'm starting to think you might be a bad
influence.”
    “Bad influence indeed. I'm going to save you,
Dianne. I promise you that. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'm
going to save you.”
    His words soothed her. Was he really offering to
protect her? It almost seemed like too much. “Thank you,
Father.”
    “You're welcome. Now why