The first time Faith heard God she was five. She was watching TV in my living room. Faith lived in her great-grandparents old house. They'd both passed away by then, and her dad had just gotten his first job. Since no one had one for him; he'd had to make his own. He was setting up a business as a mechanic. When she got older, she read in a book somewhere that 75% of new businesses close down within the first five years. He must have been so afraid.
He was building his garage in the background, a tall one bigger than I'd ever seen – but it never got smaller as Faith got older, and the sound of hammering echoed in the background.
She was watching a movie, mostly because her parents didn't let her watch any of the violent cartoons on TV. It was probably one she'd seen before, because she remembers being bored.
Suddenly, the screen starts to blur – her mom used to call it "snow."
It was a common thing. The TV was old, and she'd learned to deal with it. Hell, at that time, she probably thought all TVs did that.
But it still sucked, and she was still bored.
So Faith thought to she for some odd reason. God, will you play a game with me? Faith still doesn't remember if she heard anything in particular, like a voice in the sky or voice in her head or a voice anywhere really. But she knew that God had answered her. So she kept thinking.
Alright, when I say something that's not true, you make the TV snow. And when I say something that is true, keep it the same.
She looked down at the orangey-brown carpet I was sitting one.
The carpet is blue.
The cartoon disappeared. Snow took its place, and lots of it.
Faith grinned; she thought she even laughed.
The carpet's really brown.
The cartoon snapped back on.
She was thrilled.
The game with God went on for a few more minutes, and she started to talk loudly and excitedly, staring at the TV as she sat there.
Her mom, who was cooking dinner in the kitchen a few steps away, came to see what was going on in the living room. Faith imagines that she was holding my brother, coddling him, but admits she could be wrong.
"What're you doing, Faith?" She sounded amused.
She looked up, grinning. "I'm playing a game with God."
Her mom didn't say anything, and Faith imagines her being confused, freezing as her daughter sat there giggling.
"What're you playing with him?"
So Faith explained the concept of the game to her.
She smiled and told her daughter to get ready for dinner.
Faith didn't learn about the fights her parents got in because of her "voices", or not until she got much older. But her mom understood; she always had. Her dad took a little more time, but he got there.
And Faith?
Well, let's just say it took her a lot longer to understand exactly what's going on than they did. So long that it still is today.
But when our story begins, Faith cannot remember any of this, not when she
was five, not the voices, not her old living room…not even God. But that's just
temporary. A strong reminder hit Faith her freshman year. And though she tried
to run from it, she found it impossible to hide from…