Chapter 4
Faces and Masks
Jimmy felt the harsh heat of the sun bearing down on him, slowly drying out the flesh still tenuously attached to his joints and ribs. He remained still as what felt to him like a hive of bugs slowly crawled up from the ground beneath him and attacked the stiff and sticky clusters of meat, felt them buzz and scuttle in the cavity of his skull.
The half dead coyote sat a few feet away with its paws folded primly one over the other as it watched.
By the time the day was at its peak the swarm was finishing up, sinking into the sand like pebbles into water. He twitched, resisting the urge to scratch a phantom itch on a nose long since eaten as he waited for something, anything to happen. Didn't he have someplace to be? Wasn't there a heaven or hell for him?
The coyote stood with a huff, shaking out a shower of sand. He ambled over and draped himself over Jimmy's ribcage. It wasn't comfortable for Jimmy, he was still hot, the weight of the stupid animal against him made his bones creak ominously and the stupid thing didn't smell very good considering its wounds were festering in the hot, dry air.
He refused to acknowledge it, even when it whined sadly. He wouldn't feed into its pathetic bid for attention. If the damn thing was so fucking lonely it could go find some of its own kind to be with.
[]
The rally was packed not because that many people had planned to stay but because the area designated for it was swamped with shoppers. Early Christmas shoppers.
"I got you something you'll like. I never know what to get you this time of year, Jimmy but when I saw this I knew you'd love it. Look forward to it!"
Eugh. Annual gift exchange, as if he had the money for it. Fuck it. And fuck Rachel for that matter. She could take whatever Dime Store knick knack she'd bought and shove it.
He settled on a patio table off to the side so he had a clear view of Preacher-man and his flock. Their leader had started without them, his voice mangled in the steady hum of disinterested passers-by. The followers were unpacking crates of books and flyers, each similarly dressed in white and khaki. He saw a sallow faced Edgar pulling books out into his bag taking a handful of flyers in hand, eyes down and body carefully avoiding any human contact. As they fanned out into the crowd Jimmy stood, careful to avoid any high traffic paths as he tracked Edgar towards the electronic store.
He slipped into the narrow walkway between some foofee coffee place and a leather shop to watch.
Jimmy was sure that Edgar had picked a horrible place to start. Not that it seemed to matter that everyone passing him by was more preoccupied by their brand new mobile phones and carrying armloads of expensive crap like computers and home stereo systems.
He'd see it all on the street in a few months, Edgar's stupid message of a God-fearing, scripture reading paradise would be ignored in favor of shiny shit.
But Edgar was trying, noticeably harder to get their attention. He slipped into other people's conversations like Buda the fucking Buddhist ghost, smiling benignly as he passed out papers and ugly little white bibles inviting strangers by the handful to visit during the holidays. He went on that all were welcome, face carved like stone into an expression of understanding as comments were passed back and forth about the hard times some were going through, nodding mechanically in agreement, and waving off promises to attend with a grateful look. He took rejection gracefully, grimaced apologetically at those in a hurry or just honestly uninterested, and took the time to smile beautifully at a family herding their 4 young kids from shop to shop who appreciated the free books and flyers to keep them occupied.
Jimmy took in each movement, every twitch and endearingly awkward shuffle in the square of space he'd chosen to proselytize in. A short distance away an older woman with short curly blonde hair observed him too. She was set apart from the crowd the same way that Edgar was, dressed in a bargain bin uniform and a scraggly bag of bibles on her hip. She watched from a thick congested seating area nearby, sharp eyes glancing at Edgar between hand-out attempts. Her mark, still faking calm nearby, didn't seem to notice.
Jimmy glanced back and forth between the two, not sure if it would be good to go near him with the blonde bitch nearby. And she'd probably know enough to keep an eye out for anyone taking too much of an interest in members of their group if not to keep one out for him exclusively.
Fuck, he needed David.
Glancing around Jimmy decided that between the leather shop and the electronic store the latter was more likely to let him make a quick call. He slipped alongside a group of older men making their way in to shield himself from Edgar's peripheral view. There was no point in scaring him off or alerting the stupid cunt watching him.
Slowly he approached the register where several employees were buzzing around behind the counters dashing between customers and the back room. The looks on their faces were a testament to criminals everywhere that the holiday season was the worst time of year for anyone who had to work retail.
It took five minutes to fight through the crowd and reach a gangly teen still trying to remove the security device off a geekware T-shirt.
"What can I do for you today?" His voice had a distinct edge of hysteria and his fingers were white where they gripped the hanger.
"I forgot my wallet at home." He kept it short, knowing he didn't have much time. "I need to call a friend to bring it. Can I use your phone?"
The teen winced, glancing towards a sturdy woman manning the customer service register a few feet away. When he finally leaned in, after Jimmy had been shoved, pinched and elbowed by a fat lady and her hoard of children behind him, it was to rather viciously point out that it was normally against store policy to let customers use the phone but that in retaliation of the company paying him shit to put up with shit he could use the one in the TV department.
"Kelly's back there, and doesn't give a fuck. I'll let her know you're on your way."
[]
Edgar could only focus on each face as he found them, everything else he let slip by.
Each moment in-between passed in a blur as he slowly circled the tiny area he'd claimed for himself for the duration of the demonstration and tried as best he could to distinguish between those who were receptive enough to actually talk to, those who were interested only in not hurting his feelings and those who disliked the idea of talking to him at all.
He carefully picked his way through a crowd of people, selecting only the willing. A few kind words and a few questions, no judgment. What right did he have to judge them?
A woman smiled uncomfortably as her children asked for their own books and flyers. In her face he saw a desire not to have her children drawn into his beliefs. He understood, a stressful situation with children who were having a hard time keeping still during the holiday rush. It didn't bother him at all that she looked at him with caution, or that she believed he and his family were unsavory people. Sadly for this woman and her family no unfounded judgment could shake the foundation of truth they stood upon. She and her family were doomed.
Like Edgar, himself? Maybe. Hopefully not but things as they stood did not look good for him. He'd lied to the most important people in his life, turned away from everything they'd taught him and fooled himself into believing that his actions were not only honorable but necessary. Edgar glanced over where he could feel Mrs. Greer watching him, a fellow beekeeper tending to her own small area in the shopping center nearby.
He felt sick as the group went on their way. Seeing the kids' excitement over the tiny print in the books didn't help, he wasn't even sure they could read it. They held Truth like pinwheels in their little hands, as useful to their future survival as a Kid's Meal toy. Turning away from them was hard but necessary. He should have listened from the beginning, no one person was above the others who might be helped. Faces faded in and out of focus, the crowd of shoppers going from gentle background noise to swarming beast.
A young couple slipped by and he made sure to nod hello, friendly was rule number one. The girl smiled back and the boy noticed her smile but didn't notice Edgar. He let them pass, obviously enthralled with each other as they were, neither would appreciate an interruption.
An older woman carrying a basket shuffled along a few feet away, unsmiling and guarding her purse. She wouldn't appreciate being stopped by a young man like him. Would feel safer with a woman like his sister or Mrs. Greer, he turned and for the first time acknowledged the woman assigned to him who, yes, intercepted the elderly lady. They were both smiling, a good sign.
"Excuse me," a lively voice and gentle hand turned him, "I'm sorry, you looked like you were a million miles away." A woman, and a mother judging by the teenage girl awkwardly shifting beside her, dressed in a thick and waterproof jacket. Her expression was open and interested, curious, her daughter's less so. "Are you from a church group?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm handing out information on our small congregation. We're trying to reach out to as many people as we can." Curious but not for the words as much as the group as a whole, she seemed the type. "Would you like one?" He held out a book and a flyer, remembering to try and look the part of the welcoming-door-opener. Her daughter rolled her eyes obviously tired of having been dragged from church to church all over town already. His was just another building to spend the better part of an hour sitting and standing and pretending to pray. He felt sorry that the children of such people were unable to truly connect, to sit and feel the presence of God beneath their feet and in the people around them.
The woman took the flyer and thanked him. Explained at length that they just hadn't felt right at their old church and were looking for a new place to settle, Edgar prayed that her inability to commit was an intervening hand leading the two of them to the right place. He listened and told her that they were welcome for as long as they felt comfortable staying.
He waved goodbye as they left and knew that they honestly didn't have long but hoped it would be enough.
Mrs. Greer was still happily conversing with the elderly lady, both women seated on a picnic bench beside each other. He watched for a moment vaguely impressed with Mrs. Greer's genuine happiness. He couldn't understand how any of the others could remain so vigilant and calm. Edgar felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He adjusted the strap of his bag and let the ache of its weight bring him back to the present, let it serve to remind him of his responsibilities. The obligations he had, those were what was important.
As he turned back to the crowd a familiar face caught his attention. A young man ambling a few feet away from Mrs. Greer and the old woman, watching them. Edgar was sure he'd seen him before somewhere.
Concerned he took a step forward.
"—such a fucking child, immature prick!"
Something about him struck Edgar as important, red flags up not necessarily for immediate physical danger, but for something still very very important.
"Shhhhhh, it's okay. He wasn't yelling at you."
Aaron? Something to do with his little brother? No, but he'd been there. A crowd, a rally but not where he was at the moment?
White.
"Here—"
Edgar looked down at his bag, pulled out one of the bibles and gave it a good long look.
"—God bless."
Bald head, visibly sweating, late summer heat, cursing, stalking off, hand, pale skin, dark shirt, smirking. He knew him, the near 5 month wall of time between then-and-now fell and two faces, one distinct the other a vague misshapen memory connected.
Jimmy.
"—I hope your friend is okay—"
And Jimmy's friend.
Startled, Edgar's head snapped up. He scanned the crowd but couldn't pick out the faces anymore. They all blurred, an echoing rabble of talking and laughter. When he turned back the old woman was standing, leaving and before Mrs. Greer could finish saying goodbye Jimmy's friend swooped in.
Edgar didn't jump when he was inevitably pulled back by freezing cold fingers on his palm and wrist, just kept watching Mrs. Greer as she reached out to help and guide that young person, that liar. He looked so genuinely interested in what she was telling him, in what they told most people that seeing it made his heart ache.
And when the shoppers filled in the space he left behind that ache grew. They escaped. Vanishing into the swarm until he couldn't see them anymore, couldn't see Wednesday or a crowd of God's chosen exposing every mistake he'd ever made, only the blank brick walls of an alley and Jimmy's maniacal grin.
[]
Edgar's thumb traced his lower lip in amazement, the texture so much more than he was expecting.
They were sitting on the table, facing each other and the vague translucency of Jimmy's skin had somewhat faded, his body almost real enough to cast distinct shadows on the wall beside them. He had a small scar above his left eyebrow that Edgar had never been close enough to notice.
He traced that too, curious, and both saw and felt Jimmy's face shift into a defiant grin under his fingers. It was the only warning he got. Not that he needed one, right? Not in their safe place.
When he leaned forward to sneak a nip at Edgar's jaw line Edgar wanted to smile but instead he felt an irrational twinge of annoyance. Jimmy's mouth moved against his cheek and the closeness felt good (no). The cotton of his shirt smooth like leather (what?) and his skin was freezing (not right) . . .
It was confusing, the crossed wires of sensation uncomfortable. Words were being spoken into his neck that he couldn't hear. They felt important, he should be able to hear Jimmy's voice . . . why couldn't he hear his voice?
(leaving soon)
Movement over Jimmy's shoulder in the darkness of the doorway that led to the hall pulled him away for just a moment, an intruder in their haven but hands turned his face into a kiss (they'll know) and the switch in his head was flipped off (on) as he breathed the frozen air of Jimmy's lungs.
(what if they see)
It only gave them a moment before extending every tendril of Its evil throughout the room. The door slammed shut, loud like a gunshot. Edgar jumped but Jimmy just smiled as if he couldn't see the sudden darkness that surrounded them, cut through only by the light still shining through the windows above. Danger had invaded his safe haven, was surrounding them and testing the limits of its resistance to the light.
This time when Jimmy leaned in Edgar pulled him closer, too close.
(what are you doing here?)
He felt him laughing but still couldn't hear him. He scanned the room, searching for something, anything that could help him drive It away.
(get out!)
Jimmy stopped shaking, phantom laughter fading into confusion. Edgar's grip tightened around his arms and chest when It started picking up the chairs. They flew from across the room, slamming into the table and walls. (stop)
He couldn't see, Jimmy was pushing at him, for some reason unaware of the threat that circled the room.
Another metal folding chair hit the wall behind them with a sharp BANG and Jimmy's face twisted angrily, mouth moving like he was yelling the same word over and over again.
COWARD
"No, I'm not. I'm just trying to protect you!"
COWARD COWARD COWARD (no)
"You have no idea what they'll do—"
A hurricane of sound; roaring, shrieking hissing sound erupted around them.
Disoriented (what—) he hit the ground (no—) arms empty (wait—) and finally he heard Jimmy's voice.
(not this too)
Screaming as he was dragged, nails scrabbling across the floor. Edgar couldn't breathe.
(don't take this from me too)
[]
In the light softly filtering in from the Community Center windows high above Edgar saw the ground covered in blood. From his hiding spot he heard in the darkness bones crunching and the sloppy sounds of flesh being ripped from Jimmy's body. When he opened his eyes he saw Mayra's face, red in the late afternoon light.
He couldn't move. His sister was shaking him, calling his name but he was frozen somewhere between here and there, his heart racing, arms prickling, fists gripping the sheets and unable to let go. More faces, worried and confused, popped in the door.
He was dead, taken by a hungry fiend like a pagan sacrifice and Edgar close enough to hear everything but not strong enough to stop it. His mother was suddenly there, carefully pushing the hair back from his face coaxing him away from the nightmare, encouraging him to "breathe, breathe, I need you to breathe . . ."
The ache in his jaw was horrible, worse than when he dreamed of losing all his teeth. His chest was tight and each breath won was painful.
Slowly the sun finished setting and the red faded from the room until there was only the hazy yellow light from the hall cutting sharp lines everywhere. His panic seemed to fade all at once, the dream a horrible afterthought. They were talking, to him, about him, around him.
Nathanial's face was grim, his father's sad. He couldn't see Mayra or his mother's expressions, silhouetted as they were but they sounded scared and were trembling hard enough that he could feel it through the bed. Fuzzily he thanked God that his little brothers weren't there to see him like that.
"What's happening to him?" was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.
When he came to again the room was a foggy, slate blue, morning just an hour away and Nathanial was sitting in a kitchen chair situated right beside him. The older man was staring out the window, his hands pressed together as if in prayer.
This time the quiet felt like a comforting blanket, one his uncle ripped away ruthlessly.
"Where did you go yesterday?" Nathanial's eyes remained unfocused, lost. "We couldn't find you. We told you to stay close and you wandered off. Why can't you be like your sister, Edgar? Why won't you just listen?"
Edgar opened his mouth to say something but Nathanial stopped him with a look. As if he knew that his nephew would lie to them both if he said anything.
"I know letting it go is hard, believe me. It will be the most difficult thing we ever ask of you." He leaned closer, sympathetic yet firm. "But you have to do it, for your own safety and everyone else's." He stopped suddenly, frustrated. "No one here will understand better than I do how difficult it is, which is why I am telling you it's possible. You can save yourself from this." His hand on Edgar's was cold and wrinkled.
"You will burn, do you understand that? Is it worth burning for?" Tired blue eyes watched him and begged. It struck him then, just how old Nathanial was.
Wednesday's coming was a blessing and a curse.
'I can do this.'
The drive up to the Community Center was short and by the time they arrived Edgar's hands were shaking. He couldn't stop from looking at the second story and imagining Jimmy seated in the control box like a deranged king.
People arrived as they were setting up, families close to his own, and all of them stopped to offer him support. As the regular congregation began to arrive everyone took their places at the front. A general tension settled over the room as it filled, they could tell that it was going to be a special sermon.
'Jimmy must feel it too.' Edgar thought to himself. 'He's probably watching us, stupid and smug from up there.' He glanced up again unable to curb his shame and curiosity.
'What is he thinking about?'
The Reverend knew his son. Taking confessions had taught him that all of God's children were creatures of habit and so when he caught his shamed child staring at the second story window he quietly motioned Mr. Greer and another parishioner over. They came forward and he directed them towards where he believed the destructive teen might be hiding, and the two men left without question. They had complete trust in him and truly believed that he knew what was best, a level of faith his own blood didn't seem to have in him. His disappointment in Edgar was damning.
He moved to stand before the parish, held both of his hands up and felt the hush that settled over the room.
"I want to thank all of you on behalf of myself and my family for coming. Many of you were informed last week that today would be a little different. The rest of you must be pretty confused." He chuckled and a few people in the crowd laughed uncomfortably. Understanding and calm, he stood before them like a guiding light, a symbol of hope, only of use if those who saw were willing to be led.
"God is among us. Every day that I have lived I have felt His presence, in the air I breathe, through the ground beneath my feet. I have walked His land and seen Him in the eyes of my loved ones." His father's frailty, Edgar noted, seemed to vanish when he spoke before the congregation. "And He is in you and your loved ones as well." Papery thin skin stretched over arthritis weakened hands now looked impenetrable, brittle bones hard like stone as he gestured. "We are blessed," he paused, steely eyes sweeping his audience, "to live at all, let alone during a time when the Heavenly Father is so close to us. His Grace surrounds us during these troubled times and while we may not always feel protected I can assure you there is safety in his plan."
The Reverend was a small man, smaller than Edgar and Nathanial but when he spoke his conviction seemed to lift him up and infuse him with light and strength beyond someone his age. Edgar felt every word echo through his bones the way they always did except that the tiny seed of selfishness inside that they never touched felt like it had grown. It sloshed inside of him like a puddle swarming with all manner of dark, evil things. A mean thought slithered from that cesspit inside of Edgar and planted itself in his head.
(They have no right to make me do this)
He pushed it back down and stared resolutely at the confession in his hand. They weren't making him do anything. His mother may have demanded it (she had no right) but short of torture no one could make him open his mouth and speak. Edgar forced the hand gripping his slacks to loosen.
"Through every hardship he can carry you, but only if you let him. Only by utterly surrendering yourself to his mercy can you be free. True freedom from perceived freedom. By giving into base desires we have weakened ourselves, given up true love and devotion through God for momentary satisfaction in the Devil. And he is clever, isn't he?" The Reverend shook his finger at them. "He will lie to you, trick you, take you by the heart and drag you kicking and screaming into the pit where not even heaven's light can reach you. It's all the Fiend has left, that momentary satisfaction he gets when stealing from the Lord's flock, it's all he can offer. Fleeting," he snapped his fingers, "and then an eternity of suffering."
Edgar stole another look at the tinted glass Jimmy was hiding behind and wondered just how amusing Jimmy would find the whole concept of public confession. He wiped his sweating palms on his knees and ached over the injustice of it (not fair, not fair, not fair).
"Today is a day to lay our sins out for His judgment and his judgment alone." The Reverend motioned for Edgar who stood obediently. He felt his sister pat his arm and his mother squeeze his hand as he pulled away. "We are witnesses and participants if we have the strength. My son will lead, any who follow are blessed." His father's hand on his shoulder, he knew, was meant to lend him strength but Edgar could only focus on the weight of it. He heard whispers in the crowd and could see a thin veil of concern over some of their faces. What lay beneath it he had no idea.
"I have disgraced my family by lying to them." More whispers, people leaning into each other to talk. Veils of concern and curiosity now, but he could see some of the truth in their eyes as they stared at him. "6 weeks ago I began having improper thoughts about someone of the same sex, another man," the paper was shaking in his hands, "and instead of talking to my family or even just my mother and father I lied, believing that it was something I could handle alone. I sometimes even wondered if it was something that needed to be handled at all, and instead of trusting in my father and reaching out to him I selfishly indulged in those thoughts. I built up that person, imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship despite barely knowing them and allowed them to lead me astray." It was quiet now, deathly quiet. He looked up briefly and saw looks of disgust and fear, some understanding and even pity. Looking down again he continued.
"I allowed it because I wasn't strong enough to put the Lord first, to put his word first. It was wrong. I was wrong." There were ashes in his mouth, hot and dry. They choked him. "And I am ashamed. I pray that God forgive me for these transgressions. I have sinned against Him, forsaken my faith and my family."
(not sorry)
"I beg that you keep me in your prayers." The low hum of conversation spiked a bit. (can't make me pretend to be sorry)That sick pit of slime in him stabbed at his heart and sent wisps of thought into his mind.
(it's worth it)
Smokey, all encompassing reminders of the taste of hell. He looked up and felt eyes he couldn't see scrutinizing him and laughing.
(i held you in my arms)
"Please," he begged, "pray for me."
(and it felt like home)
Mr. Greer and his wife's cousin suddenly appeared, coming in from the side door and settling into their seats beside their respective families. Edgar hardly noticed them.
His father however made eye contact with the other older man. Mr. Greer nodded towards the side door and shook his head and the Reverend took that to mean that the boy was not watching from upstairs.
[]
"So you're moving back in or what?" Awful, throbbing music poured in from the ceiling speakers as some chick who called herself Candy gyrated on stage. Jimmy spared her a glance, and then another before his mother's hand, glittering with fake jewels and gold nail polish, caught his chin and turned him to face her.
He thanked fucking god that she was at least wearing the robe that covered her thighs.
"Love to, Honey-Bun, really I would but some of the girls and me were thinking of renting a place together." She frowned at the tumbler of Grant's she was drinking. "You can have that whole apartment to yourself now, you don't even have to worry about it fucking up your credit if you leave early. Maybe you can rent out the second bedroom." She tugged at his hair, turning him away from the new girl on stage, Kerry-something. "What about that friend of yours, the one you go to school with?"
"And if he can't? What the fuck am I supposed to do then? I can't afford that place by myself." Rachel finished her scotch, her smile slow and happy as she stared at the empty glass. Anyone else might assume she was drunk but Jimmy could tell it had been the only one in probably a week. A reward for cutting back. Drinking until she was wasted made her horribly depressed.
She was a sad drunk.
"I'm not moving out right away. I'll stay a month or so till you get sorted out. It'll take a while for us to find a place with everything we need anyway." Kerry-whoever was sliding down the pole with her legs spread wide when Rachel grabbed the thumb of his right hand and pushed hard. Pain shot through his whole arm like fire to remind him of the thin ice he was treading on. "Quit it."
"I'm a grown-ass man, I can look when I want."
"You're only just on the right side of 18. Take that shit to the club on the other side of town. I work with these women." Jimmy scowled and she let go.
"She should be used to being looked at. It's her fucking job." He tried to motion over the bartender, an 'asexual godsend' whatever the fuck that was, who frowned pityingly at him. "If she's not then I doubt she'll do well here."
Fucking bartender was going to ignore him.
"She's used to it fine. It's you gaping I have a problem with." The look he gave her was incredulous, because seriously. Rachel slid her empty tumbler down to Andres and laughed. "Aw, sweetie, I get that you're all grown up now, it's just that I can't help but see you as the annoying little shit who tore through that first club I worked at with toilet paper rolls after teepeeing the inside of the dressing room." Rachel giggled, remembering how happy she'd been when she'd decided to keep him with her instead of leave him behind with his father like she'd originally planned.
"You got fired that night."
"I did, but the girls at that club hated to see you go. Goofy little perv that you were, always stealing bras and hiding them in drawers, ripping up boas or tying them into nooses and dangling them from each mirror. It was a pain hiding you from the boss."
"Ugghh, can we not take a trip down memory lane. Gonna give me damn hives." He groused half-heartedly. The dance was still going so Jimmy rested his chin on his arms and watched Kerry-something crawl towards a man waving a twenty through the mirrored shelves of liquor behind the bar. He heard his mother sigh and ignored her.
"You know I danced with her on that stage last week." A switch flipped and the unwelcome image of Rachel wiggling around with Kerry-whoever planted itself firmly in his mind's eye. He groaned miserably.
"God damn it, Rachel. God fucking damn it."
"Don't call me by my first name, Jimmy, Jesus Christ."
"You just had to ruin it for me didn't you? God, you're such a selfish bitch."
"And you're my son. Sons don't call their mothers by their first names." She smirked as he buried his face in his arms. "Though selfish bitch is fine as long as you remember that this selfish bitch gave birth to you." The music slowed and Whats-her-face walked off, bills crinkling in her silver thong. Jimmy only lifted his head high enough to drop it with a satisfying thud.
"I hate you." His completely true statement of truth was ignored.
"Oh, before you go I need to lecture you on the importance of getting a job."
"Blegh."
"I know you're making ends meet but I'd feel better if you had at least part time work in something more stable."
"Grrrrrr, shut up."
"I'm sure I can talk some of the girls into keeping an eye out for something you might be suited to. I don't think you've thought about what awaits you in your trade once you graduate. You've got it good at that school of yours but it's not like that when you sell exclusively on the streets."
"I'm not talking about this with you."
"Selling candy in school is easy, opening your own sweet shop is hard."
"I'm going now." He stood, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. But Rachel grabbed him before he could pass her, shimmering nails digging hard into his arm.
"If you get thrown in jail, I won't be able to afford bailing you out." She gave him a good hard stare and he stared right back. Andres leaned in to let her know she was on in 5 minutes.
Rachel was moving back in for a little while.
"Your boyfriend was an asshole." He told her. Rachel's hand dropped and her mask followed.
"Yeah, he was. Didn't deserve me." She tilted her head coyly at Andres who was amused but for all other intents and purposes unimpressed. "I'mma catch." When she looked back at Jimmy she seemed happy again.
"I'm glad you dumped him." And that made her smile for real.
"Me too, Honey. Me too."
[]
Edgar's father patted his back, trying to comfort him. As if bolstered by the Reverend's compassion in the face of such a chilling tension a low hum of whispers broke out.
The low shriek of a chair's legs scraping the floor cut through the low rabble of noise. A man stood and slowly made his way out of the aisle. The whole room watched in morbid fascination as he approached the front, stopping a few feet from Edgar and his father.
He was younger than the Reverend but they shared the tired look of fatherhood in the lines around their eyes. He wore an old gray suit with frayed sleeves that made it plain he didn't have much money to spare on clothes that fit.
"I'd like to speak, if that's alright." He turned to face the room without waiting for an answer, shoulders slumped guiltily. "I know we promised not to talk about it to anyone outside of the family, my wife and I figured it was better kept private but I think that this is something that might fester if I don't get it out. To be honest I don't trust myself to do better without help." He looked out to a woman as frayed as his sleeves who was flanked by a weary older boy and two girls who carefully looked anywhere but at their father. "I was raised to believe that a man takes care of his family, shows his children right from wrong, provides a sanctuary for his wife and opportunities for them to grow and be better. That's how my parents were so I have no excuses for my terrible temper. Or my drinking . . ." He coughed uncomfortably. His wife wrapped an arm around her son and carefully threaded her fingers through her youngest daughter's thin blonde hair.
"Instead of buying food or clothes for my kids I bought alcohol. When I found out my wife was trying to get a job to pay for the things we need I . . . I-I slapped her across the face." His voice broke and he covered his face, unable to look his family in the eye. "Hard. I am a failure of a husband and father. I need God's help. I can't do this alone."
"And you don't have to." The Reverend stepped away from his son and stood beside the man. "God can carry you through the harshest of storms but you have to be willing to be carried. You have to be wanting of him."
"I want to be better." He was crying into his hand, an uncomfortable sight. "They deserve better."
"And God, he deserves the best of you."
"Yes."
"You have to be willing to let go of your earthly desires. Admit to the evil of alcoholism."
"I am an alcoholic."
"Admit to the evil of striking your wife maliciously."
"It was an evil thing to do. I betrayed her trust in me."
"Have you ever struck your children maliciously?"
"No, never. But I have yelled at them and said terrible things, usually when I've been drinking but not always. Sometimes I just get so angry. It's like I can't breathe and it just comes out and I can't take it back. I can never take it back." Edgar wanted to reach out to him but didn't, unsure of how such comfort would be interpreted considering his own confession. He watched from a distance as the man accepted his father's arm around his shoulders gratefully, as if he really needed the strength of such an old man to stand.
"What would you like to say to them, here now before God?" The Reverend asked. The man looked up, face twisted with grief, eyes red.
"You're not worthless, you're worth everything to me. Mattie, you're my wife, my light. You said you loved me before we were married and that you'd only said yes because I made you feel safe. I want to be that safety for you again." His wife looked away, eyes tearful, face rigid. "I am so sorry." She rested her chin on her son's head and pulled both of her daughters to her so their crying faces were hidden against her side.
"Confession is a cleansing. It brings you closer to the Heavenly Father and prepares you for the journey to his kingdom." A woman stood and made her way to the front, ignoring the low hum of noise that followed her. She stood about a foot away from the sobbing man to the Reverend's left.
"I find their bravery inspiring . . ." She was composed and calm despite the obvious uncertainty behind her words, "I'm not sure if this is the right thing to tell people about as I'd put it behind me years ago," She paused briefly, "but it's something I've never confessed to, in all my years of attending church." A nervous glance at the Reverend betrayed the true depth of her stress. "I am a recovering sex addict." She looked back at Edgar, eyes unreadable. "Men, Women, it didn't matter. I was 20, pretty, and having a good time. Sometimes I'd wake up somewhere unfamiliar, unable to move or think really. It would scared the hell outta me, seeing all those bodies not knowing who I'd slept with or if they were even still alive. Had my fair share of seeing what overdose looks like too, it's awful every time." She turned back and faced the scandalized faces of the congregation.
"I can't have children. Got an infection. My liver's a mess and my family won't answer my calls, not that I blame them . . . was always in trouble. Always asking for help." Her head dropped down to stare at her sensible shoes. "Missed Mom's funeral. I was the biggest disappointment. I just couldn't stop." When her head came up she was crying too. She covered her mouth with her hand to rein herself in. "It wasn't worth it but I just couldn't stop. Went to a doctor because I was having pains and they kept telling me that I needed help, kept sending me to rehab but I was pulled back in every time."
His father reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. She covered his hand with her own and continued. "Finding God helped me when doctors couldn't. I've been celibate for 12 years in service to Him and it's a struggle. But every day that I am alive is worth it. After years this is what is worth it."
"God knew, he was only waiting for you to acknowledge it."
"I don't know why I kept quiet about it for so long." She covered her mouth again looking ready to drop to her knees right there in front of everyone.
"He was waiting for you to be ready.
More people stood to confess until no one was left sitting. Edgar was surrounded by people who reached out to him and offered their own transgressions, who only wanted him to understand that he was not alone, that they were also imperfect and willing to recognize it.
He saw his mother watching him and approached her cautiously. She didn't look happy but neither was she carrying her anger like a shield between them. When she reached up to pull him into a hug he took the still horrible sting of her disappointment alongside her comfort and the choke of his panic finally faded.
[]
End Chapter 4
