Sick & Tragic Bastard Son

by Rowan Massey

  “Howdy, kiddo,” Pastor said.

  I didn’t answer.

  He disappeared into the kitchen and I bolted, barely dodging Toni, who was coming inside loaded down with plastic bags. Reaching my room, I slammed the door and fell onto my bed, face-down on the pillow.

  I hated him. I hated all the church people who brought food or gave me used toys and clothes. If I’d had a dad of any kind, and Mom wasn’t depressed, we wouldn’t need it. I hated Mom for being so weak. Why couldn’t she just make enough money to take care of us? All the other parents did it. Why couldn’t mine? Other kids talked about child support from their dads. Where was ours?

  The mortification welled up in my chest. It was a powerful force, and I couldn’t keep from crying. Cabinets slammed in the kitchen while they put things away. I wanted to hate them all the time, but I didn’t usually hate Toni or Pastor Julian. I only hated my mom and dad for making their presence necessary, even though people had explained Mom couldn’t help being sick, and told me my dad wasn’t worth the heartache.

  My mind always went to what my dad might be doing that day, and I loathed the thought of him living his life without us. He probably never thought about me.

  Toni laughed somewhere in the house. It sounded fake. How could Mom stand anything about our lives? Why couldn’t she just figure out how to be normal? She was thanking them, her voice humble and small. There was yet another wave of searing hatred in me.

  I just wanted to go get ice cream already. At least Pastor Julian’s presence always meant we were definitely going, since Toni always said he and Mom needed alone time to pray about things.

  I turned my bedroom TV on so that I didn’t have to listen to them talking in strained, falsely happy voices. I didn’t know what they were tense about, but I didn’t want to find out either. The sound migrated to my mom’s room, and I was able to tune it all out for a short while—long enough to stop crying.

  Toni was used to my reaction to receiving charity so she didn’t blink when she came in my room to see my red eyes and nose. She simply told me it was time to go.

  The car ride was hot. Her AC never worked quite right, and it smelled like mold. The shift from clammy to cold when we walked in the door of the ice cream place was wonderful. It put a small smile on my face. I got my usual—soft serve with cookies crumbled into it—and sat at a booth across from Toni, who sipped on a small strawberry milkshake.

  Unable to make myself eat it slowly, I was in the middle of an excruciating brain freeze when Toni started talking.

  “You know how men in the Bible have more than one wife?” She rested her hands on the table and touched her fingertips together.

  “Yeah,” I said. She was always making sure I knew my Bible stuff, so I prepared myself to display some kind of knowledge, like an oral quiz.

  “God understands people’s needs. An especially super-duper, good man who only has one wife is being selfish and should spread the wealth of love he has. Love is never limited. See, the ability to love lots and lots is a gift from God. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  I nodded slowly. “Because God is love. But nowadays…”

  “People think that shouldn’t be the way things go just because times have changed, but it’s still the same. People haven’t changed. If you’re a good man, and you have the opportunity to help a woman by giving her the love she never got because other men behaved badly towards her, then you should help. You should love that woman just like you love your wife, even if you have to keep it secret. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  I nodded but nobody at church had ever taught it that way, and I thought maybe she was wrong. In any case, I just wanted to eat in peace, and I stuffed another spoonful into my mouth, just asking for a second wave of pain.

  “It’s like sharing. If I gave you a cake, wouldn’t you give a piece to all your friends, or would you sit there and eat it all in front of them like a piggy?”

  I laughed a little, because making those ass wipes watch me eat all the cake was a funny picture, but she slapped my hand.

  “I know you already know about Pastor Julian and your mom,” she said almost sternly. She held up a hand as if stopping me from saying something, even though I hadn’t had time to think about what she was trying to say. “And that’s why you’re so mad whenever he comes over to see her. It’s because of the way your mom loves him. Am I right? Maybe all of that confuses you.”

  Despite having a strong sense that she was trying to tell me something big, I didn’t get it. My little brain hadn’t clued in. I was still too innocent to pick up on it.

  “Your mother is in love with a wonderful man. It doesn’t matter what you or other people think about it. It’s a good thing for both of them. God knows, he could use the break from his wife. She’s ruining those children.” She shook her head at the thought of it. She’d started tapping on the table with her fingernail to end each sentence.

  In love? With Pastor Julian? How could she make such a stupid mistake?

  “He’s just been-” she started.

  “Nuh-uh,” I interrupted. “They’re not in love. That’s wrong. They’re not sinners like that.”

  She was shaking her head, giving me that pitying look. “Oh baby boy, they are so very in love. It’s not like having a daddy because they keep it secret, but he does his best, and that’s what matters. The world isn’t always fair. You understand why it’s been a secret, don’t you?”

  Anxiety was turning the world in front of me into a thing amputated from reality. She was scaring me.

  “Of course he’s not my fucking dad!” I pushed the ice cream away and almost dumped it into her lap.

  Instantly angry, she grabbed my wrist.

  “Now you listen to me,” she whispered, almost hissing. “Don’t you ever swear at me like that again. Do you hear me?”

  I yanked my hand away.

  “Things are about to change for you and your momma, Lysander.”

  There it was again. Change.

  “There won’t be any more groceries and pocket money for you and Leona. Everyone at church found out about it last night because he told a few people after church. He has ridiculous ideas about confession. That’s why your mom is so upset. He made a big, stupid mistake. That’s why she was drinking that wine. But she’ll never drink again. That’s ungodly. Alright?”

  I didn’t want to believe her, and I wished for Killy back because I wanted to kill her.

  “Not true!” I yelled.

  “Your mom and Pastor Julian are going to have to sort their lives out a little. Things might get hard for you two,” she said, leaning forward and talking slowly, as if to an idiot.

  Hard? Harder than the usual problems? I couldn’t imagine. I knew I was going to throw up, but I didn’t know if I would make it to the trash can. Scooting over, I only made it off the seat to heave white vomit onto the floor. Other patrons made disgusted sounds, someone gagged loudly. Toni quickly grabbed napkins from the dispenser on our table and raked at my soiled face and shirt with them.

  “I wanna go home,” I croaked, again and again. “I wanna go home.”

  An employee came to the scene with a mop and bucket of water that smelled like bleach. It made me even more sick to my stomach. Somebody gave me a cup of cold water. I took it to the dirty bathroom to rinse my mouth out.

  When I emerged, walking slowly and wishing I were dead, Toni was there with arms crossed, shaking her head at my behavior.

  “What is wrong with you?” she snapped, and escorted me to the car with a hand pressed against my back the whole way.

  It was the longest car ride of my life. The heat, the movement, and the smell of the bad AC didn’t help my nausea, and I kept hoping he wouldn’t be there by the time we were back. I thought of all the endless Sundays I’d seen him up there at the pulpit. I’d never thought much about him beyond the charity he brought to our door. I’d had the vague idea that pastors were supposed to be kind of perfect. His kids seemed perfect sometimes
. But he was definitely a bad guy. Had my mom really…touched pastor? It was disgusting. How could she? It was wrong. I was horrified for all of us. Why did Toni and my mom think it was okay? Did everyone know? Did other people think it was okay? Would we still go to church all the time? I couldn’t imagine what might happen to me next. The world was upside down.

  Chapter Seven

  Zander Age 18

  Becoming a Liar

  Work out all the details prior to lying.

  Stay focused on the details but only mention the bare minimum.

  Only lie when you have something to gain (your goal).

  The goal is your motivation to do it right.

  The more truth you can leave in, the easier it will be to tell your lie and get away with it. All successful lies are full of truths.

  Get inside the psychology of the person you lie to.

  Empathize with your listener and anticipate what he wants to hear.

  Learn what your listener knows about the subject you are lying about. This is to avoid any missteps in your story that may cause suspicion.

  Be prepared to add realistic emotions to the details of your lie. Think about how you would feel and act if it were all true.

  Pauses in speech should be planned for effect. Mostly avoid needing to pause to think.

  Keep facial expression relaxed. Be expressive only appropriately.

  If you are being called out, turn the tables to trick your accuser. Ask them equally probing and accusatory questions. This should be planned, but might have to be spontaneous.

  Distract from the issue. Change the subject to something related but not risky.

  Avoid responsibility from your lie by admitting to smaller lies. Hopefully this satisfies your accuser’s need to uncover something. (Plan small lies to tell in this situation.)

  If someone asks the same thing repeatedly, but in different ways, make sure you know your details, but only give details when asked for them specifically.

  MY LYING NOTEBOOK was open and propped against the steering wheel. I sat in the parking lot of the park she’d picked out, rereading at my notes obsessively, as if I hadn’t memorized all of it. Some part of my brain believed a stray, but essential note was escaping my vision somehow. Maybe it wasn’t a crazy thing to worry about. My vision hadn’t glitched up again since that night with Mr. Ski Mask, but it could happen.

  The skate park was full of kids, but not overcrowded. I chewed on my pen. I’d come to a conclusion that Lottie seemed pretty wholesome, so I’d determined not to swear much or mention drugs and drinking. Talking about being vegan seemed like a tired subject between us, and I didn’t want to bore her, but I would play it by ear. It felt like a date, and I was worried she would think it was, but I hadn’t flirted with her online. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to deal with her getting the wrong idea.

  She was on a skateboard, curly hair flying wildly behind her. It had gone frizzy. She wove around on the sidewalk, taking her time. She had zero skater stuff posted online, and I was surprised. I’d assumed we were meeting there just because it was a convenient spot for her.

  I looked away, over at all the normal things around me, and did a reality check. Nothing was glitchy or weird. I wasn’t confused. I turned my head again, and there she was, gliding along with expertly casual posture. Her clothes were tight and a little bit punk rock. Was she much edgier than I’d imagined?

  She disappeared.

  My heart jumped before my brain did the computations to conclude she’d dropped into the bowl.

  I got out of the car, almost forgetting to leave the notebook behind. My curiosity had overcome my nervousness.

  Lottie was back in plain sight, standing waiting for me with her board under one foot, sliding it back and forth lazily while she watched some younger teenage boys who seemed to be looking at her sideways. I walked up to my sister—my sister!—and swiftly detached. I was watching my body walk itself into traffic. I was a split second away from spinning around and leaving when she spoke to me.

  “Hey,” she said, smile wide and friendly, teeth perfectly straight and white.

  I schooled my expression, relaxed my facial muscles, and smiled back. What was my opening line? Oh, yeah.

  “Hey,” I said. Simple as that.

  “You like my board? Do you skate?” She flipped it up and grabbed it, holding it out to me with the underside up so I could see the decor. It was painted with the skeleton of a bird with red roses all around it and in its ribs. She obviously expected me to be impressed.

  “I don’t skate,” I told her. “I was too lazy to learn.”

  “Aw, that always makes me sad when guys say that. Bad enough all the girls are missing out.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Teach me.” I’d never wanted to learn it, but right then, I kind of did want to, just so we could hang out. There was some old, cheap board in my closet I could use. Somebody had given it to me used way back in my church days.

  “Oh yeah, I really will if you want,” she said, her eyes brightening.

  “We already have more plans? We’re hitting it off like crazy.” I laughed.

  Her grin got even more enormous. We sat on a concrete bench with several layers of graffiti on it.

  “You have zero pictures online of skater shit.” I said, deciding to nix the stuff about trying not to swear.

  She rolled her eyes. “My mom has been cracking down on safety stuff. Unbelievably stupid. And she doesn’t like my friends at the park. I don’t skate as much anymore anyway, so I keep it all on the downlow these days. They think I only use it for transportation now.” She made the rock out sign with her hand and made an exaggerated angry face, sticking her tongue out, but then made a silly face and crossed her eyes.

  I nodded, keeping a smile on my face, which was getting difficult already. I wasn’t usually big on smiling.

  “Your dad doesn’t care about it?” I asked.

  “Well, my dad backs up my mom, of course, but he doesn’t care much. He thinks she’s too strict.”

  “He’s laid back?”

  “Maybe.” She tilted her hand in the air in a so-so gesture.

  “Let’s put it this way,” I said. “When was the last time you wanted to strangle him?”

  She laughed.

  “Today! Holy mother of fuck. Seriously.”

  “What happened?”

  She took her phone out of her pocket and showed me the lock screen.

  Dad: I’m making you lunch at 2

  A scary chill went through my body. That was my dad. It was a form of first contact. I was slightly dizzy. My brain had to stay away from the sick, sexual images popping up I my mind’s eye.

  “I didn’t even have to look to know he’d probably texted me again today. He doesn’t ask me if I can come over. He just tells me he’s cooking for me so that I can’t say no without being rude.” Lottie went on. “He never leaves me alone about going to his place like I did when I was little or whatever and spending a bajillion days over there. I wish he would find a boyfriend or something and get a life. It’s not like I’m even at home with Mom all day, you know? I have stuff I want to do. I’m not gonna sit around and read with him.”

  “Yeah,” I said on autopilot. “That’s annoying.”

  “When was the last time you wanted to strangle your mom?” she asked.

  “Uh,” I looked up at the sky and squinted at the sun. What did she just say? My mind had gone utterly blank and I had to refocus. The last time I’d wanted to strangle Mom was when she’d told me about Clay. “We’re not talkers. We leave each other alone.”

  “Lucky.” She shook her head.

  “You know what you should do?” I turned my body towards her. “Push him to start dating. Put him on whichever app people his age use. If he finds a boyfriend, he won’t bother you. He’ll want you out of the house so he can get laid.”

  Her mouth fell open and she made a dramatic gasp.

  “I really should! Why haven’t I done it already?” she sa
id. “But gross. Don’t say that about him getting… laid.” She shuddered, and I nearly shuddered along with her, but I was nothing if not determined. I’d thought that idea up off the top of my head. It was amazing to see my plan falling together so neatly. I felt brilliant and knew I was destined to be an epic liar. I’d go down in history for my lies.

  We went on chatting and getting comfortable with each other. She prompted me to practice on her board for a few minutes, so I teetered and rolled around in front of her a little.