Anointed

by Charity B.

  “Hey, Kaila.” I look up at the voice of Ricky Willis who is grinning at me. “Hey, Laurel Ann.” I hold up my hand in a wave which he takes as an invitation to sit next to us. “You guys going to Bedlams after the game?”

  Inwardly groaning, I look to see Kaila wearing the expression I was worried about. “Count us in,” she says.

  I have work in the morning, and I was really hoping to get a full night’s rest. It’s obvious Kaila has made up her mind though, and there’s no way she would let me skip it.

  “Great.” He gives us a big smile that used to make the girls in high school lose their oversexed minds. “I’ll see you guys there.”

  He climbs down the bleachers to his friends, and I narrow my eyes at her. “What about Brently?”

  She goes through boyfriends quicker than I go through shampoo. Brently is her most recent conquest, and they’re still hanging on after four months together.

  Monogamy is the standard practice among Philistine couples, and the concept intrigues me. Running a family with only one mother seems impossible, yet the idea of another woman in the relationship is seen as negative.

  She scoffs and tosses a nacho in her mouth. “What about him? I asked him to come, but he would rather play video games with his loser friends. And it’s just Ricky Willis. We’ve known him since high school. Besides, I think he’s more into you than me.”

  I smooth out my skirt and laugh. I’d sooner shave my head than date a Philistine. “Well, too bad for him. You know I don’t date…people.”

  She sighs. “Yes, I do. I just keep hoping you’ll grow out of it.”

  Her issues with my beliefs have been the main struggle in our relationship. It frustrates her, and as hard as she tries to understand, the truth of it is, she won’t ever be able to.

  And that frustrates me.

  “You were hoping I would ‘grow out of’ my faith?”

  Dropping her head back, she groans as the people around us jump up and cheer. “I’m not having this discussion tonight. All I’m saying is I don’t want you to look back and wish you had done some of these things you’ve missed out on.”

  I nod my head and bite my tongue because what I really want to say is: What about all the things you’ve done that you can’t undo?

  Trumpets from the band sound, and everyone around us erupts into the school song. I lean around the woman blocking the scoreboard. Hobart wins forty-three to twelve, and I feel guilty because I stole the moment from Kaila with our conversation.

  Lucky for me, she’s always quick to forgive. She loops her arm through mine, leading me down the bleachers.

  “Come on, there’s no way I’m walking all the way there. I’m using the car card tonight. We’ll get a ride with Ricky.”

  She knows how I feel about vehicles, so she walks with me most of the time, but every once in a while, I let her pull the ‘car card’. It’s not an actual card, and neither of us keeps count. She uses it very sparingly for when she’s feeling especially lazy or we need to get somewhere in a hurry.

  Dragging me behind her, we catch up to Ricky as he’s climbing into his truck. Waiving her arm at him, she yells, “Hey, Ricky! Can we catch a ride with you?”

  He pops his head over the hood with a grin and jogs around to open the passenger’s side. As I climb into the cab, he tips his cowboy hat to me. “Ma’am.”

  I grin at his country cheesiness and look at Kaila smirking while I get in the truck. She curtsies to him before climbing in behind me. “Mister.”

  Chuckling at her sarcastic response, he closes the door. It takes five minutes to drive what would have taken twenty minutes or so to walk. The bar is pretty packed tonight on account of it being game night and the only bar in town.

  I follow Kaila to a barstool, and Ricky asks us what we’re having. “Wild turkey shot for me and a vodka tonic for her.”

  He gives us a finger gun and turns to the bar. Kaila combs her hair back. “What are the chances you’re actually going to drink that?”

  I shrug and watch an older woman grinding against three different men on the dance floor. “About the same as you not drinking at all tonight.”

  She laughs as Ricky returns with our drinks, setting them on the table. “Here ya go, ladies.”

  Kaila throws hers back and points to the jukebox. “Whatcha say you go put on some tunes from this decade?” He backs up with a wink, and Kaila grabs my drink to down it. “Go get your tonic water before he gets back.”

  We do this every time she takes me out to drink. Since I refuse, I order a tonic water and say it’s vodka. Nobody has ever questioned it.

  I look at the Budweiser clock on the wall and groan at the fact it’s already nearly one o’clock. Kaila is having the time of her life on the dance floor when Ricky scoots next to me at the bar. “Want to dance?”

  “No, thank you.”

  I take a sip of my drink, and he leans closer, slurring, “I’d be willing to bet you aren’t as innocent as you put off.” His hand goes to my thigh, and all I can do is stare at him in shock. “Why don’t you show me what you keep hidden under here?” Sliding his hands between my legs, he cups my sex over my dress.

  My mouth drops open, and I bring up my hand, slapping his face for his audacity. I stand up to storm off, pointing my finger in his face. “I wouldn’t go to bed with you if it was my last chance at the Paradise Star, you Philistine pig.”

  I go to spit at him before deciding that might be too much. I spin to see Kaila stumbling over herself. It’s time to go. I run to the washroom because I’ve had a ton of tonic waters, trying to keep up with Kaila. This is going to be a long walk home.

  Returning to the bar, I search for her. I look through the entire establishment, even the bathrooms, both of them, yet she’s nowhere in sight. I bust through the doors to run outside, searching for any sign of movement. As I walk to the back of the bar, I hear the sounds of heavy breathing near the Bearcats high school football shrine. Bands play there sometimes in the summer, and it’s hidden in the alcove behind the neighboring businesses. It’s too dark to see right now, but I’ve been here enough times to know HOBART BEARCATS #1 is painted on the corrugated tin sheets lining the wall, and pans painted in the school colors of blue and gold are hung behind where I see shadowy, moving figures.

  Tiptoeing around them to get closer to the wall, I hear a whimper that has to be Kaila. I realize I never saw Ricky when I was looking for her inside. I reach to lift one of the pans off its hook, accidently banging the tin sheet.

  “What the hell?” A man’s voice says. I bring the pan over my head, hitting him somewhere on his body. “Arrrgh!” He screams in pain.

  Good.

  Kaila jumps up next to me and cries, “Brently! Are you okay?”

  Brently? Oh no.

  Oops.

  I hang the pan back on the wall, embarrassed. “I’m really sorry, Brently. I thought you were Ricky.”

  In the darkness, his shadow stands straighter. “Why the fuck would you think Ricky Willis was out here with my girlfriend?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Kaila adds.

  “Because he was very rude to me earlier, and when I couldn’t find Kaila or him, I assumed he was trying something with her. I’m truly sorry.”

  “Wow, Laurel Ann. Sometimes you surprise me. It’s good to know I can count on you to protect my girl.” He begins walking back to the bar, and he rubs his shoulder, apparently where I hit him. “Want me to kick Ricky’s ass? It would be my pleasure. I’ve never liked that cocky prick.”

  Kaila is next to me as I follow him. “No, violence accomplishes nothing.”

  He scoffs, “Says the girl that just hit me with a pan.”

  “Shit, Laurel Ann, do you know what time it is?” Kaila pulls her curly, black hair over her face to block the light.

  “I know exactly what time it is. Do you?”

  She rolls over on the couch to get her phone off the coffee table. “It’s before noon. Too early for you to be waking
me up on my day off.”

  I’ve never understood how she can sleep all day, regardless of whether she works or not. Rolling my eyes, I pick her bra up off the floor and throw it at her. “You have a bedroom. I would appreciate it if you and Brently used it when you do your sinful sex acts.”

  She throws her head back against the couch, laughing. “God, girl, I love you.”

  I squint my eyes at her even though I can’t help grinning. “There are some eggs and bacon on the stove and some fresh bread in the bread bin, but you better eat it soon or it’ll go cold.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I reach past her shoulders, tugging my gray, crocheted hoodie out from between her back and the couch. Tossing it over my head, I untuck my hair. “If I were your mother I would be sure you wouldn’t curse as much as you do.”

  She winks at me, lighting a cigarette and walking to the TV to turn on one of her ‘exotic yoga’, ‘stripaerobics’, or ‘dance like a whore and call it exericiseilates’ videos. I pick up the cash jar and stuff a few bucks in the pocket of my patchwork maxi skirt before backing up toward the front door. Grabbing my keys off the hook, I watch her bend over and shake her rear while still puffing on her cigarette.

  “Isn’t that counterproductive?”

  Her head peeks at me from between her legs. “Nope.”

  I grin at my friend and begin the fifteen-minute trek to work. Walking along the uneven sidewalk, I spot one of my favorite people to watch. I often see her near the Saint Peter and Paul church on my way to and from the butcher shop. She’s a religious woman called a ‘nun’. I love watching her clutch at her cross as she prays to her God.

  I never considered that there were other belief systems when I left home. I assumed they didn’t believe in anything, never thinking past the fact that they were all heathens. The truth is, they think they’re on the right path, and I can respect them for trying, even if they are misguided.

  She wears the same dress every time I see her. It’s modest, covering all the appropriate areas, so the repetition seems irrelevant. I admire her ladylike body language and the polite way she walks. There is a white statue of a man in a crown directly above the wooden paneled double doors of her church, and she stops to look up at it before going inside the brick building.

  I pass Molly’s Doughnuts and Café, waving to Crackhead Mike who is smoking a cigarette and spinning in circles on his rollerblades. I feel like that’s a mean nickname considering that as far as I know, he doesn’t even smoke the crack, but it’s how he introduced himself. He tips his cowboy hat as he dances to whatever he’s listening to on his headphones, wearing shorts that are way too small.

  I get to Jefferson Street, finding the butcher shop door propped open. Rushing inside the Sturgis Countryside Meat’s entrance, I mumble, “Pardon me,” while weaving through the customers.

  “You’re late again,” Cameron spouts off when I rush behind the counter for an apron.

  “Yeah, I know, I know. I—”

  “Be grateful that we’re slammed, and I’m short staffed.”

  I roll my eyes. His definition of ‘slammed’ is eight people, and ‘short staffed’ means he only has one employee. Me.

  “I am.”

  The customers keep piling in since everyone in town is getting ready for their Labor Day parties. It’s one of their more normal traditions, not as odd as Easter. During their Easter celebrations, the adults hide plastic eggs filled with candy for the children to find, and sometimes people dress up like human-size bunnies. That part is quite terrifying, actually. There seems to always be some type of holiday tradition going on. They even celebrate the day they were born, as if it’s some sort of crowning achievement. That’s how vain they are.

  Of all the Philistines I have met, my boss, Cameron, is one of the harder ones to figure out. Some days he’s outright mean to me, yet on others I almost get the notion he cares about me. I have worked here for over a year, and I’m no closer to understanding him.

  Finally, the last customer leaves, and Cameron turns to go to his office. “I have some things I need to look over before my new distributer gets here.”

  I nod to him, logging into the computer to pull up customer orders. There are things I have to do on a daily basis that tarnish my soul. Electricity, computers, cash register, telephone… While of course I don’t like it, I have my own ways of trying to cleanse myself.

  Inside the meat locker, I pull out five pounds of beef flank steak. I love the feel of raw meat against my fingers, it always soothes me. It reminds me of home when I would help my elder brother, Benjamin Jr., prepare the meat from the pigs and chickens, and I wonder if my heart will ever stop aching at the thought of my family and my home. Sighing, I wrap the steak in the butcher paper as the door chimes, announcing a customer.

  I put on my kindest smile to greet them, but looking up paralyzes every muscle in my body. I don’t understand… How is this possible?! My words run for the hills, and my hand is still on the half-wrapped meat when he sneers at me.

  “I am Zebadiah Fitch. I have an appointment with Cameron Sturgis.”

  MY EYES ARE THE ONLY body part currently working as they stare. If he recognizes me, he’s hiding it well. He’s gotten very tall, and he’s no longer the boy I would sneak to the creek with. His hair is hidden under his hat, a few little, tawny wisps around the brim. He resembles the Prophet much more now. His crossed arms are considerably larger, and those suspenders are wrapping around his chest a lot nicer than they used to. His once boyish face is now defined with a square jaw and strong features.

  On either side of him are two other men—Oh my gosh, are those his brothers? Ezekiel is still as handsome as I remember, just much bigger. Jacob though, he was a squeaky little mouse last time I saw him. Not anymore.

  Why are they outside the gates? My heart seems to catch up with the situation, picking up pace and pumping the sweat from my pores. I should say something, anything, but all I want to do is run to him and take his face in my hands. I want to look in his eyes to confirm they are the same bright blue. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him, and I still dream of him every night. I want to ask about my family, I want—

  “Did I not speak clearly, girl? I have an appointment with the owner of this establishment.”

  My stomach drops so hard, I buckle my knees to keep them from giving way. He’s looking at me as if I’m the manure on his boot. He’s never spoken to me with that tone.

  “I…I…u-um…”

  “Laurel Ann, can you come here for a second?”

  Cameron’s voice halts my blubbering, and if Zeb didn’t know who I was earlier, he does now. His expression fades from neutral to shocked before it contorts into disgruntled, hard lines. He looks at me, really looks at me, for the first time, and I don’t know why it makes me want to duck behind the counter. I lower my gaze from Zebadiah to Ezekiel and Jacob glancing at each other with raised eyebrows and slacked jaws.

  The walk back to Cameron’s office is agonizing. My throat will only take in little bits of oxygen at a time, causing me to breathe faster and with difficulty.

  I push his door the rest of the way open to find him tapping away on his cell phone. They seem to be the worst, the cell phones. You should see the way everyone walks around as if they are drugged, staring into their Devil’s boxes, clueless to the earth around them. He looks up at me about to say something when he leans his head to the side.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  I stand up straight, composing myself. “Yes, I’m fine. Zebadiah Fitch is here to see you.”

  I don’t want Cameron to know that Zeb and I have history, at least not before I get a chance to talk to him by myself. Philistines have no need to know anything about us or our world, but now…

  I am a Philistine.

  The thought jumps around my head hard enough to cause a headache. My insides turn, threatening to resurrect this morning’s eggs. It has always been me against them. I have never fit in with t
hem, besides Kaila. Yes, there are a few good people out there and some that I would go as far as to call ‘friends’, though there’s no real loyalty there. I have never felt like I belonged in this world. Even knowing it’s been undone, I still feel like a child of Zaaron. I still pray to Him every day, striving to be the person He originally intended. Even when it feels impossible, being surrounded in a world of so much sin, where nobody understands my beliefs.

  Seeing Zeb and his brothers again makes it all too clear that I am not like them anymore. To them, I’m just another heathen living in filth.

  In my mind, I always assumed Zeb would miss me as much as I have missed him. I never imagined he would blame me or think poorly of me. In that look he gave me, I saw it, his anger at what I have become. His disappointment. I want to relieve the burning in my eyes by letting the tears fall, yet I pull them back in.

  “Oh, good.” He stands, stretching his arms. “He has the best deal on beef I’ve seen in years, but he’s a weird ass motherfucker.” Looking at me, he smirks. “I bet you two would get along.” He laughs and then must realize he is being offensive because his grin falls off his rosy face. He clears his throat and says, “Go ahead and send him in. After you check the dates for all the pork products in the display case, you can head out.”

  “Okay, thanks, Cameron. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “On time though, yeah?”

  I already apologized. I’m not doing it again. “Yeah.”

  My feet know how I am feeling because they drag on the tile as I make my way back to the lobby. I don’t want to face him again if he’s going to continue to look at me that way.

  The three men stand in the exact same position they were in before I left: Zeb in front with Ezekiel and Jacob behind him on either side, in a triangle. I open my mouth to speak when the words get tangled in my vocal chords. The more steps I take, the thicker the air becomes. I don’t want him to see me falter. He may see me as evil and repulsive, but he won’t see me as weak. I push back my shoulders, and my throat opens up, allowing the air to freely flow.