Small Town Sinners

by Melissa Walker

  “Okay,” I say, concentrating on my cast. I fling my rod forward and get a good distance—about twenty-five feet. The lure drops into the water and I reel in a tiny bit of line. Then I wait. Nervously.

  “I want to apologize,” says Dad.

  I look at him now, surprised.

  “Your mom and I shouldn’t have suggested that you rethink your friendships,” he continues. “We know that you and Starla Joy have been close since you were babies. And we both love her, too, and Dean as well.”

  Ty’s name is noticeably absent, but I nod anyway. In recognition, in acknowledgment of the apology. In silent thanks that he doesn’t seem to know about the kiss.

  “We were scared,” Dad says then, and when I look over at him his face is shining like it does when he speaks to the children’s group at church. Like he’s being honest. Like he’s imparting wisdom. “This business with Tessa hits close to home, and we didn’t want you to get caught up in it. But we went about it the wrong way, and I’m sorry. We both are.”

  Dad’s rod starts to jerk then, and he smiles as he reels in a keeper—it looks like a three-pound smallmouth. I set down my rod to help him unhook it, and it flops around the boat for a minute before Dad picks up the bonker and clubs it twice. The fish twitches, then stops moving. We throw it in the bow of the boat, where there’s a container for catches.

  Dad casts out again, and I pick up my rod too. I want to acknowledge his apology, even though the moment has passed.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I say.

  “Thank you,” he says back. “You’re becoming an expert at unhooking.”

  “No, for the other thing,” I say.

  He smiles at me. “It’s important for us to talk, honey,” he says. “To be honest with each other. It’s harder now that you’re sixteen, but it’s a priority.”

  I look out at my line and reel it in a little more, wondering if I should open up to my dad now, wondering if he’ll be able to talk to me the way he used to, when things were more simple.

  “Dad?” I say, and my voice is so soft that I hardly hear it myself.

  “Yes, Lace,” he responds.

  “How come some people suffer for their sins, but others just get to sin and then go on living their normal lives like they didn’t do anything wrong?” I ask. And I know it sounds cryptic, but I’m not sure how to broach the specifics with my dad. I’ve tried before, at breakfast, but never really gotten the words out.

  “You’re talking about Tessa?” he asks, cutting through my vague question.

  “And Jeremy,” I say, feeling suddenly brave. “She’s sent away, dealing with her choice every day in a very real way. But he’s just going to school, rehearsing for Hell House, hanging out with his friends. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “I know this has been on your mind, Lacey. But it sounds like you’re presuming an awful lot,” says Dad. He reels in his lure and casts out again before he continues. “It’s plain to see how Tessa’s affected because there’s the physical manifestation of pregnancy, and also because she’s gone. But how do you know that Jeremy isn’t going through something on the inside that we just can’t see?”

  “That’s what Ty said,” I say.

  “What?” Dad asks, his head jerking up quickly.

  “Ty said that too,” I say again. “That Jeremy might be feeling things he isn’t showing.”

  “Well, yes,” says Dad. He seems flustered at the mention of Ty, and I want to ask him what’s wrong, why he doesn’t like Ty, but he continues and I don’t have a chance. “It’s important that we remain supportive of Jeremy in this hard time. He should be taking his mind off of things, and normal activities, like Hell House, will do just that. He’s got a bright future, that boy. With basketball and—”

  “And what about Tessa and her bright future?” I interrupt, feeling my skin prickle a little. “We should remain supportive of her too, right?”

  “Of course,” Dad says. “That goes without saying.”

  “Does it also go without doing?” I huff. I turn away from Dad to face the water.

  “Lacey Anne, I’ve been very kind to Mrs. Minter, as has the entire church community,” Dad says. “Did you know that Pastor Frist helped facilitate a spot for her at Saint Angeles? It’s not easy to get in there, you know.”

  I frown and jiggle my rod.

  “I’ve also seen to it that the Minters’ fridge is full of church-baked casseroles as they face this difficult time,” Dad adds.

  “It’s good to know that even girls like that get the church’s culinary support,” I say sarcastically, and I realize I’m quoting Ty. I no longer want to accept my father’s apology. What he’s saying seems so unfair, so one-sided. How does he not see that Jeremy gets to do everything he wants to do while Tessa is locked away like she’s contagious until after she has the baby?

  “I thought we were understanding each other,” Dad says. “I’ve told you I’m sorry and that you can continue your friendship with Starla Joy. The more we thought about it, the more your mother and I figured that you’ll be a good influence on her. We’ve raised you well—you’re a smart girl. Church is a wonderful resource, but for a rebellious teenager without a father, peers have a big effect too. You can help her set her life on the right path.”

  “Oh, well, thanks for the permission to choose my own friends,” I say, turning back to face Dad. “Starla Joy doesn’t need a good influence, by the way. She’s already a wonderful person on her own, father or no. And you’re right, I am a smart girl. I’m smart enough to see the unfairness, Dad. Tessa and Jeremy aren’t being treated equally.”

  “Lacey, when a girl is pregnant it’s impossible to treat her equally to a boy who is not,” my dad says, his temper flaring. “Besides, a boy has desires that girls don’t understand—it’s more her responsibility to keep this from happening.”

  “Are you blaming this on Tessa?” I ask. Anger rushes through me so quickly that my hands start shaking and I reel in my tackle with a force that rocks the boat.

  “Of course not,” Dad says, steadying his own rod and turning back to the water. “But generally, the girl does have more self-control, Lacey. That’s just the way it is—that’s nature, as much as the birds in the sky and the fish in the sea. Don’t forget that.”

  I flash back to Saturday night with Ty. I don’t think my dad knows anything.

  I unhook my lure. “I’m ready to go home,” I say. I can’t believe my father—my rational, patient, kind, devout father—is saying this. And I can’t believe it’s true. I won’t believe it.

  Dad doesn’t argue. We’re at an impasse. And when he took me out here trying to fix something between us, I’m afraid he broke it even more.

  Chapter Twenty

  I close my eyes and hold out my palms, waiting for the spirit to move me.

  There are just three weeks left until Hell House officially opens for a three-night run, and today at the Youth Leaders meeting we’re watching a couple of the scenes in a run-through. Because I’m in the Abortion scene, I haven’t yet had a chance to catch the others or see what people are doing with their characters.

  We’re in the sanctuary doing the warm-up, which includes my dad and Pastor Frist leading us in our personal prayer language. I go through the motions with everyone else, but I’m not feeling it. Plus, Ty’s here with us today, and I already know that he’s not exactly into personal prayer. I haven’t had a chance to be alone with him since we basically talked about the fact that we should definitely kiss again soon.

  I feel guilty for not participating—I know how silly and small-minded my worries about Ty are, but they feel so big right now. I whisper to God inside my head. Lord, please forgive me for not channeling your power today. I’m confused about how best to serve you, and I’m unsure of my own thoughts and feelings. But I still deeply love you and wish to do the right thing. Help me to walk in your footsteps with grace and humility.

  It’s a prayer I think up on the spot, but I’m pretty proud of it as i
t runs through my mind. I wish I had some paper to write it down. I think even Dad would like it, though we haven’t talked—aside from the required niceties—since the lake. We came home that night and cooked up Dad’s fish, each having a little bit. Mom sparkled with conversation about how proud she was of her two fishermen, and she talked so much about the new novel that Mrs. Harrison had loaned her that I’m not sure she even noticed Dad and I hardly saying two words to each other.

  Even with my eyes closed, I can feel that tonight during personal prayer everyone is energized. I peek a bit and see that Geoff Parsons has sweat pouring off his brow. I wonder how someone so mean can be so feverish with the holy word.

  Suddenly, I hear a loud cackle, and Geoff yells, “Get the devil out of Dean Perkins!”

  My eyes snap open and I see that Geoff’s eyes are rolling up into his head, and he’s pointing at Dean, who looks confused as he breaks his own personal prayer language to see what’s going on.

  Some people are still chanting and swaying, lost in their connection to God, but others have stopped to watch Geoff, who’s now heading toward Dean, arms outstretched.

  “Get the devil out!” he shouts again, as he grabs Dean’s shoulders and starts to shake them.

  Dean looks completely bewildered, and I turn to the pulpit to see what Pastor Frist and my father are going to do, how they’ll handle this. They’re both still chanting, still enrapt in their holy connections.

  No one’s ever broken personal prayer like this, and Geoff Parsons looks possessed by a spirit. I study his face, sweaty and contorted into an angry mask, eyes still rolling around in his head, showing more white than I care to see. It’s frightening.

  And then I look at Dean. He’s surprised, he’s shocked, he’s clearly afraid. I glance back up to my father, who still looks lost in his personal moment. But someone has to do something. Didn’t he hear Geoff yelling?

  Then a strong, authoritative voice fills the sanctuary. “Stop it!” Ty shouts. All eyes turn to him as he jumps over a pew to reach Geoff, prying his hands from Dean’s shoulders. He restrains Geoff, who shakes Ty off with a fierce arm swipe, but Ty positions himself protectively in front of Dean, who falls into the pew. He sits there, his breath coming out in short gasps. Starla Joy and I run over to Dean to make sure he’s okay.

  I look around and see that everyone has broken their personal prayers, thanks to Ty’s booming voice. They’re all staring. Not at Geoff, but at us: me, Starla Joy, Ty, and Dean.

  And in this moment, I don’t care.

  “What were you doing?” I snap at Geoff Parsons.

  He holds his hands up in front of his chest, smiling. “I was just joking around,” he says with a chuckle. “Dean knows it’s all good, right, D?” he flicks a nod at Dean, who glances up for a second and then lets his eyes hit the floor again.

  I look up at my father, challenging him to intervene, hoping he won’t tolerate bullying in church.

  “Now, boys,” Dad says, as if Dean or Ty had some involvement in this too. “Personal prayer time is sacred. It’s important that we all concentrate and gear up for Hell House together.”

  “In other words,” says Pastor Frist. “Leave the outside world outside, and come into this House of God without grievances or even casual jokes.”

  “I’m sorry, Pastor Frist, Pastor Byer,” says Geoff, looking contrite. “I was honestly just kidding. You know, trying to get us in the mood for the devil tonight.”

  Dad chuckles and puts on his Satan voice. “The devil hates an exorcism!” he booms. People start laughing, and the tension in the room breaks.

  How can Dad make this into a joke? I stare up at him, my eyes burning. I want to shout at him and tell him he’s being unfair, he’s being cruel. But I’m afraid he won’t hear me. Dad doesn’t meet my gaze and I let my eyes drop.

  I see Ty shake his head and walk out of the sanctuary. He’s the hero of this moment in my eyes, but no one follows.

  “Now,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s take five and gather back here to watch our opening scene together. Dean, you come with me and we’ll talk about how the props are coming along.”

  “Are you okay?” Starla Joy whispers to Dean as people start to disperse.

  “I’m fine,” he says, straightening his shirt and heading toward my father. I can see that he’s still visibly shaken though.

  I’m hoping they’ll talk, that my dad will give Dean some strength, a lesson from the Bible to hold onto about how jerks are all around, but Christ faced them down and came out a better man because of his trials. I know there are parts of the Bible like that. Dad used to quote Jeremiah 29:11 whenever I had a bad day at school: “ ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ ”

  Starla Joy and I walk out into the hallway together and we head into the ladies’ room, checking under the stalls for feet before we exhale.

  “What was that?” she asks.

  “I have no idea,” I say. “Geoff seemed possessed! And then it was a joke?”

  “He shouldn’t be joking about the devil being present in Dean,” says Starla Joy, turning on the water at the end sink and wetting a paper towel.

  “It’s vicious,” I say. “And sacrilegious.”

  “What does he have against Dean?” she asks. “We’ve all known Geoff Parsons since we were in the church nursery.”

  “They used to be friends,” I say. “Remember? Back in elementary school.”

  “Yeah,” says Starla Joy. “What is Geoff’s deal?”

  Starla Joy starts reapplying her pink lipstick and I lean on the sink and look at my face in the mirror. My eyes look tired, with puffy bags and dark circles underneath them. I’m having trouble sleeping lately.

  “Can I borrow some of that?” I ask Starla Joy, thinking maybe a hint of pink will wake up my dreary face.

  “Sure,” she says, handing me the lipstick tube.

  I apply a little, but I end up wiping most of it off. Bright makeup always looks clownish on me for some reason. I sigh.

  “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go see what Gay Marriage is like.”

  When we gather in the sanctuary again, everyone has calmed down.

  “What did my dad say to you?” I turn to Dean, hoping he’ll tell me that my father imparted some helpful wisdom.

  “We talked props,” Dean says. “He wanted to go through the checklist and see when things are getting delivered.”

  “Nothing else?” I ask.

  “When we were done, he did say something,” Dean says.

  “What?” I ask, still hopeful.

  “He said that if I had the devil in me, he’d know,” says Dean. “I wasn’t sure what he meant. Like, I couldn’t tell if he was in character as Satan or if he was being Pastor Byer.”

  I hold my breath for a second, thinking about what Dean just said. There are moments lately when I don’t recognize my father either.

  Ty hasn’t come back. We’re moving into a Hell House rehearsal tonight, so he probably would have left early anyway, but I have a feeling he cut out because he’s upset. My leg bounces up and down. I’m still irritated by Geoff’s outburst, but as we all sit down to watch the opening scene of Hell House, I see that Dean is back to normal. He even looks excited to watch the show. I guess if he’s okay, I’m okay.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sikes are the couple in the first scene. They’re the only adults in the production besides my dad as the devil and Pastor Frist as Jesus. They walk down the aisle, and beside them is Jeremy Jackson. Through the whole show, his role as the Demon Tour Guide is to be both a guide for the audience and the devil’s mouthpiece, so Jeremy says things to exacerbate the situation.

  Paul Rich plays the officiant in this scene, and as he whispers the traditional marriage vows to the gay couple, it’s Jeremy’s job to overpower Paul’s voice, yelling over the officiant with his own version of the vows. He turns to the Sikeses and says, “Do yo
u promise to fornicate unnaturally with dozens of people in a direct challenge to God’s will, forsaking all that is normal and sealing your fate for a painful and horrific death?” His eyes glow as he recites the lines, and everyone can see that he’ll be one of the favorite tour guides this year—he’s feeling it.

  I think about Jeremy in this role that condemns promiscuity—as if he hasn’t had a lapse of his own—but I push the thought out of my mind. This isn’t about Jeremy and Tessa, it’s about two men marrying, which is wrong in a different way.

  The actors move from the pulpit up onto the sanctuary stage. On the left is a bedroom scene with red fabric draped over lamps. “We’ve got leopard print sheets coming for the bed,” whispers Dean.

  “How do you know what sheets gay people like?” asks Starla Joy.

  Dean frowns and says, “I was guessing. I want every scene to have the right atmosphere.”

  I think leopard print gets the point across that it’s a wild person’s bedroom, so I see where Dean is coming from. In any case, the props aren’t ready yet so we’re just watching Mr. and Mrs. Sikes hug and run their hands up and down each other’s backs in the left corner of the sanctuary, which to be honest is pretty gross, even though they’re married. They’re old.

  On the right side is another part of the set. It’s a hospital stretcher, and after a brief blackout for the actors to change positions, Mrs. Sikes stretches out on the stretcher, moaning in pain. She’s supposed to be dying as she reaches for Mr. Sikes.

  It’s hard to think of them as a gay couple while she’s wearing a flowery blouse and khaki shorts, but when we do the real performance, she’ll be in a suit and wearing a fake mustache, just to be clear.

  As she lies on the stretcher, the Demon Tour Guide speaks. “This is Adam. He thought his homosexual lifestyle was fun and fabulous, but now he’s dying of AIDS.” Mrs. Sikes, playing Adam, writhes on the bed, screaming in agony. This is just a rehearsal, but she’s really getting into it.

  A chill passes through me and I turn to look at Dean and Starla Joy, who are both riveted to the scene.