Intervention

by Rob Mclean

Angela nodded. She could see her father as a young rookie, being called out to deal with all sorts of monstrous situations. She knew that, in those situations, anyone would have trouble reconciling the idea of a loving God with the terrible reality. “So how did he get through it?”

  “We talked it through at the time, wrote letters after I got back home to Boston and spoke about it with our pastors. In the end, we had to understand that God allows evil in the world, for whatever reason, we don’t know. It’s all part of His plan.”

  Angela wanted to ask if Aunt Ruby’s attack was all part of God’s plan, but her father’s voice sounded from the front room.

  “Incoming,” he called.

  “Incoming?” Clarice asked. “What are you talking about dear?” Both Angela and her mother went through to see what he was on about.

  “We’ve got a visitor,” he said.

  “Who is it, Dad?”

  “Who do you want it to be?” He shot her a mischievous, wry grin, but his tone didn’t give anything away. The question impaled her. Who did she want it to be?

  A practical and dutiful side of her thought it might be Zeke, coming to say sorry and make things right between them. That side of her congratulated itself on having been strong and resolute, forcing Zeke to come around, making him follow their plan, reaffirming the rightness of the ploy and the way it had all been achieved.

  But another part of her mind told her in a small but unquiet way that, ‘he doesn’t really love you, or else he would have never let it get to this’.

  She tried to push this voice away. ‘Doubt was a tool of the Devil,’ as her mother would say, so she put on a bright, happy face and went to answer the door.

  The same small voice also suggested that it might be John. Her breath caught in her throat. Had he suspected her mother’s plan, and was he here to confront her about it? Her hand froze at the door. She didn’t want to have to deal with him now, not when she was so confused about how she felt about him. She knew that her mother would never approve of him, but…

  “Why don’t you go upstairs, dear?” her mother said as if seeing her internal distress.

  Again she felt a rush of irritation at the way her mother was still ordering her life, but also she saw that it was probably a wise thing to do. No matter who was at the door, she didn’t want to appear too eager, so she stole away to the top of the stairs, and like she had so often done when she had been sent to her room, she waited quietly and listened to the voices below.

  The late afternoon sun filled the hallway and flooded the stairs with its warm light as Clarice opened the front door. The reflected light from the polished floorboards blinded Angela for a moment. All she could see behind her mother were a pair of silhouetted legs.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” Clarice said, her voice laden with sarcasm.

  “Is Angie home?”

  Angela’s insides tightened. Her mouth went dry and her pulse drummed in her ears. It was Zeke. He had come for her. She saw her future with him crystallize before her as the alternative with John dissolved. Regret vied with sorrow and disappointment at the loss, but she resigned herself with the knowledge that it was God’s will. She had prayed for resolution and now he stood in her doorway. She stood to go downstairs.

  “That depends, Zeke, on why you’re here.”

  Angela stopped. What else could he be here for but to make things right? She sat back down on the stairs and waited, watching his feet shuffle nervously.

  “I…I just want to talk with Angie,” he stammered. His words were thick and clumsy with emotion. Her heart went out to him. Instantly she wanted to fly down the stairs and throw herself into his arms and tell him that she was sorry for hurting him, that it was all going to be alright now.

  “Yes, well, you wouldn’t be the only one, you know.” Angela could barely hear her father’s gravely voice. “She’s become awfully popular lately.” She winced at the way his words would be slicing into Zeke’s heart.

  “Now, dear,” her mother chided, “you’re not helping things.” Angela heard her father snort in reply. “What was it you wanted to talk to our Angela about?”

  “I…just wanted to see her again…” Zeke stubbed his foot into the floor repeatedly. “To tell her that I’m sorry.”

  “So you should be,” her father’s voice was louder this time. He wasn’t going to let Zeke off lightly.

  Neither was her mother. “Yes, just what were you thinking? How could you do that to her?”

  “I didn’t. Blake, the um… dealer did. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help you with your… plans, and he was some guy I remembered from youth camp years ago. It took me ages to find him again. I risked my neck to get those pills for you.”

  “But they were the wrong ones.” Geoff had wheeled himself to the front hallway.

  “I didn’t know. I left that for him to sort out. He must have gotten his own ideas.”

  “And when he did, you left our daughter behind,” her father’s voice strained with the force of the words and the emotion behind them. “In a nightclub? God knows what could have happened to her.”

  “Geoffrey…”

  “How can you live with yourself, you spineless bastard?”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. It was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have left her there, but I wasn’t thinking straight. All I was worried about was getting arrested for possession and the olds finding out that we were in a nightclub.” Knowing Zeke as well as she did, Angela had to admit that it all sounded genuine.

  “Look, the security guys had Angela, so I figured she was safe enough. They weren’t going to do anything to her, were they?”

  “Thankfully, they took care of her,” Clarice said.

  “And one of them still is,” Geoff chipped in. Angela could just imagine how enraged Zeke would be getting at her father’s jibe. To his credit, he didn’t let it show.

  “Yeah, well, I figured they’d at least call an ambulance and she’d get home okay eventually.”

  “And, thank the Lord, she did,” her mother intoned.

  “No thanks to you.”

  “Now, dear, young Ezekiel has come to ask our forgiveness.” Geoff grunted dismissively. Clarice continued. “And as Christians we are bound to accept his apologies. Aren’t we, dear?”

  Her father grumbled something, which she couldn’t quite hear, about not forgetting. He obviously hadn’t forgiven Zeke and wasn’t keeping it a secret how he felt about things, but her mother appeared to be ushering him right back in.

  “I’d have to see if our Angela forgives you,” Geoff conceded. Suddenly she felt she was back at the crossroads again. If she chose to go against her Christian principles and her mother’s wishes and to not forgive him, she could still see John. But was that what she wanted, given that he might never become a Christian himself?

  “But before that happens,” Clarice interrupted, “was there anything else you wanted to say?” She had to give her mother credit. She was sticking to her plan to get Zeke to propose.

  “That I love her?” Zeke asked.

  “Yes, we assumed that already,” Clarice said with an air of casual disinterest. “Anything else?”

  “Anything else? Isn’t that enough?” Angela could hear the anger rising in his voice. She knew he wasn’t used to being so contrite and she wondered if her parents hadn’t pushed him too far. “What else is there?”

  “Wrong answer,” her father growled. “Now get going.”

  “But…” Zeke protested. His feet were planted firmly, spaced apart. “I just want to talk to Angie.”

  “Perhaps you need some more time to think about your future?” her mother suggested sweetly. She could see that she was closing the door on him.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Zeke asked. “No! Come on, I just want to talk with her. Look, I can see her feet on the stairs.”

  Angela realized too late that if she could see his feet, then he could see hers. She started to stand, about to go downstairs, but her mother’s
words stopped her.

  “Well, Ezekiel, she’s not ready to speak with you just yet.” Her mother tried to close the door on Zeke, but he didn’t let himself be pushed outside. Angela leaned down to get a better view and saw with horror that he had pushed the door back open. She could see her mother’s feet stagger backwards under Zeke’s superior strength, and in an instant he was inside the house and bounding up the hallway.

  Their eyes locked as he reached the bottom of the stairs. She saw the fury burning behind those eyes, and with a squeak, she turned and ran to her room. Behind her she heard him clamouring up the stairs and her mother calling him to stop.

  She slipped inside her bedroom, and before she could close the door, she caught a glimpse of his enraged face at the top of the stairs. She slammed the door shut and wedged a chair against the doorknob moments before his weight fell against it.

  The chair slid a few inches backwards, but she pushed it back in place and wedged a sandal under the door as well. She put her back to the door and propped her foot up against the end of her bed for extra support. She had done this when she was younger and didn’t want her father coming in. Eventually he had given up and waited until she had tired of the game, so she reasoned that if she could hold out against her father back then when she was smaller, she could do it against Zeke now.

  There was a deafening thumping on the other side of the door before he shouted, “How could you do this to me? I don’t deserve this.”

  “Don’t you?” Angela shouted back through her door with equal intensity. “I’m the one who’s been mistreated.”

  “Don’t give me that.”

  “You know what you have to do to make things right.” She crossed her arms, but still kept her foot braced against the bed post.

  “I’m not going to be forced into marriage by you and your mother.” He waited for a response, but didn’t get one. “Yes, Chelsea told me of your conniving scheme to trap me…”

  “Trap you? Is that how you see me?”

  He ignored the question screeched at him. “If anything, you should be asking- no, more like begging me to marry you.”

  “What? You’re so full of yourself.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m the catch. You should count yourself lucky to be with me. I haven’t had anyone else but you. I could have, easily, but I’ve kept myself for you. Just you. I’m the one who has been true and loyal.”

  The truth of his words dug into her like talons, rending her chest open for him to take her heart. It was true that he could have had his pick of any of the girls at any of the churches. Being a good-looking, single Christian guy made him highly sought after amongst the church-going women. Especially more so if you also considered his family’s wealth. But it did also make him incredibly arrogant with an amazing sense of entitlement.

  “Besides, I’ve got better things to do than getting married and settling down. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s an AntiChrist roaming the Earth.”

  “So how does that stop you from getting married?” Angela asked. Did he feel it was his calling to single-handedly fight the alien invasion?

  “I’m not ready. It’s not the right time for us.”

  Despite his denial, Angela felt that it was encouraging. It was the most he had ever talked about the subject. Just a pity it had taken this much effort.

  “What do you mean? I’ve said it already; now is the best time, especially if it is the Last Days.”

  “No, I mean; I don’t think you’re ready for it.”

  “Me? You’ve got to be joking, right?”

  “It says that ‘Wives are to be in subjugation to and obey their husbands’ doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but it also says…”

  “I don’t think you have the right attitude to be subservient to anyone, let alone me.”

  “What? Don’t try to turn this around on me, you idiot.” She couldn’t believe she had forgotten how slippery and manipulative he could be.

  “See what I mean? That’s hardly a submissive tone.” She was sure she heard a smirk in his voice.

  “But it also says that husbands must love their wives. To honour and cherish them above all else. I don’t think you’re up to that”

  “I am, babe.” His voice was barely a whisper through the door. “I am. I do that already.”

  “Look, marriage is about two people coming together and becoming one. Not about who’s the boss.”

  “Yeah, there’s that too. I don’t think you’re ready to give up everything in your world to be part of mine.”

  Angela groaned. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

  “Look, we just need to talk about it,” he said in a gentler, more persuasive voice. “Come on, babe, open up.”

  Angela remembered that she had been down this path many times before. Nothing had changed with him. She closed her mind to his words.

  “Didn’t you listen to me before? I’ve taken back my virtue. I won’t be opening up for you anymore.”

  “Ha, you’re a funny girl. I bet you’re open for him though, that knuckle-dragging rock ape,” Zeke yelled as he kicked the door, his softer tone now gone. “How long has he been doing you?”

  “No, we have a chastity vow. He doesn’t want me just for one thing.”

  “Yeah, I heard about the purity rings from Chelsea too. What a joke. I sure hope, for your sake, that he sticks to it. I know you’d have trouble.”

  She had no argument against that. She knew it was true, and because of their intimate history, he knew it too. He’s just getting spiteful-and nasty. She knew that he was fully aware that her parents were hearing every word.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. There’s more to relationship than just… that.”

  “You were only ever a virgin to me, you know?” She could tell by the sneer in his voice that Zeke thought he was getting the better of her. “To everyone else, you’re now just second-hand goods, my leftovers.”

  Angela growled with anger and exasperation. She banged her fist against her door. “Shut up, just shut up.” She hated him for saying all of these things so her parents could hear. She hated the betrayal of her trust in him. But the worst part of it all was that his words were true. Everyone would look at her as Zeke’s ex-girlfriend, his cast-off, and a plaything that he had fully explored and grown tired of.

  Everyone, except John.

  He had told her that, to him, she was as good as new. His words gave her strength now. “I don’t care what you think,” she yelled back through the door. “Just go away.”

  “No! You let me in.” He pounded on the door. “Now!”

  Angela braced herself. “You just try.”

  The doorknob turned and Zeke strained against it. He put his foot on the opposite wall of the landing hallway and pushed hard. The door moved a couple of inches, but as soon as he tired, Angela moved it back. She knew it wasn’t a matter of strength. She had the advantage because he had to overcome both her strength and the resistance of all the obstacles. She just hoped the door didn’t disintegrate.

  After a couple of more tries, he kicked the door in frustration. “I give up trying to talk sense to you. You’re not worth the effort.”

  Angela wondered if that just meant that he had given up trying to get into her room, or if he had given up on her altogether.

  “Don’t know why I bother,” he continued. If he was talking to himself, it was loud enough for Angela to hear. “I can always get someone else.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “You’re not that good-looking anyway, just good and biddable in bed.”

  Angela knew that he was angry and hurt, but it didn’t stop his words from gouging her heart out in raw, ragged bloody chunks. She slumped to the floor; the room blurred through hot tears.

  Suddenly there was a loud crash and the door lurched open a few inches. Zeke had heard her sobs and taken his chance to try to force open the door, but her sandal wedged underneath and Angela’s dead weight had stopped the door from opening more th
an a few inches.

  It was enough for him to get his arm in. His hand fumbled around, groping for something to grab onto. He found the chair and knocked it away.

  “Open up,” he roared.

  Angela got to her feet. She saw that there was now only the sandal wedged under the door to keep him out. She couldn’t think what he would do if he got in, but she didn’t want to find out. She threw herself at the door, squashing his arm in the door-frame.

  A satisfying scream came from the other side of the door.

  “You’ve broken my arm, you bitch,” he howled. “Let me go.”

  She doubted it was actually broken, but she released her pressure just enough for him to withdraw his arm. It retreated like a snake slithering back down its hole.

  “Now go away, you prick,” Angela yelled, not caring if her parents heard. He responded with a series of thumps and kicks on the door.

  She could faintly hear her father shouting as loud as he could, in his condition, for Zeke to go. “You heard her,” he said. “Don’t make me get out of this wheelchair, or you’ll be sorry.”

  It almost made her weep to hear her father try to help her, but Zeke ignored his warnings and kept up his barrage.

  The door shook under another assault that shook the walls. Plaster and paint fell from the ceiling. She and saw the hinge starting to give way, the screws working loose. She decided that a call to the police was long overdue. She cast about, looking for her phone, when another crash fell upon her door. She heard the wood cracking. It wouldn’t last much longer.

  From downstairs she heard her mother shout, “No Geoff, for God’s sake, put that thing away.” Next there was an ear-splitting bang.

  In the silence that followed, she heard Zeke cry out, “What the hell? You crazy old bastard, you could’ve killed me.”

  Her father’s voice carried clear and strong. “Stand away from the door. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Angela had never heard her father speak to Zeke like this before, like some low-life being arrested. She hoped that Zeke had valued his own life enough that he would do as he was asked.

  “Now, son, I was never the best of shots and I ain’t likely to have gotten any better lately.” Angela heard her father pause to draw breath. “So if I aim to shoot you in the leg, and I get you between the eyes, you’ll understand, won’t you?”