by Adam Golaski
Worse Than Myself
by Adam Golaski
Copyright
Worse Than Myself © 2008 by Adam Golaski
All rights reserved
Published by Raw Dog Screaming Press
Second Edition
Book design: Jennifer Barnes
Library of Congress Control Number: 2008925625
www.rawdogscreaming.com
Dedication
for David Longhorn
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
NEW ENGLAND & NEW YORK
The Animator’s House
In the Cellar
The Animal Aspect of Her Movement
The Demon
Back Home
A String of Lights
MONTANA
What Water Reveals
They Look Like Little Girls
The Man from the Peak
The Dead Gather on the Bridge to Seattle
Weird Furka
About the Author
Acknowledgements
NEW ENGLAND & NEW YORK
THE ANIMATOR’S HOUSE
Nothing could be weirder than discovering you are related to a priest, as Molly discovered when her parents told her they were going to visit Father Mike, who was, in fact and also, Cousin Mike. A cousin twice removed, so calculated Mom. Not, obviously, a cousin Molly’s age, a being Molly longed for when lonely, which was often. The reasons Molly didn’t know she had a cousin Mike were several: his entry into Holy Orders was sudden and alarming to his family, all only feebly Christian, and even fewer actually Catholic (Molly’s family, the May family, were among the few, though the Church was for them very much a Christmas spectacular only); Mike was located by the Church in the Southwest, far from his East Coast relations; and, finally, Mike was a terrible correspondent. However, when the Church relocated Father Mike to a parish among the Finger Lakes of New York, Cousin Mike sent a card to the May family, with a short but entertaining note, and a holiday photo of himself, standing with a group of overweight, old ladies, and another priest, in front of St. Joseph’s Church.
Mom asked, “Where’s his collar?” To which Molly said, “Here,” and pointed to the collar of Cousin Mike’s purple shirt. Mom and Dad laughed. “Not all priests have to wear collars,” Dad explained, and to Molly her father explained what her mother meant. “The Church is lightening up,” Dad said.
“Whatever,” said Mom.
A month passed, but the May family’s resolve to visit Cousin Mike remained strong enough for a call to be placed and for plans to be made.
That the May family car was not outfitted with a DVD player or a game console was a cruelty Molly was forced to endure because her parents thought it was better for the family to play travel games and to listen to Dad’s music (some of which Molly very much liked) and to talk and to sing. Mom’s beautiful voice effortlessly eased Molly into sleep or at least into Molly’s sleepy daydream house, but when Dad joined in and Molly was expected to, the magic disappeared. “Dad, can just Mom sing?” Dad seemed to understand and would be quiet for a while, or absent-mindedly whistle which was okay. And Molly really enjoyed travel games because she was very good at them, often beating Dad (Mom was more of a challenge). All this was to say that mostly May family drives were pretty fun, but a DVD player would have been nice. Even Mom and Dad had to admit that by the fifth hour of the drive to Cousin Mike’s they themselves were ready to call it quits. The sky was gray the entire time, and for a little while there was snow, and then rain. Mom asked Dad a hundred times if he needed a break from driving; he was a little afraid to let anyone else drive; at last he acquiesced, and snoozed for a half hour before Mom woke him to navigate the minor right and lefts that would lead to St. Joseph’s Church.
“I don’t know how to act,” Mom said, as they drove into the empty parking lot between the church and the rectory.
“He’s just family.”
“Your family.”
Cousin Mike must have been watching from a window, because he appeared at the driver’s side door with a huge umbrella and opened the door for Mom. She stepped out, under the umbrella, and Cousin Mike leaned into the car, “Just hang on a minute, and I’ll come back for you.” Dad opened his door anyway, and opened a little Tote umbrella over his own head. “Wait for Cousin Mike,” he told Molly, and walked round to the trunk. There wasn’t a lot of luggage. The plan was to spend the night with Cousin Mike, then visit Aunt Amy on the way back. Molly sat up on her knees in the backseat and watched her father through the small gap created by the open trunk lid.
“Molly?”
Cousin Mike’s voice startled her, and she jumped.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. Come on, I’m sure you’re tired of the backseat.”
Cousin Mike was right about that. Molly got out under his big umbrella, and felt safe under the big umbrella, next to the priest who wore khakis and a Polo, button-down shirt. He had a big stomach, though not in a gross way, and a moustache, which Molly found very interesting.
Once inside the rectory, Cousin Mike led everyone to a sitting room. Set out on a side-table was cheese, a bottle of wine, a slim pitcher of grape juice, and a box of crackers. Everything in the room was dark. Above a fireplace was a clock, a circular slab cut from a tree with Roman numerals and brass hands. There was a couch with a high back, nothing too comfortable, and brass lamps on either side. Two wing chairs were set side-by-side, with a small table between them. Most of the pictures on the walls were photographs of churches or clergymen; above the couch was a brass bas relief portrait of The Last Supper; one of the pictures, a contrast to everything else in the room, was a drawing of the evil fairy from Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty”—Molly recognized it immediately and said, “That’s Maleficent!” Cousin Mike rewarded her with a great smile.
“Absolutely correct,” he said.
Dad strolled over to the picture and looked at it closely.
Cousin Mike put a hand on Mom’s shoulder and said, “Would you like some wine?”
Mom visibly relaxed. “Oh, yes.”
“After a long drive in bad weather,” Cousin Mike said, without bothering to finish his sentiment.
“Yes,” Mom said.
“And Molly, would you like some juice?”
She nodded, still very pleased with herself for correctly identifying the picture.
Much to Molly’s pleasure, her juice was poured into a crystal wine glass.
“Is this real?” Dad asked.
“It is,” Cousin Mike said. “It’s the only thing in this room—aside from the cheese—that I bought. The wine is courtesy of Father Dale, by the way, who isn’t here but wanted to wish you all a pleasant stay. And, frankly, to show off his excellent taste in wine. He has a bottle or two set aside to go with dinner.”
Mom helped herself to a few slices of cheese, then sat down on the couch.
“Wow,” Dad said. “Molly, take a look at this.”
Cousin Mike said, “Take it off the wall so she can see better.”
Which Dad did, gingerly. Molly approached the picture hesitantly, keen to the fact that it was somehow valuable, though she wasn’t sure how that could be. “This,” Dad said, “is an animation cell.” He looked at Cousin Mike. “Is that right?”
“Yes.” Cousin Mike put together a big selection of cheese—he looked at Mom and said, “Triple cream—be sure you get some.” He put his plate and wineglass on the little table between the wing chairs, and set to making a fire.
Dad explained to Molly about how animation was done before computers, “One frame at a time, all hand-drawn.” Molly hadn’t considered this before; she’d seen plenty of the old animated films, but was more familiar with, and preferred, digitally
animated movies. They looked more realistic.
“That sounds so boring,” she said.
Cousin Mike said, “It is.” A few flames ate the paper beneath the logs and kindling; the kindling caught. “But it has its satisfactions. Working like that, drawing a film frame-by-frame, reminds me of hand-copying the Bible.” He sat down on the wing chair closest to the fire. “Is that predictable of me?”
Dad made up a plate for Molly, who sat next to her mother. She tasted the triple cream brie; put the rest on Mom’s plate. “Careful with your grape juice,” Mom said.
“I will.”
Cousin Mike said, “Don’t worry too much. That couch is supposed to be stain sealed, or something like that. You could test it out. It’s an ugly couch besides.”
Molly liked Cousin Mike, and so did Mom and Dad. He put them all at ease.
“I bought that cell as a souvenir, of sorts. Before I went to seminary I thought my calling was to work as an animator. Got all the way out to California and even got myself hired to work on a cartoon.” He addressed Molly, “Did you ever watch Spider and the Undiscovered Bug?”
Molly shook her head.
“Well that’s good, it was terrible. I guess you’re not like every other child who’ll watch anything so long as it’s on T.V.”
Mom said, “No, she’ll watch anything.”
Molly poked Mom, “That’s not true. I just never heard of that show.”
“Maybe it was a little before your time. You’re ten, right?”
“Yes!”
“Very good. I try not to ask children their age.” He popped a cracker, smothered in brie, into his mouth. “Too much computer work, too little drawing. I did that for about a month. I was miserable.”
Mom said, “And that’s when you decided to become a priest?”
“Well,” Cousin Mike smiled. “Soon after.”
“Why did you decide to become a priest?” Dad asked.
“Why did I decide… you know, I tell most people that I was moved by the Holy Spirit, who blew into my life as the Spirit does, and that I felt empty doing what I thought I wanted to do, and that the Lord spoke to me in His way and that’s true but… that’s not the whole story.” Cousin Mike got up and brought the pitcher of grape juice to Molly. “You look like you could use some more.” Molly smiled and held out her glass. “And who wants more wine?” Cousin Mike poured more for everyone. “Father Dale does know good wine. Always finds it cheap, too. This bottle—” Cousin Mike poured the last of it into his glass— “just ten dollars.” Cousin Mike sat down, picked up the poker and adjusted one of the logs in the fireplace; the flames grew brighter.
“I don’t usually tell the whole story because it’s personal. And because I don’t want to be known as Crazy Father Mike. But this is what happened.
“After I quit my job I sold what little I had and bought a tent, a sleeping bag, some basic camping supplies, and headed for Glacier National Park. I planned to stay for as long as I could. Turned out, that was just one night.
“Once I pitched my tent, I spent the day hiking. I saw all kinds of animals, I even saw a bear. I was on a high trail, which curved around a mountain. I took a turn and the bear was just a few feet in front of me, tugging at a huckleberry bush. Instead of being frightened, as any rational person would be, I felt calm, and in fact I thought to myself that this was the first time in months—maybe years—that I’d really felt calm. I stood perfectly still. The bear ate for a while longer, then walked off. A beautiful moment. A moment full of grace, really, and truly.”
“And that’s why you became a priest?” Mom asked.
Molly said, “Mom, that can’t be it.” She looked at Cousin Mike. “That’s not it, right?”
Cousin Mike laughed and said, “Oh no. If that had been the most extraordinary occurrence in Glacier, I might’ve gone back to school for biology. Or headed for the hills and built myself a cabin. No.
“I returned to my campsite around seven o’clock. The folk at the neighboring site had a little motor home with a striped awning, and they were grilling, and when they saw me, all alone and munching on granola, they invited me over for dogs and beer. By the time I finally went to bed—these were very friendly, talkative people—I’d had more beer than I was used to, and was a little drunk.
“I fell asleep right away, but I didn’t stay asleep.” Cousin Mike looked at Molly. “One of the downsides of beer drinking, besides turning some folk into fools, is that it goes right through you, if you know what I mean.”
“You had to pee,” Molly said, her delight, obvious.
“I had to pee. Real bad.
“You might think, being out in the woods, that I could just go behind a tree.”
“Gross.”
“Park rangers feel the same way, Molly. In fact, Glacier’s pretty civilized. A short walk from the campsite is a public bathroom. It’s a cabin, one half for boys, one for girls.
“There are no streetlights, no porch lights, no nothing, except the moon, which was just a sliver that night, and not much good for light. I climbed out of my tent into the first real darkness I’d ever been in, I think. Before I clicked on my flashlight, I looked up, and folks, the sky is full of stars. And satellites, I’m told, but they all looked like stars to me, on the blackest background the universe has to offer. That was another nice little moment. Maybe I would have become an astronomer. Or an astronaut.
“But as lovely as the night sky was, I had to pee, and besides, the stars would be there when I got back. I switched on my light—a pitiful, cheap little flashlight—and started up the slope to the bathroom. I couldn’t find the trail I’d used earlier, so I just made my own trail, shining my light back onto my tent to keep myself oriented. Pretty soon I could see the light from the bathroom.
“The park bathroom was unheated, and lit only by a few, bare, incandescent bulbs. Screened openings, just beneath the ceiling, provide the only ventilation. Because of the bulbs, there were insects everywhere; anytime the door is opened, more come in. While I stood at the toilet, I watched moths and long, spindly bugs creep along the wall in front of me, and I tried not to think about all the bugs that were probably just above my head, and I tried not to look at all the bugs swimming in the toilet bowl. Even though I was slathered in insect repellent, bugs still flew into me.
“As I relieved myself, that was when I heard the noise, a clicking sound, like this.” Cousin Mike made a noise with his mouth. Molly lifted her legs up from the floor, curled up against Mom. “The sound came from behind me.
“You all know how vulnerable you feel when you’re in a public bathroom, especially when you’re using the toilet. I got pretty scared. I figured an animal had gotten in, and I didn’t like the idea of being caught by a bobcat or a wolverine with my pants down. I zipped up quick, wet myself a little—Molly, I’m sorry, I’m being gross.”
Molly didn’t say a word. Mom was starting to wonder if she should cut Cousin Mike off, if he was going to scare Molly.
“So I go back out, a little shaken up, trying to laugh at myself, but feeling very exposed and ill-equipped. My cheap flashlight flickered a bit—I turned back toward the bathroom—to keep my bearings—I certainly didn’t want to get lost—the idea terrified me—and I saw a figure step out of the men’s room, and I could have sworn it was a woman.
“Oddly enough, that was kind of comforting. I could laugh at that. A female camper went into the wrong bathroom and when I came in she was embarrassed, so she hid in a stall. That made sense, it explained everything, and so I moved toward my tent with a slightly renewed sense of confidence.
“When I shone my light back toward the bathroom again, I caught a glimpse of that figure again, and the way it moved—I couldn’t tell anymore if it was a man or a woman—the way it moved horrified me. Instead of walking like a man, it moved rapidly side to side, its legs wide apart, making an upside-down ‘V.’ Its legs didn’t bend—I couldn’t see how it moved, exactly, but it did move, and was moving toward me,
crossing back and forth over the path I’d made.
“I ran.
“A tent is a funny thing, because it’s no protection from anything, really, except bugs and small animals and the elements. But once you’re in it, you feel safer. So I got into my tent and zipped it shut and turned off my flashlight and sat as still as I could. I was out of breath; I fought to breathe as slowly and quietly as possible.
“I knew it was outside my tent because I heard the sound I’d heard in the bathroom.” Cousin Mike made the noise again, and now Molly was frightened, but also needed to hear the end of the story, and Mom was worried for Molly but engrossed and Dad was too.
“My heart hurt inside my chest, and it surely skipped a beat when something scratched the outside of my tent. Ran its nails or claws all over the tent, to taunt me, because surely it could tear the tent apart if it wished to.
“I knew it was not an animal when it pulled at the tent zipper.
“I had no weapon and so I prayed. I spoke the Lord’s Prayer as loud and clear as I could: ‘Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name’—the zipper, inched upward—‘Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven’—I grew more confident and raised my voice—‘give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us’—the zipper stopped, and I finished out the prayer—‘and lead us not, into temptation, but deliver us from evil.’ When I said ‘amen,’ I had the strength to open the tent and step out into the night. I turned on my flashlight and walked around my tent. There was nothing.”
No one said a word. Cousin Mike broke the spell by tossing another log onto the fire. The room brightened. Cousin Mike said, “There are demons in this world. And God has provided us with a way to protect ourselves.”
Cousin Mike stood and said, “You can see why I don’t often tell this story. And I hardly intended to tell it tonight! Now—” and Cousin Mike slapped his stomach— “I didn’t mention this when you came in, but I’ve a roast cooking for dinner tonight and—” he sniffed the air— “judging by the smell, dinner will soon be ready. Why don’t you folks go upstairs and freshen up? I’d take you up—I should have—but I think I’d better boil the potatoes. Follow me.”