— Fine. We’re all fine. He turns his back to Mr. Patton and nods sharply.
— Let’s go, Emily. They don’t have the cables I need.
EMILY CAN SMELL HER MOM’S instant coffee when they get home. Even though she would rather stay home all day and watch cartoons and read, she is going out in service with Uncle Tyler. Lenora is supposed to come too, but she overslept and promises to go on Sunday instead.
In the kitchen, her mom sits slumped at the table and Uncle Tyler leans against the fridge. The kettle screeches and Emily jumps. Her mom rubs her temples, sighs, and turns off the burner.
— Okay kiddo, looks like it’s just you and me today, let’s go.
Uncle Tyler’s coat and suit jacket are slung over one shoulder and his tie is loosened. His hair curls over the collar of his shirt. Emily frowns. She knows that people from the Hall already think his appearance is inappropriate; their parents argue, debating whether or not they should tell him what the other brothers and sisters say about him. He might get in trouble with the elders if he doesn’t start being more careful, but he doesn’t care.
Emily has packed her Hall purse with her Bible, the most recent issues of Awake! and The Watchtower, and some back issues, which they can place with interested people for free. The new issues are two for a dollar, which is called a contribution. She has also hidden a Trixie Belden mystery under her Bible. She stayed up late reading it under her blankets with a flashlight, and she wants to find out what happens next. Uncle Tyler won’t tell on her; he’s not like that. She pulls her coat on and hops from one foot to the other, excited but nervous at the prospect of an afternoon with her uncle. She knows that going out in service with him is not going to be like when she goes door to door with her dad, who’s always so serious, mad at her, or disappointed that she isn’t better at preaching to strangers. Lenora is way better at it; her voice never shakes and her face doesn’t turn bright red.
But going out in service with Uncle Tyler makes her feel like she is in trouble in a different way. She knows her dad didn’t want her to go. Her parents argued about it the night before.
— I don’t trust that he’ll be a good influence on the girls, or that he’ll set the proper example, Vivian.
— Of course he will. Just because he’s young and likes to joke around doesn’t mean he doesn’t take the Truth seriously. They’ll be fine. It’ll be good for them to spend some more time with their uncle.
Emily is disappointed that Lenora isn’t coming, and jealous that she can stay home whenever she wants — Emily never has any choice in what she can do — but secretly she’s glad she’ll get Uncle Tyler all to herself. He’s never in a bad mood and, more importantly, he understands her. For example, if they’re supposed to call on a house where one of her classmates lives, he’ll let her wait in the car instead, lying down in the back seat with her book, or they’ll skip that address entirely. He never tells her that she should be stronger or try harder or Witness more at school; he just lets her relax.
Even though he seems to always be on the verge of getting in trouble, she’s missed him lately. Things are more fun when he’s around, like at the meetings when he gives her silly notes when her parents aren’t looking. Once, last year, he made her give him her Hall purse at the break. Besides her Bible, Watchtower, and songbook, she had also snuck another Trixie Belden mystery with her, and she didn’t want to get caught. Not that she would read it at the Hall; only in the car on the way there, or afterwards. She just couldn’t put it down. Sometimes, while her dad would chat with the elders after a meeting, she’d sneak out to the cold unlocked car and read her novel by the interior light, with the door ajar. But she trusted her uncle, and she handed over her Hall purse. He told her not to look in it until after the meeting, and she didn’t, but she was unable to listen to the brothers’ talks at all for that hour, since she was busy squirming in her chair, trying to guess what he put in her bag. It turned out to be a treasure map that he drew himself — a map of the car, with an arrow that pointed to the sun visor. When Emily pulled that down, she found a note that said to look under the floor mats — three of them concealed only twigs and pebbles and gum wrappers but under the fourth was a note telling her to look where “there were no mittens.” It didn’t take her long to find the bag of chips — dill pickle, her favourite — in the glove compartment.
EMILY’S MOM IS STILL IN her housecoat. Her hair is even bigger and fuzzier than usual, and she stills has smears of yesterday’s dark blue eyeliner under her eyes. She’s staying home with Lenora while their father is out working on another house. She makes sure Emily has her hat and mitts with her, but fortunately doesn’t check her bag. When she stirs her instant coffee, the spoon clangs like a bell, shrill and loud.
— How come you’re not coming, Mom? Emily knows she won’t get in trouble for asking a question like this, because her uncle Tyler is here and she never gets in trouble in front of company.
— I’m not feeling well. I’ll take Lenora out tomorrow, don’t worry. She takes a long slurp and looks at Uncle Tyler.
— I thought you were getting your hair cut yesterday. Look at it, it’s way too long. Emily’s mom frowns, chews at her lip.
— Sister Bulchinsky was going on about it after the meeting the other night to anyone who would listen. It’s embarrassing.
Uncle Tyler runs his fingers through his curls, stretches them out.
— Almost enough for a ponytail. What would Sister Bulchinsky say then?
Emily’s mom sighs and shrugs.
— Everyone says it’s immodest. Don’t cause trouble. Try to set a good example for your nieces.
— Relax, would you? I forgot. I’ll get it cut this week. He winks at Emily.
— Let’s hit the road, kiddo.
Her uncle likes cars, and has had a different one every year or two, mostly older ones that he and his friends fix up, and his latest one is unlike any she’s ever seen. The front half looks like a car and the back looks like a pickup truck. It’s called an El Camino. Uncle Tyler keeps it spotless and shiny and she squints her eyes at the bright blueness of it. He starts the car, puts on his sunglasses, and turns up the radio as the car crunches down the driveway. They lurch onto the road and the tires squeal. Emily cringes and turns to look back. Her mom is shaking her head between the panels of green floral curtains.
Uncle Tyler turns the volume up and nods his head to the music, driving faster than her father would. In fact, he’s nothing like Emily’s dad. He’s younger, and is more like a big brother than a grown-up like her parents. He’s more like Lenora, someone Emily looks up to, but they both do things that make her insides clench up and then she can’t sleep very well. Neither has done anything so bad that the elders have reproved them, but small things that she knows mean something bigger, like Lenora having worldly friends, or her uncle growing his hair long. One of them is not so bad, but lots of them added together turn into trouble.
Uncle Tyler drives with one hand on the steering wheel and drums on the seat to the music with his other hand.
— You like The Cult, kiddo?
Emily doesn’t know what to say. Occult means the devil, Satan, Jehovah God’s biggest enemy. If you are interested in the occult, you can get demonized, just like people who use Ouija boards, just like Brother Richard’s house.
He turns the radio down slightly.
— Hey, relax, I’m just kidding. I know you don’t listen to this stuff. I’m just teasing. Forget it.
Emily looks out the window. They pass the street the Kingdom Hall is on.
— We’re supposed to go that way. She points back toward the street that they missed.
— I know. I thought we’d go for some ice cream first. We have lots of time before the service meeting.
The service meeting is always short, only about fifteen minutes, and is usually held at the Kingdom Hall, though sometimes it’s at
a brother’s home, in his kitchen or rec room. Today it’s at the Hall, and the elder will go over the main points to use when they go door to door, and then they’ll organize who goes in whose car. Some brothers and sisters don’t have cars of their own, or their cars are in such poor shape that it isn’t appropriate to use them in service. They’ll also find out which territory they’re going to be working in today. Emily knows it is wrong, but always hopes for a territory as far from her school as possible.
Emily’s dad hardly ever lets them go for ice cream when they go out in service, except maybe once in the summer, and only after they were done, after they’d marked their hours down on the time slips.
They aren’t allowed to listen to the radio out in service either, unless her dad has to check the weather, but no music. No worldly music, that’s for sure. Her uncle’s music is loud and fast, maybe even heavy metal. At one of the Thursday night meetings last month, the elders explained that if you play these songs backwards, you hear messages from the devil. They tell you to kill your mother, or commit fornication, or do drugs. Some kids in the States killed themselves after listening to Black Sabbath. It’s called backward masking, and if you listen to it, even by accident, you can become demonized. Black Sabbath and Judas Priest are the worst of all.
— You like this song, kiddo? It’s called ‘Rain.’ Uncle Tyler hums along.
— Here comes the rain . . .
— It’s okay, I guess. She lets her breath out carefully. It doesn’t sound Satanic, they’re only singing about the rain, and Jehovah makes the rain, and all natural things, so it must be all right.
— Actually, your sister loaned me this tape. She’s a big fan. Her uncle looks over at her.
— Really?
— Really. She has pretty good taste in music.
Emily didn’t know that Uncle Tyler and Lenora hung out together without her, trading tapes and skipping going out in service. And talking about her probably, since she wasn’t invited.
— What do you think of her new hair-do? Wild, huh? She’s turning out to be pretty cool.
— I guess so. Emily looks out the window, seeing nothing.
— Hey. Cheer up. What’s the matter?
— Nothing. She turns away.
— Are you sure?
Emily forces herself to look over at Uncle Tyler and smile. It feels ridiculous and plastic. How can he even believe her?
— Yeah. I’m okay.
They pull into the Dairy Queen parking lot.
13
EMILY BREATHES AS DEEPLY AS she can, holds it as she counts to ten in her head, then exhales, as Uncle Tyler turns onto Willow Street, toward the Kingdom Hall. The caramel sundae sloshes and heaves like a swollen, polluted river in her stomach. Please Jehovah, don’t let me throw up in Uncle Tyler’s car. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
She exhales loudly a few more times, and the nausea passes. When they reach the Hall, the parking lot is empty.
Her uncle smiles, his sunglasses still on. With her parents, Emily has never missed a service meeting. This is unlike other Sundays, the pattern is wrong. Ice cream in the middle of the day, a fast car, loud music, an empty Hall.
— I guess we missed the meeting. Uncle Tyler’s voice fills the car over the radio. He doesn’t sound worried.
— You said we had lots of time.
— My watch must be wrong. His car doesn’t have a clock on the dash like Emily’s father’s car does.
— Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. I’ll tell your mom it was my fault. She can give me crap about it, I don’t care. I’m used to it.
Emily cringes at the almost-swear. Substitute swears are just as bad as actual ones, they mean the same thing and everybody knows what you’re really saying.
— But how will we know which territory we’re supposed to be in today? There is no way he can know that; Uncle Tyler is not an elder, not even close. He’s too young, first of all, but that’s not it. There are other reasons Emily cannot quite identify. He’s not worldly, he’s baptized, but he’s not like her father, serious and strict and always studying the books and magazines from the Watchtower Society. He isn’t like other men at the Hall, who rarely even smile, who have secrets and committees, wives and kids. Uncle Tyler doesn’t seem to care what other brothers and sisters do, although they all keep watch over one another. No one is ever left out.
They can’t just pick any road to start on, another car of Jehovah’s Witnesses would likely already be there, or could have been there last week. The door-to-door schedules are carefully planned by the elders; they keep track of everyone’s time sheets and who is assigned which territory. You can’t call on someone too often, or they won’t listen and will be even less interested.
— We don’t need a territory today, I have some back calls we can make instead. It’ll be okay. We won’t get in trouble.
— You have back calls?
— Sure I do. I’m not as bad as your parents think I am, you know.
Emily’s stomach starts to improve, the ice cream stops sloshing, and her face isn’t as hot.
— Are they studying?
— What? Uncle Tyler looks out the window at the names of side roads.
— Is who studying?
— Your back calls. Are any of them studying with you?
Uncle Tyler laughs as he pulls into a long driveway on River Road, toward Pine Shore Trailer Park. No, he is coughing. He hacks into his fist, turning red, clears his throat, then responds.
— No. They’re not studying. Not yet, anyway. Soon, probably. They’re definitely interested. You can tell your dad that; pretty soon they’ll be studying the Truth.
Studying is the next step toward becoming part of the Truth, becoming one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. After they study the literature — the various magazines and books like Is There a Creator Who Cares About You? or The Truth That Leads to Eternal Life — the new Bible students start coming to the meetings, although they aren’t allowed to raise their hands to answer any of the questions yet. After studying for a year or so, the new people are eligible to get baptized at one of the district assemblies or the summer convention. Once you’re baptized you are a Jehovah’s Witness forever, unless you get disfellowshipped. Lenora got baptized when she was just fourteen years old, which is young to be baptized, but Lenora is smart.
Emily hasn’t personally known anyone who has been disfellowshipped, though she has seen one or two of them come to the meetings once in a while. You can become disfellowshipped if you commit a grievous sin and aren’t repentant. A disfellowshipped brother or sister is cast out from the congregation, and no one is allowed to talk to them, not even their own relatives. If they continue to come to the meetings at the Kingdom Hall, they must sit at the back, alone, and not speak to anyone. Everyone whispers and then are shushed, because you must treat them as though they are dead. It says so in the Bible, in 1 Corinthians: Remove the wicked from among yourselves.
Her uncle shuts off the car near the first block of trailers. Emily tries not to be nervous. Deep breaths slow her heartbeat back to normal, but things don’t feel right. The sun glares against the wet snow and hurts her eyes. She squints, picks up her Hall purse, and gets out of the car.
Uncle Tyler forgets his briefcase in the El Camino.
Emily has only been to the trailer park once before, last year, and it was not like going door to door on a regular street. The people are louder, the dogs run loose, toys are strewn on lawns, and kids stare at them, or worse, climb trees and throw chestnuts at them.
The park is brown with muddy slush, with rusted skeletons of bikes left outside in winter. It has snowed lately, then melted, then snowed again, which always makes a mess. Emily walks carefully behind Uncle Tyler, avoiding slush and dog poop, wondering why this place is called a park. There are no swings, no picnic area, and it’s far too cluttered. None of the trailers h
ave wheels; they are there for good.
Uncle Tyler knocks on the door of trailer number seventeen. There’s no sound from inside. Emily shivers and wonders if they’ll have any kids she can talk to, maybe a boy her age who has a lot of Lego sets, or even video games. Not very many kids from the Hall have video games, but she’s played a ping-pong game, and Pac-Man at Uncle Tyler’s place.
Someone pulls the curtain aside from the window, then a man with a big blond moustache flings open the door.
— Tyler, my man, how’s it going! He wears tight black jeans and a t-shirt that says Styx in orange letters.
He shouts into the trailer over his shoulder.
— Hey Jeff. Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty, Tyler’s here! He shakes his head at her uncle.
— The lazy bastard. And who might you be, young lady?
Emily looks up toward her uncle. He nods.
— Emily.
— This is my niece, Emily, my sister’s kid. I’m taking her out in door-to-door service this afternoon.
— Right on, I get you. He bends down toward Emily and extends his hand.
— I’m Michael. Come on in out of the cold.
Michael’s living room furniture is green and scratchy and dirty dishes cover the coffee table, along with an assortment of beer bottles and ashtrays. Emily tries not to look at the mess. She sits on the edge of the couch, her Hall purse at her feet. She can still smell it though, cigarette butts and stale beer, and gags. She doesn’t want to hurt Michael’s feelings, so she covers it up with a cough, and decides from then on to breathe only through her mouth.
— What’ve you been up to, man?
— Not much. The usual. Uncle Tyler shifts around on the couch next to Emily and settles in.
On the walls are posters of various worldly bands, like Trooper and Queen and Kiss. Some hang crooked. Emily looks at the floor, a yellow shag rug, in dire need of a vacuum. That’s what Emily’s mom would say: in dire need. At home, Emily’s mom vacuums every day, and it is Emily’s job to go after her and pick up by hand any bits of lint missed by the vacuum. She crawls across the rug in the wake of the vacuum, pick pick pick, gone are the little white bits of lint, while Lenora sneers in the doorway, spitting words as though they are rotten, words like “demeaning.”
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