Watch How We Walk

by Jennifer LoveGrove

  — Is he really your boyfriend?

  Lenora continues to ignore her.

  — Come on, tell me!

  Despite a few more minutes of Lenora’s silent treatment, Emily doesn’t give up. Lenora has finished her nails and blows on them.

  — Was it hard?

  — Was what hard?

  — The test.

  — Ems, come on, do I look like a punk rocker to you? Do you even know what that means?

  — Yes! No! I mean, I know what it is.

  — Fine. I’ll tell you. But you have to promise you won’t tell anybody. I mean it, and if you do, if I even think you might have told Mom or Dad or anyone, I’ll tell them you were reading your worldly books out in service. Got it?

  — I promise. Now tell me!

  — This is what happened. A few weeks ago at school I wore my white sweater and at lunch I spilled grape juice on it. I didn’t have anything else to change into, so Marla, whose locker is next to mine, loaned me an extra t-shirt. It was a Misfits fiend skull shirt, a real one from New York City, not a stupid copy—

  — What’s a Misfits . . . Emily trails off.

  — Never mind. It’s a band. It was a band t-shirt, that’s why you’re not allowed to tell.

  — That’s it?

  — Pretty much.

  Jehovah’s Witnesses cannot have posters of rock stars hanging in their rooms or wear t-shirts of bands, because that’s idolatry and is a sin. There is but one true God, and though they are allowed to watch television and listen to the radio, they must not worship humans. Emily loves Han Solo, and Chewbacca too, and has a tiny picture of them, torn from the newspaper, hidden under her mattress.

  — But what was on the test?

  — You’re such a geek. It’s always about books and tests with you. Okay, I’ll tell you, but then you have to get out of my room and go away, get it?

  — Okay, if you tell me. Emily wonders how hard the test was, and if she would be able to pass.

  — I was walking down the hallway on my way to French class, by myself, and Theo started walking next to me, real close, like he knew me or something.

  — The skinhead?

  — Yes, the skinhead, the biggest skinhead in school, even the teachers are scared of him. But he’s not a racist. Anyway, he said to me, ‘Smash the heads of little girls and hang ’em on my wall,’ like he was trying to freak me out, pretend he’s a serial killer or something.

  — Is he demonized?

  Lenora laughs really loud.

  — I won’t let a guy like him intimidate me, so I looked him right in his big green eyes and I said, “Skulls,” from the first album, Walk Among Us. Any more questions?’ And then he smiled. I’d never seen a skinhead smile before, honestly, and he kept walking with me, all impressed that I got it. He was still grinning like an idiot until I said, ‘Actually, it’s “Hack the heads off little girls,” not “smash.”’ That got him, so he called me a bitch and stomped away.

  Emily stares at Lenora. She doesn’t understand. Maybe she’s just trying to scare her. She narrows her eyes and looks, really looks, at her sister. Platinum hair, blue fingernails, crimson lips. Her Hall clothes are the same but even the plain grey dress looks somehow immodest. She squints and Lenora becomes even more unfamiliar and indistinct. What happened to her sister? She wants to yell for her to stop it, to just stop being so weird and different and new, and just go back to normal. She can still see glimpses of her sister sometimes, just enough to know that she’s still there, and that makes her even more frustrated, like she’s hiding from her on purpose. That’s when she decides not to give Lenora the candle holder she made especially for her. She’ll give it to her uncle Tyler instead. She climbs off the bed and backs away from her.

  Lenora looks up and grins.

  — That’s how I knew Theo liked me. Now get out of my room.

  17

  THE NEXT DAY, EMILY DECIDES to play by herself, alone in her room. She doesn’t want to be around anyone else.

  On the bed in front of her, she lines up her stuffed animals in a row: Toaster, Zig Zag, Raggedy Ann, a pink bear named Rosie, Barbie, and assorted dolls. They are playing At the Meeting.

  Emily stands at the foot of the bed, in her father’s suit jacket, sleeves unevenly rolled, with his black and silver striped tie knotted awkwardly around her neck, Bible in hand. She is conducting the meeting. She is the elder.

  Each member of her congregation has a tiny Awake! magazine on its lap. Emily likes the Awake! magazines better than The Watchtower; the articles are not just about the Bible, but discuss animals or food or other countries, and they’re more interesting, though she feels guilty thinking that. It took Emily two hours to make all the miniature booklets. She wrote the titles and drew the pictures by hand, etching black lines where paragraphs would go, and painstakingly writing out the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society address in New York in tiny printing on the back of each copy.

  — Attention please, could I have everyone’s attention. She uses her deep, serious, elder-like voice. She wishes she had actual chairs for each of them, but making the magazines was hard enough. The real Kingdom Hall is a plain rectangular building, perched on the outskirts of town, surrounded by its parking lot. Inside are rigid lines of red chairs, perfectly aligned and spaced before each meeting. Her blue and white bedroom, with its floral curtains and ruffled bedspread, looks nothing like the Hall. Her math textbook is the stage, and she stands on it, imagining the podium and microphone.

  At the real meetings, the podium is only for the brothers’ talks, which take place on Thursdays and Sundays, though it is not just the elders who speak. Any brother who is old enough can be assigned a topic on which to give a short speech at the Thursday meeting; they don’t even have to be baptized yet. The elders create what Emily assumes must be an elaborate schedule of subjects and names and dates. You get a month’s notice when it’s your turn, and you never know your topic until then, which must be terrifying.

  When a young brother presents his first talk, everyone is excited and pays attention, whispering about his performance, shushing one another, while they all wonder what kind of marks the elders will give him. Some of the elements they score are comprehension of material, enthusiasm, volume, and gestures. With each brother’s subsequent attempt, the elders focus on different points, usually the ones on which he’d previously scored “Needs Improvement.” Emily’s mom says you can always tell when a brother is being marked on “Gestures.” He’ll extend one hand jerkily toward the congregation at regular intervals, every ten seconds, then immediately clutch the podium again, like a tic. Sometimes it’s hard to actually pay attention to what he’s saying, because you get lulled into his rhythmic hand movements. The gesture may or may not be relevant to what the brother is saying, and Emily’s mom often mumbles her own critiques.

  — There go the hand spasms again. Must be Gestures tonight.

  There is also a table and chairs set in the corner of the stage, next to a large vase of fake flowers. The table and chairs are for the sisters’ talks. They don’t stand alone at the podium. The sisters are assigned a partner, and their presentation is in the form of a conversation, or a short skit, like at school. You have a lot more creative license, Emily’s mom says, than the brothers do. In their sketches, one person can pretend to be the reluctant worldly person who is won over by the Truth and agrees to a home Bible study at the end, or it can be a discussion between two sisters to clarify a particular point. Lenora has done a couple of talks now — one with Debbie Vincent, who is a few years older than her, finished high school, and now Auxiliary Pioneering, and one with their mom. In that one, her mom pretended to be a worldly person who was going to give permission for her daughter, dying of leukemia, to get a blood transfusion, and Lenora was the Witness who explained why it was wrong and talked her out of it. Their talk was supposed to be set at a hospita
l, and they wanted Emily and Lenora’s father to walk across the stage in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck, to make it more authentic. He refused, saying that was going too far.

  — Don’t make a mockery of the Truth.

  — You’re no fun at all! Lenora slammed her door and their mom just shook her head. They rehearsed every night for two weeks. Even without the doctor’s cameo appearance, she scored “Very Good” on all her points.

  — AHEM. EMILY BEGINS HER talk, looking down upon her small congregation of silent followers.

  — Tonight we are going to talk about Armageddon and the Great Tribulation. Please turn to page four and pay close attention.

  Outside, her father scrapes the shovel through icy snow and rasps a path from door to car. Good. Her father is outside, her mother is in town getting groceries, and none of them know where Lenora is. She doesn’t want any of them eavesdropping on her playing At the Meeting. She might get one of the scriptures wrong and her dad would correct her, or Lenora would make fun of her. It’s much better to have the house to herself and be alone. She licks her lips, smoothes her hair, and resumes her sermon.

  — Armageddon is when Jehovah God will destroy all the worldly people and only people in the Truth will be saved. It will be very frightening. What are some of the ways He will put an end to this wicked system of things? Emily surveys the row of creatures on her bed.

  — Yes, Brother Zig Zag?

  — Lightning?

  — That’s right, Brother Zig Zag, God will use big bolts of lightning and fire to kill the worldly people. Good for you. What are some of the other ways? Brother Toaster?

  — Giant boulders of hail?

  — Very good! Definitely there will be monstrous hailstones. Even worse than that, Jehovah will also use earthquakes and diseases that make your eyes burn out and your arms fall off too. Molten lava will rain down from heaven, giant boulders will stone to death the unbelievers, and lightning bolts will split the trees and the buildings. But we must be very brave and strong and even happy when Armageddon and the Great Tribulation come, because afterwards there will be Paradise forever. Do you have a question, Sister Raggedy Ann?

  — Um, yes I do. Her voice is a tiny squeak.

  — What is the Great Tribulation?

  — Ah yes, brothers and sisters, the Great Tribulation will be very, very tough for everyone. It will be a time of extreme hardship and persecution. It’s when God will test us by making terrible things happen, so He can find out who has good faith and who is secretly bad. All Jehovah’s Witnesses will be tortured in various ways, and some brothers and sisters might even die.

  Emily pauses. She isn’t sure when the Great Tribulation is supposed to happen, if it’s before Armageddon or after. Her gold My Book of Bible Stories doesn’t mention it, though there is a picture of Jesus leading an army of white horses into the fires of Armageddon on Earth. She thinks it must be before that, while all the worldly people are still alive.

  Emily wonders how God will kill Tammy Bales when He destroys the world at Armageddon. Will she be melted alive from the fire and lava? Her face and clothes and arms would dissolve into a gooey heap and she’d be gone, and no Resurrection for her. Or maybe she’ll be crushed to death by massive hailstones, all of her bones broken and smashed, splintered, and protruding through her torn, bleeding flesh. Perhaps she’ll be struck by lightning, split in half by an angry bolt thrust down from the hand of God. She’d be sliced in two, and everyone would be able to see her liver and bone marrow and dangling veins.

  — Some people will get diseases like leprosy and curse God and die. Other people will be tested like Abraham. Who remembers what happened to Abraham? She surveys her obedient congregation.

  — Yes, Sister Barbie?

  — God made him tie up his son and sacrifice him with a big knife for no reason, and just as Abraham was about to cut his throat open, God said he could stop.

  — That’s right, Sister Barbie! Good for you. He passed God’s test.

  Downstairs, a door slams, and she can hear her mother put the groceries away. She wonders if she will call her down to help, so she stops for a minute, but her mom says nothing.

  Emily starts when the phone rings. Her mother answers it, then tells someone that Lenora isn’t home. Emily exhales and straightens her suit jacket. She is too hot inside it, but the elders never take off their suit jackets during a meeting. Not even in the summer.

  Emily rearranges her congregation on the bed, seating Rosie and Zig Zag next to each other. They are married, she decides. She shoves them against each other. Then she straightens Barbie’s clothes, and tugs her skirt down.

  — That shouldn’t be above your knees, Sister Barbie; you’ll get in trouble. Emily gives her a dirty look and walks back onto her math textbook to resume the meeting. Her elder-voice booms through her room; she smiles at how authoritative she sounds.

  — Attention everyone, attention. The break is over, take your seats please.

  She clasps her hands in front of her and rocks on her heels. She gazes down at her charges, all staring straight ahead like they’re supposed to. What she has to say next is going to be difficult.

  — I have bad news, my little brothers and sisters. It is unfortunate to have to say, but today I must disfellowship a member of our congregation . . . Emily trails off. She doesn’t exactly know what she is supposed to say next. She’s never heard anyone get disfellowshipped before, and isn’t sure how the elder would put it. She takes a deep breath and considers how they talk about the more difficult topics at the Hall.

  — We must all be clean and pure before God. When someone sins again and again and doesn’t care, they must be removed. They have to get disfellowshipped. That means no one can speak to the person who is cast out, not even your family. It must be as though they are dead. If they repent, they are allowed to get reinstated, but until then, they must sit in the last row at the Hall and not talk to anyone or put their hand up at the meetings.

  Emily breathes quickly, as though there is not quite enough air in her room. It is scary to think of someone getting disfellowshipped, but she must go through with it, because someday it could happen to someone in their own congregation and she must be prepared.

  — Does everyone understand?

  Emily runs over and nods the heads of all her dolls and stuffed animals.

  — Good. She steps back onstage.

  — Sister Rosie, you are hereby disfellowshipped. It is for adultery. That’s God’s will.

  Emily knows what adultery is; it’s when you are married and you have fornication with someone who is not your husband or wife. She pats Zig Zag on his head.

  — Don’t be sad, Brother Zig Zag. Maybe she’ll be repentant and get reinstated before Armageddon. Emily picks up Rosie.

  — Begone! She throws her against the other side of her bedroom, and hears a click as one of Rosie’s plastic eyes hit the far wall. She slides down onto the pale blue carpet and is still.

  — You’re bad and must be punished! Emily straightens her tie, stomps over to Rosie, picks her up by her foot, and opens her sock drawer. She shoves Rosie into the back corner next to her tights with holes in them and slams

  it shut.

  From the kitchen, her mother calls her to set the table for dinner.

  — Coming! Emily forgets to stop using her elder voice.

  — The meeting is over.

  After she puts her toys back in their usual places, she tries to undo her dad’s tie. She can’t get it off; the knot is too tight. Her fingertips burn from trying.

  — Hurry up, Emily!

  Emily shrugs the jacket off and onto the floor, tucks the rest of the tie under her t-shirt, and goes downstairs, hoping her mom won’t notice and be mad at her for taking one of her dad’s Hall ties.

  — Why are you wearing your father’s tie? Emily’s mom hands h
er a stack of plates from the cupboard.

  — I was playing.

  — Playing what?

  Emily shrugs.

  — Playing dress-up?

  — Yeah.

  — Dressing up like a man?

  Emily’s face goes red. It would sound even weirder to tell her mom that she was pretending to be an elder.

  — Who were you dressing up like, Emily?

  — I don’t know.

  But Emily doesn’t want to lie; she is afraid of Armageddon and the Great Tribulation, and she has lied enough lately. She decides that would rather tell the truth than risk leprosy or giant hail.

  — I was pretending to be an elder. Like at the Hall. Emily doesn’t look at her mother as she sets out the cutlery, evenly spacing the spoons and the knives and the forks.

  Her mom coughs and when Emily looks at her, she smiles.

  — What on earth for? Don’t you have any homework to do? Don’t you want to play outside or something? We’ll be going out in service all afternoon tomorrow — you should have some fun while you can.

  Emily shrugs. She was having fun. She likes making little Watchtower and Awake! magazines for Zig Zag and the others, and she likes to conduct meetings for them.

  — Come here and let me untie that before your father sees you.

  Her mom grins at her and pulls her toward her, ruffling her hair, for the first time in what feels like forever.

  18

  TWO GUYS AND A YOUNG woman were hunched over a table in the corner. At regular intervals, one of them would look over their shoulder when they thought I couldn’t see them, then say something to the others. They seemed to take turns looking at me. I didn’t want to serve them but I was the only waitress working that afternoon. Like most days, I hadn’t slept much the night before and it was hard to focus. Worse, the customers never seemed to stay in one spot after they ordered their drinks, and so I had to try to remember who wanted which beers and then figure out where they were.