The Word

by William Lane

  The timer on the oven shrilled, and Connie jumped. Having said her piece (not for the first time), she began placidly setting the table, leaning over people’s shoulders.

  ‘I used to be grateful for The Word,’ continued Judith, ‘for this oasis of clarity and authenticity among the decay of language at large in our society, as seen in advertising and public discourse. Here is a chance to get to the root, to root out the ill, to reboot –’

  ‘I think –’ began Krystal, interrupting Judith, but then Tess began talking over Krystal. ‘Yes, what Judith says is right, it seems some here have fallen deaf, deaf to our message,’ said Tess. ‘We are all searching for a better way to live, and what an opportunity we have here, every day facing the source of society’s ills – its abused tongue – yet that opportunity is being squandered in pettiness and little falsities and sins of omission, and what poor material –’

  ‘Did you notice Judith didn’t lisp once when she got on a roll?’ Robert asked Justin. ‘I’ve noticed that before.’

  ‘It’s when she gets angry,’ said Justin. ‘She doesn’t lisp when she’s angry.’

  ‘ – I said what poor material Kenric has to work with,’ Tess continued, glaring at the confiding men. ‘Look at what we’ve become: bickering and divided, and in the meantime neglecting or even abusing a potentially wonderful idea – that’s the tragedy. And now we’re dragged through the gutter press, which uses words completely cynically and can’t even write competently. I have not been able to think, to read, to write today, for worry about our situation – we have grown complacent, almost overnight! How fast a venture such as ours can unravel, how delicate it is! Yet isn’t it worth something still?’

  While Tess was speaking, Connie had been carefully serving out her special chicken curry with rice, long established as a favourite with the group. The members began inspecting and tasting their servings. All of them became silent as they began to eat, only speaking to compliment Connie, who was soon rosy with praise.

  ‘I want to congratulate Bruno,’ said Kenric as they neared the end of the meal. Bruno’s head went up. ‘I congratulate him on his silence. He has said nothing all evening.’

  Bruno gave Kenric a wary look, bordering on the hostile.

  ‘How about we correct a billboard later tonight, Bruno? Fancy the new Coke Adds Life sign opposite the McDonald’s?’

  Bruno shrugged but grinned. ‘Sure,’ he said. He was expert at putting up a ladder, spray-painting a few words, and taking down the ladder in a matter of seconds.

  They stayed up late that night, except Maria, who went to bed early, pleading weariness. Tess took Maria’s vacated chair beside Kenric. A giggling Krystal and Teddy climbed the stairs about midnight, soon followed by Judith, then Connie, leaving Tess with the men drinking at the table.

  Drunk, they began to read the wine bottle labels, as a kind of appetiser for defacing the billboard.

  ‘“The journey of this wine”,’ Justin declaimed, ‘“begins far from our vineyards, at a point where the earth claims a share (what the fuck?!) of the (something or other) river … after a six-month journey (who’s counting?) through a rocky aquifer, the water is released to a spring … this spring provides both the crystal-clear, pure (how original) water for our vines and guides the philosophy behind our winery” –’

  ‘Guided by a spring!’

  ‘But what could this philosophy be?’ wondered Tess.

  ‘Bacchic, no doubt,’ answered Robert.

  ‘Now shoosh,’ said Justin, ‘let me read … “this wine is fresh, vibrant and packed full of delicious tropical (hang on, it comes from New Zealand!) and citrus flavours … sure to impress”!’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ admitted Tess, ‘the words suit the taste. It’s all true.’

  ‘How about this one,’ Justin said, taking up another empty bottle: ‘“Steep hills, granite loams, good spring rain and plenty of TLC have resulted in passionfruit and capsicum aromas and the taste of green melons” – green melons? Hang on, how much did we pay for this? Do we want to taste green melons? But wait, there’s more – listen to this: “In the dry, flat heat of summer (drum roll) as spring approaches (hang on – where did autumn and winter go?), the black Bay of Biscay soils of the (Australian!) vineyard crack open.”’

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Don’t fear: “a natural process which annually breaks off superfluous fingerling vine roots, reducing vine vigour without human intervention.”’

  ‘Nice – very nice,’ said Robert. ‘I can just taste the little broken fingerlings.’

  ‘“Black fruits and spice ooze in layers for breathtaking persistence and satisfying length in this fruit-driven wine” – I blush! This one’s for the ladies!’

  Kenric sent Justin, Bruno and Barnabus on their way to deface the Coca-Cola sign. ‘I’m going too,’ said an inebriated Robert, knocking over his chair as he got up, ‘I’ve had enough of that Coke sign. All my fucking life I’ve been putting up with fucking Coke signs.’ The four left in Bruno’s ute, which had room for all in its extended cabin, plus the ladder in the tray.

  Tess and Kenric listened as the vehicle departed, and the warehouse and the highway were united in silence.

  Tess, who had been sitting on the table, slid along it to perch before Kenric, and invited him upstairs.

  ‘Maria’s here,’ he answered, shaking his head. Tess had not drunk as much as the others, he realised.

  Tess stroked his hair, inspecting the new cut. ‘Why would Maria’s physical whereabouts make any difference to what we are doing?’

  ‘I can’t say, but it does.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to leave her,’ said Tess.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Kenric.

  ‘She’s years older than you, she’s –’

  ‘I can’t explain. You don’t understand.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said Tess, ducking her head. ‘Tell me what it is between you, and don’t say it’s beyond words.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Then I don’t understand, no, and how could I?’ said Tess. ‘She’s always absent; lately she’s always away –’

  ‘Her family depend on her.’

  ‘And we depend on you.’ Tess took Kenric’s hand and uncrossed her legs. ‘What does it matter if she’s here or not? You look spent, and I know you worry about The Word. You feel responsible. Let me make you forget it all, if only for a while, if only for an hour.’

  ‘Sometimes I want to leave, Tess.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ she said, playing with his fingers. ‘You just need a little break, some fun, and you can have it. You weren’t offended by what I said earlier at dinner, were you? This place is not so broken it can’t be fixed. And I do still like it here. I get carried away with all the talk, that’s all. I’ve begun to write; it’s making me happy. I still want to stay. And you know I like you. There’s something in you – you don’t even know what it is yourself. But I’ll give you a clue: I’ve always thought, if ever I met a man who had a way with words better than mine, I –’

  ‘Do you know I couldn’t read until I was a teenager, Tess? I couldn’t even hear until I was eight.’

  ‘So?’ She crossed her legs again and leant closer. ‘Now, Kenric, I’ve been thinking about what Barnabus and Teddy said earlier tonight, about us living in the western suburbs, and I think there’s some truth in it – this is a very hard place for us to be, for a venture such as ours. No, hear me out. Maybe we do need a change of scenery. You know my grandfather recently left me a small house he owned at Whale Beach. I’ve been talking to Robert about moving there, and he’s thinking of moving back to his place at Pittwater – he hasn’t said anything to you or Maria yet, but I know he wouldn’t mind me raising it. Don’t worry – he doesn’t want to break from The Word. So here’s the idea, and you don’t have to say yes or no tonight, just listen: why don’t we all live in the two places? They’re probably only ten minutes’ drive apart, after all. It would be a change. And we would
be living closer to the centre of things. I know the lease on the warehouse is due to expire in the next month or so, so now is the ideal time. We should talk to the others about it.’

  ‘I’m not sure –’

  ‘But you’re open to considering the idea, surely?’

  ‘Yes –’

  ‘I’ll talk to the others about it,’ said Tess.

  The intoxicated men were already back; they could be heard slamming doors and laughing.

  Tess withdrew up the stairs.

  Kenric struggled to sleep in the hours before dawn. He reached out to touch Maria, to stroke the softness of her back. She lay muttering through dreams, her words not seeking any external object. If he woke her, she would tell him to believe in The Word and his place in it. If I can only manage to believe in myself, he told himself, taking her imagined cue, then they will believe in me. He had found people very willing to believe in something; people were surprisingly vulnerable to a message.

  Kenric recalled the faces looking up at him in the restaurant the afternoon he had recited his brand names and messages. The memory humiliated him now, for he knew his words, despite their far-reaching consequences, were meaningless.

  A breeze was fluttering through The Word. The big upstairs windows must have been left open. As the wind increased, Kenric became aware of that meaty smell sometimes exhumed by the warehouse. Then he heard voices, many voices, caught inside the building, voices that jabbered and filled bedrooms, first those directly above him, then – like toppling dominoes, room by neighbouring room – fanning towards the rear of the building and across the way. As the wind blew stronger, the voices only increased to climb above the howl. Kenric got up to walk the open space of The Word, to find he was not dreaming: the voices of women and men clamoured above him, but in meaningless overlay, without pause or emphasis, or any particular end or beginning, and without listening or needing a listener.

  Robert and Justin were returning from the cafe the next afternoon when they saw two Jehovah’s Witnesses, young Islander men, standing at The Word’s front door. The strapping youngsters – they might have been groomsmen separated from their wedding party – were dressed in cheap black suits, with ties and bright white shirts. Their better-fitted skins glittered in the heat.

  ‘We’ve heard the name of your boarding house is The Word,’ said one of the men, smiling broadly at Robert and Justin. ‘Are you affiliated with a religious organisation?’

  Justin glanced at Robert. ‘No, I don’t think so – are we, Robert?’

  ‘The church of Logos,’ said Robert.

  ‘Lagos?’ asked the man.

  ‘No, independent of Lagos.’

  ‘Oh, independent. Evangelicals?’

  ‘We do talk in tongues sometimes,’ said Robert.

  ‘Oh, charismatics,’ said the young man, who glanced at his friend. But his friend was looking up at Judith, who sat where she liked to sit, sunbathing on the sill of the large and open second-storey window above the door. Judith leant back in the big, square frame. She wore a man’s shirt, oversized and unbuttoned, and her bare legs stretched out before her; she smiled down at the young men, listening in on their conversation.

  ‘Have you heard about the Word of God?’ asked the first young witness.

  ‘Yes, I think I have heard about it,’ said Justin. ‘It’s said the Bible, which I’ve heard about too, is actually God’s word.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ confirmed the young man.

  Judith shifted her legs, flexed her back, and put her hands behind her head. The second witness looked up again.

  ‘Robert and I have heard it said the world was created in seven days,’ said Justin. ‘That’s what the Bible says, right?’

  ‘Six, actually.’ The young man smiled. ‘He took a break on the seventh.’

  ‘That’s amazing, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s what the book says. Some say it’s a metaphor.’

  ‘And what languages was this book written in?’

  ‘Hebrew in the Old Testament and Ancient Greek in the New, I believe.’

  ‘God spoke in two languages?’

  ‘He speaks all languages. The books are dual-authored, by both God and man.’

  ‘Can I look?’ asked Justin.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘“In the beginning was the Word”,’ read Justin, ‘now that definitely rings a bell; in fact, that’s a very neo-Platonic sort of statement. Fancy finding it here in the Gospel of John.’

  ‘We believe it’s God’s Word, not any philosopher’s.’

  ‘“And the Word became flesh”,’ said the second young man in a husky voice, grinning and revealing a set of large white teeth. ‘What does that mean?’ asked Justin.

  ‘That the world took form as God named the things in the world,’ said the first witness. ‘The Word is another aspect of God; the Word is creative, it creates form.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Justin. ‘I must say, it’s very convenient that all truth for all time is compiled in the one publication – that’s great, isn’t it, Robert? That’s nice, that’s handy. We’ll take one. Our master might be interested in this.’

  ‘Sorry, we don’t give away our Bibles. We are not Gideons.’

  Inside, Kenric rebuked Justin. ‘I heard the whole conversation,’ he said, ‘I could hear from inside the office. You tried to humiliate them. It was no way to talk. But did you hear how they answered you? That’s how you should speak. Those men should be with us –’

  ‘God spare us,’ muttered Justin.

  ‘Something in them we could learn from.’

  Judith came down the stairs to laugh with Justin and Robert.

  ‘One of them at least might be back,’ chuckled Justin. ‘I saw you sitting up there in the window with nothing on, Judith, your legs open.’

  ‘I had a thirt on, pardon me!’

  ‘An unbuttoned white thirt with the thun thining through it.’ Justin smirked.

  ‘Well, maybe I’ve found uth a new recruit.’

  ‘It’s an effective method,’ mused Robert. ‘He might forsake the Word for The Word.’

  Later that afternoon, going to the kitchen to fetch something for Maria, who was not well, Kenric saw two figures in the opened front door of The Word, the light bright behind them. One of the attenuated shapes stepped inside the warehouse, and Kenric saw it was Regina, the former member who had claimed she had been abused at The Word – she was the woman who had gone to the newspaper. Kenric did not recognise the large, gruff-looking woman behind Regina.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ Kenric, holding open his hands, asked Regina.

  ‘You know why,’ said Regina. ‘All the things you told me, promised me, Kenric – none of them came true.’

  The other woman, who had stepped up beside Regina, seemed incapable of speech; her eyes roamed the ceiling and the upstairs rooms, and she sniffed repeatedly, catching the butcher-shop smell. A rat scurried along a high beam.

  ‘Come to the kitchen and we’ll talk about it,’ said Kenric, and the visitors followed mutely. Kenric was aware of the meaty smell increasing as they neared the kitchen.

  ‘Oh,’ said Judith, flatly, glancing up at the visitors from where she sat at the table – before letting her eyes slide away.

  ‘Welcome back, Regina,’ said Justin, equally flat, looking across the table at Robert.

  ‘Why do you always do that, Justin?’ Judith flared up. ‘It makes me angry that you play to Robert.’

  ‘Robbie and I have fun together, we like to knock about,’ said Justin. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘You’re a real man’s man, aren’t you, Justin?’ Judith sneered.

  Tess came running down the stairs.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Hands on hips, the diminutive Tess had come to a halt very close to Regina.

  ‘I’ve come for an apology,’ announced Regina, standing straight in turn, bridling. ‘He lied to me,’ she said, pointing to Kenric, ‘and he took advantage of me –’


  ‘You were not born yesterday, Regina,’ said Tess.

  ‘Tess –’

  ‘– you are an educated, worldly woman,’ continued Tess. ‘You joined our community with eyes wide open. Or have you come back to return my Tori Amos and Ron Sexsmith CDs? Will you do that while you’re here?’

  Connie charged down the shaking stairs, moving far faster than usual; at the sound, Regina looked up fearfully.

  ‘I knew something was going on,’ declared Connie loudly. ‘What did you do with my kitchen knife set?’ she demanded, towering over Regina. Regina took a step back. ‘It was the best knife set I ever had, and it disappeared the day you left,’ persisted Connie, stabbing a finger at Regina. ‘Then I saw it in a pawnshop window! Or a set exactly the same.’

  ‘I didn’t take it!’

  ‘You still owe me twenty bucks, Regina,’ said Robert, not looking at her, and adopting the same dull tone as Justin and Judith.

  ‘I came to tell you he has lulled you all,’ said Regina. ‘I was gullible, I directed funds from my bank account, I believed everything he –’

  ‘Oh yes, you were so innocent, a babe in the wood,’ said Tess, imitating Regina’s voice before reverting to her own: ‘Ask any of the men!’

  ‘And you, Regina, never washed up,’ said Judith coldly, pushing her thin hair from her eyes but not looking at Regina. ‘And by the way, I am capable of doing the accounts, quite capable. Remember you used to look for errors in the books?’

  ‘You never contributed a thing, Regina,’ said Tess. ‘You’re not missed here.’ She moved another step closer to Regina, who stepped back again. ‘And after all your time with us, all you can do is tell lies.’