by Jack Phoenix
Elizabeth grabbed her cell phone with tears in her eyes as she returned to her daughter’s room, placing a hand gently on Samantha’s head. “Wade, I need to talk to you.”
* * * *
Roderick hadn’t been to church in years. Not since he was a child. Other than shouting the Lord’s name in vain in fits of despair, he could not remember the last time he had prayed. He was indifferent to the existence of the merciful God he was raised to believe in.
He remembered being a child here with his sister on Sunday mornings and during their grandfather’s funeral. Some renovations had taken place, the stained-glass window that used to have the horrible crack had been replaced, and somehow the building just didn’t seem to hold the same majesty it had when he was a child in Sunday school. He had forgotten much of what he’d learned as a boy.
He remembered when he and Rebecca had a bout of uncontrollable snickering one Sunday. It was something about the word ‘pew’ that led little Roddy to come up with a fart joke that only a child would find funny. Their mother asked them quietly to behave, and they were able to regain their composure for nearly ten minutes.
But when Rebecca accidentally let out one final chuckle, Robert Whithers reached across little Roddy and his mother and grabbed her by the arm, and said in a menacing whisper, “Show some goddamn respect, young lady, or you’re gonna get it.”
Little Roddy had the urge to stand up for his sister and explain to their father that it was his fault because he had made the joke. But he successfully talked himself out of it when he saw the vein throbbing in Robert’s neck.
He walked by where they had been sitting that day as he entered the sanctuary. He crossed himself, more out of habit than devotion, and made his way to Father Prynne’s office, opening the door without invitation.
“Rod Whithers, oh, don’t bother knocking,” he said sarcastically with a smile, his pleasant demeanor faded when he saw Roderick’s drained and empty face, “It’s been a long time.”
His office wasn’t quite what Roderick had expected. He thought there would be more silk and pictures of Jesus and icons from the dark ages and at least thirty-something different Bibles. Instead it was a room covered in football posters, a Felix the Cat clock, and three bookcases full of books including many that were unfamiliar to him such as the Baghavad Ghita, The Book of Mormon, a book by some guy named Thich Nhat Hahn, and The Spirituality of the Transformers.
“I need your help,” Roderick wheezed.
“Okay, let’s see what we can do. Why not have a seat?”
“No, thanks,” he responded.
“Okay, then,” the priest said as he rose, “I’ll stand too. What’s bothering you, Son?”
“Okay…if…look, you have to promise not to talk to me like I’m crazy, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said with a compassionate smile.
“Do you believe in demons?”
The priest paused. “Well…to an extent, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
The priest replied, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on first?”
“I’m being haunted.”
“Oh…” Father Prynne paused, “Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t know what they are, really. But they’re not human. They’re following me, fucking with me. They can show up anywhere, look like anything…”
“How often do you see them—these demons?”
“You said you wouldn’t talk to me like I’m crazy!” Roderick raised his voice.
The padre’s hands rose up to relax his visitor and he said in a soothing tone, “I said, I’d do my best. What I can promise you is that I will listen to whatever you have to say and try to help you as best I can, and it will be confidential. Now, please continue.”
Roderick took a deep breath and went on, “It’s happening more and more. My father saw them too, they were after him too, and that’s how I know they’re real. Please, you have to help me.”
“I’m not sure how I would do that, Rod,” Father Prynne said with sympathy. “Have you talked to a doctor about this?”
“Please. Stop. Talking. To. Me. Like. I’m. Crazy, Father,” Roderick ground his teeth.
The priest said gently, “I don’t think you’re crazy, but I think you’re troubled, and I think you need more help than I can give. But I will do my part, I promise you. I will support you and pray for you. How about I recommend someone?”
“I need a fucking exorcism or something, not prayers,” Roderick corrected him. “You’re supposed to know about this stuff, how do I get rid of these things?”
“Son, please listen to me. You don’t need an exorcism. What you need is your friends and your family right now. Trust in them and trust in the Lord, and we can make things alright.”
“Fuck that!” he shouted with resentment. “You don’t believe me either! These things are going to kill me like they did my father, and you’re just going to sit back and watch it happen!”
“No, not at all, that’s not what’s going to happen…”
“A crucifix. Will you at least just give me a goddamn crucifix, and maybe some holy water?”
“Just calm down. Why don’t I go ahead and make a phone call right…”
“Fuck the fucking phone call! Please, I have to try something.”
Father Prynne reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a wooden crucifix and a small flask. As Roderick followed, he exited his office into the sanctuary where he approached the holy water and dipped the flask in. He handed the items to Roderick who rushed for the door.
“Rod,” Father Prynne called to him, “I’m still going to make a phone call on your behalf. I’ll be in touch, okay? You just hang in there. Everything will be alright.”
Without even so much as a ‘thank you’, he was gone.
* * * *
“My God, I’m so sorry you’re having to go through all of this,” said Wade as he poured her a glass of tea from her refrigerator.
With her head supported by her hands, she sat hunched atop a barstool in the kitchen, replying, “He’s just snapped. I don’t know what else to think. Maybe he’s been bottling stuff up for so long, that he’s finally just had a break. But, whatever it is, I have to get him help.”
“Yes,” Wade agreed, taking a sip of tea himself, “but remember you’ve got a little girl to take care of, too.”
“That’s why I asked you here. I want to ask you a favor.”
“Okay…anything you need. Shoot.”
“Wade,” Elizabeth began, and forced herself to look at him, “would you be willing to watch Sam for a while?”
“Like, for today? Sure.”
“No, I mean for, like, until Rod is under control.”
Wade put down his glass and sat down across from her, blowing air through his lips like he were releasing a great pressure from his head. “Oh, I don’t…I mean, I’ve never really been around little kids. Isn’t there someone else you can ask?”
“No…no, there’s really not. Besides, you’re on summer break from work,” said Elizabeth, straightening up.
Wade’s hands wrapped around the back of his neck like he’d just finished a horrendous exercise. “I’ll do anything for you, but I have to say I don’t like this. You should both be packing up and getting the hell out of here.”
“I just can’t do that, and I told you why. He’s my husband. I can’t just abandon him when he’s sick. Whether he knows it or not, he needs help and he needs me, but I can’t let her stay in this house and watch her father act like this. She’s terrified.”
“But Sam doesn’t even know me that well. I mean, my place isn’t very kid-friendly, she might get bored or something,” Wade’s face pruned.
Elizabeth reached over and took his hands into hers. “Don’t worry abo
ut that, that’s trivial. I’ll send my baby-sitter over to you or hire a new one for you when you need to get out and do something. She’s never any trouble at all, and you’re not that far away, I’ll come by all the time and spend time with her. Plus, I plan on finding help for her throughout all of this, too.”
He breathed a heavy sigh, “Okay, I’ll do it; for you. As long as you think that it’s best, but I still think that you should both get away from him or send him away to get better.”
“I would if it were that easy, but who knows, maybe once I get him in to see a good shrink, he’ll be better in a week. I mean, I can’t say anything, we don’t know what’s wrong with him, and I have a feeling just getting him to see a doctor at all is gonna be tough,” Elizabeth explained, stood, and took both of their glasses for refills.
“Okay, Liz, okay. I’ll be glad to take her. When will she be ready to go?”
“I already packed her things.”
“Wow,” Wade smirked, “you were pretty frickin’ confident I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to you, huh?”
Elizabeth gave him a wink as she handed him another tea.
“Well, I tell you what,” he said, “we’ll go ahead and throw her stuff in the car, and I’ll take her today. But I think we’ll make a little detour on the way home. I bet she could use some fun.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Samantha smiled more at the zoo than she had in months, thrilled by every wing and paw. Like a day lily blossoming to absorb the sun’s rays, her expressions suddenly came alive to take it all in. Wade allowed her to trail ahead by a few feet, keeping a watchful eye but letting her have the freedom he suspected she craved. She would spend no less than five minutes at each exhibit, especially for the shy animals. Her little feet carried her to the next one, while her hand-stitched doll flopped about in her hand.
Wade saw she enjoyed watching birds. She spent fifteen minutes at the flamingo pen, pointing and talking to her doll. “Look!” she would chirp occasionally, “look at them! They’re so pink!”
“Do you know why they are pink?” Wade leaned down to ask her.
“’Cuz they’re pretty.”
“Well, yes, that’s right,” he would say, “they sure are pretty, and they’re pretty and pink because of the food they eat.”
“Really?” she looked him in the eye for the first time, her own eyes wide with wonderment.
“Yup, it’s true. Just goes to show you that you are what you eat, huh?”
“Yeah,” she acknowledged, as she skipped to the next pen.
Okay, Wade, he thought to himself, no lectures. Just let the kid have fun.
It took nearly four hours to make it through half of the zoo, but Samantha didn’t fatigue or lose interest. Wade had never dreamed that a child could be this thoughtful and patient; immersed in her own thoughts and feelings. Dark clouds rolled in, which probably meant rain, but Wade had no intention of asking her to leave. Fortunately, they made their way into the covered ape compound where they were protected from the downpour when the rain finally hit. The little girl swatted her hand at the glass, cheering at the aloof gorillas.
“Now, now, don’t hit the glass, Sam,” he scolded gently.
Her body hunched over back into the state he was used to seeing. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s totally okay. We just don’t want to upset the gorillas, you know?”
“Yeah.”
He felt a pang of guilt as he stepped up beside her. He hadn’t expected her to take such a simple corrective action so acutely. “So, when was the last time you came to the zoo?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, while you’re on your vacation we can come here all you want to, okay? Uncle Wade knows a guy that works here, so we got season passes for free! Isn’t that cool?”
“Yeah.”
He scratched the back of his head and followed her now-heavy footsteps as she schlepped to the next pen. “So, what else would you like to do on your vacation?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on, I’m sure you can think of something. Isn’t there some place you like going or always wanted to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“We can go to the river, or we can go to my parents’ farm and you can ride a horsey.”
“Really?” she said, her head rose.
“Oh, sure! You’ll love it there! Maybe we can see if your mom can come with us. It’ll be so cool; my parents would love to meet you. And while we’re there, maybe we can make a kite and fly it…”
“What’s wrong with Daddy?” her question caused his thoughts to trail as well as the look in her sorrowful eyes peered into his.
“Well…well, I’m not really sure. That’s what your mommy is going to find out.”
“Why doesn’t she know?”
“I don’t know. Daddy’s just got a lot on his mind, I think, so your mom is going to make sure he goes to a doctor so he gets better. Don’t worry, you’ll be back home to your daddy in no time.”
Samantha looked away from him without a response. For the longest time there was utter silence. She brought her doll up to her chest and squeezed it tightly as she watched the slender black apes lounging about amidst well-placed logs and rocks.
He laid his hand gently upon her shoulder, and felt her shudder at the touch.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “It’ll all be okay.”
She gradually but firmly stepped aside, out from under his hand. She then looked up at him and, as though she were forcing it, grinned and said, “Thanks for taking me to the zoo.”
“You’re welcome,” he nodded as they both stood, watching the apes go about their daily tasks, and Wade became lost in thought.
He thought how unfair this whole situation was for her; why was this little girl, when things weren’t going well at home, having to be carted away to the care and entertainment of a virtual stranger? There should be someone in her life, in her parents’ lives, that should be closer to her and better suited for this like a grandparent or even parents of a friend. Did this child even have any friends? Did her parents? Had Roderick Whithers been so successful at keeping this family secluded that, now, in their time of need, they had no one else to turn?
“What’s he doing?”
Wade’s mind snapped quickly back to his surroundings at Samantha’s sudden question.
She pointed at a young ape in the corner of the pen who was munching on something soft and brown in his hand.
“What’s he eating? Is that chocolate? Is he eating chocolate?” her voice rose in inflection with each question, waiting for an answer.
After closer examination, Wade, mortified, stammered, “Uh…uh…Hey, let’s…uh…let’s go see some goats! You wanna go pet some goats?”
“Yeah!”
Guiding her with his hands by her shoulders, guiding her as quickly as he could away from the Bonobo apes, he noticed that she didn’t quiver at his touch this time, and leaned over her to protect her from the rain. “Okay, then, let’s go pet some goats!”
* * * *
As Elizabeth continued to hold, waiting on her cell phone for the doctor to return and pick up the other end, she realized just how much her house had come to feel like a prison. She remembered playing telephone in class as a little girl, and even innocent games of doctor with the neighbor children. So many opportunities were open to her then. She could’ve been anything. How did she go from that hopeful little girl to this? And had she been allowing the same thing to happen to her daughter? In fact, had she been pushing it onto her?
A very deep and secluded part of Elizabeth, a part of her to which she would never admit, was grateful for this disruption in the status quo, despite how detrimental it was to her husband. For days now, she hadn’t worried about the typic
al mundane details she was accustomed to. Circumstances being what they were, however regrettable, had obliterated the monotony, and that small part of her was relieved. She wanted nothing more than her husband to come home and go, with little resistance, to see a shrink, so that life could move on.
For a moment, she felt a pang of guilt. What did it mean to have life move on? Did she only want her husband to get his head on straight so that she could then proceed to divorce him with a clear conscience? Did such motivation make her a bad person? Or was it that somewhere deep inside, maybe right next to the other small part, she did still love Roderick Whithers and wanted him to be well. She made the decision to follow that line of thinking and brought it to the forefront of her mind, just as their family physician, Doctor Kline, returned to the phone.
“Mrs. Whithers?”
“O’Dell-Whithers, yes,” she corrected him.
“Oh, pardon me, Ma’am. Yes, there are a few people I could refer you to in the area, and I believe they take your insurance. But, honestly, this sounds pretty serious.”
“Okay, and?”
“Well, if your husband has had some kind of…break, you may want to take more drastic measures, especially if he’s acting as hostile as you say.”
“Okay, so?”
“Go ahead and call these doctors and ask for their opinion, but if he doesn’t come home within forty-eight hours then you should call the police and file a missing person’s report. If the police get involved, then it’ll be easier for you to have him taken somewhere where he can get the appropriate help because the police will just do it for you.”
“Okay, I see,” said Elizabeth, tapping her pen irritably to the countertop. “What if he comes home tonight?”
“Well, if you’re frightened of him, you can always call the police anyway and see if they could send someone to keep surveillance.”
“I don’t think I’m necessarily scared of him,” she commented, “just disturbed. He’s been acting, I don’t know, aggressive but he hasn’t been violent.”