by Aletto, Anna
“I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“It’s okay. Just be with me now.”
“Is the tea ready?” Angela asks, walking into the kitchen.
“I think so,” my mother says. “Do you take milk or sugar?”
I showed up at Terrell’s house at twelve o’clock sharp. Terrell answered the door wearing a white wifebeater, fuzzy black sweat pants, and red slippers. He rushed me through the living room in which little antique ornaments sat on the shelves. On a plastic-covered couch sat his grandmother, wearing a blue knit sweater. She watched PBS with the volume cranked all the way up and didn’t even notice as Terrell whisked me behind her.
Terrell’s bedroom was at the back of the house. It was dark. The walls were wood-paneled and the flooring was green shag carpet. Under the window was a wooden desk on which a joint was perched on an ashtray. Smoke rose from it and escaped through the ajar window. The room was small. Near the foot of his bed, only a couple feet away, was a big-screen television, the only luxury in the room. Everything was cramped.
He took the joint and sat against the headboard of his bed.
I took the seat at the desk.
“I just got up. It was a late night,” he said. “Do you know the strip club Platinum Pleasures?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“I bounce there.” He snorted marijuana smoke from his nostrils. “My girlfriend drives me crazy about it though. She’s always accusing me of sleeping with girls from the club.”
“She’s paranoid?”
“Well, I have slept with some of the strippers but she doesn’t know that.”
“Oh.”
“There was one last night – this nineteen year-old who has only been working a few weeks. When the club closed, we walked out together. Little did I know my girl was waiting to ‘surprise me’ outside in the parking lot. When we she us walk out together, she went out of her mind screaming at me. She wouldn’t stop until the girl got in her car and left. That way she knew we weren’t going home together.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I know. And this was at, like, two-thirty in the morning. I was freezing my ass off and my girl still wanted to argue about it even after the stripper left.”
“So you ended up alone last night?”
“No, I had the nineteen year-old girl’s cell number. So I got home and called her over.”
I smiled. “You bring girls over with your grandmother here?”
“Yeah, no disrespect to her. I love my grandma to death, but she’s deaf as hell. I could bang a chick for hours without her waking up. And I make sure to kick the girl out before morning. I don’t want my grandma having to deal with some bitch expecting breakfast.”
“That works.”
“By living here I can save my money and help my grandma. She doesn’t get around that great and she’s got memory issues and what not.”
I nodded.
“Let me talk to you about why you came over.” He puffed from his joint, then dabbed it on the edge of the ashtray. “You said you’d like to make some money. From hearing about you and meeting you, I got a good impression. You kind of remind me of myself.”
I listened to him.
“I want certain things in life. And if stepping on someone’s throat gets me there faster, I’ll stomp on their throat.”
I looked at him, unshaken.
“Even with that cutthroat mentality, loyalty is the most important thing to me. You have to have at least a few people in this world who can count on. A few people, when push comes to shove, you know will be there. There are two types of friends in this world – there are friends and there are friends who’ll help you bury a body. And I can’t stress to you enough how serious the difference is between the two.”
I nodded.
“I think you and me could be friends,” he said. “I just need you to tell me what kind of friends we’re going to be.” Keeping his eyes locked on me, he took another drag off his joint.
Without knowing what I was getting myself into I said, “The second.”
Terrell smiled and set his joint in the ashtray. He scooted toward the end of the bed to sit near me. “When we met, I felt like we were on the same page. Put your trust in me, I’ll put my trust in you. But let me give you fair warning: You take advantage of that trust and then we’re not friends like you promised. And in that case I’d have no problem killing you. And I’d do it with a smile on my face.” Terrell said this plainly. “You good with that?” He extended his hand.
I shook it.
“Come over later this week. There are a couple guys you need to meet. They’re both people who have my trust, so you need to get to know them. We’ll talk about making some money.”
At home my sister Ariel wasn’t content. And the problem didn’t seem to be anything in particular. Her mind was restless, bouncing from one subject to another.
Out of the blue one day she asked me, “Where do you think our dad is?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. What cares?”
“I wish we could meet him.”
“If he doesn’t have any interest in us, I’d rather not think about him.”
Ariel thought about it a few moments and shrugged. “I just would like to know who he is and be able to talk to him at least once as an adult. Even if he is a fucked-up person.”
At dinner Ariel asked our mother about him.
Our mother glared into space. “Other than having the two of you, there’s not much good I think of when I think of him. I don’t feel like getting into all that and upsetting myself.”
Ariel pestered her to say more, but every time she tried our mother flat-out refused.
Another day Ariel said she wanted a dog.
“Girl, you have enough to do just keeping yourself out of trouble,” our mother said. There’s no way you can be taking care of a pet when you can barely take care of yourself.”
“I can do it,” Ariel pleaded. “I promise I’ll feed it, walk it, whatever I have to do. I’ll take great care of it.”
“Where’s the money going to come from?” our mother asked. “To buy the thing. To get its shots. To feed it. To take it to the vet. We don’t need another living thing in this house to be financially responsible for.”
Ariel let it go and became unusually distant for several days. Supper at the kitchen table was strangely quiet. Ariel, the usual catalyst of conversation, picked at her food. My mother and I made no attempt to fill the gap in conversation. So together we sat silently. Then one night Ariel announced, “I want to get a job.”
“Doing what?” our mother asked.
“I don’t know,” Ariel said. “I was thinking about trying to get something at the mall. I could work part-time after school. And maybe on weekends too.”
Our mother thought about it, then said, “Fine with me. Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with your school work. And you’ll have to find a way to get there.”
“It won’t,” Ariel said. “And I can take the bus.”
Our mother nodded and said, “Put in some applications and see what happens.”
After our meal Ariel and I washed the dishes.
“Where did that come from?” I asked her.
“What?”
“Getting a job.” I rinsed off a plate. “You never mentioned anything about that before.”
“I don’t know. I figured I need to do something with my time.”
“And what else?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re never that simple. There must be some other angle to it.”
“I don’t know. I was thinking of saving money to buy a car.”
“That’ll take a while.”
“Yeah, but so what? Mom can’t afford to buy me one. I’ll save up and maybe find something used that’s cheap. What else am I going to do?”
“You know, maybe I could go in with you and we could buy the car together. That way we could both use it. I was talking to a guy rece
ntly who might have me do so work for him.”
“Sure.” Ariel placed a freshly-washed glass into the cupboard. “The faster we can buy one, the better. I don’t want to have to be stuck in this neighborhood all the time. And when I graduate I want the freedom to just escape and travel a little. We both could.”
I nodded, excited by the idea. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Nine
On a Sunday morning Angela and I sit at the kitchen bar. I eat a buttered English muffin and read the Arkansas Democrat Gazette. She pours syrup on a waffle. My mother is still asleep.
“I like these pictures.” Angela reaches into her purse and holds the photo strip we took together at a bar in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. “We look like we’re having fun.”
I look at it.
“I need a thumbtack. I want to pin this up on the wall where I’m sleeping.”
I continue reading the newspaper. Part of the Sunday paper is a four-page Religion section. A headline on the front page reads: “College Teen Promotes Christianity on Campus”. The article is accompanied by a picture of a pretty, girl-next-door type with a blond ponytail wearing a red and white floral sundress and sitting on a rock in front of a pond. The article reads:
Most college students spend their freshman year just trying to keep up – staying on top of course work, making new friends and acclimating to campus life. But for University of Arkansas freshman Britney Boyd, age 18, college offers much more.
“It’s a chance to spread the Word of God to my peers,” Boyd said. “Before I even started college, I’d been taught university campuses are notoriously liberal and close-minded to the Bible’s truths. However, I still felt the experience could be positive in that I could spread God’s message while broadening my own understanding of other people’s perspectives.”
Having gotten an early jumpstart by taking summer courses, Britney entered this fall semester already boasting a 4.0 GPA in her chosen major of Religious Studies. She’s currently taking a full-course load of 18 hours while staying active in The Pinnacle Christian Church.
That mega-church is headed by her father Donald Boyd, who has become well-known in Northwest Arkansas as pastor of Pinnacle Christian for the past 22 years. During his tenure, his message has been spread nationwide via telecasts, online videos, and his two books Things That Make God Smile: How to Live Each Day for Christ and The Homosexual Conspiracy: How Gays Plan to Conquer America.
“My dad is hugely inspirational to me and he’s always encouraged me to take a very active role in the church,” Britney said. “I’ve done everything from leading youth groups to helping with Sunday services to helping collect donations. You’d think all my responsibilities would tire me out, but God gives me the strength to carry on and I’m always looking for new ways to glorify Him.”
Her newest endeavor involves an attempt to establish roots on the University of Arkansas campus. This week Britney, along with other young Pinnacle Christian volunteers, will set up a booth in the student union to recruit followers to Jesus.
The program, called the Pinnacle Faith Outreach, will target Christians who’ve lapsed in their faiths and haven’t been to church recently. It will also target nonbelievers and those unfamiliar with the Bible, providing them opportunities to learn more.
The ultimate goal, Britney said, is to get everyone who visits the booth to attend at least one service at Pinnacle Christian.
“If we can get them to come to church and feel the power of the Lord, that’ll be a perfect starting point for them to begin developing a strong relationship with Jesus,” Britney said. “I just know if they come and see, they’ll realize what they’ve been missing and know how much better their lives could be.”
Britney said her involvement in church programs coupled with school currently makes for a very fulfilling life. However, her busy schedule does affect her social life, she admitted. Meeting others with her same strong convictions is not always easy.
“It’s sometimes hard to find people who are as devoted to God as I am,” Britney said. “But really what I hope for is to meet someone who is willing to learn and open their heart to God, so that he and I could grow in Christ together. In the future, I can definitely see myself married with a big family, all of us being totally devoted to Christ.”
Until then, Britney plans to remain on her current track and pray vigorously that God gives her whatever she needs to perform His will.
“In youth groups we talk about our problems. And when someone needs something to happen in their life, there’s an acronym I always remind them of,” she said. “I remind them to PUSH: Pray Until Something Happens.”
“Hey, read this.” I give the newspaper to Angela.
She reads the article. “Interesting,” she remarks apathetically.
“I think I should go to the campus and meet her.”
Angela hands me back the paper. “Seriously?”
“Sure, why not?”
“What’s the point?”
“What organization generates more money than a church? Especially a big mega-church like this seems to be. All those people handing over their cash, dropping all those dollar bills into the donation box. This girl seems to have a hand in everything the church does. Her dad’s in charge of it all. Maybe I could get close to her.”
Angela giggles. “I don’t think you’re her type.”
“I can be anyone’s type.”
“I think she’d want someone more Christ-y than you. A good shepherd of sorts.”
“Someone to comfort her with his rod and staff?”
“You’re more like the antichrist. She would never fall for you.”
“Can’t hurt to try.”
In the morning, I drive to a nearby Wal-Mart and purchase a backpack. I put some newspapers inside to create the illusion of books. At around noon I drive to the University of Arkansas and find a space in the parking deck next to the student union. On the third floor, past the bookstore, is a space with a couple booths before entering the cafeteria. I spot the Pinnacle Faith Outreach booth. Two volunteers work the table, two females, neither of them Britney Boyd.
I continue into the cafeteria and buy a slice of pizza and a coke. I sit at a small two-seat table in a location where I can keep an eye on the Pinnacle Christians. Their booth attracts a modest crowd. Every few minutes a person or two stops to talk or take a pamphlet.
I eat my pizza and take today’s newspaper from my backpack and read it and sip my coke. I casually look up to check on the booth every couple minutes. About two hours later I have read the entire paper, most articles twice, and I decide to leave. I throw my paper plate and cup of coke into the trash and I rack my lunch trey.
As I pick up my backpack to leave I notice Britney and a young man walk into the union and go to the booth. They relieve the two current volunteers who grab their backpacks and exit. Someone approaches the booth and talks with the young man. Britney sits behind the booth and waits.
I approach her. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Britney says, standing up. “If you died right now, do you think you would go to heaven?”
Surprised by the question I say, “Uh, I really don’t know.”
“Have you been born again?”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. I always thought I got it right the first time.”
Britney giggles and says, “No, I mean born again in Christ.”
“Hey, can I be honest with you?”
“Sure.”
“I actually didn’t come over here to talk about the religious stuff. I’m heading to class right now, but I just noticed you over here wanted to meet you.”
“Oh … Why?”
“Well, not to make you feel awkward, but I thought you were cute. I’d like to talk to you more. You should give me your number.”
“Um. I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Do you have a relationship with Jesus Christ?”
“Really, I don’t know a whole lot about tha
t stuff. We could talk about it though. Maybe you could teach me something. I think it’s cool you’re so passionate about it. I think passion like that makes life worth living.”
She nods and says, “Yeah, me too.”
“Maybe it’s God’s will that we meet like this. You never know, right?”
Britney smiles and says, “Yeah, maybe.” She thinks a moment and says, “Sure, why not?” She takes a sheet of paper and writes her cell number on it and hands it to me.
“Great. I need to get to class but I’ll give you a call. Good luck saving souls.”
She cocks her head, still smiling, and says, “Thanks.”
“If you’re smart and have your shit planned out, I think anything can be accomplished,” Terrell told me. “Intelligence can set you apart from everyone else.”
When I arrived at his house, Terrell introduced me to his grandmother. She sat at the kitchen table wearing thick large-framed glasses, a long blue dress, a sweater, and nondescript white tennis shoes. She drank a cup of tea and ate pecan sandies.
I sat with her while Terrell took a quick shower.
“You’re a friend of Terrell’s?” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Brandon.”
“Would you like anything to eat?”
“No thanks.”
She asked me about the weather. She said it looked terribly cold outside and that she wanted to stay in and watch her programs on television. Then she asked, “What’s your name again?”
“Brandon.”
“Your Terrell’s friend, right? Do you want anything to eat?”
Within ten minutes we repeated that conversation four times.
Terrell returned from his shower. “Me and Brandon are going back to my room to talk a little,” he told his grandmother. “Just holler if you need me.” He patted her shoulder and left her to finish her tea and cookies.
“Most people believe in the system,” Terrell told me. “They finish school – or not – and get a job and live paycheck to paycheck. They may have dreams. They think someday they’ll own their own business or be famous or somehow they’ll get rich. But that shit is nothing but a pipedream. They’re not smart enough and don’t have the vision. So instead, they keep working and then they get married because that’s the system. They find someone, decide that’s the best they can do, and have the wedding and then some kids. They struggle to get by, all the while thinking the American Dream is going to happen for them sooner or later if they just keep trucking along. They never set themselves apart. I don’t care about those people. And I have no desire to follow the system and play by the rules they do.”