by Rob Jones
“How about I bring you back some rail whiskey, Owen?” Bella suggested. “Big Mike will kill me if you guys drink an entire bottle of Jack. Remember the last time we slammed a half bottle of it, he found out and threatened to fire me and ban you guys from coming and playing here ever again. So I just told him to take it out of my pay. Besides, you guys can get out of hand and carried away when you’re under the influence of Jack. He has you guys doing very bad things. Moderation, boys, moderation.” She pointed and shook her index finger at them.
“Yada, yada, yada. We are grown men, and we can handle our adult beverages like grown men. Just bring our buddy Jack Daniel’s here, you can take it out of our pay this time,” Ligon demanded as he lit up another cigarette.
“Speak for yourself, you fourth century alcoholic,” Wes said while taking off his sweat-drenched shirt. “I want all of my money. I got bills, a kid, and a wife who spends money like I don’t have bills or a kid.”
“Since I feel like the government tonight, I will take care of it for us, gentleman.” Ethan pulled out his money clip that held several twenty-dollar bills. “We deserve to enjoy this moment to the fullest, so let’s get it turned up and enjoy the fruits of our labor!”
“We can’t get too turned up, Ethan; you know that we have to play at church in the morning for the installation of the new pastor,” Ligon replied. “We can turn it up to about a seven. That’s moderation with a dash of recklessness.”
“Well, in that case, we will need two bottles of Jack if we’re to have that dash of recklessness,” Ethan responded with a mischievous crooked smile as two girls walked in, one more beautiful than the other. They approached Ethan, kissed, and wrapped themselves all around him like vines around a tree. “Besides, I promised Sheri and Teri a night of epic proportions. Let’s take this party to the people.”
They proceeded back out to the bar and settled at their meet-and-greet table that was surrounded by anxious fans waiting to have their moment with the band. The table was meticulously layered with their merchandise, posters, t-shirts, and koozies with the band’s name on them.
“Could you sign my neck, hot boy? I’m going to have my tattoo artist tattoo over your signature.” A bouncy spiked-haired girl advanced her way to Ethan in the long line.
“You are absolutely beautiful. What’s your name?”
“Andi.”
“Do you want to do a shot of whiskey with me, Andi?” He signed her neck.
“I would do anything with you, anywhere, anytime. You guys are the hottest and best band ever.”
“Just take the shot and then take off,” Sheri said, her voice full of disapproval.
“Now be nice, Sheri, we’re all friends here.” Ethan poured the Jack Daniel’s in a shot glass. Andi took the shot, confiscated a kiss from Ethan, looked at Sheri, and smiled.
“Thank you, hotness,” She walked away.
“Could you sign my shirt?”
“Good Lord, what the—” Ethan responded after he saw the swollen nose and the discoloring under the eyes of Goth girl as she approached the table.
“You—you kind of spooked me there, darling. I wasn’t expecting…uh…” He tried to find the appropriate words that would not offend her.
“You really should get that looked at immediately before you startle—I mean, before your nose starts to swell even more.” He poured her two shots of whiskey and displayed a look that was a mix of disgust and concern.
“This is called being metal.” She took the shots and slammed each glass down on the table.
“I’m sorry, but I think it’s called being stupid.” Sheri rolled her eyes and whisked back her chestnut hair.
“Yeah, you are sorry, you mindless, classless groupie. I’m sure your parents are proud of your life choices! Ugh, why do you even exist?” Goth girl expressed her displeasure as she flipped Sheri off and stomped away toward the bar.
“Wow! Her attitude matched her face. You would have to buy a whole bottle of whiskey if you had to stare at that genetic nightmare the whole night. Oh well, let’s not let the bride of Frankenstein ruin our fun.”
“Sheri, it’s you that’s ruining the fun by being petty. That’s the second person you insulted tonight. You are the eye candy to attract the guys so they can purchase some merchandise, so just chill and look pretty. Be better, baby,” Ethan whispered in her ear.
She was killing his vibe by acting like a possessive jealous girlfriend. Why couldn’t she be as cool as Teri? He knew that there was a chance that Sheri could have feelings for him, but he hoped that wasn’t the case because he made it plain to them both that this was all about having fun, and that he didn’t have time for a relationship, but somehow that got lost in translation with her. He conceded that it was impossible for him to just be friends with any girl, they just wouldn’t allow it.
“Hey, y’all, I’m having an after party at my loft, so bring your party drinks, your party friends, and anything else that will make the party lit! I want to see everyone there! We’re going to kick this night into overdrive!” The remaining crowd erupted when Owen announced his after party while standing on the table.
Chapter Two
Ethan
Ethan walked into his grandmother’s bedroom to tell her that breakfast was almost ready, but to his surprise he found her already awakened from her slumber. It must have been the delightful and inviting aroma of bacon cooking in the kitchen that aroused her. Every Sunday morning, no matter how late he stayed out on Saturday night, Ethan came over and made breakfast for his grandmother before he took her to church.
Helen Thorne wiped the morning sleep from her brown eyes. She was sixty-five years old, short, with shoulder-length hair that was more silver than black. She had high cheekbones that divulged her Blackfoot Indian heritage, but her Irish ethnicity was much harder to detect. Her honey skin was smooth and for the most part devoid of wrinkles, considering her age. Helen had an eternal grace about her, dignified and resplendent.
“Good morning, my sweet hummingbird,” she said, using a term of endearment that she’d always addressed Ethan with ever since he started humming at the tender age of seven months.
“Good morning, Nana. I hope that you woke up with an appetite, because I got your favorite meal of the day almost prepared.”
“I sure did. You have it smelling awfully good in here. I was dead asleep until the redolence of bacon and eggs disturbed my sleep and summoned me up.” Her stern, compact mouth surrendered a smile.
“You know how I do it, Nana. I’m here for you always and forever. Go get freshened up and I will pour you some coffee.”
Ethan walked back into the kitchen humming and singing Helen’s favorite hymn, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus. He took just as much pride cooking for Helen as he did in writing and performing his music. If Helen approved of his cooking or anything he did, that meant more to him than a thousand rounds of applause. He lived to put a smile in her heart. He took a coffee mug that had a quote from Martin Luther that read “Pray and Let God Worry” out of the cabinet above the sink, poured some coffee in it, and placed it on the kitchen table.
“Mm, mm, mm, you got this whole house smelling like The Cracker Barrel,” Helen said as she entered the kitchen.
“Do you know the reason why my cooking smells so amazingly good and tastes even better?” He put two pieces of toast in the toaster.
“Please, do tell.”
“It’s because it was made with the three most precious ingredients on earth.”
“And what would those ingredients be?”
“Love, love, love.”
“Hmm, is that the reason your cooking is so delightful?” She unveiled a smirk. “I could have sworn that it had a little something to do with me teaching you how to cook and making you privy to my ancient secrets.”
“Okay, I’ll give you some credit, but I added a few little secrets of my own as well.”
“So the hymn that you were just humming, will that be the selection that you and Ligon
will be playing at the installation for the new pastor?” She sat down at the handcrafted gopherwood table, reached for her coffee cup, and blew the hot vapors that were rising lazily.
“Yes, Nana. I know that it’s your favorite, so I wanted to represent and incorporate you in the installation by singing it. You and Grandpa were there at the inception of Grace Presbyterian Church, you two are the pioneers, the heart and soul of the church.”
“I do love our church. The good Lord has used it to be my safe haven, my fortress, my support, especially when my dear Joseph passed away.” She took a generous sip of her coffee. “I don’t know what I would have done without the members of the church and the grace of God.”
“So, Nana, do you know anything about this Pastor Edwards?” Ethan inquired as he set a plate in front of her that had turkey bacon, eggs, strawberries, and a piece of toast that was sheeted with grape jelly.
“Well, the elders say that he and his family are from that liberal state of Illinois.” Helen blew on her coffee before taking another sip. “His wife’s name is Abby, he has a son named Roman, and a daughter named…uh, now what is that young lady’s’ name?” She paused for a moment as she tapped her top lip with her index finger. “Oh, her name is Zoe.”
Now that’s a hot name, Ethan thought.
“I also heard that Pastor Edwards is extremely educated. He went to the University of Illinois, where he received a master’s degree in philosophy, then he went to Covenant Theological Seminary. I think they said he received a doctor of ministry.”
“He might have a big brain on his shoulders, and degrees on his walls, but no one can replace Pastor Dean. I wish that he would have stayed. He really impacted so many lives at the church. I remember how he always used to say to me, ‘Son, if you are grounded in love, your dreams will soar. Give your all to God, and watch him give you more.’ Ethan tried to imitate Pastor Dean.
“We all wished that he would have stayed, but Pastor Dean felt that God had another agenda for his life. When he had an offer to go overseas to teach, he knew that it was the Lord providentially moving in that offer. Even though going to another country was the furthest thing from his mind and heart, God kept troubling him about it, and the more he prayed and wrestled with the notion of going, the clearer the picture became for him. So he acquiesced and answered that difficult call.” Helen took a bite of her bacon. “He’s such a good man. He pastored the church for almost thirty years; I remember when he baptized you as an infant, and told your parents that there was something different about you, that you had a lion’s heart, wild and brave, dangerous but loving, and that God has His right hand on you. Your parents were beaming with smiles that could light up the darkest midnight when he spoke those words. Pastor Dean hit the mark concerning you on that day. I know the Lord is going to use you in a unique way, and the experiences you will go through will help you understand who you are as well as your purpose in this life.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed with bewilderment when Helen told him these things. He had no idea of what she was saying, or where all this was coming from. Sometimes she said some of the strangest and most mysterious things as if she had a direct line to God that made her privy to certain heavenly insights so she could give him a progress report on how he was living his life. Her encrypted talks always sent chills to his heart and made his soul a little uncomfortable.
“I-I-I think we should be getting ready for church,” he stammered, wanting to change the subject. “We don’t want to be late and make a bad first impression for the new pastor.”
Chapter Three
Ethan
While they drove to Grace Presbyterian Church, Ethan had the windows down so he could take in the sweet, inebriating summer breeze that penetrated his skin, massaging and manipulating his total being. A secretion of endorphins rushed through his blood that heightened an already joyful disposition.
The traffic on I-65 was light and easy. Ethan maneuvered comfortably along the generous interstate. A red-tailed hawk hovered in the cloudless indigo sky that caught Ethan’s attention as they passed by the AT&T building, colloquially known as the Batman building. The building procured its name because it resembled the shape of the comic Caped Crusader’s mask.
They got off onto Barr Street where he saw a red cardinal perched on a sign that said Lakeside Park. He saw people sprinkled throughout the park. Dog walkers, cyclists, and middle-aged joggers trying desperately to hold onto the twilight of their fleeting youth all the while being mocked by the young bodies of millennials who were playing volleyball in their aggressively scanty athletic apparel that exposed their rock-hard abs, shredded lean muscles, and glutes that were as hard as Chinese physics. The thought broke out a slight grin on his face.
“Oh my, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the church’s parking lot so full.” Helen placed her hands over her heart while approaching the church’s parking lot. “Everybody and their step mommas are here this morning and they are early to boot! You would think it’s Christmas or Easter time around here.” She looked around.
“Is that Ms. Parker? Well, bless her cotton socks, she hasn’t been to church since Harold Camping falsely predicted that Jesus was returning on May 21st, and that was several years ago. As I recall there were a lot of folks coming to church around that time. Mm, mm, mm, people will come out of the woodwork when an announcement of a new pastor is coming; I know they’re just here to try to size him up, trying to locate a flaw or two so they will have something to gossip about. People love to serve the gods of curiosity and gossip.” Helen sighed.
Ethan slowly spilled out the driver’s side of his classic 1975 black Mustang, a car that was somewhat gifted to him by a scorned, spoiled housewife who caught her husband cheating on her with their young nanny. To serve him a cold dish of revenge, she sold her husband’s car to Ethan for the low, low price of one dollar and a night of carnal retribution.
He walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door, and extended his right hand to Helen. He cradled her slender arm underneath his and escorted her to the elegant, regal brick Romanesque church building that had a glorious, lofty steeple with a Gothic cross at its apex.
Ethan checked himself out in the glass doors of the church. He was sporting his Foster Grant mirror shades and was dressed like he was about to take the stage at a rock show. His attire consisted of a black silk long sleeve shirt with the top three buttons opened that publicized his strong, muscular chest, where a silver chained necklace with a cross rested comfortably. The cuffs of the shirt were folded back just enough to expose segments of the tattoos on his arms. Strategically wrapped around his left wrist was a black bandanna that had a pattern of thorn-stemmed red roses on it. On his right index finger he wore a silver ring that had a skull and crossbones on it, and a silver ring that had the symbol of the Trinity, known as the Triquetra, on his left index finger. It was his favorite ring because he thought that it brought him good luck. Black skinny jeans, black boots, and a five o’clock shadow completed his ensemble. He was pleased at his reflection.
They walked into the narthex of the church, where a handful of people were gathered.
“Hello, Mrs. Thorn, Ethan. It is so good to see you two on this fine lovely Sunday morning.” Deacon Brown greeted them with a church bulletin and morning breath that was laced with coffee.
“Good to see you, Deacon Brown,” Helen responded as she placed the bulletin over her nose.
“Enjoy the service.” They thanked him as he walked away.
“Oh my, his breath smelled so bad I thought I was going to turn into a pillar of salt,” she confessed as Ethan laughed.
They both walked into the crowded sanctuary, where indistinct chatter, laughter, and prayers filled the room. Faces, some familiar, some unfamiliar, were waiting for the church service to start. Heads began to follow Ethan and Helen as they walked toward the front of the sanctuary to Helen’s favorite seat. No one ever sat in the front right-hand corner of the church; everyone knew that was Hel
en’s special seat. She had been a member of the church from the very first sermon that was ever preached some thirty-five years ago, so she had earned that privilege.
Ethan guided Helen down ever so gently to her seat, kissed her on her right cheek, and told her that he had to go prepare for the special music selection that he and Ligon were to perform.
While walking away, he looked back at her with fondness. Helen was the apple of his eye, his saving angel, his only true friend since he was fourteen. She raised him as her own after his parents were killed in a car accident. An accident that he still carried around as a perpetual burden that weighed on him heavily, an accident that haunted him with every breath he took, an accident that he believed he was responsible for.
After the accident he spiraled down into a long, black, deep depression. For weeks he would not get out of bed, he refused to talk, refused to eat, and isolated himself from everybody. He would just sit in his room and listen to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah over and over and over again. Helen would come in his room to talk to him, to comfort him. She always was praying for him morning, noon, and especially at night when he would wake up in a panic, cold and sweaty, crying a river of tears.
Helen got him through those dark days; he vowed to himself that one day he would repay her for all of the love, support, and dedication that she’d poured into his life that had made him who he was today.
As he commenced to walk through the aisle of the church, he was tall, smooth, and confident. He scanned the sanctuary to find certain eyes fixated on him, hungry eyes, envious eyes, adoring eyes, and skeptical eyes that studied his presence, a presence that demanded attention; his demeanor dictated that they acknowledge him by any means necessary, even in a church sanctuary.
One of the elders who was wearing a gray suit, and had a face that was mainly all nose where his glasses struggled to perch properly, walked up to the pulpit to initiate the worship service with announcements. You could see his Adam’s apple ascending and descending like a yo-yo when he spoke. The congregation recited the Apostles’ Creed and prayer requests were taken.