His Dark Ways (3 page)

From behind I hear the faint squeak of low-priced leather shoes. There’s only one person in this entire church who drives all the way to Vegas during Easter for the Kmart shoe sale, Vivi. She takes a seat at the piano and quickly jumps when she notices me. “Oh honey, you scared the devil out of me.”

In a way I feel half dead, probably look like it too. Sleep deprivation doesn’t suit me “Sorry, Vivi. How are you?”

She pops up from the bench all sprightly. Her cheeks are heavily rose colored with cheap blush making her appear all the more perky. “You know, I’m glad you’re here early since you weren’t able to make it into practice on Wednesday.” She quickly shuffles through the papers in her yellow folder that reads Choir Leader and hands them to me. “Here are our songs for this morning and you still have the small solo we all agreed on a while back, if you don’t mind?”

“That’s fine.”

Her expression changes and she leans in close while twirling her index finger around the right side of her cheek. “Sweetheart, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just fell off a horse.”

“Well, I’ll be prayin’ for those wounds to heal and that it doesn’t happen again. You poor thing.”

She pats me on the knee and gets back into position on the piano bench. I give her a nod and glance over my solo.
Shout to the Lord
should be easy seeing how Mom and Dad have sang that very song to me since I was in the womb.

Church is surprisingly full this morning. Even Lucky and Amy are here and practically spooning each other toward the back. They both wave, and Amy brings attention to my dress with a “what the fuck are you wearing look”. I peer down at all the fluorescent colors. I’m even shocked that I’ve got this thing on, but Mom sent it to me from Uganda and I couldn’t resist. Maybe I put it on today of all days because I knew I was going to be telling more lies and wearing something that has helped the children where Mom is, will help balance out “my sins” for the day. I fiddle with the end of the dress and tug it down more. After age eight, dresses were no longer part of my wardrobe because Katie Baker made fun of my big white legs in the fourth grade. It’s stupid really, I shouldn’t care what people say, but it gave me a complex.

Music lifts up into the rafters and all eyes are on me and the five others standing on stage singing. Shout to the Lord doesn’t make it out of my mouth. God, I’m tired. In my head I can hear those lyrics, but I’m having a hard time singing them out loud.

My solo’s up. “My J-j-j-j, my S-s-s, L-l-l-l there is none like You—”

I stumble and try to say the lyrics over again—nothing. Then I attempt, God, Jesus, Yahweh—nothing. None of them escape my lips. I feel mute. Vivi bends her eyebrows firmly at me and continues. The girls start to giggle. Everyone’s probably thinking this is my way of a rebellious practical joke, but it’s kind of scaring me, like I did hit my head too hard and the damage to my brain is slowly settling in. The tune for the next song begins. Again I hit every word perfectly—anything that doesn’t include God’s name.

As I walk off stage Dad gives me a confused smirk. “Thank you, ladies. That was a wonderful way to open our morning.”

By the time I make it over to the girls, the congregation has already stopped clapping and people keep turning around to catch a glimpse of the pastor’s daughter. Lucky elbows me in the arm. “That was classic.”

“But I seriously can’t say, G-g-g-g, see?”

She snorts out loud and quickly buries her face into her sweater with her eyes still on me. “Yeah, whatever.”

Dad opens his sermon and I just face forward feeling dazed—confused. Is the universe mocking me? Have I finally woken up from a religious daydream? Is the reality of what exists trying to reveal itself to me?

With three fingers I grasp onto the telescope that’s been permanently chained around my neck since Grandpa died three years ago. I hold firmly onto the charm and move it up and down until the rustling of the chain is all I can hear. He told me that if I ever want to see him to simply look up at the stars. He was a well known scientist, everything I want to be.

Sadly he wasn’t a big part of my life.

I can still hear Mom, Dad, and Grandpa bickering over science verses creationism. It was what our holidays were made of. The only thing I ever questioned about his beliefs was how anything could come out of chaos, an explosion. Now I’m beginning to question everything and the feeling is unsettling.

Chapter 4

Perfect Chemistry

The soft feathers inside my daisy patterned pillow never felt better.

Tired, throbbing eyes, already start to feel at ease after only seconds of lying down. The sun is still high over the Sierras and I’m too tired to care that it’s only three hours past noon. Ever since I removed the remaining splinters from my face, it’s easier to curl up into the ball I love to sleep in. After choir today, I let my mind wander into a game of tug of war between science and creationism, and I allow the fight to continue until my thoughts carry me away and my body’s ready to function again.

I wake from a post-choir nap to the sound of dead weeds being crunched underfoot outside my window. When my feet touch the floor, chills race up my spine from the shock of the cold. Strange, my window’s slightly open. I don’t remember leaving it that way. Dad must have opened it when I passed out earlier. He’s never liked the smell of dogs. With one eye opened, I peer out into the dark. Our yard has no fence or even a yard for that matter. It’s just a long stretch of sage brush with a house sitting on top of it all. No one’s out there, except for the jack rabbits and coyotes playing cat and mouse. Softly I close it shut and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. On my way Dad’s snoring echoes through the hallway and I try saying anything that’s related to God’s name. “G-g-g-g-g, L-l-l-l-o-o-r-r, J-j-j-e-e. What the hell is wrong with me?” 

I open the fridge to light up the room to keep from waking Dad, grab a glass from the cupboard, and fill it up with tap water. I can see myself at the doctor’s now…

Dr: So, what brings you in today?

Me: Oh, well, I hit my head the other night and now I can’t say, like, G-g-g-g-g. Here, let’s play charades since I can’t say it.

Dr: God? You can’t say, God? Jesus? Those are the only words you can’t say?

Me: Correct.

Dr: I’m going to refer you to a psychologist at the psyche ward.

With a refilled glass I head back to my room, still playing out the scenario in my mind, when the shadow of a man out in the field makes me press myself flat against the wall to avoid being seen. The nightlight inside the bathroom from behind gives off a dim glow, making it difficult to see past my reflection. As I stand closer to the window I see the color drain from my face. I bend down and peer through the empty space of my cupped hands.

His back is turned toward me walking away, and I notice a familiar uniform, Daniel. Cautiously I open the window. If it is a creep, and not Daniel, he’s far away enough that he wouldn’t be able to hurt me. I slip on a baggy sweater over my pajamas and pull on my old boots as fast as I can. The figure’s disappearing already. My right leg’s out first, then the left, and my quiet descent from the ledge is a success.

Heavy boots have flattened a path of dead weeds toward an old structure made of bricks. I call out, my breath ascending like small pillars of smoke. “Daniel, is that you? Wait.”

For a moment he pauses—I stop. I’m close enough now to see the metal stars on his shoulders. “Daniel.” He continues—footsteps slow. I call out again, “It’s me, Savanna.”

As he turns around he fades out of sight and the chill air of approaching winter tries to crawl into all the tunnels of empty space throughout my clothes. On the outside of the old structure, I slowly brush my hands along its half crumbling bricks and keep a sharp eye out for him. How did he find me? Did he follow me home? Or have I really lost it?

After I make a full circle around a building that reminds of the three little pigs, I take a seat on a bench made of piled up stones. If a brick house was supposed to help keep the wolf out, it definitely didn’t work and I’m for sure that childhood fable is crap. Slight panic sets in as I watch a coyote move still through tall bits of grass as he hunts its prey. What if the thing that hurt me has come after me? Or what if I’ve really followed a stranger out into the night like a naïve little girl. I cross my arms together, scoot back against the stone walls, and look over both my shoulders—this was stupid, I’m far from home. Before I’m able to get up and walk back a warm touch encircles my wounded wrist. In terror, I quickly outstretch my arm hoping its Daniel. A hand holds onto my wrist as Daniel examines it with a shy smile. “I’m glad your wrist is healing well.” His other hand unfolds gently across my cheek. “And your face.”

Half of me is full of fear and the other relief. “What are you? Am I going crazy, are you real?”

Pillars of air similar to the ones that escaped my lips moments ago flow from his. “I was a soldier, and ended up dying here instead of the war. I guess I didn’t make it to Korea.”

My heart’s racing too fast for me to speak and he begins to pull away. “Should I go? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Emptiness fills his face. Now that we’re touching I can sense the loneliness that plagues him and in my dazed state he pulls away. I’m nauseous and realize that whatever energy is connecting us is becoming more addictive. I’m horrified, but can’t help wanting more of him anyway. My tongue swells up as if I’m craving a powdered drug to be placed upon it and call out into the now bleak night. “Wait! I’m not scared, don’t go.”

Stillness, I wait and there’s nothing, no coyote, no rabbits. Not even the wind.

Chapter 5

Small Town Life

Through the slits of white sheets, I stare at my dirtied boots as the sun rises. This is ridiculous. I’ve become some romance obsessed girl—everything I’ve tried to be opposite of since I stopped playing with dolls. I swore I’d never let this happen until I got out of this town and had some kind of degree—astronomy if I crossed my fingers hard enough. Being a love sick puppy for a ghost is not what I had in mind for my future.

“Sleep, what’s that?” I say to myself as I fumble out of sheets twisted around my ankles. All the tossing and turning I did last night turned my floor into part of the bed. The comforter and pillows are scattered past the nightstand and I attempt to pull myself together for the day. My brain needs rest, but after seeing Daniel last night, it’s like he reached inside my head, messed with the circuit board, and rewired it so that he can only work the buttons. An easy smile emerges when I think about seeing him again. 

Slowly I get up and inch toward the crack of light glistening through the window pane. With my palms placed firm on the wooden seal, I peer out trying to find the clearing of weeds Daniel made and I’m shocked at how far I walked—it definitely didn’t seem that far, the brick building looks like an ant from here. My breath fogs up the glass, and I can’t help but get cheesy and draw a heart around our initials, D&S.

A couple of wild horses in the distance remind me that I promised to pick up Amy on the way to school. Since it’s so early, I should just head out and help feed her horse Sebastian before I pick her up. She always takes forever getting ready anyways and could use the help around the farm ever since her dad died.

As I head to the bathroom I pucker out my lips and twist my wrist in small circles to see if my wounds are healing. No pain, except for a strange stiffness like something’s dried on my face. The pipes shake as I turn on the water and wait for it to warm. Half naked I glance into the mirror before it fogs. The shape of a hand made out of clay mud covers part of my face and as I lay my hand across it, I realize its Daniel’s. My figure fades from droplets of warm water and I keep my hand on his until I step into the shower.

Part of me aches as I watch umber colored mud rush down my body and into the drain. What if he doesn’t come back because I didn’t respond to him last night, or worse, what if he can’t come back? The idea haunts me. Water swirls around my lips as I bend my head down and talk to myself. “You’ve never really been scared, Savanna. Why did you freeze up last night? How stupid, what if he needs help—answers.”

After I’m done getting ready, I grab a banana, tighten the coat strap around my waist and feed Red before I head out the door. When he’s done eating, I wrap my arms around his collared neck. He whimpers, pulls away, and walks over to his circled pillow bed. “What’s wrong boy?” I reach for his yellow birdie squish toy. “Come on, wanna play?” He won’t even look at me. Maybe his breakfast isn’t sitting well?

I toss a limp peel into the trash and tuck an apple into my pocket for Sebastian. “All right, well I’ll see you later.”    

As I climb inside the truck my long hair mimics a wool scarf in twenty degree weather and makes the wind gushing through slits of hair sting less. The ground even froze last night. Patches of the valley shimmer and make me think of Christmas and the silver tinsel I always heavily decorate our tree with. I can’t believe it’s only two months away. This will be the second Christmas we’ll spend without Mom. Not that we really celebrate as a family anyway, Dad always has stuff going on at church to help house the poor and feed them on that day. I wonder how Daniel celebrated the holidays when he was alive. There I go again letting him slip into my thoughts—the shape of black hair falling close to deep eyes and teeth slightly overlapping in the most beautiful way. I place my hand over the once was clay handprint on my face and fall into a partial day dream. I sit up straight and try to break the spell of idiocracy I’m under, and tell myself I don’t have an addiction to anything or anyone and focus on the road.

When I reach Amy’s, I park in front of where Sebastian stands at the fence. He’s leaning his heavy head over the barbed wire to greet me.

Ears perk up straight, and large nostrils breathe warm air over my hands as he sniffs me out. With an outstretched arm I rub the center of his nose. “Hey you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” I reach in my pocket and pull out a cherry red apple. “I brought you a treat.” With my thumb tucked in and palm flattened, I offer him the apple. He lets out a short huff and rejects it. Gosh, what’s wrong with all these animals this morning? “Bastian, you’ve never turned down an apple.”