I Am The Local Atheist (6 page)

“
Hi” I replied, without much enthusiasm. “David.”

“
Hi David. Have you come for worship?”

“
Ah, no.”

“
We have our lunch bank on Tuesdays.” She looked at my bags of
groceries. “But you look all set for the rest of the week.” Her
permanent smile was beginning to annoy me.

“
Ah, no. I was hoping to find some volunteer work.”

“
Oh, great.” That just made her smile even worse. “The Lord is
always thankful for the services that his subjects
provide.”

She drew me
closer to a wall that had some leaflets stuck to it and a table
beneath. “We have a great service overseas where you can do the
Lord’s work helping people in poverty. Whatever your skills are may
be of great benefit. So what do you do?”

I was tempted
to say ‘I monitor actions on the computer’ but she wouldn’t have
got it so I just admitted that I did nothing.

“
Oh, well…” she seemed to stumble for something to say. “Ah,
well, I’m not sure what you can do to help then. I’ll just get my
superior.”

Shit. Anyone
superior to her must surely be dead.

A younger
woman with dark hair walked out of a door around the corner. The
two spoke to each other with Sylvia pointing towards me and
explaining my situation. Sylvia departed and the women came up to
me.

“
Hi. My name’s Captain Alice Pointer. I heard you were looking
for some volunteer work.”

“
Yes. Just something light, well, I’m not sure really. I don’t
care. I just want to do something that’ll help. I have no muscle
and my skill level is zero, except in the realm of computer games
where I’m very close to becoming an expert. I’m quite proud of
that, but that may not help.”

She smiled
very generously. “Well, perhaps all I can do is offer some casual
work helping to shift some boxes of recycled goods from the old
Family Store to the new one just around the corner. It used to be a
small factory but hasn’t been used for a very long time, so we
thought we’d take it over and convert it into a fully functioning
store. There probably will be some heavy lifting, but at least
it’ll be a chance to build some muscles, right?” Sarcasm was
plastered all over her face.

I shrugged my
shoulders. “Yeah sure.”

“
Okay, well I will have to pass you on to Christie who is in
charge of that, but she won’t be here until tomorrow so how about
you come in at about nine-thirty or ten and we’ll get
going.”

I tried to
smile but wasn’t really in the mood for it. “That sounds great.
I’ll definitely be here.” I said “thanks” as I walked out the door
and back into the chill of another August afternoon. The grocery
bags were beginning to strain on my shoulders as I carried them
back to the flat.

Tinsdale and
Martin were sitting on the couch testing a new video game. Tinsdale
had a bottle of beer open before him, while Martin was hunched over
the controller, his eyes peering at the TV screen from behind
black-rimmed glasses.

“
Hey,” they both said in unison.

Tinsdale hit
Martin on the arm. “Jinx.”

“
What-the-fuck? Y’ don’t smack someone on the arm for a
jinx.”

“
I didn’t want it to turn into a curse so had to let the
tension out.”

I went into
the kitchen and started packing my groceries into the
cupboards.

Tinsdale called out from the lounge “just grab a beer if y’
want one. We’re playing the new
Need for
Speed
.”

“
Cheers” I replied without any intention of grabbing a beer.
After I was done packing my groceries into what small storage space
I had been allocated in one of the cupboards, I sat down with them
for a while, but got bored. I wasn’t in any mood to be playing
racing games, especially with Tinsdale drinking and driving – he
often got arrogant and pushy, and would hog the console for long
periods claiming that he had to win this or that race otherwise his
manhood was at stake. The only thing that was ever at stake with
Tinsdale was his head exploding from being too full of
himself.

I got up and
went to my room opening the old wooden slide-top pencil case beside
my bed. It was empty. I went to my closet and uncovered the loose
piece of floorboard in the corner, pulling out what was left of my
ounce packet. I didn’t know when I’d be able to afford another
ounce, or even half an ounce, so was trying to get through this one
a bit slower than usual. I lay down on my bed and began rolling a
joint as I looked up at the poster of Ecclesiastic Seal on my
ceiling. An ex-girlfriend had put it up but forgotten to take it
with her when she left the room bawling her eyes out. I didn’t
really like the band that much, but I had no better posters up on
my walls and she had never come back for it anyway.

When I
finished rolling I put the rest of the bag in the pencil case, lit
up the joint and blew smoke towards the ceiling. The high came
pretty fast and I lay there for quite a while just staring into a
nowhere space, enjoying the shapes in the room as they moved around
before my eyes, different parts of the room making their presence
known over other parts and then swapping their roles as though even
inanimate objects had roles. Well of course they did. Their role
was to be a presence, to be a wall, to be a shelf, to be anything,
to be one thing. It all made sense and I was at ease, at peace… I
closed my eyes.

I woke up
hours later and it was night outside. I felt so refreshed, but
hungry. Definitely hungry. It was eight o’clock. I cooked some
dinner – chops and baked beans on toast – then sat down with
Tinsdale and Martin as they raced each other off for the rest of
the night.

* * *

Christie was a
much younger woman than Alice, approximately early twenties with
shoulder length blonde hair. Her smile was mischievous.

We didn’t say much more than “hi’s” but she maintained her
mischievous grin throughout her explanation of what I had to do.
She even gave me keys to The Salvation Army car but made me promise
not to tell anyone. Her nose wrinkled up when I promised. And I
couldn’t help smiling back at her:
Can we
have sex now?

“
Awesome” she said, and then spun around and took
off.

I’ll take that
as a ‘no’.

I was left in
a room filled with old boxes and lots of rubbish.

Christie had
given me pretty clear directions on where to start and how to
tackle the problem of moving everything to the new location but the
information had stayed in my head for about five seconds before
more came in and replaced it. I was left knowing where to end but
had completely forgotten where to start. So I started where I was
standing.

I got the car
loaded up with boxes and then drove it around the corner to the
shed which was a bare factory floor with an alcove room built into
the upper right hand side. Shifting the boxes turned out to be
pretty decent exercise as I jogged up and down the stairs trying my
best to keep a consistent pace. Some of the boxes were quite heavy,
being filled with old clothes, kitchenware, and the likes that
people in need (students included) would end up sifting through to
find a bargain. I had to walk up the stairs and place them down
carefully in the room above but I kept up the pace by jogging down
the stairs again. It didn’t take long before I was sweating and
wiping my brow with my sweatshirt sleeve. The only exercise I had
subjected myself to for a year was either walking to Work &
Income to explain how my search for work was working out, or
walking to the grocery store and carrying my bags back home. The
last few months had involved a few too many cheesecakes-on-special
appearing in my grocery bags, and then being transferred into rolls
of fat onto my body where I had never seen rolls of fat before. So
at least it felt good to be working all those cheesecake rolls off
and being the middle-man between the transference of cheesecake
into the completing of a job.

Lunch arrived after I had transferred four whole loads in the
car from the original building to the new one, taking my time with
the loading because I knew that I’d be making up for it as I ran
through the unloading. I sat in the car and turned the radio on. It
was already tuned into a mainstream radio station. I dialled
through several channels until it landed on a Christian channel
where a man was preaching about the Old Testament. My first
reaction was to quickly dial past it but I thought that perhaps I
needed to listen, since it had been such a long time since I had
put
any
faith in
The Bible.

“
He makes us slaves because he has a higher purpose, a higher
purpose that will serve us all as we serve him. Some people used to
believe in the idea of slavedom, the concept of being a servant to
God as though domination over your will was an acceptable way for
God to love you. But is it? Wouldn’t you expect love to come from a
friend? Someone who accepts you and showers you with love every
day, every minute, every second, every micro second so you are
never confused by fear and mislead into the arms of Satan. Humans
used to be slaves, but slaves are ruled by fear and bondage; Jesus
came to us with love to free us, so we could finally realise God
through our individuality – not through fear, and certainly not
bondage…”

I felt
somewhat confused. I had never considered myself to be a slave the
way that some people I had met had. I had always felt like a
recipient of God’s love, and a willing servant to his will – but
never a slave. Now I didn’t know what I felt anymore. It certainly
wasn’t love. The confusion was amplified by the fact that Lisa had
come back into my life, a person who I had helped and supported,
but had turned her back on me just like everyone else had a year
and a half ago.

I rested my
head in my hands giving it a good shake as I stood up with the
intention of going back to work but the break had sapped me of all
my enthusiasm and I stood there like a zombie, my eyes drooping
into unconsciousness.

“
Getting in an early mid-afternoon nap, David?” Christie
appeared with a young man at her side.

I shook my
head feeling groggy. “Yeah sorry about that.”

“
Don’t worry about it.” She turned to the person beside her.
“This is Lucas-Anthony. He’s one of our casual volunteers who helps
out every now and then.”

I reached out
my hand and we shook, eyeing each other up.

“
Just call me Lucas if you want.”

“
Thanks” I said letting go of his hand.

Christie continued on. “Lucas-
Anthony
will be coming and going over
the next few days helping to put some appliances and furnishings
into the other rooms. He said that he’s quite happy to help out if
you need a hand with anything.”

“
Just yell out anytime I’m around.”

I smiled.
“Sure.”

Christie asked
“How’s it all going anyway?”

“
Alright. I’m just not used to the fuckin’ work. Done fuck-all
exercise for more than a year now.”

She looked
like she was chewing her tongue.

Lucas-Anthony
was holding in a laugh.

I must have
looked confused.

Christie
smiled very generously. “Don’t worry about it David, people use
foul language around me all the time.” She screwed her nose up like
a mouse and tipped her head to the side. “I’m kinda used to it
now.”

Oh shit!
I just hadn’t thought about
it. Fuck, I mean a whole year around stuff-all people, not
conversing with anyone except my flatmates – a gamer and a dealer;
a Work & Income employee and occasionally my mother, had left
me completely forgetful about other people’s
sensibilities.

“
Shit, I’m so sorry Christie.”

The two of
them laughed as I stood there feeling stupid.

“
Don’t worry David, I don’t really care.” She gave me that
mischievous smile that made me just want to have sex with her.
“Maybe if you’re around some of the older ladies, just try to hold
back your language – just a
wee
bit.” She winked.

I could’ve
dropped to the bare concrete floor right then and there and told
her to do with me whatever she wanted, but I stood paralysed as she
turned and walked away.

Once she was
out of sight, Lucas-Anthony patted me on the shoulder and said
“yeah, me too!”

Just as he
started walking away he turned back and said, “Oh, and seriously –
just call me ‘Lucas’.” He walked into one of the other rooms and
made some clanking noises. I turned back to the work that still
needed to be done before the day ended but I had lost momentum, all
my desire to do any work. Where was the motivation? It had gone to
sleep and forgotten to wake up again.

I could only
hope that tomorrow I would feel better.

I didn’t feel
any better. In fact, it could be argued that I felt worse. I had
woken up regretting the decision to look for work as I dragged my
lead-weighted body out of bed, poured coffee down my throat,
showered like showering didn’t even matter, dressed in random
clothing that I had picked up off the floor, and eventually made my
way to The Salvation Army for another round of sweating as I
traversed the steps, taking boxes of files and clothing from the
truck I had transported them in up to the alcove that had been
built like it was the bosses room so he can look down on the
factory floor as his minions claw their way through their lives
working for a mere five cents an hour while he slices a neat
percentage off the top for his own tidy keepings. The fact that I
was working for nothing made me feel like one of those factory
workers, like I was doing all this work for a measly minimum wage
that could barely keep me alive. Damn it. I wanted money.