Why Aren't You Smiling? (13 page)

After a night of too many dreams, none remembered, I woke face down on the couch. My head felt as if it were getting squeezed in a vice, my mouth tasted like mold, and I was pretty sure someone had turned Earth's gravity up to full blast. I rolled onto my back and lay there for several minutes, waiting for I didn't know what. Then I realized I was perishing of thirst and lugged my body into the kitchen where I drank three tall glasses of water in rapid succession. My body instantly felt better, even though the sun bathed everything in a white light that made my head ache. My brain fuzzily assembled the evidence and concluded that I'd been drunk and was experiencing a hangover. Booze, I decided, was even more awful than pot. Why did adults like it so much? Did it affect them differently? I went back and sat on the couch feeling grubby (I still had on my clothes from the day before) and exhausted. Without meaning to, I thought how much more pleasant it was to wake up wearing freshly laundered pajamas in the comfort and familiarity of my parents' home. I hadn't even been gone 24 hours and I was homesick. Pathetic.

Remembering my promise, I called home again. This time I got my father, a lucky break since he was far less chatty on the phone than my mother. I tried to sound chipper and wholesome. “Hey, Dad! It's me, calling from the ranch.”

“Leonard, my boy!”

“You should see it up here, it's really great.” I plumbed my imagination for something to add. “We had flapjacks for breakfast.”

“Not like down here in poor sad old California where we only have pancakes.”

“Up here they call 'em flapjacks. We're going horseback riding later.”

“You've never ridden a horse, Leonard.”

“Well, they're going to teach me. I'm really looking forward to it. In fact, I have to go now. They're saddling up. Tell Mom I love her and not to worry.”

“OK. Don't fall off the horse.”

“I won't. Bye.” With great relief, I hung up.

To keep busy while waiting for everyone to wake up, I made an examination of my surroundings. The couch and overstuffed armchairs of the living room sagged with age, herds of dust bunnies roamed the floors, and behind the curtains, the windows were so grimy they looked frosted. I thought this reflected well on the Forever Family. They weren't hung up on superficial stuff like housekeeping or interior decorating. I also discovered that Rick or someone had thoughtfully put my suitcase under the coffee table during the night. I took out one of three pairs of jeans and one of a half-dozen tee-shirts (I hadn't imagined needing much else) and went to the bathroom hoping to take a shower before donning my new clothes. Though I looked everywhere, I couldn't find any clean towels. I wandered into the hall to search for a linen closet. Just then a somnambulistic-looking and completely naked Bob tromped into the hallway.

“Good morning,” I said, keeping my eyes averted from his body (covered in thick black hair like a grizzly bear) and my voice low so as not to wake the rest of the household. “Is there possibly a towel I could use?”

Bob ran his meaty hand over his face and suppressed a yawn. “We just use whichever's dry.”

“Oh, thanks.” I let Bob use the toilet then scampered into the shower. On coming out I picked a towel, but it smelled mildewy. I tried another, then another, then another, but they all smelled gross. Steeling myself, I chose one at random, hoping it was Rick's, and dabbed at my body. I felt ashamed of my yearning for the fresh, fluffy, and smelling-of-Tide towels my mom always provided. If I was going to become a spiritual person and renounce personal possessions, there were a lot of bourgeois hang-ups I'd need to overcome. Once dressed, I went into the kitchen and found Beth and Susan quietly setting the table with bowls, milk, and cereal. I said good morning and received a judgmental glare from Beth. Susan turned to me with a serious look and whispered, “We don't speak till noon.” I sat down and kept my mouth shut.

Everyone else filed in shortly thereafter, smiling and bowing in a manner that struck me as vaguely Japanese. Following Rick's lead, we all held hands around the table and lowered our heads in silent prayer for what seemed like forever. Then we ate. I'd expected the lack of conversation to be unnerving, but actually it was a blessing. Usually when dining with strangers I found myself bedeviled by the need to manufacture polite conversation. Instead, I was left alone with my thoughts, all of which consisted of some variant on the theme of,
This feels so weird!

After breakfast, the women began to clean up and I followed the menfolk out back where an unkempt yard full of rickety lawn chairs bordered a huge garden. Bob found a bag of mulch in a small wooden shed affixed to the side of the house and began spreading it among the zucchinis, tomatoes, and peas. I imitated Rick and Jonas as they wandered among the plants pulling up little sprouty weeds and hurling the occasional snail out of the garden. Several yards into the vegetables, I wasn't too surprised to discover a rather large section devoted to marijuana plants. I'd never seen one before in person, but recognized the skinny, serrated leaves from countless posters and tee-shirts. There was no way we could be seen from the neighbors' houses, but I still felt a sharp twinge of fear. The last thing I wanted was for us to get busted by mean, squinty-eyed, small town cops with pot-sniffing Doberman Pinschers.

Before long, the women came out to help. There wasn't that much to do, but we all worked at a slow, meditative pace. The day had started out warm, but quickly grew scorching hot. I tried crouching behind plants to avoid the strong sun, fearing my milky complexion would lobsterize. When noon arrived, everyone began singing a quiet, plaintive hymn (something, something, on to Calvary). Nobody in the Forever Family had an especially beautiful voice, but their palpable sincerity sent shivers up my spine. Anyone – even my smirking, skeptical parents – on hearing them would have to be impressed by their harmony and spiritual devotion. This was the mystical communion I'd come so far to find. Beautiful!

A few songs later, Rick announced we were done for the day and everyone followed him inside and began fixing sandwiches. I was surprised (and disappointed) that my new comrades ate bologna and white bread, food that struck me as being spiritually bankrupt. Conversation was restricted to “pass the—” and I was starting to feel completely disconnected. It was the exact opposite of high school where everyone jabbered and got into your business incessantly. I was mightily relieved when Rick finally asked me, “So, how do you like our set-up here?”

I stammered, wanting to sound intelligent and enthusiastic. “It's extremely…” I searched for the right word, “spiritual in its simplicity.”

Rick fixed me with a hypnotic gaze, “I'd like to give you a present.”

My mind whirled with inexpressible possibilities. “Thanks. What?”

“It's something we offer all our guests. A baptism.”

“Ah… What is that exactly?”

“A purification by water, a cleansing of sin, and a rebirth into the community of Christians,” explained Susan, as if reciting from a book.

My scalp tingled and my throat constricted with nervousness. “I guess that would be… good.”

Beth looked at Rick in disbelief. “We're going to baptize someone who's not even sure about Jesus?”

“Aw, lay off,” moaned Jonas, more tired than exasperated.

Rick stood, his face beaming. “Let's do it then.” He tromped out to the yard and everyone followed. I went out last, arriving just in time to see Susan retrieve a children's plastic inflatable wading pool from the side of the house. Rick took a hose and began filling it as everyone milled around. When it was full, they all turned to me.

“Welcome!” said Marjorie in a solemn tone.

“Welcome,” said Jonas.

“Welcome,” said Bob.

Susan and Beth said in unison, “Welcome.”

I smiled politely, then had to look down to keep from seeing the unnervingly pious and intense looks everyone was shooting my way. These people were really into this.

“OK, Little Lenny,” urged Rick. “Get in.”

“The pool?” This struck me as bizarre.

“You've got to be immersed,” explained Beth.

The pool was only a foot and a half high. “It's sort of small for that,” I observed.

Jonas explained, “We're just gonna sprinkle you. It's symbolic.”

“No, it's not,” stated Susan. “It's every bit as miraculous as transubstantiation. This is an actual miracle we're about to perform. Leonard will literally have his sins washed away. If he were to die right after he got out of the pool, he'd go straight to Heaven without having to be reincarnated.”

“Just don't start.” Jonas rolled his eyes. “Reincarnation is such bullshit.”

“Children, peace!” Rick commanded.

I leaned over and stuck a finger into the pool. “It's cold.”

“We could do it with just hands,” suggested Bob.

“That wouldn't even count,” sighed Susan. “You need the water. In fact, it might even have to be Holy water. We should check.”

“I'm a Perfecti,” said Beth. “If the water needs to be Holy, I can bless it.”

Rick's voice exuded authority. “You don't need a separate ritual to bless the water.” He looked at me. “OK, take your clothes off and get in.”

Had anyone else in the universe asked me to bare myself in public, I'd have refused. My pale, chubby body was a deep source of shame and revulsion. Saying no to Rick, though, was inconceivable. I quickly kicked off my sneakers and pulled off my socks. I had more misgivings about removing my shirt to reveal my disgustingly flabby physique, but nobody here seemed likely (as they were at school) to laugh at me or give me a poke and call me Pillsbury Dough Boy. I took it off.

“We do baptisms just the way the Cathars did nearly a thousand years ago,” announced Beth proudly.

I undid my belt and shimmied out of my pants so that I stood before the assembled multitude in only my Fruit of the Looms.

“Don't be shy,” urged Susan.

I turned to Rick. “You mean, I have to get all the way
nude?”

“You should be as you came into the world,” he said serenely. “As God made you.”

With more trepidation than I'd felt in a long while, perhaps ever, I peeled off my underwear. My hands instinctively flew in front of my genitals where I clasped them in a way that protected my modesty but also, I thought, looked prayerful. I lifted my eyes from the ground to sneak a few glances at my new friends. They all wore the pious yet friendly looks they had before when I was still clothed. They weren't smirking or hostile.

“Into the pool,” ordered Rick, still beaming.

I stepped into the pool and the Forever Family formed a circle around me holding hands, Rick in front of me, Susan and Bob to my left, Beth and Jonas to my right, Marjory in back. It freaked me out that everyone was so close I could have reached out and touched anyone of them with my hands.

“Should I close my eyes?”

“If you want,” said Rick. I shut my eyes, which helped with the embarrassment. “Leonard,” intoned Rick in a deep, holy tone, “when you are before the Church of God you are before the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. For Christ said, ‘Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name there I am.' Be it understood that your presentation made before the sons…”

“And daughters,” interjected Susan.

“And daughters,” added Rick, “of Jesus Christ confirms the faith and teaching of the Church of God as the Holy Scriptures tell us. If you would receive this Holy Prayer you must repent your sins and forgive all men. For if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive
your
trespasses. Hence it is meet and right that you be resolved in your heart to keep this Holy Prayer all your life, in purity and truth and… and.”

“Steadfastness,” supplied Beth.

“Steadfastness. Brother Leonard, do you desire to give yourself to our faith?”

The theatrical aspect of this initiation ritual struck me as suspect (shouldn't sincere religiosity be simple and unaffected?), but pulling out at the last moment would be humiliating. “I do.”

“Bow three times,” instructed Rick. “And after each bow, take a step towards me.”

I opened my eyes and did as Rick asked, taking tiny steps that sloshed the shallow waters of the pool. When I stood directly before him, mere inches away, Rick unclasped Beth and Susan's hands so he could rest them lightly on my head. I felt, as I had every time he touched me, a wave of energy, as real as the static electricity I sometimes encountered when taking clothes out of the dryer and even more mysterious. Beth and Susan held hands behind Rick to re-close the circle around the two of us.

“Now, Leonard, repeat these words: ‘Lord, pray to God for me, a miserable sinner, that He will lead me to a good end…' “

“Lord, pray to God for me, a miserable sinner, that He will lead me to a good end.”

“You've got to mean it,” Beth intoned. “You are a
miserable sinner
and you need God's help. Badly!”

I didn't feel like a miserable sinner. What had I done that was so terrible? Then it came to me. I'd lied to my parents, snuck into a movie theater, and hated the kids who bullied me in school. I'd even done a little coveting. I was actually quite sinner-y. The words came out more forcefully this time. “Lord, lead me, a
miserable sinner,
to a good end.” Beth and the others nodded their approval.

‘Do you give yourself to God and the Gospel?” asked Rick.

I wanted to say yes, but the God part of religion still freaked me out. “I give myself to Love,” I said, trying to imbue the words with confidence.

“Say it right,” said Beth, sounding annoyed. “No ad-libbing.”

“Let him alone,” Jonas shot back.

“Shut up and act holy, or this baptism isn't going to count,” Susan said fiercely.