Calamity

Anthony? Do you want the pain to go away?”

Anthony was wandering in his own thoughts again: When we are strong and confident we can never imagine being weak and vulnerable, never imagine professing such weakness in ernest. My daughter is dead, my wife a lost soul, a corpse practically with whom I share a mattress. The pain is immense, overwhelming, crippling. Whether emotional or physical I can’t tell. There is no longer any difference.

“Yes,” he said. “I want it to go away.”

“Good. Now, you must re-imagine your life in Christ’s eyes. You must honestly evaluate every aspect of your life and every person in it. You must accept a higher standard for all. This will not be easy, but in exchange for your promise to do better, to live better, God will carry your burden and He will do it gladly.”

What did that mean, though? Did he have to give up potato chips and American Idol? Did he have to stock his house full of Bibles and learn the Gospels by rote? Did he have to attend church nightly? Would Ellis ask for the deed to his house, a simple sign of good faith, in return for the promise that his concerns would go into God’s In-Box?

Though he knew he couldn’t afford such pessimism now, he couldn’t stop it. The restlessness of his mind. All he wanted was some peace, some fucking peace, why was that so hard?

That’s for you, Dad.

“You must free yourself from all the bonds that tie you to your worldly suffering. If you want your family to come with you, you must free them as well.”

This was not what Tyler and Brendan needed right now. They deserved a father who was a stoic rock, a figure of unquestionable fortitude upon which they could hang their sorrows. They didn’t need a father who wanted to turn their lives even further upside down. Still …

“People will tell you to turn to the Bible, to seek God’s word, but I will tell you the truth. It is so simple, so revolutionary, that others in my position would never dream of sharing it. You don’t need the Bible. You don’t need organized faith. You don’t need this temple. These are all crutches. All you need you already have because God gave it to you. You need only your head and your heart. If you are willing to accept that there is something out there, something that wants to help you, you can have the peace of the angels.”

Ellis’s open refutation of organized religion gave him more validity and, ironically, encouraged Anthony to want to return to this empowerment Temple. He knew it was all rhetoric, all cleverly phrased persuasion designed to suck him into their flock. Anthony was exactly the type (previously confident man torn to shreds by the death of a loved one) that people like Ellis loved to encounter and seduce. Anthony knew this and yet he could not shut out Ellis’s words because they rang with the clarity of truth. Or at least the tones of what ought to be truth. He wanted to deny this man and even blame him for Delaney’s death, but he couldn’t. He recalled a Talking Heads song whose refrain was “stop making sense, making sense.” No other words could so perfectly capture his feelings.

“I can help you,” Ellis said.

Stop.

“Don’t you want to be free of your burden?”

Making.

“Let Jesus heal your soul and empower you.”

Sense.

“What should I do?” he asked.

Ellis told him. While he listened, Anthony was vaguely aware that after he left this temple he was never going to be the same again.

9

Brendan had agreed that Tyler could handle his problems by himself, but Brendan knew better. His brother had gotten himself stuck too deep in a pit of quicksand to crawl his own way out. He needed someone to throw him a rope. Whether Tyler liked it or not, Brendan was going to throw that rope.

He removed a business card from his pocket. On one side was a picture of Jesus’ face only with a gold crown rather than one of thorns topping his head. Beside the face the card read: The First Church of Jesus Christ the Empowered. Beneath that was the address and phone number and beneath that was the simple offer that Jesus Can Empower You. Brendan knew, now finally after wasting so much time and energy on those silly Greek Gods (the book, Finding God: a History of Appeasing Higher Powers and Fulfilling Man’s Destiny, was safely tucked deep under Brendan’s bed) that Jesus was the right path. But he couldn’t simply pray to Jesus and hope that Tyler’s problem was somehow miraculously solved. That wasn’t how it worked.

“There’s an old adage,” Ellis had told him, “that says, God helps those who help themselves. This is true. We can seek answers and change through prayer but only action will bring us closer to God and toward His empowering ways. If we want to be free of worry and know the glory of God, we need to not fear what needs to be done; we need to embrace each other on the journey toward salvation.”

Ellis told him that if he ever needed anything, anything, Brendan could call them or stop by. He gave Brendan the business card. Brendan nodded and then Ellis told him what to tell his father when he asked where Brendan had been for three hours. Dwayne then drove him home, stopping a little ways before the guarded entrance to SkyView Estates. Dwayne asked for the business card back, flipped it over, and scribbled something. He handed it back and said, “That’s my cell. Don’t bother calling the Temple; they’ll give you the stock rigamarole. You need something, call me.”

“Thanks.”

“You know why I’m giving you that number?”

Brendan shrugged. “You’re nice?”

Dwayne laughed. “That’s rich. You oughta tell my ex that. No, I’m giving it to you because I understand you, better even than Ellis understands you.”

“What do you mean?”

After a long pause, Dwayne said, “Don’t think too much about what you did. There’s no point in drowning in mistakes. But you need to accept that you did what you did because you thought it was the right thing. That should help it sit right in your conscience.”

Now, only a day later, Brendan turned the card over and stared at Dwayne’s cell phone number. Beneath it, he had scribbled, You’re special.

That phrase should have unnerved him coming from a stranger. It was something molesters said before they turned off the lights and whispered, “Shhh.” It was what a kidnapper said before he peeled off a strip of duct tape. Brendan didn’t feel that way about Dwayne because he wasn’t a stranger anymore. Brendan had shared with him and Ellis what he did to Delaney. He confessed and these men did not judge him. They embraced him. Dad would never react that way. How could he? Or Tyler? If they knew, they would see Brendan as a beast or a deranged madman. They might even turn him over to the police or the psychiatric wing of some hospital.

He trusted Dwyane and Ellis. If he needed help, they would be there for him. Well, he needed help now. Brendan picked up the phone. All he wanted was for his family to be safe and happy. How had such a simple, pure wish degenerated into a mangled mess? How could such pure wishes bring about such destruction? What was the point? Why did God let it happen?

God helps those who help themselves.

He dialed Dwayne’s number and waited.

* * *

Brendan told Dwayne everything Tyler had said. Dwayne asked one question and Brendan’s inability to answer it is what led him back to Tyler’s room a few minutes before midnight. Light shone from beneath the door. Brendan knocked.

Tyler opened the door. He wore black jeans and a black sweatshirt. He was only missing a ski mask if he wanted to commit robbery. Maybe he really was inspired by the Darkman.

“What are you doing up?” Tyler asked.

“I have an idea.”

“Go to bed.”

“Please, Tyler. Let me in.”