She leaned closer to him. Lifting one of his hands that hung limply with her own, she said with care and tenderness in her tone, “You were a boy then too. You couldn’t know what to do to save them. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Well, no one else does either. You’re not supposed to know about it. I’m not proud of it. The memory haunts me.”
“And you can’t make it stop?” she asked, not as a question but to clarify the issue.
“I—no, I can’t.”
Duh. Oh, poor Jim. Jim was a small, lost boy all over again. The books he always read were his escape. Then and now.
“There was no one to tell. The adults were all smitten with him in a sick, aberrant way. I didn’t know many people outside of them. School teachers, maybe, but I was afraid to tell them.”
“You were a young boy. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I despised it though. I remember one particularly bad day, Jimmy grabbed a real young kid… and I remember the look on his face when he walked out after being abused by Jimmy and I just couldn’t bury myself in another book. I didn’t come home from school ever again.”
“Where did you go that first time?”
“I think I stayed alone in the woods. It was June, and plenty warm enough. I scrounged for berries to eat. I remember being scared witless of the dark. I snuck into a bakery or a coffee shop soon after and stole some bread when the family left for work and school. I remember that.”
“Oh, Jim…”
His head hung and he kept his hand limply in hers. “I lived for a while like that. Then I met the Zavarians. I started doing some work for them. Eventually, I moved into their spare room and they were pretty decent to me. They were older and childless and utterly devoted to their church. Dave and Gloria Zavarian were Presbyterians. They went to church on Sunday, and Bible class on Wednesday. They also said grace before they ate any meals. That was it. That was all they did. Nothing… strange or fake with their religion. I shunned it all at first. I kept waiting for Dave to take me somewhere away from the others and expected grossly inappropriate actions in the name of religion.
“But it never happened. I asked if I could go to church with them finally and they were thrilled. I went and it was eye-opening to me. The services lasted for only an hour. We sang pretty, hopeful songs together that were simple and sweet. The pastor blew my mind. He spoke in a calm, even voice about God and appeared to be the polar opposite of Jimmy. Jimmy claimed that God was using him and speaking through him to convey his message to the cult. He’d have seizures and fits, falling to the ground, kicking and convulsing on the floor as he ranted and raved, screaming for hours on end as God’s Receiver.”
“I can’t imagine how twisted that must have been.”
“I always knew he was faking. He told me so. He mocked his followers from the time I could talk and understand so I always knew he was faking it. I didn’t believe him so I was blown away when his followers fell for it, hook, line and sinker. He liked to flip in and out of his Receiver role. He’d call out the names of the people and the items God wanted so that person had to donate whatever he requested in order to save their soul… You can’t imagine all the things he stole from those trusting people that way. But since they simply gave him their belongings and cash, it wasn’t technically stealing.”
“It was most definitely stealing in the most heinous way. As a child, knowing it was fake, you must have been so scared to see your father doing that. You were just a little boy.”
He nodded, pressing his lips together. “He did scare me most of the time. Which was why I always ran into the fields or woods.”
“Prior to meeting the Zavarians, did you have any exposure to other religions or people of faith who didn’t worship a false messenger? You know, faith without the stealing, manipulation, demagoguery, rapes and orgies?”
“No. I just related the names of God, faith, and Jesus with a distorted and warped sense of reality. He did that to people’s minds. The stuff I listened to was pretty powerful. I’ll give Jimmy that, and it’s where I learned how to speak to crowds and convey my message. He was fabulous. So much better than me. He could make you believe an ocean existed in Wyoming. Today. Right now. It scares me to know that I share that gift with him.”
She touched his hand. “It’s a gift you should celebrate and be grateful for. Maybe it came from a tarnished source, but you use it for good purposes.”
“What if I lose my way? Become the monster I witnessed as a child? It happens, you know. It’s part of why I try so hard to be a role model and do good things.”
Her breath hitched. “You… oh, Jim, you are a good person. Inherently good. Having sex with me doesn’t change that. Neither does any of the other behavior you call so evil.”
“What if it’s a bridge to something evil? I let my guard down by drinking and engaging in premarital sex and later accept not being so righteous and decent? I know how to use the same gift my biological father shares with me and turn it around. Evil is always in the periphery for me. I choose to do the same thing my father faked. What if I’m just faking it too?
