Family Thang

Reverend Walker resumed his seat, put his head between his knees and prayed he wouldn’t be sick.

* * *

Ruth Ann watched, stupefied, as her seventeen-year-old son, Shane, broke free and ran to Kenny G’s casket. She closed her eyes, knowing what would happen next. She prayed she was dreaming. Please, God, let me wake up in my own bed. She heard the casket open. Please, God! She opened her eyes and she was still in church, still sitting in the front pew, a few feet from where her son was caressing a dead dog.

Shirley, sitting to her right, nudged her. “Ruth Ann, shouldn’t you be doing something about this?”

“What you suggest I do?”

“Tell Shane put Kenny G back into the casket.”

“Momma and Daddy raised him—he won’t listen to a word I tell him.”

Robert Earl, sitting on Shirley’s right, leaned forward and whispered to Ruth Ann, “Get your boy. He’s embarrassing the family.”

“You go get him!”

“He’s your son.”

“He’s your nephew. You go get him. If I go up there I’ll knock the daylights outta him.”

Robert Earl frowned at her. Ruth Ann ignored him. “Forget this!” he said, getting to his feet.

“What’s he fixin’ to do?” Shirley asked. “Tell me he’s not fixin’ to do what I think he’s fixin’ to do.” Robert Earl advanced toward Shane. “Ruth Ann, he’s fixin’ to make a scene at Daddy’s funeral.”

A scene, hello? “Where’s Leonard?” Ruth Ann said, looking away, focusing on a stained glass window depicting a nativity scene.

“Probably with his friend,” Shirley said, not taking her eyes off Shane and Robert Earl. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea for him to come.”

“Boy,” Robert Earl said, approaching Shane, the dog draped over his shoulder. “Put the dog back inside the casket. Now!”

“No!” Shane said. “He’s not going in a hole. He can’t breathe in a hole. I won’t allow it! I won’t allow it! No! I won’t allow it!”

“Boy, the dog can’t breathe now! It’s dead. Stop acting a dang fool and put it back in the casket. Don’t you see everybody watching you?” Robert Earl lunged for the dog, almost catching hold of its rear leg.

“No!” pulling the animal out of reach. “No, no, no, no!” Then he ran.

“Catch him!” Robert Earl shouted, and gave chase. Shane ran down the aisle along the right wall, with Kenny G bouncing on his shoulder, to the rear of the church.

“Stop him!” shouted Robert Earl, only a few feet behind. “Trip him!… Dang it, boy!”

Shane ran up the center aisle and jumped up onto the dais with the ease of a gazelle. Robert Earl tried to do the same, but his right foot caught in the silver latticework and he fell backward and landed with a splat on his back. A moment he lay there groaning. Then he jumped to his feet.

“Give me the dog, boy, or I’m coming up!”

“No, no, no, no!”

With both hands, Robert Earl placed his right Oxford shoe onto the dais. His brown corduroy pants, obviously two sizes too small, ripped, revealing to all who cared to look, an ashy brown fanny.

A woman screamed.

Up on the dais, Robert Earl moved toward Shane. “Give me the dog, boy!”

Backing away, Shane stumbled and tossed Kenny G into the air. Reverend Walker, finally shaking the urge to hurl, sat up just in time for Kenny G to land in his lap.

Reverend Walker shrieked and threw the dog to the floor. Shane got to his feet, snatched up Kenny G, jumped down, ran down the center aisle and out the glass doors. Robert Earl jumped down and gave chase, one hand covering the rip in his pants. Halfway to the doors he stopped. “I’ll never catch him.”

A pregnant woman jumped up, shouted, “This is insane!” and ran the way Shane had fled.

“You’ll never catch him,” Robert Earl called after her.

“Look, Ruth Ann,” Shirley said. “Reverend Walker just lost his lunch.”

“I’m not looking,” Ruth Ann said, eyes closed. “I paid Emma Stewart to videotape the service. I can watch it later.”

Shirley poked Ruth Ann until she opened her eyes. “Look,” pointing. In front of the adjacent row of pews, Emma Stewart lay supine on the floor, a video camcorder beside her. Two ushers fanned her with paper fans.

“Ruth Ann, you lost money on that deal.”

Robert Earl returned to his seat. “I tried.”

“Can we have order?” A new voice on the microphone: Reverend Jones. “Please! Can we have—”

A loud shriek from the rear of the church and then a woman dressed head to toe in white ran up front, arms flailing as though she were in the throes of electric shock.

“Is that Estafay?” Shirley asked Ruth Ann, who had closed her eyes again.

“I don’t know! And I don’t want to know!”

When Estafay hopped onto the dais, Reverend Jones, horrified, immediately stepped away from the pulpit. Estafay snatched the microphone out of his hand.

Reverend Walker, on all fours, gagging, looked up and saw Estafay, her face contorted, said, “Dear God!” and threw up again.

“Jeeeeeessssuusss!” Estafay screamed into the microphone, her head tilted back, thick tendons in her neck. “Jeeeeeeeeesssuusss!” she screamed again and stomped her feet, whirled in circles, wrapping the microphone cord around herself, and started bouncing on her toes.

“Robert Earl,” Shirley said, “isn’t she with you?”

“No, she isn’t. I rode in the family car with you, remember?”

“She’s your wife, remember?”

“Don’t you think I know that!”

“God has looked down on this church,” Estafay told the handful of people who had remained in their seats, “and He has wrought vengeance on an evil and hypocritical congregation. Hallelujah! He told me to tell y’all the time is near. Rebuke your abominable, wicked ways and join the Holy Professors of Truth… my church, the church where God lives and breathes.”

“Is that here in Dawson, Arkansas?” Shirley asked.

“Yes,” Ruth Ann said. “It’s on Highway Six. You can easily spot it by the nuts writhing in the front lawn.”

“Gummba… yabbaaa… akkkkkaaaa…” Estafay shouted.

“What’s wrong with her?” Shirley asked.

“She’s speaking in tongues,” Ruth Ann said.

“For Pete’s sake, Robert Earl,” Shirley said. “Go up there and get your wife. She’s making a spectacle of Daddy’s funeral. Think about Momma.”

They looked at their mother sitting at the far end of the pew. She wore a black blouse and black skirt and black-and-white hat with a white veil on the brim. She looked catatonic, her eyes fixed on her deceased husband.

“Look,” Ruth Ann said. “She’s upsetting Momma.”

On the dais, Reverend Walker had regained his composure and was trying to wrest the microphone away from Estafay.

“Get away from me, you heathen!” Estafay screeched.

Reverend Walker had one hand around her neck and the other on the microphone. “Give it to me!”

“Now you see why I don’t attend this church,” Shirley said.

Ruth Ann shook her head. “Shirley, after this I’ll be too embarrassed to watch TBN.”

“Let it go!” Reverend Walker shouted. Estafay held on. They struggled, one moment Reverend Walker taking the advantage, Estafay the next.

Reverend Walker grabbed Estafay in a headlock and she squealed.

“Ruth Ann, that’s what I call speaking in tongues.”

“Don’t talk about my wife!” Robert Earl said. “She’s a sanctified woman.”

Ruth Ann said, “Go up there and get your sanctified woman, Robert Earl! Please do! This is ridiculous!”

Estafay lifted Reverend Walker, who still held her in a headlock, up like a baby and carried him to the