The Good Demon Page 19

  “Just wanted to remind you that today is my and Larry’s anniversary,” said Mom, “so we’ll be leaving you alone tonight. Think you can manage that?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” I said.

  Larry walked in, grumpy. He coughed and whispered into my ear, “I’ll bring you home some leftovers if you promise to start back cooking in the mornings. You’re a damn sight better at it than your momma.”

  I nodded at him, and he winked at me.

  I guessed today was the start of a lot of new things for me.

  I spent the morning lazing around, reading in the sunshine, playing with my dog. I spun a couple of my dad’s old records as loud as they would go. That felt good. The day was hot and sun-drenched and jungle-humid, the kind of Southern summer day that demands you loaf around. I was happy to oblige it, happy to soak the heat into my skin, to breathe in the sticky air, to fill myself with this world. Only twice was I sad. Looking out over the woods, seeing how the path to where me and Her met was a little bit grown over, wondering if that spot was dead to me forever. That hurt me a little, same as looking back over an old photograph.

  The second time was different, a little weirder. It came later in the afternoon. I was lying on the couch, flipping channels on the TV, when suddenly this stab of loneliness hit me like an icepick to the chest. I swear to you it burned—the feeling of being stranded in this world alone, like clutching to a life preserver in the middle of a big black ocean. It stole the breath right from me. For a moment I wished She would come back and swoop me away, into the Hidden Place, where I could be safe and calm and never worry about anything again.

  After a minute I began to breathe regular. All the colors of the world seeped back into place, and that fierce, fanged panic left me. I hoped it was gone for good. Still, it had been a strange moment, and it scared me a little.

  But life was like that, wasn’t it? You’re happy, swimming along fine, and then all of a sudden terror swoops down like a hawk and yanks you up, right out of the water. That’s just the way it had been all my life, even back when I was a kid watching Mom and Dad fight it out in the kitchen after Mom would flush Dad’s stash down the toilet or something. My life had always been filled with panic gashing like lightning through the calm.

  Yes, but She had always been there for me during the hard times, guiding me through them, holding me close until they passed. And that just made me lonesome all over again.

  My phone buzzed. It was Roy. Thank the universe for Roy.

  “Hi there,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said in a quiet voice, not his usual happy way.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, come on. I can always tell when something’s the matter. So why don’t you just go on and tell me?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just had this dream last night, and it’s made my whole day feel weird. Like I can’t shake it or something.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Tell me about it.”

  “Nah,” he said. “It’s dumb.”

  “Come on, Roy,” I said. “You know how I feel about dreams.”

  “Maybe some other time.”

  I waited a minute, a little scared to ask this question.

  “Well, my parents are going out for the night,” I said. “Want to come to my house and tell me about it?”

  “Yeah.” Roy laughed a little. “Yeah. I’d like that a lot. My dad will be at a deacon’s meeting anyhow. They go to Outback Steakhouse once a month.”

  Of course they do, I thought. Bloomin’ Onions for all.

  “That’ll work,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I waited outside Roy’s house in Mom’s car for about ten minutes before he called me.

  “I know this is going to sound weird,” he said. “But my annoying neighbor Mrs. Perkins is totally standing at her window, watching your car.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “Creepy.”

  “Totally. She watches everything that goes on in the neighborhood. So just drive down the street a bit and I’ll wait till she goes off somewhere else and I’ll meet you.”

  I drove the car up a ways and watched the daylight die. It was a hell of a sunset, like the sky broke open and let out all its gold. After a while Roy came walking up to my car, hands in his pockets. He looked good, like he’d dressed up for me a little. Again he wore the shirt I picked out for him, and he had on new jeans.

  “Got yourself some new britches, I see,” I said.

  “Yeah. Dad decided I was about due.”

  “He was right,” I said. “Hop in and let’s get to where we’re going.”

  I cranked the music and we drove out to my house, the last blotch of sunlight vanishing in my rearview mirror.

  The house was still and empty. I’d switched off most of the lights before I left, and it looked spooky from my driveway. I called for Eyeball, but he didn’t come running. As we walked through the front door, I felt myself catching my breath.

  “It’s so quiet,” Roy said.

  “Then let’s whisper!” I said. “Come with me.”

  I led him through the living room and toward the stairwell.

  To be honest, I was a little nervous. Me and Roy had never been alone in a house before. Just the car, or in the woods. This felt different somehow, a little bit illegal even. That only made it more exciting.

  “Where are we going?” he said.

  “To my room.”

  “I haven’t been there since the day I first met you,” he said. “When me and Dad were here.”

  On came the loneliness again, deep in my heart. It staggered me. I grabbed the staircase rail and my hand tingled. The clocks in the hallway ticked louder and offbeat, like time was mashing in and out of sync with itself. A cricket was lost somewhere inside the house, its ghostly scratch and chirp too loud for something so small and invisible. I guessed it was going to be a long time before I was over losing Her. I guessed it might take me forever to get over it.

  “Are you okay?” said Roy. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

  “It’s fine, Roy. I’m all good.”

  I shot him a smile in the darkness. When we got to my room I put a record on, The Moon and the Melodies, one of my dad’s favorites.

  We lay on the bed together, propped up on pillows, listening to the music. The sun was gone now, leaving nothing but the first stars out my window.

  “I like this music,” said Roy, after a few minutes. “It’s all shimmery, and the lady sounds like somebody at church who has the Holy Spirit, like she’s singing in tongues.”

  “It’s the Cocteau Twins,” I said.

  “Well, I like it.”

  I could tell Roy was feeling antsy. He kept thumbing at his cuticles, and he wouldn’t scoot any closer to me than was necessary. That was okay. I was feeling pretty nervous, too.

  “So, tell me about your dream,” I said.

  “Nah,” he said. “It’s pretty sad. It’ll probably kill the mood and everything.”

  “What mood?” I said. “Go on. I’m all ears. Literally. Ears all over the place.”

  Roy drooped his head and sighed. This seemed like it was really going to be tough for him. That was okay. I knew what dreams were like. I leaned in close to listen, so close I could almost feel his breath on my lips as he spoke.

  “Well, it was a dream about a long time ago,” he said. “I was watching something that happened to me when I was a kid. I could see myself, though, like it was on TV. I was about four years old. It was a dream of a bad day, one I hadn’t thought of in ages. I guess I’d wanted to forget it, you know?”

  “A memory dream,” I said.

  “Yeah, definitely. It was from back when my mom was real sick. Like when she was bald and weak and wore her pink bathrobe all day. It was tattered where our old dog, Nora, had chewed it. Nora died when I was six and no one had the heart to get a new one. Dad kept trying to hug Mom and she kept pushing him away. She kept asking him to
heal her. You know how my dad does these healing services, where they lay hands on people and everyone shakes and stuff? Well, it was like that. And Mom kept saying, ‘Heal me,’ and Dad said, ‘It doesn’t work like that.’ And Mom kept talking about how it was useless, how God must be deaf or something. How there was no reason to pray for anything, because God wasn’t listening.

  “You can imagine how mad that made Dad. He started yelling at her, saying how she had blasphemed and everything, how she needed to repent. And Mom just blew up. She kept screaming about Dad being a liar, saying that Dad had cheated on her, that he had a girlfriend or something. I didn’t even know what that meant at the time. I only understood it later, you know? I think a lot of being a kid is like that.”

  So that’s what Roy’s dad was so upset about in his office when I asked about his wife. How he kept going on and on about regret, about guilt. Maybe that was why Reverend Sanders was so hard on Roy, why he tried so hard to keep Roy from messing up like he had.

  Roy stopped talking for a minute. He covered his face with his hands, and I knew he was crying. That was okay, he could cry around me all he wanted. I waited. When Roy started talking again his voice shook and cracked, like he was barely keeping it all in.

  “That’s where my dream ended,” he said. “But I remember a lot more of what happened that night. I remember Dad didn’t say anything for a minute. He just sat there with his eyes closed, like it hurt too bad to open them. And Mom started hitting him, just slapping him in the face and he sat there and took it. I guess he felt like he deserved it. Mom was real weak then, from the chemo and everything, so after about a minute of hitting him she was tired out, she just slumped over on the floor. And my dad bent down over her and scooped her up, like she weighed nothing. I remember her robe coming open, seeing her ribs, just how skinny and sick she was. ‘Roy,’ said Dad. ‘Can you cover your momma up?’ I did. Me and Dad carried her up the stairs and lay down in bed with her while she cried and slept. I think we lay in that bed for a whole day together, me and Dad on each side of her, like we were protecting her from something, doing everything we could to keep it away. And two weeks later she was dead.”

  Roy began to cry again, and I kissed his lips, I kissed his eyes.

  “I never told anybody that before,” he said. “Never.”

  “Thanks for telling me,” I said, and I meant it. I realized I wanted to share Roy’s pain. I wanted to hurt with him, as if his hurt felt a little bit like a gift.

  “I used to think it was just Her who was real,” I said. “But you, Roy. You’re real, too. I wouldn’t have survived the past month without you.”

  I kissed him again.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “Without you, I’d be dead,” I said. “Without you, I wouldn’t have any hope at all.”

  The more we kissed, the hungrier Roy became, groping and pulling and biting, like something long kenneled broke loose and set free. He had my dress off, and then everything else, and there I was, naked and moon-white.

  “Do you want to?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I placed my hands on his belt and undid his pants and pulled off his shirt and then it was happening, it was happening.

  It didn’t last too much longer after all that.

  Afterward I was lying on my back, a little away from him. Both of us naked and bare, panting like Adam and Eve in their fresh new garden of moonlight.

  We lay there in silence, the slowing rhythm of our breaths like time itself flowing slower, softer. The room was full with darkness and starlight. Roy had his eyes shut tight. He was whispering to himself. He was praying.

  I stroked his hair.

  “You okay, Roy?”

  He nodded at me.

  “Are you sure?”

  Roy smiled and said he was. But it seemed a sad smile, like something was wrong, something he couldn’t talk about.

  “I thought I would feel different,” he said. “But I don’t. I don’t feel any different at all.”

  “I know,” I said. “I feel closer to you, that’s true. But I don’t feel like I’ve changed one bit.”

  “Me either.”

  Roy’s lip quivered and I could tell he was about to bust out crying. I pulled him close to me and told him everything was okay, that it was fine, that he could cry all he wanted to, I didn’t care, I wouldn’t judge him. Roy cried and cried and cried. It was like I always knew this would happen, that this was my role, preordained, and I held him until the sobs softened and the sound quieted down and he was still. I brushed his cheek with my hand. I wondered if this was how She felt all those years, comforting me, taking care of me. I wondered if it was like this for Her.

  I held him close to me and listened to him breathe soft and warm against my neck and felt a different kind of peace, warm and human and held tight in my arms.

  The ride back to Roy’s house was quiet. What could you say? There didn’t even seem to be the right music for it. So we listened to the tree frogs and the night bugs and the buzz of the busted streetlights blinking. It was a nice night, not too hot, not too muggy, rare for this time of year. I dropped Roy off right in front of his house. I kissed him and he stepped out of the car, waving at me until I was out of sight.

  Lightning bugs lit the whole way home.

  That night, I lay on my bed and listened to records, The Replacements and Kate Bush and a new one I’d bought on my own, a lady named Grimes. For the first time since She was gone life didn’t seem so awful to me. I wasn’t alone anymore, I had Roy. I trusted him with myself and with my body, and Roy trusted me, too. I’d never been so close to any other person before.

  It had to be the same way for Roy. Sneaking out to be with me, disobeying his dad, all the things we had done together. It took real bravery for Roy to do that, to go against so many things he had grown up with his whole life. And as much as I didn’t like Reverend Sanders, I had to admit he was different than I thought he’d be. It’s like he really did want what was best for Roy, and for the town too, he was just kind of a dick about it. I mean, his job was to cast out demons, wasn’t it? How would he have known how important She was to me? He could have asked, sure, but when did adults ever ask a teenager a question and really want to know the answer? I didn’t like Reverend Sanders, not by a long shot. But I began to see that maybe things weren’t quite as simple as I’d always thought them to be.

  I wondered if Reverend Sanders really had cheated on his wife. The way Roy described it, his dad seemed pretty heartbroken about the whole thing. Not to mention how Reverend Sanders had acted in his study. Maybe that’s why he was always preaching to Roy about sex, about being close to people. Maybe part of the reason people were so awful to each other was out of guilt, out of the fear of being hurt again, or of hurting other people the same way they’d been hurt.

  Things had changed for me. I missed Her, and part of me always would. But my life was different now—I was different—and I was happy about it. Who knew where the future would take me? Maybe Reverend Sanders would come around to Roy and me seeing each other. It was doubtful, but why not? I could go to church with them. Maybe Roy’s dad would accept me. After all, I was proof that what he did and believed in worked. Wasn’t I cleaned up and all demon-free? Who could reject a story like that?

  What had Roy’s dad said about Jesus? He forgives and forgives and forgives. That sounded pretty good to me. At the very least, I liked the sentiment.

  That night I had dinner at the table with Mom and Larry. Mom cooked pork chops and they weren’t too greasy—even Larry liked them. For dessert we had my grandma’s old recipe for banana pudding and it was wonderful. Banana pudding was probably the only thing Mom was truly great at cooking—though to be honest there isn’t much cooking to it—and we all agreed it was delicious. Larry wasn’t even that drunk. It was hard to believe life with them could be so happy.

  After dinner I lay back o
n my bed with Eyeball and shut my eyes and smiled. I knew that I had made it, that good things were coming, that I could love and be loved. My heart was free and wide now, and I waited for the world to come walking in.

  My phone buzzed. It was Roy.

  “Hiya, Roy,” I said. “Did you miss me already?”

  But Roy was crying.

  “My neighbor saw me,” he said. “She saw me get in the car with you. And she told my dad.”

  “But we waited,” I said. “I drove to the end of the street.”

  “She saw you drop me off. She saw us kiss.” Roy sucked in a deep breath. “I told my dad about you. I had to.”

  This was bad—this was really bad. I knew how Roy’s dad could be, I knew how he could command you be still and you were still, how he could bid you leave and you would have to go. It was the same thing he did to Her. It wasn’t Roy’s fault. I tried to calm myself down.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I promise, it’s okay. He had to find out sooner or later. We’ll get through this.”

  “It’s not okay. I did something that can’t be taken back.”

  Roy was crying so hard it was tough to understand him. He kept taking these horrible gasping breaths, like he was drowning.

  “Just slow down and talk to me about it,” I said. “I’m here.”

  I could do this. Roy loved me. I could be there for him. I loved him, too.

  “It’s your fault,” he said. “Dad explained it all to me. How you tempted me. You led me astray. You made me do things with you. I never would have done that on my own. I’m faithful. It’s your fault.”

  My fault? But we had made a choice together.

  “What are you talking about, Roy?”

  “Dad made me get on my knees right in front of him. He cried, he said we had to pray for God to forgive me and make me pure again. That God would do it but I had to repent, I had to confess it all to Heaven and repent. So I did, Clarabella. I told him everything. I told him every word of what we did.”

  My heart was cracking and I could feel myself losing control. All the joy that had built up in me broke and fell. It was funny, how fragile happiness can be, how quickly it can up and die on you.