Warren
"Regina, we don't say things like that in the house of God."
It was funny the way the reverend could capitalize a word like that. Just by saying it, you could see the letters butting up against you eyeballs, even if you kept them shut tight. Warren held on to Regina's shoulder and nudged a lock of black hair away from his eyes. The back patio at the Church of Our Savior on Elm and Sutter had never been so crammed full of little girls, all parading their pink and purple dresses. If Easter was about revival and rebirth and all that, Warren could only wish that the pink his daughter was wearing could croak and die, or maybe hibernate a couple months out of the year. He sipped his beer when people were looking. Took long, comforting gulps when they turned away.
"Rev, she's just a little girl. Go easy."
"Warren, we've known each other a long time, and I love your family, but where would your daughter learn those words? And about her mother? You should be ashamed."
Ashamed wasn't really in Warren's repetoir. Goaded into compliance, maybe, at best. Shrugging indifference, ususally.
"Well you don't have to take away her candy, rev. It's Easter, for cryin' out loud."
"I'll be the judge of who receives and who does not in this church."
Warren cold cocked the reverend with the butt of a forty ounce Miller High Life and wrenched the wicker basket out of his limp grip with his left hand. Green plastic grass fluttered out of it in a parody lawnmower clippings. The plastic eggs all stuffed with jelly beans and those little crispy chocolates jostled around like suntanning elephant seals, but didn't move far. He handed the basket to Regina, smiling loose and honest for the first time all day. The little girl practically vibrated between joy and shame. He stood erect again, and looked the reverend straight in the eyes, looking for just the right line. A smoking gun.
“Bite me, reverend.”
If the rest of the assembly was going to give Warren and his girl those kinds of looks, at least he could have the decency to deserve them. He took Regina's hand carefully, and squeezed all the reassurance he could muster out of the gesture. She felt safer, too. They left together, and they laughed, and feasted on marshmallow, gelatin, nougat and chocolate. When they were drunk with power and glucose, they both said nasty things about her mom. And that was about the happiest they'd ever be.
It was funny the way the reverend could capitalize a word like that. Just by saying it, you could see the letters butting up against you eyeballs, even if you kept them shut tight. Warren held on to Regina's shoulder and nudged a lock of black hair away from his eyes. The back patio at the Church of Our Savior on Elm and Sutter had never been so crammed full of little girls, all parading their pink and purple dresses. If Easter was about revival and rebirth and all that, Warren could only wish that the pink his daughter was wearing could croak and die, or maybe hibernate a couple months out of the year. He sipped his beer when people were looking. Took long, comforting gulps when they turned away.
"Rev, she's just a little girl. Go easy."
"Warren, we've known each other a long time, and I love your family, but where would your daughter learn those words? And about her mother? You should be ashamed."
Ashamed wasn't really in Warren's repetoir. Goaded into compliance, maybe, at best. Shrugging indifference, ususally.
"Well you don't have to take away her candy, rev. It's Easter, for cryin' out loud."
"I'll be the judge of who receives and who does not in this church."
Warren cold cocked the reverend with the butt of a forty ounce Miller High Life and wrenched the wicker basket out of his limp grip with his left hand. Green plastic grass fluttered out of it in a parody lawnmower clippings. The plastic eggs all stuffed with jelly beans and those little crispy chocolates jostled around like suntanning elephant seals, but didn't move far. He handed the basket to Regina, smiling loose and honest for the first time all day. The little girl practically vibrated between joy and shame. He stood erect again, and looked the reverend straight in the eyes, looking for just the right line. A smoking gun.
“Bite me, reverend.”
If the rest of the assembly was going to give Warren and his girl those kinds of looks, at least he could have the decency to deserve them. He took Regina's hand carefully, and squeezed all the reassurance he could muster out of the gesture. She felt safer, too. They left together, and they laughed, and feasted on marshmallow, gelatin, nougat and chocolate. When they were drunk with power and glucose, they both said nasty things about her mom. And that was about the happiest they'd ever be.
posted by Maximillian @ 12:21 AM
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