Sirens of DemiMonde

by N. Godwin

  “So, you’re Catholic,” he insists.

  “Of course not! We’re Catholic Fundamentalist, remember?”

  “That kind of Catholic is only after money,” Ali adds quickly. “They don’t really worship Jesus, you know, mostly Mary and the Pope. It’s practically pagan! And their priests don’t marry anymore! They bastardized so many of the tenants in the sixth century, you know, and--”

  “And be careful of false gods,” Karen says. “You’ll burn for that one.”

  I notice that Ali has positioned her body just so and is posed to show off her ample curves to the SEALs. She smiles as several of them look at us again while still straining for the ball. By the decibel of their grunts you’d swear they were whacking boulders instead of a silly ball.

  “False gods will always be your downfall,” Ali says, posing in a new direction for the SEALs.

  “Ya’ll, John is Catholic and I’m pretty sure he’s not a pagan.” I try to laugh.

  “We figured as much,” Karen offers and politely pats the back of John’s hand.

  “It’s the world’s fastest growing religion,” John says.

  I close my eyes and try to only bask in the lusciousness of the day and in the knowledge that the twins won’t debate me. They hate trivia and hate to lose anything, especially to me.

  “Christianity owes Catholicism its history, its culture. It deserves your respect, and so does John,” I say.

  “Whose side are you on?” Karen snaps. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re being seduced by--”

  “By moi, pagan that I am?” John laughs and slaps his chest. “Here’s a news flash, if I was trying to seduce Jimmy-Sue you’d all know it, especially her!” John laughs and winks at me. “Besides, I’m not even a practicing Catholic.”

  “Ewww,” the twins insist. “That’s even worse!”

  “So I’m damned if I do and damned it I don’t?” John asks scratching his head in confusion. “I’m lost.”

  “Oh brother,” I moan. “Don’t encourage them.”

  “Well you know why Catholicism is the fastest growing religion!” Ali insists.

  “Because we’re a bunch of horny idol worshipers without diaphragms?” John asks, winking provocatively at Karen while she and Ali cast him a horrified look then turn indignantly red.

  This makes me mad because Ali has been having sex with guys since she was fifteen and now the word diaphragm makes her blush. Oh yeah, she gave that up too.

  “Would you please change that radio station?” Karen asks throwing her head back as steam appears to rise off her. For a moment she looks fifty-seven instead of twenty-two. “Really, Jimmy-Sue, how can you stomach those vulgar songs? No wonder so many teens get pregnant.”

  “I’m pretty sure music can’t knock you up,” John teases, “but swimming pools and hot tubs are another matter entirely.”

  “Heathens, homosexuals and other sexual deviants control all the media and radio waves,” Ali tells us, “You of all people should set a better Christian example, Jimmy-Sue. After all, what would Jesus do?” pointing to one of her WWJD rubber bracelets around her wrist.

  As she wags her finger at me, I, for just a moment, imagine what the Godpods would say if they knew they were keeping fellowship with one cousin who was a heartbeat away from adding their names to my Labor Day list despite my vow not to off family!

  Ooohm.

  “I think if Jesus were here he’d be hanging with his flock of heathens, homos, and other sexual deviants,” John laughs. “Jesus was funny that way, wanting to hang with people who needed him, I mean,” he chuckles as he drives his point home, “not with perfect people like you two.”

  “Maybe,” Karen says, “but I’ll bet he’d slap them upside the head a few times first.”

  “Ah, I’m pretty sure he was nonviolent,” John tries again.

  “Fags are simply everywhere in the Catholic Church because their priests can’t marry and it turns them into homosexual predators—when’s all they need is the love of a good Christian woman to set them straight,” Ali says striking another pose. “Men should be more like them.” She points to the SEALs at play. “They don’t have any of this gender confusion nonsense.”

  “Uh huh,” John says with a chuckle. “And what makes you think none of them are gay?”

  “Just look at them,” Ali purrs. “They’re no gayer than you are.”

  “Uh huh,” John says.

  “No way, could they be gay. God wouldn’t waste one inch of all that wonderful flesh on a homo.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Ever notice how gays are always democrats?” Karen asks.

  “They’re a bunch of homos and communists.”

  “Now wait a second, I think I’m leaning republican but you’re making me want to switch sides,” John says and laughs.

  “Ewww, we’re not republicans! They follow The Constitution not God’s law!”

  “Mainstream Catholics are always democrats because they need unions and priests to think for them,” Karen tells Johns. “Face it, Catholics aren’t very bright.”

  “Did you just call me stupid?” John laughs.

  “But, wasn’t Jesus a Catholic?” Ali asks.

  “Jewish,” I say. “Jesus was a Jew and you’re giving me a headache.”

  “But aren’t Jews always democrats?” Ali says.

  Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!

  “We should ask Him.”

  “Yes, lets.”

  “I’m so confused,” Johns says.

  “We’ll pray for you and the Jews.”

  “And democrats,” Ali insists.

  “Ssh,” John says dramatically, finger to his lips. “Aren’t you afraid a gay, Jewish democrat could hear you and spit in your drink when you’re not looking?”

  “Huh?” Ali asks.

  “You know, AIDS!” John says, protecting his body with his arms and looking around in mock concern. “It really can be spread by a mosquito bite. Yep, saliva, toilet seats, swimming pools and mosquito bites.”

  “Ewwww!”

  “Gays are cursed. It’s all in the Bible,” Karen tells us. She points to John, “and you should listen to Alan more carefully.”

  “I guess if you were living in the Middle East gay hating would be fashionable!” I find myself shouting the exact moment John turns down the radio. “Leviticus and its condemnation of man is the Old Testament. It may be our shared history but it is not Christianity. Christians came about because of Christ, in the New Testament. You might remember Jesus, the son of God who preached kindness and forgiveness and compassion! Remember Him?” I shout again. “Do you truly believe Jesus would condemn anyone for being how God made them? Do you truly?” I soften my voice and ask them almost pleadingly.

  “That’s blasphemy!”

  “God could smack you flat!”

  I can tell John’s laughter is disguising more than a hint of irritation. “Hey you guys,” he begins again. “Know what they call a lesbian dinosaur? Give up? Lick a lot of puss. Get it? Lick a lot of--”

  “That’s disgusting, John!” Ali says while Karen is looking straight up to high heaven as if she expects a busload of angels to drive up and offer her a ride home.

  This has annoyed the twins to their breaking point. Both are giving me this awful self-righteous scowl that makes me even madder! So much for levity; so much for relaxation; so much for finding a grain of logic in these andropods!

  I give up.

  “He’ll knock you flatter than a pancake,” Ali warns me as she shifts her weight in the sand and strikes another pose for the volleyball players and smiles in their direction.

  “You know,” I say to Ali, “I think you concentrate on sex too much. I’ll bet you day dream about sex in Sunday school.”

  “That is an ugly thing to say!” Karen says to me while Ali sputters. “That was cruel and obnoxious and you should know better. What would Jesus do?”

  “Drown you both?” John teases while I try to recover from my anger. />
  “I thought Jesus was nonviolent?” Karen sneers at John.

  “I think He’d make an exception,” John sneers back and shakes his head in disbelief. “Man, y’all need to chill. I think you two could stand to learn a little more tolerance from your cousin here. Unless you’ve walked a mile in someone else’s--”

  “Should we tolerate murderers and child molesters, too? Do you think that would make us cooler?” Karen stares John down.

  “What do murderers and child molesters have to do with democrats?” John asks, trying hard not to laugh.

  “I would like something to drink,” Ali finally says.

  “Something without alcohol in it!” Karen adds as she and Ali look out to sea.

  “Here, let me,” John offers, sitting up on his haunches.

  He digs around in the cooler until he finds two Cokes while Ali and Karen ignore us and look away, staring harder at the sky, no doubt searching for strength for the impending sermon. John pulls back the tab and quickly takes aim and spits into both of the cans.

  “Ooh, Karrrrrrren,” John says and hands them their drinks who in turn take big thirsty gulps.

  I am stunned and silenced by his gesture. I don’t know whether to laugh or fuss at him for being gross.

  As I meet his eyes I suddenly know John’s secret.

  I watch as he leans back on his haunches and stares at me while I wonder if his carefully guarded secret was why John has made the list. I think on his sins for a moment; the sins of lust and vanity. Are these sins greater than the others? Are John’s sins beyond God’s tolerance level? And, if this were the case, wouldn’t He have stopped creating this particular make and model years ago if they are so repugnant to Him?

  “Really, Jimmy-Sue, we Christians have got to start sticking together,” Karen tells me with a severe nod and a deep scowl. “You’re association with heathens will be the death of you.”

  “It really will be your death,” Ali sighs and shakes her head back and forth.

  I am audibly griping under my breath and rolling my eyes as I sit up in frustration then close my eyes and turn my face into the sun, breathing deeply through my nose and Ooohm while I tie my bikini top back on my body.

  “I refuse to be infected by the bitterness that has infested your souls under the guise of Christianity,” I finally offer.

  “Satan get thee behind you!” I hear a loud voice (that sounds a lot like mine) insist in their general direction as my eyes flash open.

  The twins sit like statues, staring at me with their mouths ajar. I bite my bottom lip and stare at my hands because I’m aware of the deep silence around me, no birds screeching, no sweaty men whacking boulders, as if even the waves were eavesdropping.

  I hear a set of hands slowly clapping and look over at John whose clapping is getting faster and faster, like his laughter. I try to make him stop clapping and drawing attention to us, and try to tune the others out as best I can so I can contemplate the meaning of this day of familial bliss.

  Since I’m obviously not going to be allowed a day of rest, and since the Godpods in all their glory aren’t even allowed anywhere near my list, then is God trying to teach me a lesson about John?

  I lie back down and stare at John, still clapping and saying something to himself, in between intermittent chuckling; the still clapping, John, dear, funny, John, the closet homosexual.

  Is John to be the chosen because of this one thing? Is that even logical?

  Okay, clearly no babies from any couplings… Is that human kind’s obligation then, to multiply and be fruitful and die? Is that our only value? I will never couple and have babies either… Plenty of people are out there just dying to take our places with all that gross coupling nonsense. As a matter of fact, I can’t see that what John could do in the coupling department could be anymore flat-out wrong and disgusting than what everyone else does. It’s all disgusting if you ask me.

  Yuck.

  On a hunch I whisper to the sky. “Do you really want John as your lamb?”

  I close my eyes and strain and keep still, very still as I listen beyond the sounds of man, static, and sea and tune in to the cosmos beyond the blue, and as I listen I swear I can hear the miracle of the winds whispering

  “NO.”

  Now, I could debate with myself ad nauseam on whether or not I truly heard this were Karen and Alison-Ann not on their knees praying loudly out in front of God and everybody.

  “Deliver us from evil. Keep us from perversion and stupidity. Give us a sign of Your love,” Karen says with her face raised high to the sun. “Give us your encouragement,” she insists as a flock of noisy seagulls swoop down around us from out of nowhere. “Show us!” she pleads.

  A moment later a scrawny seagull swoops down from above and poops all over Karan’s head and face. I watch in amazement as another massive glob of gray poop falls straight in her mouth.

  Allison Ann screams while Karen gags as they both jump up and frantically grab bottles of water and pour them over Karen’s head and face and into her mouth. I look up, way up, and chuckle in relief.

  I may not be certain whether I’m nuts or not, or whether or not I heard a simple no, but I suddenly know beyond a doubt that John is not meant to be the one. Even if he is lusting after carnal pleasures of forbidden flesh John is not it. I know this as surely as I know he is just as God intended.

  And right out of the clear blue sky number 8 is off my list.

  “You know,” I tell John as I slowly study his kind brown eyes and his devilish grin as if for the first time, “I can’t wait to see you when you’re thirty.”

  “Ditto,” he laughs.

  A moment later the volleyball goes whizzing by and hits John in the side of his head, knocking him off his feet. John springs to his feet laughing as Apollo and the other Greek God come running over to our blanket to retrieve their ball.

  “Sorry, man,” the tall black one says to John as the even taller Apollo stares me up and down. Like mine, his eyes are hidden behind reflective sunglasses.

  “Need another?” John wants to know as he throws Apollo the ball.

  “You play?” Apollo asks, summing John up with a calculated nod. He spins the ball on the tip of his index finger then lightly flicks it from one hand to the next.

  “I’d play ball with the devil right now!” John laughs as he stands.

  “ You’ll fit right in,” Apollo says. “Anyone else care to… come and play?” His voice is deep and playful, yet every word, every move is a challenge.

  As Apollo looks me over from foot to rubber-band, I turn my back on him and ignore them, balancing on my hands and knees rummaging through my backpack for my book and a towel to put under my head, so I can read in comfort and ignore giant sailors and wackadoddle cousins and any other nonsensical elements that want to rob me of my day off. I turn over on my back and Apollo drops the ball as if he’d been slapped.

  “Sweet Jesus!” the black one says with a chuckle while he slowly bends to retrieve the ball by Apollo’s feet.

  “Gosh, I play!” Ali says swiftly jumping to her feet. She frowns at Karen’s lethal glare then slowly sits back down and pouts. “But, I guess not today.”

  I draw my knees up, balancing my book and trying to block the sun’s glare. I reposition the folded towel comfortably under my head despite Apollo’s gaping inspection. He’s not taking his eyes off my body and I’m left with few options. When his eyes finally make it to my face, I lower my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose and meet his reflected gaze head on.

  Read this, Mr. Perfect.

  I can hear him exhale and the sand squeaks beneath his enormous feet as he settles back on his heels. I start reading again, trying to ignore his giant shadow blocking my sunlight and his hard-on the size of Nebraska.

  “Dostoyevsky?” He whistles softly. “All this and with the brains to match.”

  Karen and Ali laugh at this. Yeah, right. Mr. Rhodes Scholar is impressed with my size 32 D diploma. But Karen glares at me an
yway as if he were my fault, too.

  “Careful, man,” John offers as he propels Apollo away from me, “that one bites.”

  “What?” I ask crumbling under the Godpods whispers. Except I notice that Ali and Karen, my two closet ex friends in the entire world, have bowed their heads and are praying for me again.

  I stand and slowly drift over toward Kelly and Cecile, who are taking turns being thrown in the waves by Alan. I sit on the shore in front of them and take the wet grains of sand in my hands. Before I know it, I have taken another and another and another, until I am building a sandcastle. Cecile and Kelly both squeal with delight as Alan tosses them, and I wonder if anyone else can feel the earth as it shifted ever so slightly on its axis again. I look up at the sky and my eyes are blinded from the sun for a moment. I am lightheaded, breathless, and confused because this has never happened to me in the daylight.

  The volleyball goes whizzing over my shoulder and I watch my sandcastle crumble when the ball slams into it then roll down beside my feet. In my peripheral vision I can see him approaching. I can feel the earth squeak powerfully under his feet, I can feel it up through my fingers, and I quickly pull my hands back from the sand.

  I look up as Apollo heads straight towards me, his face void of emotion as he walks silently over by my side. He bends to pick up the ball before the breaking waves can pull it out into the mighty under-tow of the gulf, and as he bends he turns his face towards me. I watch as he lowers his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and shows me his eyes. They are dark bottomless pools of black; cunning, corrupt and all consuming, and I know to look away but I study his eyes for a moment longer. He pushes his sunglasses back up his nose and stands as he nods curtly at me. I feel as though I am being warned and dismissed at the same time.

  I look away and stand, then began running safely out into the water to play with Cecile and Kelly as the waves crash in around me. I look one last time and Apollo is still standing by the shore, still staring at me with a taunting smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he twirls the volleyball on his index finger.

  True Colors