by C. S. Lakin
1991
Losing My Religion
That's me in the corner
That’s me in the spotlight,
I’m losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don’t know if I can do it
Oh no, I’ve said too much
I haven’t said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool
But that was just a dream
That was just a dream
—R.E.M.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Joey put his hands on his hips and Simon spun around. Dollar bills fluttered like leaves to the carpet in their dad’s bedroom. Simon fiddled with something Joey couldn’t see, but he knew what his brother was up to. One look in his reddened eyes and nervous face told Joey that Simon was stealing again to get high.
“Why aren’t you in school, dreamer?”
“In-service day. And—”
Simon pressed his back against the dresser, wobbled on his feet. “Then why aren’t you out with Aunty Abby, talking Ben for a walk?”
“I didn’t feel like going for a walk. You know you’re not allowed in the house. And stop asking me so many questions. You better leave before she gets back.”
“Or what, runt? You think I care what she thinks?”
“I’ll tell Dad.” Joey pointed at the money littering the carpet. “You should stop taking drugs; they’re bad for you. The Bible says your body is a temple for the holy spirit—”
Simon let out a raucous laugh. “Sure,” he said, catching his breath. “Go fink on me, like you always do. But I warn you . . .” Simon scowled and walked toward him. “If you breathe a word, you’ll be sorry.”
Joey stepped back. Simon loomed over him and Joey tried to hide his fear. He never used to be afraid of Simon. Joey knew God still watched over and protected him, but since he hadn’t heard that quiet voice of the spirit speak to him in so long, he didn’t know what would happen if he stood up to his brother.
“Or what?” Joey challenged, hoping his fake bravado would dissuade his spaced-out brother from hitting him. “You’ll throw me off the roof again?’
That made Simon halt. He turned around with a grunt and stooped to pick up the money. “I’ll think of something . . .” Simon muttered. “Seems to me you’ve lost your superpowers. Your little magic finger isn’t working anymore.” Simon waggled his pointer in Joey’s direction. “Because if it did work, you wouldn’t have had to stand there and watch your mom die, would you?”
Joey leapt at Simon with a roar. But as he beat his fists against Simon’s chest, his brother only laughed, laughed until tears ran down his face, and he pushed Joey away, like swatting at flies. “You’re pathetic,” Simon managed to get out of his mouth between sucking in breaths. “Go dream some more stupid dreams, dreamer.”
Joey’s rage made him shake all over. But he made himself stand still as a statue while Simon left the room, marched down the hallway, and left the house. Joey listened to the screen door slap, then drew in a long breath as more tears gushed out. He wanted to hate Simon, but he knew he had to quell the mean thoughts filling his head. Simon was his brother. God expected him to love his brother, treat him with respect. Repay evil with kindness.
God was testing his faith—this he knew for a fact, and Joey had been faithful in his calling, studying hard in school, caring for his little brother, who always seemed weak and listless. The doctors couldn’t say what was wrong with him and told their dad not to worry, but Joey worried. He knew Ben was sick, real sick, but no one would believe him—not his dad or the doctors. His dad would say something like “you’re just upset over losing your mom.” But that wasn’t it. Not at all. Ben was always wetting his bed—not just wetting it but soaking it. His dad believed the doctors when they said it was common. A lot of kids wet the bed, even into their teens. But his skin was the wrong color, ashen, like the leaves on a wilting, sick plant. And even though Joey kept praying and trying to heal Ben, he knew his efforts were in vain. Those other times he had healed people, well, he hadn’t been the one doing the healing. God only used him, and Joey had felt the spirit entering into his body and traveling down to his hands. It wasn’t something Joey could conjure up on his own, this power.
But still, he tried. He kept thinking that maybe if he tried really hard to be good and spent every free minute praying and studying the Bible, then God would reward him. He kept hoping today, this day, would be the day God would give him back his gift. He refused to believe it had been a fluke, a strange mystery that would never be solved. A random set of events that signified nothing. Levi had told him he was mental, that Joey had made up the little voice inside, and that even though Levi had seen with his own eyes how his dad’s leg healed instantly, the wound closing up right in front of him, he denied it. Just like how the haughty religious leaders back in Jesus’s day ignored the signs and miracles performed all around them. They just couldn’t see God in their midst.
But now Joey was the blind one. He struggled so hard to believe, and maybe that’s why God had taken his gift away—because he doubted, he’d lost his faith. Yet Joey knew God was there, beside him, every step of the way, everywhere he went. Faith is the evident demonstration of realities not beheld. He knew all the great prophets had their faith tested. Even Elijah, after calling down fire on the false prophets, ran to hide from the wicked Queen Jezebel, feeling God had abandoned him. He hid in a cave and wanted to die. That’s how Joey felt sometimes, thinking about his mom lying there on the ground, her face so terrified, her body convulsing.
Joey squeezed his eyes shut, forced out the memories, pushed aside Simon’s mean words and the hurt that made him want to lash out. He fell to his knees on the carpet in his dad’s bedroom and prayed. Begged God to give him more faith, to make him worthy, to give him his spirit once more so he could do great things for him.
He heard the front door open and his aunt’s voice saying something to Ben. Joey wiped his eyes and stood. He would go have a snack with his brother, some Oreos and milk, then build a Lincoln Log house with him, and tickle him. He loved hearing Ben’s belly laugh; only he could get Ben to laugh that way, by making goofy faces and sticking out his tongue. It warmed Joey’s heart to hear Ben laugh, reminded Joey Ben was still alive, at least for now. It seemed that was Joey’s job now—to play with Ben and keep him company while Aunt Abby did the laundry or prepared dinner for the family. And when Dinah got home from school, she took over, so their aunt could go home.
But Dinah was acting weird these days, and Joey didn’t like it that she was spending time with Simon and Levi. Joey knew she lied, too, to their dad, telling him she was going to Megan’s house or to the library, when Joey knew full well from overhearing her talking on the phone that she was going to hang out with Simon’s band, listen to their awful music. Joey wished she’d just stay home with him and Ben, stop acting all strange, writing poetry in her little black book, practicing singing in the mirror and flipping her hair like some pop singer. It made Joey sick to see Dinah acting like that.
Joey sighed and went into the other room. His aunt turned on the TV and Ben parked in front of it. Joey sat beside Ben and studied him. He didn’t understand why no one else could see what he saw. His baby brother was dying.
He whispered in Ben’s ear, “Don’t worry, Ben-ben. I will save you.”
He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.
Levi knocked again, smiled at Dinah as they waited in the smelly alley behind Ventura Boulevard under the one pale light bulb. He stole a quick glance at his sister as she stood there in her slinky silver dress and spiky heels, a brush of pink on her cheeks and wearing red lipstick
. Man, she was hot. He just knew all the guys at the club would drool over her, maybe even think she was his date. That’d sure score him some points, get him some looks. Maybe even from some of the girls he’d always wished would notice him. He hated that he was short and still broke into a stutter around them. But after a few drinks, he was cool. And after a joint or two, he became the life of the party, yesiree.
“Where’s Simon?” Dinah asked, her breath smelling like mints. She swept her long dark hair over her shoulder almost hitting Levi in the face.
Just then, the door swung out and they stepped back. Simon stuck his head out, ushered them into the narrow hallway. The boisterous noise from the drinking crowd bowled over them. “Good, you’re here just in time. We’re about to start the first set. How’d you get away?” he asked Dinah.
“Dad thinks I’m sleeping over at Megan’s. And I am—or will be, when I leave here. Levi will drive me over when we’re done.”
Simon grinned. “Well, happy fifteenth, sis. You’re gonna love this place.”
Dinah raised her voice so he could hear her over the noise as she followed him and Levi into the dimly lit club. “You sure we won’t get carded, or caught?”
“You’re cool. I got a table at the side of the stage. The waitress is hip; just order a Coke or something. We’ve got the good stuff backstage.”
Simon stepped up onto the raised stage, where the band members were plugging cords into amps and adjusting mikes. “Hey,” he announced, getting the four guys’ attention, “look who’s here all decked out on her birthday?”
He gestured to Dinah and Levi watched color darken her cheeks, his sister apparently self-conscious of her appearance. She’d been asking Simon for ages to come see the band play at the club, but their dad would never let her, forbade her from hanging out with Simon—as if he could stop her. She’d gotten good at lying, flashing that innocent smile, telling their dad how she was staying after school studying in the library or hanging with girlfriends at the mall, when most of the time she’d been coming to Shane’s pad, sitting and watching them rehearse, writing poems in her little notebook or taking tokes off their joints. Sometimes she even brought Ben, the days she was supposed to watch him, when their aunt didn’t come over. But he wasn’t any trouble, just sat and played with his Transformers, always a bit lethargic and pale.
Levi could tell something was wrong with Ben. He kinda looked the way he himself had when he was little—sickly and weak. But Rachel hadn’t taken drugs or drank when she was pregnant like his mom had, so Levi didn’t get why he was like that. Joey went on like Ben was going to die, but Ben didn’t look that bad. Dinah really loved that little guy too. She played with him and carted him around with her after school and on the weekends, like she was his new mom, and that was fine with Levi.
He was glad his evil aunt didn’t come over to the house all that much anymore. He couldn’t stand the sight of her, and no doubt her absence was due in part to the way he and Simon had endlessly harassed her. She’d griped so much to their dad that Levi figured he got tired of hearing it, finally told her if she couldn’t stand coming over to the house, she could just stay away. Now she picked Ben up in the mornings and took him somewhere, maybe to her house or the park. Not that Levi would run into her that much anymore; he was spending most of his days at Simon’s new digs. Shane’s apartment was a continual party, with babes coming in and out, drugs and booze flowing, music blaring, either on the stereo or the band playing tunes into all hours of the night.
Levi still had another two years of school left and time just dragged by, with him struggling to pass his classes. He wanted to drop out too, like Simon had, but Dinah had lectured and threatened him. She told him he’d need a high school degree, that she didn’t want him to end up slinging burgers at McDonald’s the rest of his life. And she didn’t want him dealing drugs like Simon did. At some point he’d get busted, thrown in jail, and Dinah couldn’t bear to think about it. Simon just laughed at her warning tone, but Levi had a soft spot for Dinah, his baby sister. Part of him wanted to make sure he never displeased her, for her praise had always lifted his spirits when he was down, and it still did.
As he watched Dinah chat with the band, he looked her over, couldn’t believe how grown up she looked—much older than fifteen. With that makeup and the high heels, she stood nearly as tall as Simon, elegant, graceful. Up till now the band members hadn’t taken much note of her—Simon’s little sister who hung out at the apartment in her jeans and T-shirts, almost as invisible as air. But tonight, she was like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, only seen before as a dull caterpillar. Levi particularly noticed Shane’s keen attention, his eyes drinking her in, his smile shining a bit brighter than usual. He could tell Dinah was both pleased and embarrassed at the attention, the way she flipped her hair over her shoulder again, tipped her head and blushed.
Levi grunted when Shane put his hand on her shoulder. Of all the guys in the band, Shane was the most flippant and flirtatious. Girls found his brooding dark eyes and long black hair irresistible, and after he played drums all night, with sweat soaking his shirt and that mass of dyed black hair falling into his eyes, all he had to do was say the word and they’d follow him to his bed. Levi hoped Shane was only being sweet to her, it being her birthday, but that hungry look in his face set Levi on edge. He didn’t want anyone looking at his sister as if she were just another piece of meat.
He went over to Dinah, took her arm. “Hey, I’ve got a bottle of brandy backstage—to celebrate your birthday.”
“Oh, hey, thanks.” Flustered, she said good-bye to Shane, nodded at Simon—who was tuning his guitar and who nodded back with a grin—and followed Levi behind the black curtain to a dinged-up wooden table in the dark corner. Levi put his backpack on the table and took out the bottle and two plastic cups. Dinah giggled, and the sound warmed him.
“This is so nice of you, Levi. The best birthday.”
He poured the brandy and they sipped. “How ’bout we finish this, then we’ll go watch the set? He pulled out his smokes and lit up. He knew Dinah didn’t smoke, maybe from all those years of dancing, but she wasn’t dancing anymore, although he wished she would. She really had talent.
“Hey, do you ever think about doing your ballet again?”
Dinah finished her drink, set down the cup. “Sometimes. I’m too old now, to go pro. I really miss it at times, but I know how hard it would be for me to get back in shape, be as good as I once was.”
“That’s not important, Di. If you love doing it, you should just do it for fun, right?”
“I guess.”
A blast of guitar chords came over the speakers. Levi tipped his head toward the audience they could see gathered around tables in the club, blurred faces in a sea of tiny candle lights. “Guess they’re starting.” He tapped the ashes off his cigarette into an ashtray, slipped the bottle of brandy back in his pack, and slung it over his shoulder.
Dinah followed him to their table and the band lit into one of Levi’s favorites—a fast, kicking tune that had a strong bass beat, a number by Bruce Springsteen. Dinah took in the crowd, the dance floor filling suddenly, and Levi noted her excitement as she picked up the thrill of the beat.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked.
“Sure!” She laughed as he took her hand and pulled her out onto the floor. Levi was impressed how she danced so confidently in those high heels—but then again, she’d been able to balance on toe shoes without wavering. How hard were high heels in comparison? He felt giddy, dancing there, the music rocking, the crowd pulsating together with the thumping bass drum. He smiled at some of the girls he wanted to impress, hoped they watched him. Maybe the next time he came to the club they’d sit and shoot the breeze with him, take him more seriously instead of brushing him off with a laugh.
After they’d danced a few numbers, drank a couple of tall sweaty glasses of Coke, they sat back and watched the band finish the first set. At the break, Simon came over, his face
all animated, then went backstage to get high. Levi wanted to join them, but he didn’t want to leave Dinah, and he wasn’t sure if he should bring her back there. Sometimes there’d be someone shooting up, and on occasion one of the band members would be going hot and heavy with some babe, and that always made Levi uncomfortable, being around that kind of action in such a small space. No, it’d be better if he just hung out with his sister in the club. With her looking the way she did, he didn’t like to think how the guys in the band would treat her. He doubted they even knew she was so young.
Dinah’s eyes brightened. Levi turned to see who she was looking at, then frowned. Shane was coming over to their table.
“Hey,” he said, looking only at Dinah, “what did you think of the first set?”
“Incredible. You guys sound so much better here.”
“It’s the acoustics. Plus, you just can’t get a feel for the music in a small apartment.”
Shane drew closer to Dinah. “Mmm, you smell so nice.”
She pulled back, scooted her chair a bit. Levi bristled. He could tell she didn’t want him so close in her face. But at the same time, it was clear she felt flattered by his attention, conflicted.
Shane lowered his voice, gave Dinah his moony-eyed look. “Hey, don’t you want to celebrate with Simon and the rest of us in the back room? We’ve got something special for you.”
“What?” Levi asked.
Shane turned and looked at Levi, as if seeing him for the first time. “Not you, little brother. Just Dinah.”
What? Levi couldn’t believe he’d heard right. Shane was telling him he wasn’t welcome backstage? Since when? He was about to say something but Dinah quelled his irritation.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I’m good just sitting out here with Levi.”
Shane shrugged, then shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Dinah. You look . . . good enough to eat.”
