“Ashton isn’t much of a morning person as you can tell,” Dillon laughed, squeezing Ashton’s shoulder.
“Well, I just came by to invite you over for our service. It’s on Wednesday evenings and every Sunday mornings,” the pastor spoke, “did you go to church back in…”
“New Orleans,” Ashton’s voice finally emanating, “We’re not much of the religious type.”
The pastor sat quietly for a moment, collecting his thoughts before speaking, “Katrina wasn’t too nice to that city, was it? Rightfully so too.”
The words stung a bit as they crossed the kitchen and Ashton uneasily sat his coffee mug on the counter. He hadn’t be in the city during that time, only a teenager at the time in Indiana, but had seen the news and had heard all the stories from lifers in the Quarter. He had also seen all the hatred spread by religious groups claiming Katrina to be nothing more than God’s Wrath against the homosexuals. Tension filled him as he stepped forward, the space between him and the pastor closing.
“Why would God do such a thing, Pastor?” Ashton questioned, his voice shaking from fury. He watched the Pastor calmly take a sip of his coffee again and Ashton pulled the cup away from him as he sat it down.
“Well the homosexuals, don’t you think? Natural disasters are to rid the world of the abominations,” the pastor pressed, taken aback from Ashton’s abrupt inquiry. Ashton could feel Dillon’s eyes on him as the Pastor continued, “Those sinners will never make it into heaven.”
Ashton laughed and stepped back, this man was blind to Ashton and Dillon’s relationship. He was unsure what to say, even though he wanted so badly to beat the man to a pulp.
“I don’t think your church would be a good fit,” Dillon said trying to defuse the situation. The pastor looked at him inquisitively, “Being homosexuals and all.”
The pastor became uncomfortable, standing up and snatching his Bible from the table. He looked back and forth between the two of them, shaking his head. He headed towards the door silently as Ashton and Dillon rushed after him.
“It’s never too late,” the Pastor said while opening the front door. The sun drenched the room in warm light and Ashton squinted to look at the man, “The Book speaks clearly of this, you boys are in a world of torment.” The melodramatic scene was coming to a close as the Pastor backed onto the steps.
“Doesn’t that same book preach of love and acceptance?” Ashton belted as he crossed the porch towards the preacher. Dillon pulled him back as the preacher tripped down the final step. The men could see the bewilderment in the pastor’s face as he stood on the manicured lawn staring up at them.
“If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination,” the Pastor’s voice squeaked. Ashton could have jumped the porch steps towards the man, but didn’t want to let the man win. The man’s simplistic views were the exact reason Ashton had moved away from Indiana so many years ago and he could not believe he was back in the same situation. The Pastor had reached his red pick-up truck and was nearly inside when he poked his head out again, “You’ll pay for your sins, just watch.”
Ashton had finally been pushed far enough, and he escaped Dillon’s grasp. His feet barely made contact with the wooden steps leading down. He was halfway towards the truck before the man reentered the vehicle. The engine roared to life and the truck catapulted backwards down the long driveway. Ashton stopped, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, as he watched the trail of dust that heralded the pastor’s departure.
“I can’t fucking believe that!” Ashton yelled to no one in particular. Dillon had reached him in the yard and pulled him towards the house. When they reached the porch, Dillon embraced him and wave of emotion overtook Ashton as he cried into Dillon’s shoulder.
“Hey, it’s ok,” Dillon shushed him, swaying as they held each other. A breeze blew through the fields around them, a melodic cacophony of nature relaxing him slowly. He finally became limp, allowing Dillon to release him. “Want me to run you a bath?” Dillon finally asked and Ashton nodded, staring down the now settled driveway. He was finally at ease from the melodramatic scene that had unfolded, allowing his husband to escort him back inside.
PART II:
LOVE THY NEIGHBOR
ONE
Terry’s pickup idled in the driveway, his mind and stomach churning. In all of his years of preaching, he had never come across two people that repulsed him in such a way. He should have known, he thought to himself, that the disgusting homosexuals would find their way to Acadian Springs eventually and that his once wholesome community would be forever torn. He was worried for his son, who might come into contact with them, and concerned on the correct way to vocalize this atrocity to his congregation. They had asked him a few years back, as the national news played out the marriage equality debacle, how they should feel about it or if God truly hated them. Even then, he steadfastly repeated the Scripture from Leviticus and pushed the issue away to talk about other topics for that week.
Gripping his steering wheel, he finally turned the key and opened his door. All he wanted was a shower to wash away the filth, but didn’t want to alarm his wife before he could put into words about the new neighbors. He knew Luke was at school for another few hours, so he figured he’d have a moment to explain to her about the situation on Jean Lafitte Road. He greeted his wife as she washed dishes at the sink, with a kiss and a quick hello, before retreating upstairs to the master bathroom to shower. In the mirror a graying man stood naked, and he took a moment to take in the details of his aging body. In his younger years, he had played any sport that came his way, and continued to be athletic at the church camps he attended well into his teen years, but now at the age of fifty-seven his body had morphed into what could only be described as a melted candle. Where his abs once were a layer of fat draped down an inch or so, his chest filled with grey and black speckled hair. His face had seen the stresses of life, with wrinkles accentuating every moveable object and bags under his eyes that would make a raccoon jealous. He wondered to himself if his wife even found him attractive anymore or if she shied away whenever he was nude around her. Their sex life had all but disappeared by the time Luke was ten, the anxiety of everyday life putting a hold on anything remotely close to romance. Terry pushed himself further into work at South Belle and Janis spent her time organizing and reorganizing the spacious home they had purchased.
Luke was a spitting image of Terry at his age and he was secretly envious of his son. He pressured him into sports as a way of living vicariously through him but was met with objection at every turn. His wife would tell him that not all boys enjoyed athletics, some were more of the artist type, but that didn’t stop Terry from starting him out at a young age at youth sports. After a few years of baseball and basketball, where most of the time Luke was placed on the bench, Terry gave up the dream of having a star athlete as a son. Instead he began bringing him to work, assisting in baptisms, sermons, and anything else the church needed and the connection with his son faltered. A disappointment to Terry as he wanted Luke to take over for him as he had his own father.
His concern began to amplify underneath the hot shower. Soon he would hide in his office to begin writing his sermon for the upcoming Sunday, a chore he always began later in the week but the subject matter was obvious to him. He desperately hoped the two men he had previously invited into the church would decline and not step foot into the holy place he called work, but would need a plan in case they did. What that plan was, he was unsure of, nor was he prepared to face the men again. It seemed no matter how hard he scrubbed his skin, the disgust had soaked deeply into his pores and he felt a lump in his stomach that began to twist causing him to dry heave. It was foreign to him, he had spent many years counseling the sinners, the adulterers, liars, and gluttons of his congregation but this unthinkable offense, was making him ill. Stepping out of the shower he had to grab the wall to stabilize himself, and he slowly began to wipe the water from his body.
>
Terry was dressed in a matter of minutes and headed straight to his office down the hallway. He grabbed two of his Bibles from the bookshelf, sat down in front of his computer, and he flipped through one them, the thin pages emitting scratching noises as he turned to Leviticus. His fingers traced the words until he found what he was looking for. He stared at the page, repeating the verses in his head over and over. The passages weren’t new to him, and he could recite them word for word on any given day, but he pulled out a yellow notepad and copied the words. He flipped back and forth between different sections, rereading the story of Sodom, and taking notes beneath the scriptures he had already written down.
“You ok?” he heard Janis say from the doorway. He hadn’t even noticed her standing there, a wet mark on her shirt from the chores downstairs. She leaned further into the office, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was writing.
“You know I don’t like it when you eavesdrop,” he uttered, a little more maliciously than he had intended. He dropped his pen and looked at her, a scornful look stretched across her face. She began to walk away but Terry beckoned her back into the office. “I’m sorry, I’m just getting things ready for the service,” he explained.
“Well you didn’t need to snap at me, I was just checking on you.” Janis countered. She sat down across from him and he pushed his notepad aside. He sighed, sitting back in his chair, his arms folded and resting on his belly.
“We have a problem, Janis. It’s the new people that moved in down on Lafitte.”
“Oh?”
“I went to invite them to church, you know? They’re homosexuals.”
“Oh!” Janis shifted in her chair, an uncomfortable silence filling the space between them. He questioned her response on whether it was dismay or ambivalence. On many topics, their opinions contrasted one another’s, so much so that arguments would erupt from the smallest of details.
“Homosexuals? In Acadian Springs?” Her voice still left no clue to how she felt about the situation so he studied her body language, which didn’t help much either. “People are people, can’t do much about it,” she finally stated before standing up, “Don’t get all tangled up in emotions about it.”
She disappeared back into the hallway before he could say another word, and he was happy to avoid a spat. He loved Janis. She was very devout, but also had a soft side to her about the degenerates of the world. He appreciated her kindness, but didn’t agree with her “hate the sin, love the sinner” beliefs. He knew the conditions to get to heaven, something that had been consistently taught to him for over fifty years, and he was not going to test God. His mind went back to his Bible and he continued to scour through it for more notes.
He heard Luke come in from school and pass by the office before he rested and placed his pen down on the desk. His hand had been cramping for some time but it was detrimental to get all of his thoughts down before he gave up for the day. He had filled almost four pages full of scripture, notes, and scribbled out writing, his work Bible full of placeholders and highlighted marks. An ease washed over Terry as he sat in the mute sanctuary of his office and he felt the need to pray.
“God, I’m elated to be your messenger. Please allow me to keep teaching your children. Please keep us safe during the dark times, and bless us with your eternal love. Amen.” Terry’s voice was hushed as he looked towards the ceiling and thanked God again for all his mercy in silence.
He poked his head into Luke’s room where his son sat silently with a headset on playing a video game. Luke looked up, acknowledged him with a nod, and went right back to playing. Terry continued down the stairs to where Janis was cooking dinner. This was Terry’s favorite time to observe his wife, she always seemed so comfortable in the role of homemaker and was a fantastic cook. He remembered back to when they were young and she wanted to become a chef but she poured herself into the life they were building and soon became the preacher’s wife.
“Finally out of the cave?” the question was rhetorical as Janis continued on spaghetti sauce.
“Need help with anything?” Terry asked knowing the answer before she could reply. The kitchen was her domain and any “help” he could give her was leaving her to her art. She glared at him for a moment and he put his hands up. “I know. I know. Get out your kitchen.”
TWO
Cigarette smoke weaved its way into the moonlight that flooded the bedroom. Ashton took another puff from the cigarette, its flame brightening his face before fading back into the darkness. He had been awake for several hours, smoking nearly a pack while Dillon slumbered next to him. It had been days since the pastor had stopped by, but it had struck a chord with him that he couldn’t let go. He tried using the insomnia as a reason to write but his fingers couldn’t move over the keyboard, his mind a blank canvas. He had finally received a few phone calls from his management urging him to get a manuscript together, and he assured them that he was in the middle of one. He hated lying to them, but he knew that to keep relevant in the ever-changing climate of readers he needed a consistent stream of output on his part, but lying to them meant they would put in words to publishers that the once disgraced author was finally back on his game.
Even though it couldn’t be any further from the truth he had high hopes, and even agreed to an interview with a news station in New Orleans in a month. Dillon believed his lie, as well, and begged for the synopsis of the novel. Ashton declined to give any information until the interview allowing himself a month to come up with a believable premise for a book. He spent hours after the phone call shuffling through his old unfinished manuscripts to find any sort of substance, but they all ended up in the trashcan. His frustration continued when he received a phone call from his sister informing him that she was coming to visit. He didn’t have the time or patience to entertain guests, but Dillon had planned this as surprise so he couldn’t object. It was official, his sister would be down the same time he would be in New Orleans.
The house creaked in the warm autumn breeze, and Ashton put his cigarette out. He slumped down into the bed, closing his eyes to try to block out his brain. The breeze continued outside, he could hear the trees bending to its power and soon the recognizable noise of a door blowing in the wind. The wind must have knocked open the barn door, he thought to himself, as the noise became rhythmic, lulling him off to sleep. The rest was short lived as a different noise invaded the space and his eyes popped open focusing on the ceiling above him. He could make out footsteps directly above him and his muscles tensed, paralyzing him on the bed. They became louder as they approached the edge of the wall. He tried to turn his head but it wouldn’t budge, and a pressure began to build on his chest.
He panicked as the footsteps stopped and began again, this time, directly next to his bed on Dillon’s side. His eyes searched the darkened room and his mouth opened to scream, but no sound was emitted. He was choking and the footsteps grew louder as they made a trek to his side of the bed. Ashton shut his eyes tighter than he ever had. The footsteps came at an abrupt end and the hairs on his arms raised as he could feel the presence of something evil looming over him. A quiet cackle erupted and he was forced to open his eyes to seek out the source of the din. Above him, something darker than even the unlit bedroom filled his peripheral vision. In the silence the cackle grew to a monstrous roar, and Ashton winced as something wet hit his face and rolled down his cheek. The figure was unmoved, even as the sound pierced its blackened lips, and Ashton finally broke free from the invisible grasp that had held him to the bed. He screamed loudly, awakening Dillon in a rush. The room was empty. Ashton jumped from the bed wiping his now dry face.
“Are you ok?!?” Dillon yelled, grabbing Ashton as his panicked screaming continued. Dillon pulled him to the ground and rocked him gently, reassuring him that everything was fine. Ashton quieted down as the adrenaline slowed and he could no longer feel his heart beating against his rib cage like an angry gorilla in a zoo.
“Someone was on the roof and then they came in
to the room,” Ashton spoke shakily between strained breaths. Dillon reassured him that it had all been a bad dream and continued rocking him on the cold wooden floor. Ashton began to drift off again, the exhaustion had become too much. He didn’t even have the energy to stand, but Dillon forced him back onto the bed. Just as they pulled up the covers, the noise on the roof began again, and Ashton’s anxiety returned. He looked over at Dillon, who had turned a near translucent white, and Ashton pointed to the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the footsteps in the air.
“I told you!” Ashton whispered as the footsteps continued a weird dance above them.
“How the fuck did someone get on the roof?” Dillon asked in disbelief, reluctantly getting out of bed. Ashton could see, even in the darkness, Dillon’s silhouette shaking. Ashton joined him, and they went out into the hallway, the footsteps following their exact path. Attempting to grab Dillon’s hand, he was pushed away as Dillon raced down the stairs the footsteps above became quicker as they moved towards the front of the house. Dillon stopped short of the front door and Ashton could feel the fear in the air as the entire house was cloaked in the loudest quiet you’d ever hear. The footsteps had stopped, the atmosphere around the house absent from anything that would make it appear to be in the rural area of Louisiana. It was as if the world had stopped outside the wooden doors of the home and the only sounds that echoed within were their own frightened breathing.
Ashton’s legs shook as they carried him down the stairs to his husband who was frozen at the front door. He gripped Dillon’s hand as they both moved closer to the only protection they had from the outside world, petrified of what was beyond it. Finally, they both reached for the handle and the door made a loud screech as it opened up slowly. Moonlight flooded the foyer as they both peered past its wooden frame and Ashton flipped on the light, stepping out onto the whitewashed porch. The light only reached a few feet from the steps, and Ashton squinted to see past into the pure blackout that enveloped the country in a way that a city never could be. Nothing seemed out of place on the property and the sinister footsteps hadn’t continued once they were outside. Ashton motioned Dillon to come closer and they walked arm in arm down the steps to the lawn which stretched beyond where their eyesight could reach.
The House the Devil Built Page 4
