He had never been uncomfortable by a dead body, even as a small child, only seeing it as a vessel to travel to the good Lord above. He had spent many days as a young boy amongst funerals and services that his father presided over and had learned the ins and outs of comforting grieving attendees. Today would be a different situation. Being so close to the Battons for so many years and with such a sensitive reason for her death, he, too, was still processing it. As the preacher of his church he needed to proceed professionally but as a family friend he felt it necessary to tell the truth in the matter. With only two hours until the viewing, he retreated to his office where he typed and retyped his notes for the service.
SIX
His suit was giving him a hassle. Being one he had stored far away in the darkest corner of his closet, Mark wished he had sent it off to the dry cleaners. It seemed the moment he got one wrinkle out with the hand held steamer Denise had bought years ago, another wrinkle would arise on another part of the jacket. His children too were having issues with their wardrobe, and he addressed them as patiently as he could in between fixing his own malfunction. Amelia had picked out her own dress, a light yellow number she had worn for Easter the year before. She had slightly grown a bit since then, and the dress fit awkwardly on her growing body. Mark begged her to choose a different option but she was adamant on her decision, and Mark gave up on the fight. Marsh had chosen a few outfits, nervously asking his father for approval, and finally chose a simple white button up shirt and red tie with black slacks.
The Battons were all a mess but were trying their best to stay as solid as possible for the rest of their small family, and Mark commended the children for staying so strong during this time. About to put their mother in the ground, both of them seemed as if it was another day at church as they prepared to make the shortest but most enduring trip of their lives. He was most worried about Marsh and how the church would treat him after his incarceration at ReCourse as he was positive Terry had informed them all. Mark still harbored so much guilt. He had said nothing about the pornography being his own curiosity, and he knew he would need to redeem himself immensely one day to feel exonerated for allowing such an atrocity to happen to his own flesh and blood due to his cowardice.
Pushing the image of his son in a conversion camp away, the time had come for them to pack up the car and drive to South Belle. It was the quietest ride they had ever taken together, both of his children looking out the window as houses decorated to the hilt with Christmas lights and blow up Santas passed by them. The church parking lot was a ghost town as they pulled up, and Mark was grateful that he wouldn’t be bombarded with condolences the moment they walked in the door. Amelia and Marsh lagged behind him as they approached the entrance and he held the door for them as they entered. It was a somber moment as they entered the main hall, pictures and floral arrangements aligned the outer edges and kids stopped to stare at the many images of them with their now deceased mother. Mark gripped them by the shoulders, reassuring them with his presence, and they continued inside to the rows of pews.
Denise’s casket was the first thing he noticed as they closed the doors behind them, and Amelia ran down the middle aisle towards the open coffin. Marsh loitered near the doors, not wanting to go any further, and Mark motioned for him to follow, but he shook his head.
“I’ll go up in a little bit, I just want to sit back here for a minute,” Marsh quivered, tears welling up in his eyes. Mark didn’t want to leave Amelia up there by herself so he continued down the aisle towards her, leaving Marsh behind. Amelia was looking into the casket, holding onto her mother’s hand, as Mark approached her and knelt down to be at her level.
“She looks really pretty,” Amelia said and Mark held onto her.
“She always did,” Mark replied and forced a smile. Seeing Denise in the casket was unreal, as if he was viewing it through someone else’s eyes and he had to look away. Terry was standing at the edge of the room waiting for Mark to acknowledge his presence. Mark nodded towards him and the man came forward, embracing him.
“Thank you for putting this together,” Mark whispered. The man gripped him harder, released him, and focused on Amelia.
“How are we doing, Miss Amelia?” Terry asked and hugged the girl.
“I’m alright, Pastor Terry. Do you like my dress? Mom picked it out for me,” she inquired.
“Well yes. I’ve seen you in it before! Looks like you’re growing like a beanstalk,” he laughed and she went back to the casket. Terry looked around and honed in on Marsh at the back of the room.
“And how’s Marsh?” Terry questioned, “He seems to be holding up just fine.”
“He’s making it,” was all Mark muttered. He didn’t want Terry anywhere near his son, but Terry was halfway down the aisle towards him before he could react. Marsh looked alarmed as the Pastor got closer to him, and Mark followed behind Terry to ensure nothing would escalate. Marsh allowed the Pastor to hug him and stepped back, leaving a good amount of space between them.
“You’re growing up quick as well, young man. You going to follow in your old man’s footsteps? Become a cop?” Terry pressed.
“I haven’t made a decision on that yet,” Marsh uttered, trying his best to be pleasant.
“We’ve missed you at church lately. The youth group isn’t the same without you.”
Marsh looked frantically at Mark in hopes he’d pull Terry away but it was unneeded as more people began to filter through the doorways. Marsh was able to slip behind people and Mark watched as he exited the church. He wanted to follow Marsh and hold him tight, knowing the situation around him was the most uncomfortable position the boy would ever be in, but he was soon besieged with people offering pleasantries and empathy. He watched as Amelia found her group of friends, and soon he had no escape from the constant stream of people.
Nearly an hour had passed before he was able to break free from everyone and he stumbled outside to look for Marsh. He spotted him on the playground, the boy’s long legs pushing himself slowly on a swing’ and Mark approached slowly. His eyes were cast down and he glanced up as Mark climbed in the swing next to him. He barely fit, but squeezed himself down into it, Marsh giggling at his father’s appearance.
“You doing okay out here?” Mark questioned, pushing himself slightly.
“Yeah, better than being in there,” Marsh reasoned, “I don’t really feel like being here.”
“I understand, Marsh, I do.”
“Everyone thinks I caused her to do it.”
“Your mom was sick, nobody caused it.”
“I know and I don’t feel that way but I can feel their eyes.”
“After tonight, you don’t have to come back.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I hope you know I’m not gay, Dad. I don’t know how the porn got on the computer.”
“I know, I know.” Mark could tell that even though Marsh’s physical wounds had healed the pain still lingered just below the surface, and he didn’t know how to comfort the boy. Mark could see someone waving to him from the front door of the church, and he pulled himself out of the swing.
“Do you mind if I just stay out here?” Marsh requested, and Mark was in no position to force him inside.
“You don’t want to see your mother?” Mark shot back.
“I remember what she looks like,” Marsh reasoned, and Mark kissed him on the forehead. He realized how differently Marsh saw his mother now and Mark could understand how all of it had affected him. He left Marsh at the swings and returned to the church, greeted by familiar faces and long forgotten family members.
The church had filled up nicely with people, the voices of everyone reverberating off the walls created a din so loud Mark wished he had ear plugs. He watched as people paid their respects at Denise’s casket and as he moved closer to it, people made way for him to be with her. The noise around him ceased to exist as he touched the casket, looking in at his beautiful wife. As angry
as he had been, the true sadness of the situation began to overcome him and he wept silently at the edge of the mahogany box. A woman next to him consoled him, giving him a wad of tissues to dry away the mucus rushing from his nose and he stepped away, pulling out his cell phone.
He dialed the only person he knew that could support him in his time of need and waited for the other line to answer. He feared after a few rings that it was going to voicemail but Dillon’s voice came through the speaker, and he felt safe once more.
SEVEN
Although Dillon was dealing with Ashton, the phone call pulled him out of his own despair. The drive back from New Orleans had been grueling. He had watched Ashton in the rearview mirror, wrenching in pain and anguish as if something had been attacking him. Every few minutes, Ashton would howl and screech at the top of his lungs in the same gut-churning voice as before and Dillon questioned himself for not taking him straight to the hospital. Olivia had stayed behind in New Orleans, booking a flight out the next day, not wanting the responsibility of dealing with Ashton or whatever was ailing him and strangely Dillon was relieved. He didn’t need another person meddling in their business, something that had caused so much strife in the past, and now he was on his own to handle it.
Mark’s call hadn’t lasted long, but Dillon knew that the man was in dire straits and needed someone there for him. He was unsure if he could be the support that Mark needed, but he went upstairs to change his clothes into something more formal than the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing anyway. Ashton had fallen asleep and he hoped that he would be able to go to the church and return before he awakened. He quickly changed, fixed his hair in the mirror before creeping out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and outside to his car. Against his better judgement, he turned the car into the direction of the church and found himself in the parking lot.
He began to have second thoughts as he watched people coming and going from the doors. He didn’t want any drama and this church sure knew how to deal it, but Mark had been there for him during their troublesome arrival into Acadian Springs so he was obligated to be there now. Stepping out of his car a strong wind blew through the lot, a cold front coming in, and he shivered pushing forth towards South Belle Baptist Church. A man opened the door for him with a smile on his face, and Dillon entered the warmth of the building. It was packed full of people and he glanced around the crowd in search for Mark.
No one was paying much attention to Dillon and he was happy that no one noticed the infidel in their midst. He finally spied Mark near the front of the room and he squeezed past people to approach him. Mark looked at him for a moment, then hugged him tighter than Dillon had even been embraced, and he heard the man’s sniffling against his shoulder. Mark released him after nearly a minute, and pulled him through the crowd towards the front doors once again. The crowd was much thinner near the door but Mark pulled him outside, the cold wrapping itself around them as they went through the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” Dillon asked, but Mark kept quiet and weaved his way through the cars until finally they were far away from the church. Mark swiveled around and placed a kiss directly on Dillon’s lips. At first Dillon reciprocated, the man’s lips so new, but then pushed Mark back when he realized what was going on. “We can’t do this.”
“Everything is so fucked up right now, Dillon.”
“I understand. But this isn’t going to fix anything. I’ve got Ashton back home, going through something and I need to be there, and you, your wife just died. This isn’t a good decision at all.”
“Will you at least come back inside with me? I don’t want to deal with this alone.”
“Just for a little while, I don’t do well with funerals. I’ll sit in the back though. Only a matter of time before that preacher catches me there,” Dillon conceded, and they trekked their way back to the church’s doors. It was nearing the time of service when they entered so Dillon found a seat in a nearly empty pew in the back and Mark took himself further down the aisle. Everyone began to find their seats, and Dillon watched as the preacher took the stage and shuffled through some papers at his stand.
“I’d like to start of this celebration for the life of Denise Batton with a prayer. If we could all bow our heads,” the preacher spoke into the microphone. It had been years since Dillon had attended church and he felt uncomfortable as he watched everyone cast their heads down. The preacher continued with the prayer as Dillon looked on. Soon the entire church said “Amen” and a small amount of rustling could be heard as everyone adjusted themselves from the prayer.
“As I said, this a celebration of the life that Denise Batton lived with her husband, Mark, and their two children, Amelia and Marsh. From the beginning of their marriage they lived close in their relationship with God, worshipping here at South Belle for many years. We all watched as their family grew; first with their son and then their daughter, both of which were baptized right here. In her years of service to God she could be seen helping out of with Sunday school, potlucks, and Christmas programs. She was a true child of our Lord and she was a blessing to many of us. Now-“
The preacher stopped, something catching his eye, and Dillon began to panic. The man’s eyes were locked with his. He was unable to look away or hide himself behind a group of people. The man stepped around his podium and pointed directly at him. Dillion watched the entire church turn around to see what the preacher was motioning towards.
“Excuse me, son. You’re not welcome here,” the man shouted, and the church erupted in confusion.
“I invited him,” Mark said from the front pew, and the preacher’s eyes moved from Dillon to an angry snarl at Mark.
“Invited this…this homosexual? This disgusting faggot? Into the service for your wife?”
“Stop, Terry. Please,” Mark begged, but the man continued down the aisle towards Dillon’s seat.
“This folks, this shows the true terror that can come from the gays. They’ve taken a hold of the Batton family. Denise had seen this and tried to save her family from the treachery. She took her own life because of this man and his husband. A disgrace to God.”
Dillon’s unease became overwhelming as Terry got closer, pausing three feet from him, and turning towards the eyes of the church. Most of the congregation was in shocked silence, but Dillon could hear whispering in different parts of the room as a few tried to figure out what was about to occur.
“We all know what the Bible says, right? These despicable faggots will burn in a lake of fire for eternity and yet here we are. Subjected to their lifestyle. Whatever happened to our beautiful town? Our Acadian Springs?” Terry’s voice began to boom, the bass in his voice filling every nook and cranny of the church, and his entire congregation erupted in hoots and hollers. Dillon scooted closer towards the end of the pew, waiting for the moment to escape the enraged crowd, and eyed Mark sitting in stunned silence at the scene that was unfolding in front of him. The preacher began to back down the aisle towards the front of the church, his outstretched arms summoning more noise from the large group of people that filled the pews.
Dillon’s heart began to race as he rose from the pew in hopes the crowd would not notice as he stepped into the hallway and out the glass door leading to the parking lot. He only calmed when he reached his car, locked himself inside, and started it up, his headlights reflecting off the car in front of him. He looked behind him to see if he was being followed but the doors to the church remained closed. He backed quickly out of the spot and sped out of the parking lot. South Belle disappeared from his rearview mirror as he crossed through the empty town, most of the inhabitants still sitting in the pews behind him. The town itself fell from sight as his car became surrounded by the dried out sugarcane fields that hugged the rural roads. The closer he got to home, his heart rate reached a normal pace and he was able to breathe easier, the lull of the country provided a needed silence.
His home was lit up as he pulled into his drive and he cursed himself for leaving Ashton alone
to attend a place where he clearly wasn’t welcome. He turned his ignition off and sat in his car for a moment to gather his thoughts. The culmination of events had turned him off from being in Acadian Springs, but the Bohemian lifestyle that paraded itself through the streets of New Orleans wasn’t exactly what he wanted for them either. He was at a point where he felt every decision was the wrong one, He hoped another option would present itself in the coming days and set a reminder on his phone to call his realtor. He was sure with the church’s disapproval of their residency the house would sell quickly, and they could move on to a more accepting environment.
The air ripped its way across the property as Dillon reached the porch. The December wind could go from surprisingly warm to hair-raising cold, and tonight was a prime example of how frigid the weather could be. The door crept open a few inches just as Dillon’s hand reached for it and he tilted his head, wondering if he had left it unlocked when he left. He pushed it open, the lights inside pulling him in, and immediately covered his nose, gagging as the smell of decomposition and sulfur wafted through the air as if the stench had been sprayed throughout the home. The living room to his left was shrouded in darkness, unlike the bright lights that filled the rest of the home, and he could see the outline of Ashton in the shadows.
“Ashton? What the hell is that smell?” Dillon questioned him, his hand searching for the light switch.
“Sneaking around with that pig again, I see,” Ashton belted from his seat, stopping Dillon in his tracks. “He is such a beautiful specimen of man, you should have seen him as he thrust inside me.”
The House the Devil Built Page 20
