The dark within them, p.13
The Dark Within Them, page 13
Two heavy, slippered feet hit the bottom of the staircase. Chad spoke without turning around. “Want eggs, bed-head?” A minute later, a crumpled Ivan peered over the pan, pronounced it edible with a soundless nod of the head and grabbed a plate. He ate it standing up against the counter, so Chad slouched next to him.
“We’ve not been doing great on the whole communication front now, have we?” A shrug from Ivan felt like encouragement. “So I thought, why don’t we try and open up a bit more? Eggs felt like a good start. I thought, everyone likes eggs, right?” Ivan laughed, despite himself. “Not easy getting…a fake dad, I guess.”
“Thought you weren’t trying to be my dad.”
“No, that’s true—just a guardian, I suppose.”
“Think you’re here to stay then?”
“What you meaning?”
“Think Amber’s gonna keep you?”
Chad clenched his jaw. Counted down from five.
“Well, bed head, we are married and we are living in my house. Anyway, let’s not get to yapping at each other. I wanted to chat to you. See, you and I may be way more alike than you think.” Ivan crammed a toast triangle into the black hole of his mouth, dubious but hungry. “I was a troubled teen. ”
He thrust out his lower lip. “That’s offensive.”
“Oh—”
“I’m not ‘hormonal’, you know.”
“Alrighty, then, what I’m meaning is, my dad passed away, and your dad died, okay—well, my uncle Jim brought me up. Real great, actually. And when I was feeling down, lashing out, he’d give me a blessing, you know? I was thinking maybe I can give you that blessing. As a guardian, maybe a friend.”
Ivan went to say one thing and then swallowed that thought, raised his arms.
“Erm, fine, I guess. If you want to.”
Excellent. Right. Uncle Jim had just come up to him, placed his hands over his shoulders…Like so. Righto, now a prayer.
“Would you like to start a prayer, Ivan?”
“No. Can’t you?”
“Sure, so, our Father…” Chad closed his eyes, felt the words calm and familiar on his tongue. He willed Ivan’s resilience to vanish. The rebellious streak in him to ease. “You feel it settling over you, boy?” That should do the trick. He released his palms from Ivan’s shoulders, feeling a warm sense of accomplishment himself.
“Can’t say I do,” Ivan scowled up at him. “Sorry,” he added. Chad bristled and made himself busy dusting crumbs from the countertop. There were only so many times he could flex his fists and iron out his clenched jaw muscles.
“Right, well look here, I don’t want any more interrogations of your mother, okay? It was a very hard decision she made to send Gilly away. Don’t you think Gilly deserves what’s best for her?”
“Maybe she just doesn’t want her daughter near you.”
Chad recoiled. What a disgusting mouth this boy had on him! The ungodly insinuation was clear.
“There’s something wrong with you, kid. What I’ve done is try and make you welcome. Get some respect or pack your bags up.”
“No second Mormon wife ideals then?” Ivan dropped his plate into the sink, crusts and all. Chad wrinkled his nose as the crumbs splattered the sides of the sink.
“I don’t like your talk and I’ve heard enough!”
“Come on then. Hit me.”
The man and the slight boy squared off, mouths curling, fingers twitching. Chad felt no guilt about this kind of mismatched fight. A punch around the head would be too easy, leave little remorse. Ivan’s chat only encouraged it. But it wasn’t in the plan. He must ask for a revelation about the boy. What else could he do?
“You need divine intervention,” he sneered and Ivan laughed.
“Yeah, you just say what you really think, Chad. Guardian? Don’t think so. Look, I’m going to school now—”
“Gonna tell Amber how you’re speaking to me!”
“You do that, big boy,” Ivan ducked under Chad’s arm and darted out of the kitchen. God, Chad’s hands itched to find their way around his throat.
5TH JUNE 2015
AMBER
She emptied the contents of her breakfast into the sink. Dry retching at the smell, Amber turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. “You can do this,” Amber told her unconvinced reflection in the bathroom mirror. This evening she would hold a faith healing of sorts. When she had arrived in Lehi, Brett had given her a space and the event date as a sort of ‘welcome to the Church’—probably half because he was curious about what her skills actually entailed, and half out of charity. If the events of the weeks had been different, she’d be feeling a rush of adrenaline right now, instead of dread.
Chad entered without knocking.
“Oh Amb. Come on—what is this, stage fright? You’ve got two hours yet!”
She looked up at him, eyes watering from the acid gathered in her throat. “I can’t leave the house today.”
His expression darkened. “You can, and you will.” She shook her head, splashing water on her neck, and he grabbed her wrist. “You’re going, for your own good.” She turned to him, the whites of her eyes showing. He loosened his grip. “Look. You love to talk about what you do. You’re good at these shows! Remember the resort?” He stroked the inside of her wrist with his index finger. “I was bewitched. Why not tonight?”
She gulped. “That was different. Everything was.”
Chad took her chin between his palms and she felt the grooves of their calluses. “I know. But I’ll be so proud of you, when you get on that stage and do it anyway. Because if we don’t, people will ask questions, won’t they? About why you’re not feeling well. Things would get complicated.”
His tone was soft, but his eyes were firm.
The Church meeting house was packed with stage whispers, a buzz of excitement that something new was taking place in Lehi. She peered out behind the curtain, just enough to see, but not enough for the audience to see her, and spied Chad and Ivan sat at the front, backs turned to the audience. Even in profile, Ivan looked as though planning an escape route. He had chosen to bring his wheelchair that evening. Chad had been prone to fits of rage this week, and Ivan’s slow walking pace seemed to set him off. Maybe that was why. She watched him slide his body down low behind the head rest and become hidden to preying eyes behind him. He hadn’t wanted to come—he thought her shows put him on display—but she hadn’t wanted to risk him being at home. It was irrational, but she felt like the house might release its secrets to him. Tonight, too, Chad seemed uncomfortable, wiping sweaty hands on primly-ironed trousers. They weren’t looking at each other.
(“Truck drivers wear linen, then?” Ivan had sneered as they got ready to go. “They do when their wives dress them,” Chad had retorted.)
Melanie was there, of course, on the other side of Chad. Exactly where she wanted to be. She was keenly reading one of the glossy leaflets Amber had instructed Ivan to leave on each table. They featured a large photograph of herself—she called it her Colgate marketing smile— and read: “Amber Lakes—The Visionary. Come for readings and faith healing. Amber Lakes’ autobiography will also be available.” But, actually, she’d left the books at home. Her head was a scrambled mess.
Stage music burst from the town speaker to her right. She grimaced at the dramatic voice-over, Welcome Miss Amber Lakes…and knew that was her cue to edge onto the stage. There was a walk she used to rehearse in the mirror, to walk onto stage. No one would come to see a faith healer who wouldn’t even walk with confidence, and so she practiced. Neck arched, shoulders firmly back. She tried, but there was a tremble around the shoulders as she walked. The hall clapped politely, and the intro music was upbeat enough to maintain her stretched smile. She had worn a dress with enough layers of ruffles to hide herself behind, and it rustled when she moved.
“Evening, folks.” Amber’s voice carried more authority than her eyes did. “Thank you to coming to our little event this warm evening. You really do bless us with your presence.” She gestured towards Chad and Ivan lovingly, and noted that Ivan recoiled in horror. “Y’all know I’m new—and what a great place this is, y’all are wonderful—actually, I’ve had a bit of trouble settling in.” She was putting an accent on. It was something she did when she was nervous. It made her sound more like her mother, strangely comforting, though judging by Chad’s face, confusing and likely embarrassing. “I was unsure about this evening. I’d planned it but…” she faltered, stared at Chad, who gestured for her to go on, his expression dark. “Well, we all have bad weeks, don’t we!” She heard her voice come out high and squeaky to Ivan, though the forced cheer seemed to be working on her audience. “I didn’t want to disappoint y’all. Whatever you’d been expecting from tonight! Maybe some of you have read my book. Maybe for some of y’all…this night right here is your worst nightmare! You come here with cynicism?” She asked a bald man in the front row, who grinned toothily. “Well, that’s all right, friend! I’m sure you’re not alone. Because it’s not natural, is it, speaking to the dead?” she asked the room, pupils sweeping across squirming faces.
She realised she wasn’t breathing properly. Inhaling deeply, she released the panic knots in her belly and settled into her stride. Every part of her body had felt tense in Gilly’s absence. She hadn’t realised how desperate she had been to…have someone notice her. All the eyes blinking up at her. It made her giddy. “Thing is folks, having a vision for me is as easy as taking a slice of bread and making toast. In fact, I have had a vision whilst making toast!” She laughed and so did some of the audience, settling into their seats. She spied Ivan roll his eyes—fair enough, because yes, how many times was she going to make the same joke? He hadn’t laughed the first time she’d told it, but she loved it still. “There’s no shame in it, nothing scary. Sometimes someone from the past says, Hey—I’ve got something I need to tell my old Judy. I may not know a Judy, but I say, all right, let’s hear it and low and behold, I meet a Judy next week. Sometimes I am shown the future—”
Then she lost her train of thought. Stifled giggles were coming from the back row. Despite herself, she paused to find the source: a group of teenage girls. That was to be expected. Probably forced here by their parents but…She looked at Ivan. Yes, he was humiliated, though it didn’t seem to take much. She reset her facial muscles into a smile, aware that it was less than convincing.
“Hey, back row, you got a question?” she challenged. There was a shuffle. A girl in a pink tracksuit piped up.
“Yeah, I’ve got one. Do you think you’re better than us? Going on about talking directly to God, to the dead?” Ivan snorted in the front row. She shot him a look: fall back into line.
“Not at all. We’re all equal under God, don’t you agree? My visions are aided and guided by my faith, and my commitment to the Church of the Latter-Day Saints, but it’s worth saying that the two are separate, and the church does not endorse or condone my readings,” she said firmly, boring the girls into indifferent silence. It was easy to roll off the tongue. The speech was rehearsed, her expression polished. She’d had this kind of heckling before and she pre-planned meticulously to shut it down. “So,” she continued brightly, approaching the edge of the stage, “this evening I want to share visions of the future with y’all. I don’t want to turn all magician on you—request a volunteer or anything like that—” she laughed delicately to a few polite titters, one of which was from Chad, naturally. “But I will need you to reveal a few personal details with the room tonight. And this is a safe space. There will be no judgement here.” She projected her voice towards the back row like a poisoned arrow. “So, in the front row, I know, I know, it is always the front row, isn’t it? What’s your name, Sir?”
“Donald, Ma’am.” A ruddy-faced man leant forward conspiratorially.
“And Donald, you look like a family man.” She blessed him with a smile and his face lit up with the nugget of information she offered him. It was a safe bet. All attendees were from the Church of the Latter-Day Saints.
“I have a little girl,” he answered proudly, glancing back at the room. “Though our Tilly’s not so little, now. Few folks know she’s going to college, looking to go now, so.”
“College! But always your little girl,” Amber said to the room, who were nodding back at her. “But college is expensive, right? Are you worried about money, Donald?” Donald hung his head. Again, a smart observation—first, she gathered the facts. Donald’s clothes were threadbare around the edges. He had that farmer raw skin—wind whiplash—around the nose, spreading like a rash to his cheeks.
“I’m worried, Ma’am. We are hoping on a scholarship.”
She nodded, slowly walking across the stage. Most people weren’t so open with their bank balances. Donald’s eyes were wide and hopeful. She spread her arms:
“Dear Lord, you are familiar with your son, Donald and your loyal daughter, Tilly. As a God-fearing woman, on behalf of your loyal family, I ask you to reveal to me Tilly’s future. If it pleases you, Lord, reveal to me Tilly’s prospects of a college acceptance. I will now open the veil of my eyes to receive you.” She immediately laid down on the stage floorboards, face down, hands either side of her face, splayed like gills, and was silent. She let her mind empty, and a vibration enter her. This, here, was the universe, whispering. She never knew how the answer would arrive but, when it did, she knew it was directly from God. He placed it there, on her tongue. Her forehead was growing hot, itching. A colour pulsed on the backs of her eyelids. Purple? There was a pressure building in her eardrums; she strained to catch it. A female voice giggled in the auditorium and she rinsed it away, reaching, reaching…
As quickly as she had dropped, Amber rolled over and stood, face ashen and gasping for breath.
“No scholarship,” she coughed, unsteady on her feet. The room gasped—so did Ivan. It was shock. Ivan always accused her of telling people what they wanted to hear, regardless of what she did or didn’t hear. Now, perhaps, he would believe in her.
“No hopes at all?” Donald gasped.
“There is hope. No scholarship, but another answer. There will be an anonymous donor,” Amber regained her balance. “Tilly will go to college. We will pray for her.” A cheer from the room made Donald visibly emotional.
“Oh, thank you, thank you. Our Tilly…What a night!”
She could stop. She had given them a miracle. That was enough for one night, surely? And when she looked at Ivan and Chad, they seemed proud, a small smile spreading crooked across Ivan’s face and Chad bowing his head to her…There was a tingling in her feet, though. When she moved them, her head moved with them. A sway to the left, her body like a sail. The last thing she remembered was a slipping of her ankles and the blissful meeting of the dark.
*
“Has she fainted?”
“What happened?”
“Oh, shoot, should someone call a doctor?”
She blinked and saw Chad kneeling over her, alongside a range of faces she didn’t recognise. There was a sharp pain in her hip, and a dullness at the back of her head. She pulled herself onto her side, groaning.
“Move out of the way, you’re crowding her, give her some air!” Chad swept an arm in front of the gathering and they stepped back. He clumsily scooped Amber’s head into his lap. She moaned, closing her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “It was all too much, after all. So soon. Too soon.”
“Did she faint?” It was Ivan’s voice. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him.
“What do you think, you idiot?” Chad snarled. “Get everyone to leave, now. Do something useful. Show’s over.” Ivan cursed under his breath, but nodded at her, and began herding the congregation with sullen glares.
“Well,” Chad passed a heavy palm over his face, dragging his cheeks down with it. “That was some introduction to the town.”
7TH JUNE, 2015
CHAD
“The sisters will unveil and the brothers and sisters will go back to their seats. We will now reveal the veil of the temple. These four marks on the veil are the marks of the holy priesthood. Corresponding marks are found in your individual garments. On the left is the mark of the compass. It is placed over the garment’s left breast, suggesting to the mind an undeviating course leading to eternal life—a constant reminder that desires, appetites, passions are to be kept within bounds the Lord has set.”
He’d had to come. Bring the whole family. They had to show their faces after the fainting incident, show the town that Amber was fine, there was nothing to talk about. A miraculous recovery. He took a look at Amber, her head demurely down. Desires, appetites and passions? Since her fall, she’d barely seemed to harbour an independent thought of her own, let alone an insatiable lust. He squeezed her hand and she returned the pulse on a delay, at half the pressure. Ivan stood on the other side of her, shuffling his feet.
“All of you must now pass through the veil, so we will show you how this must be done.”
Brett was dazzling in white suit and trousers. He orchestrated a room of purest white heads, standing before a giant white curtain. The columns were painted white, the carpet was white snow and the font was adorned in white lace. No colour could be found but ivory and the whole experience was glorious. It made Chad proud just to be associated with it. When he walked through the temple grounds after services, he imagined it was his garden: that he had crafted the lake in the centre, framed by fruit trees. That he had breathed the rosebuds into bloom.
This was Ivan’s first time in a temple. He stood in borrowed white bowling shoes…Chad had asked too late about what clothing Ivan owned, and then there had been no formal white shoes in the last-minute Walmart trip...They were too big and he’d tripped on the way. Chad made him apply water and soap to his trousers in the church toilets—a dirt-flecked knee would have been seen easily and embarrassed them both.
