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I’d grown up the middle child of five with a brother and sister on either end. The older ones had already left home but for a large part of my life, there were six other people constantly in my life. Loving, crazy, wonderful people and I didn’t see how I could go from that to no one at all. I might not get along with everyone in cluster housing, Baphomet knew I didn’t get along with my siblings all the time, though a bit of conflict was still preferable to isolation.
The door unlatched with a happy pop, opening the first few inches of its own accord on tight new hinges. The housing had only been built in the last few years, apparently under some duress on the part of the administration, so everything still had that new building feel. One that extended to the bedroom, with the mattress actually crinkling under me, still covered with protective plastic.
“Up and at ‘em, bro,” Amelia said, smacking my boot.
“I’m still the older one you know.”
“Yes and I’m the mature one.”
Her eyes flashed mischievously. She was still only fifteen, but my baby sister could already keep up with me in a bullshitting contest. Then again, she had lots of practice and a pretty good mentor in my brother who was two years younger than me as opposed to five. It would be fair to say that Amelia had been a bit of a ‘surprise’ though our parents didn’t love her any less. Even though I’m pretty sure my dad got a vasectomy after Amelia’s birth.
A young, pretty blond, Amelia dressed in the family fashion, that could best be described as ‘Discount Addams Family Chic.’ Black slacks and vests with dress shirts for the guys and long dark dresses for the girls, all of us in army surplus boots. All of it bought dirt cheap at thrift stores and estate sales.
“Hold the other side, please,” I said, unfurling my full-sized black and white American flag.
The flag was the symbol the main Temple came up with to protest the ‘Christianic Panic.’ A clear and funny lampoon of the ‘Satanic Panic’ once led by Christian bugaboos to disastrous results.
When the flag was up, Amelia helped by shelving my books in alphabetical order in the IKEA-style unit affixed to the freshly painted wall. While she did that, I set up my portable record player on the night table, sliding the vinyls in the space under it. Dad always only used LPs. In addition to being born in the late-1960s when they were all that was available, he also joked that the back masking came across a lot clearer on vinyl.
“Thanks, want me to walk you back to the van?”
“No thanks, I think I’ll be okay.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do,” I said, crouching slightly to give her a quick hug.
“I won’t.”
She was sadder than she let on, but I didn’t want to push it. Even though we both realized this day was coming. Though, to be fair, she never really knew our older siblings. Both of them had grown and gone before she was elementary school, but I had always been there and suddenly, I wouldn’t be anymore.
“I’ll be home in a few months for Thanksgiving,” I said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
She nodded glumly, like I’d said a couple of years instead of a couple of months. I suddenly had a much better idea how it must have felt when my brother and sister left. My brother left for the army and my sister went to get married.
Momentarily alone in the cluster dorm, I tried to console myself with the food of the soul. Though this notion proved to be easier said than done.
In trying to give myself the choice to make things easier, I’d inadvertently made them harder. Finally resorting to the eeny-meeny-miney-moe method, I settled on Satan Takes A Holiday. One of the few known releases by Church of Satan founder Anton LaVey. Something of a rarity, particularly in first pressing,b ut this copy had been in my family for years. First bought by my dad when it was first released in 1995.
Sliding the shining disc from its protective sleeve, featuring a dashing if intimidating photograph of the man himself, I placed it on the turntable as though it were a holy relic. Which, in a way, it was. An unholy relic.
I was so lost in the experience as the record spun that I didn’t hear my roommates arrive. Something of a feat considering there were seven of them. Yet, each passed by without notice or not as I basked in the voice from the past. No doubt there would be some speculation as to what was going on in room six. Particularly after the adjustment I’d made.
It wasn’t anything too bad. Certainly nothing for the administration to get their knickers in a knot about. I had simply stuck a piece of tape, the approximate color of the door, next to where the room number was and added a pair of 6s. Go fish.
