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Go, Mom.
I have to see who this Janice person is, and I recognize her the minute I see her. She’s one of the gossip girls my mom was talking about. When I turn back to Delilah, a finger tapping on her thigh has her appearing anxious. But I can stand here all day long if that’s what she prefers. “We’ve got quite the lineup of anxious churchgoers.”
She looks in her rearview mirror and then back at me. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”
“Nope.” I tap my watch. “The service starts in two minutes. Do you really want to be the cause of a church delay?”
Sighing loudly, she gives me a glare. “Dinner. One less thing I’ll have to worry about if you’re bringing it over. Seven o’clock and don’t be late.”
She should know me better than that. I’ve never been late when it came to her. Tapping the roof of the truck lightly, I smile from ear to ear. “You got it. See you at seven, honeysuckle.”
I return to my mom’s car to the sound of applause. When I sink into the seat, I check the mirror again and see Delilah smiling. Prettiest sight I ever did see.
My mom says, “You sure know how to give them something to talk about. You’ve stirred up all kinds of trouble.”
She’s totally worth it. “She’s single. I’m single. There’s no harm in us being single together tonight.”
The cars pulling into the church parking lot late causes a bigger stir. Grumbles are heard as a large part of the congregation finds a seat. It’s really quite amusing. Even my mom struggles to hold in her laughter. At one point, she leans over, and whispers, “It’s good to have you home. You’re just what this town needed.”
The moment Delilah walks in, the sun shines a little brighter through the stained glass windows that line the sides of the church. I watch her move down a row and sit between two families. I can’t imagine she doesn’t know them since everyone knows everyone in this town, but she keeps to herself.
Although I’d rather stare at her, being here in a holy place has me recounting my sins. I don’t have as many as I carry the burden of, but the few I have are major. When everyone lowers their heads to pray, I don’t. Instead, my eyes find the only other person who remains the same.
Delilah turns and looks at me over the bowed heads dividing us across the church. A little line forms between her eyes as if I’m a puzzle she can’t figure out. Just as I raise my hand to wave to her, the minister clears his throat—harshly—and my eyes meet his irritated ones. “Amen,” we say in unison.
Fully delighted, Delilah finally lets that beautiful smile show. With everyone listening to the minister, I lower my head this time and chuckle before settling in for a long lecture.
After the service, I get tired of nodding, shaking hands, and updating what feels like the entire town on what I’ve been up to. I toss out my regular spiel—traveling around the country and working odd jobs.
Since sinning sends you to hell, sinning in church must get you a fast pass. I tell my mom I’ll meet her at the car and walk out the wide-open double doors into the sunshine. I veer left when I spot the minister ahead, but I’m not stealth enough because I hear, “So glad you could join us today, Mr. Koster.”
I stop and turn around. “I am too, Minister Polk?”
He pats me on the back as he turns us toward the church. “You can call me Stephen. You’re not a kid whose mother forced him to attend Sunday school anymore.”
“All right. Stephen.” I wonder if he detects the sarcasm. “How are you?”
“I’ve been good, son. How about you?”
“Good.”
“We’ve seemed to have lost touch with you for a few years. I’m hoping you carried God with you on your journeys.”
Anger feeds the finger that pulls the trigger. One shot to the head and I know he’s dead without having to shoot again. I’m fairly certain that signs my fate after death.
The bodies differ in size and shape, but their souls are long gone. I don’t think about it anymore. I just act. I grab the black plastic from the trunk and get to work.
Another body to hide—when did I become the expert in cleaning scenes? I need to get out of here, to leave this city and this life. Just because I can stomach the work doesn’t mean I should do it. It’s messing with my mind. The guilt digs deep, creating crevices in my soul. I need to leave before my soul becomes blackened from the depravity of my actions. I’m starting to think it’s too late to save me.
