There was just enough strawberry jam for the "extra extra EXTRA jelly" that Dylan wanted on his peanut butter jelly sandwich. Zephaniah was cutting the bread diagonally when Dylan spoke up.
"It hath to be in stwips"
Zephaniah paused too late as the deed had already been done. "Excuse me?"
Dylan simply nodded at Zeph emphatically.
"Strips?" Zeph asked again, unsure what the 10-year-old was even talking about.
"Stwips," Dylan affirmed. He was standing on the couch cushions peeking over the back of the couch far easier than when he was much younger and much shorter. But old habits die hard and no one would tell the kid he wasn''t much of a toddler anymore. Especially not nowadays.
"There isn''t a kid on this planet that eats their PB and Js in strips." Zeph accused.
"I do." Dylan opened his mouth and bared his teeth to show the spots where his two missing front teeth should be. If Zeph were a bit closer, he could see that one of those teeth seemed to be growing in, but it was clear that Dylan wasn''t going to be chomping bread too easily with those. "It makth it eathier."
"Well," Zeph stared down at the two halves of the sandwich like it was a bizarre puzzle. "I mean it''s already cut, boog"
Zephaniah was not Dylan''s father. In fact, they aren''t even related. Zeph had been friends with Dylan''s father, Eric, since middle school. Dylan''s mom, Jodie, works odd hours and seems to be burning the candle at both ends for some undisclosed financial reasons. Ever since Eric died last year, Zeph has been trying to visit Dylan more often. Today is the first day of spring break and Jodie has picked up a few extra shifts at the beach bar. Zeph offered to watch Dylan while she works which now places him in the predicament he has found himself in now. Dylan only stared back wondering what Zeph was going to do to fix this issue.
"Well, maybe I can- you know," Zeph was gesturing cuts with his hand with his eyes locked on his terrible mistake, desperately trying to find a solution. "You know- maybe make diagonal strips."
"Can''t" Dylan shakes his head with the same emphasis he had earlier in the conversation. "Then the corners will be small."
"Oh damn," Zeph leans back in concession, "You''re right."
"D-word!" Dylan shouts at Zeph.
"Oh! Sorry, boog" Zeph had been told several times before by Jodie not to use "bad words" in front of Dylan. He was told by Eric before that but sometimes he forgot. He was already turning 30 this year but still used a profane epithet every once in a while. He was still getting used to the rules. Zephiniah was only laid off about a month ago and despite the fact that everyone said he was good with kids, he never really felt like father material. Not that he ever wanted to be Dylan''s father. But now being here, in front of a child who is still unsure how to cope with the loss of his father, Zeph feels compelled to be the best kind of man he can be for the kid.
"Well, I can''t just make it again. We''re out of jelly."
"Justh scwape it off."
Zeph pauses for a moment, staring at the sandwich before his face brightens with an idea, figuring out the answer to Dylan''s sandwich puzzle.
Later, Zeph and Dylan are sitting on the couch watching 1995''s Desperado. Dylan was slowly chewing on his last PB and J strip enjoying the movie. It was during the last big shoot-out in the movie when Jodie unlocked and opened the front door.
"Hi Mom!" Zeph and Dylan said in unison.
Jodie seemed tired as she made her way through the door and over to the counter to set her bags down, not before straining to tussle Dylan''s hair with the same arm that held off the two heavy bags she was carrying. She tried to match her son''s tone and excitement "Hi sweetie!" Then she flipped the imaginary switch to scold Zeph. "Zeph, I am not your mother. How many times are you gonna keep doing that?"
"Sorry, Jodie." Zeph shut off the TV just as Dylan complained that it was at the good part of the movie.
Jodie caught a glimpse of the violent Western film just before the screen went black. Her eyebrows furrowed in the same way any mother would just before a good scolding."And how many times do I have to tell you not to show Dylan those movies? They''re too- you know- grown up!"
"Sorry, Jodie", Zeph picked up Dylan''s paper plate which now only held crumbs and smears of peanut butter. He walked into the kitchen where Jodie was emptying her tupperware containers into the sink when Zeph stepped on the lever to open the trash can and throw away the plate. Just before he did, Jodie could see the four perfectly fine bread triangles that still had peanut butter on them but the jelly appeared to have been scraped off.
"Did you waste this bread too? Dammit, Zeph, I can''t afford for you to waste food too!" Jodie was normally pretty irritable after work. At least, that''s what Eric used to tell Zeph over beers before he passed. She would always find something to be mad at, and sometimes I''d just let her. I think it helps her cope with the stress or something.
"Sor-" Zeph was cut off.
"And stop saying Sorry, Jodie" She mocked Zeph with a tone that was entirely too deep for voice, only reserved for mocking stupid men. "Sorry, Jodie. Sorry, Jodie. SORRY, JODIE. Dammit, Zeph, do you know how many hours I had to work today?"
"D-WORD!" Dylan chastised his mom.
Jodie took a breath and pivoted on Dylan, the kind of composure only a mother could fake. "Yes, I''m sorry, honey. Mommy used the D-word because she was stressed. That doesn''t make it okay to use bad words, it just means she needs to work on her vocabulary."
"You said it twice." Dylan pointed out.
Jodie sighed, showing the chinks in the armor she called a smile. This time she spoke through clenched teeth. "Yes, sweetie. Mommy owes you two new words to better express how she was feeling when she used the d-word. Could you please go down the hall to your room while I talk to your uncle?"
"Zee told me he''th not really my uncle." Dylan let out one more 10-year-old''s fact of the day and stared into his mother''s eyes.
This time Jodie''s face showed a bit more frustration. She squared down to Dylan''s meet, making sure to talk to him at eye level. "Did he, now? He loves making things difficult, doesn''t he? I personally don''t think it''s normal to just let strange men hang around the house when I''m not around but maybe Uncle Zeph has a different parenting style in mind." Jodie turned only her head to bead a pair of furious eyes on Zeph. "Uncle Zeph can be confusing sometimes, baby. Now Dylan, please go to your room. Mommy won''t say it again."
"I wasn''t confuthed. He told me that he was justh weally good friends with Da-"
"DYLAN." Jodie stood,this time shouting and not looking at her son. "GO. TO YOUR ROOM!"
Dylan pouts before storming off to his room and slamming the door with as much force as his little arms could muster.
"Are you happy, Zeph?" Jodie hurriedly walks back into the kitchen to finish putting up her dishes. "You made him mad at me. Again!"
"I don''t think-"
"You''re right, Zeph. You didn''t think about wasting MY food. Didn''t think about watching adult movies on MY TV. Didn''t think about how your words confuse MY son. What could you possibly have to say?" Jodie asked the question as she saw Zeph, though recoiling away from the angry mother, slowly raising his hand to be called on.
"When you say adult movies, it makes it sounds like-" Zeph cut himself off as he watched Jodie''s face slack with exhausted aspiration. "Uhm, never mind. Uhm sorry, Jo- erhm. I apologize?"
Jodie lets out a tense breath. "I guess you really shouldn''t be. You never asked for this shit. Hell, I never asked for this. It''s just so hard without him." She stopped being a tough mom for the day and resigned to collapsing face-first on the couch. The fabric soaked up the tear and she refused to let Zeph see, but he could nevertheless tell she was crying.
"I bet it is. I miss him too. Did you know, he used to love Antonio Banderas?" Zeph sat down on the ground in front of the couch facing Jodie. She lifted her head and looked puzzled and Zeph could see that some of her makeup was running but pretended not to notice.
"Who?"
"Antonio Banderas. Desperado? Once Upon a Time in Mexico? Fuckin'' Puss in Boots?" Zeph couldn''t believe Jodie never learned about the great Antonio Banderas.
"Oh, the cat from Shrek?"
"Of all the things you have said to me today, this is by far the most-"
"I don''t know who- who- people are!"
"People? They''re the funny-looking apes walking around and ordering drinks at your bar, tipping way too little."
Jodie finally blurted out a laugh. "I know who- You know what? I am still angry." Jodie buried her smile back into the cushions.
"Smiling a lot for an angry person. Are you sure?" Zeph chortled.
Jodie''s face rose from the couch again. She successfully smothered the flicker of a smile out but she couldn''t be angry either. "Yes!" but then she collapsed back to the couch still showing her face, especially her cheek squished under the weight of her head. Her words were squished out too in a stubborn defeat, "No. Well- I am. But not at you. Sorry I took it out on you. Even though I have told you not to call me mom. I''m younger than you."
"That may be true but I act younger." Zeph protested. His eyebrows rose and he made a face as if that was enough explanation.
Jodie rolled over, laid on her back and started directing her half of the conversation to the ceiling, "I''m serious, Zeph. I''m at the end of my rope. I''m tired. I''m always angry. I just bike to work everyday. I am sure I reek when I get to work. That''s probably why my tips suck, too." Zeph tried to sneak a sniff in her direction but he failed the sneak check and she glared daggers at him. "I can''t even get in the car anymore."Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
If she said anything more after that, Zeph didn''t hear it. He was absorbed in the secondhand tellings of what happened that day. Eric was driving the day he died. Jodie was in the car and so was Dylan but Eric was the only one that got hurt. More than hurt, really. There wasn''t a real reason for it. There was no drunk driver, not so much as a cloud in the sky and Eric didn''t even like to play music when he drove. He was the example that driving instructors gave when talking about the ideal, safe driver.
Nevertheless, it was a long day, and both Dylan and Jodie were fast asleep during the late evening ride. Jodie didn''t remember the collision, just the sound it made the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. The windshield was smashed in and her right cheek rested on the branch responsible for the scar that stretches up to her ear. Since then, she would always wear hair low and turn her face in pictures. She still swears to her counselor that she heard Dylan scream, but her eyes just refused to open.
Dylan, while inexplicably unharmed, may have got the worst of it. He didn''t see his father''s face. The emergency responders wouldn''t let anyone see the body after the crash. They said when they arrived, Dylan wasn''t moving. He was staring at the tree branch jutting through the driver''s seat in front of him. The splinters caught blood and hair then dripped onto Dylan''s lap. The whole front of the car was crushed like a paper fan but a low hung branch pierced the windshield and perfectly impaled Eric through the nose, missing his brain and scraping the side of his C2 vertebrae. That didn''t kill him.
The medical examiner reported the cause of death to be asphyxiation or blood loss. Branch pinned to the seat until he suffocated or bled out and Dylan heard whatever those last moments sounded like. Whatever he heard and saw messed him up so bad his eyes stayed locked in the same absent stare he had from the back seat for days. Therapy didn''t change anything but after the third day, he was simply back to normal. He played and talked the way he used to. He celebrated when he lost his front tooth and again when the other one followed. Zephaniah did his best to avoid things that could make Dylan sad or trigger a memory. That''s when they started watching movies every time he came over.
For her part, Jodie tried driving again a few months ago when she got this new job. She didn''t make it down the street before she just put it in park and stormed off back to the house. Zephaniah was still watching from between the blinds inside the house so he was ready to move the car back. He tried to tell her it was okay but she was already on the bike and peddling away before he even got to the abandoned car.
"Zeph?" He heard her voice but he must have zoned out. He shook free and looked at her. She was staring at him like he had been staring off for hours.
"Yes?"
"Did you hear anything I just said?"
"You''re always angry," Zeph responded blankly.
Jodie sighed and sat up on the couch and patted the cushion to invite Zeph to sit next to her. He found his body already moving to sit before he made the decision. "I guess I am. Thanks for helping us, Zeph." She laid down again and rested his head on his lap, closing her eyes to sleep. "I just sometimes wish there was a way out. A quick fix. Something."
He stared down at his late best friend''s wife and couldn''t help but notice how pretty she was. He used to like her a lot in high school but Eric had the courage to ask her out. Zeph didn''t. Now his best friend is dead and Jodie Miller is resting her head on his lap. But she is not Jodie Miller anymore. Zeph knows, more than anyone, that she is Jodie Edwards now and dead or not, Zeph does not feel like that for his best friend''s wife. She looked so calm, her jet-black hair flowed down her face, and he found his hand brushing it back behind her ear revealing the scar on her cheek. Even that scar didn''t seem to bother him as she rested on him. He stared down at the woman as the room suddenly felt very quiet. So quiet he could hear his heartbeat.
Could she hear that?
Zeph used to date but didn''t have much luck with women. He even went on a date with a man despite not having any attraction to men. Now, for the first time in 3 years, a factually gorgeous woman is snuggling up to his lap, almost falling asleep right next to his- Zeph abruptly stands. Jodie''s head is knocked ajar and she has the look of confusion that someone has when they have been shaken awake from a very good nap.
She couldn''t see his face as Zeph rushed out the door with his back to her. "Sorry, Jodie! I forgot I-uhh - have someplace to be! See you guys tomorrow. Tell booger I said ''Good night!" and the door slammed perhaps a bit too hard as he escaped into the night.
Jodie looked around with the dry eyes of a very tired mother and mocked the stupid man''s voice again. "Sorry, Jodie" and collapsed back into her sleep.
Zeph slipped into the night and quietly ducked into the sparsely lit suburban sidewalk to make his way home.
Meanwhile, in the church, gathered the faithful. It actually wasn''t much of a church but the home of the Mouth of Pohr, Leahcim. He kept the place looking like a home since he bought the place all those years ago save for the sanctuary. This was a place of worship and thus needed remodeling.
What used to be the den now had the carpet and underlayment ripped from the flooring to expose the concrete slab beneath, carved with the inscriptions beholden to him from the great Pohr. Here, only the light of candles is cast on the bare bodies of the congregation. It is known that clothes are only meant to hide the skin of Pohr''s mighty human warriors. Leahcim looked down upon the willing servants with truly appreciative eyes. The beautiful bare skin of these pawns of the dark angel proud circle as a frame of the gate. Their sacrifice will be remembered when Pohr takes the throne.
"Children of Pohr." The Mouth walked the perimeter of the circle of six naked subjects, carefully taking in their figures one at a time, for the last time. "Each of you came to Pohr to find purpose. To find a reason for your mortal existence."
He looked at Brother Hoan. His naming day came when he brought his wife and mistress to the church, where she now joined him in the circle, naked as he, clasped hand-in-hand on either side of him. "Some of you came with doubts."
He continued around the circle to look upon Sister Bahar, the eldest of the group but still a child to Pohr. She helped many subjects find peace in committing their lives, and deaths, to a higher cause. "Fears. Reservations."
Lastly was Brother Zaob and his mortal sibling, Sister Thur. The twins were only in their early twenties. Leahcim took a particular liking to them and he will surely miss them the most. "Did Pohr not restore your will? Your Confidence?"
"Yes" the circle of naked followers spoke together.
"Today, you selected few will open the gate to Pohr''s palace. You will be the frame for the gate and your lives will be the jewels cresting the portal to hell." The Mouth of Pohr shed a single tear. "I wish it could be me, but this honor I was one chosen for you. My honor is to behold an event that has never been achieved by mortals such as you before." He pauses for a moment to look at the gleeful faces of the congregation one last time. "Deacon Hacim. Bring him in."
The man called Hacim hurriedly tip-toed to Laehcim to whisper something to him. Leahcim, smiled at the circle before speaking "Some still have fear, but we can still guide them to their purpose"
In another room, Leahcim opened the door to a naked man brandishing the leg of a chair that he apparently broke free from an old antique. The sight gives Leahcim pause before he speaks. "What is the matter, child?"
"I can''t do it, Darren" The man is frantically sweating, causing the bloody encryptions painted on all over his body to run.
Leachim smiled. "Please, I have left that name behi-"
"I don''t give a fuck, man! I can''t do this! I am not ready to die in this musty ass home"
Leahcim takes a step further into the room. "This is Pohr''s chosen sanctuar-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, MAN" The naked man steps closer shaking the chairleg threateningly. "I WAS FINE UP UNTIL THIS."
"It''s all part of Pohr''s plan, child. Trust in her will," Leahcim gestures his hands to urge the man to calm down and lower the improvised weapon.
The frantic man continues to explain to the cult leader. "I was fine with drugs. Okay? The orgies were fun. Alright? I even put up with the stupid backward names! But THIS- THIS"
"This is just the leaves talking, child. Your fears have gotten the best of you. Just look at you. Look at how ridiculous you look." Leachim paused with his hands open. "Go ahead. Look." The Mouth of Pohr pointed to a bedroom mirror to the right of the man. The other man couldn''t help but be lost in his own state of being. He was naked as the day he was born, covered in bloody demoniac characters, sweating down his body.
When did he become so shameless?
"What have I become?" The man dropped the weapon to the floor and collapsed to his knees in front of the mirror. "When did I become so pathetic?"
Leahcim''s face softened and his posture straightened. "You were always this pathetic, Travis."
"What?" Travis broke his gaze from his reflection to the startling response.
"This is the real you, Travis. You are pathetic." The Mouth walked up behind the naked man on the floor and laid his hands on his shoulders. The man started to weep inconsolably. "This is why you are here, child. You laid before the entire congregation as they bled their hands and marked you with the words of Pohr. You did so because you are a degenerate man who likes being touched by strangers.
"You accepted being the Chosen because you always wanted to be the center of attention. You are here right now because this is the who the fuck you are, Travis" His grip tightened on Travis''s shoulders. "You are a pathetic little shit."
Two deacons rushed into the room to help Leahcim bring Travis back to his feet, holding him by his arms. Leahcim walked from behind the restrained Travis and stood tall between him and the mirror. He stared down into Travis''s face before his attention was brought back to the chair leg on the floor and picked it up. "You see, Travis. The real you does not matter." Leahcim inspects the splinters of the chair leg before turning around to the mirror. He tossed it away now inspecting his own reflection before speaking again. "But Pohr foresaw even this." He turned back to Travis, putting on a kind, fatherly face again. "Fear not, my child. You do not have to sacrifice yourself this night."
"I don''t?" Snot dripped from the man''s face.
"No, child." His face and tone was consolation. "Now please follow me out to the others so we can break the news to them."
"Okay, Darr- Okay, Leahcim"
There in the sanctuary knelt the six naked followers, silently waiting in the exact position that The Mouth left them in. When he walks in followed by the deacons guiding Travis to the front of the room, they smile lovingly waiting for their next words to be spoken.
"Child, Pohr knew that you had doubts this evening and bestowed his wisdom long before the ceremony began." Some of the faces of the circle turned to frowns. "I have long known you would not be able to commit yourself to this ceremony. This is precisely why you were chosen, Child. Your fear is the catalyst for the portal."
"Wait. No." The man tenses again but the deacons still have him restrained in their arms. "YOU SAID YOU WOULDN''T KILL ME"
"No, child. I said you wouldn''t have to sacrifice yourself. Brothers, bring Portal to the center of the Gate." Leachim stripped Travis of name and left him only with the role he was given: portal. The deacons easily carried the scrawny man to the center of the circle, even lifting him over the knelt members of the Gate. "Your fears and doubts at the center of their conviction are paramount to the ceremony''s success. Even they knew you would not slit your own throat."
"NO WAI-" Just then, Deacon Hacim runs a box cutter over the man''s throat and the other deacon punches him deep into the stomach. Travis keels over to the floor, eyes wide with pain, fear, and all the things Pohr needs to open her gate. He tried to scream but no sound came- only blood. The deacons vacated the circle. Without instruction, the other members of the gate followed suit, spilling their own blood and final breath into the center of the circle. Each throat ran agape with each, a delighted smile to match. The groves carved into the concrete filled with crimson. A rumble began and in just an instant, The Mouth of Pohr can just barely see a bright glow emanate from the letters of blood before going dark instantly again.
The room was silent again. The three men left standing and staring. Dead bodies strewn the floor. The silence continued and Deacon Hacim leaned to Leahcim. "Did it work?"
After a few minutes of nervous reading through demonic text and trying to contact Pohr, Leahcim gets impatient and starts pacing in the room. He was careful not to step in the red pools that slowly spread out over the cement. Finally, he sat on the floor, facing the bodies that once made up the gate, intently staring at the pile of carnage.
"Maybe we should hav-'''' Leahcim was cut off by a knock at the door. There shouldn''t be any knocking. There was a magical mask on this house, preventing others from having interest or notice on the house at all.
The magic is so powerful that if someone were to mistakenly send a pizza to this house address, the driver wouldn''t be able to find it, even if they were parked right out front.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
The knocking began again, more rapid, growing impatient. He approaches the door with great wary and the knocking starts again, certainly impatient now, and maybe angry. Leahcim reached the door and the knocks were rapid, consistent and growing in weight.
He peeked through the peep-hole and didn''t recognize the visitor but felt compelled to let them in. His hands moved on their own. He inexplicably unlatched the many locks and bolts that secured the door and opened it. On the doorstep was a woman that he didn''t recognize to be Jodie Edwards, Dylan''s mother. Jodie looked at him with a perturbed face before pushing past him to enter the house.
Jodie didn''t even look at Leahcim as she walked into the house, already spouting orders. "Things didn''t go as planned. We need to regroup. Get the scepter."