Beyond the Cabin Read online

  I turned. Joan was looking at me.

  “Huh?”

  “Where are you going in such a rush?” Joan asked.

  “Outside. Nice day,” I said.

  “How about you help me with breakfast?”

  Crap. Worded that way, it almost sounded like I could have said ‘No.’ But I knew what would happen if I tried that. There’d be a lecture from Miriam about respect and duty and the value of hard work and whatever else occurred to her at the time. Then I would still have to help make breakfast.

  “Well? Come on,” Joan said, nodding toward the kitchen. She turned, clearly expecting me to follow.

  Resigning myself to the awful fate, I trudged behind Joan. Mal would find a way out of this.

  A few minutes later, over a deep skillet of scrambled eggs, and after several attempts by Joan to make conversation, it occurred to me that she might be trying to comfort me. I don’t need comforting. I want to go outside. Maybe go to the cabin and remember some fun times. I turned the eggs in the pan, feeling hunger wake up at the smell of cooking food. I put a lid on the pan, grabbed a pot holder, and carried the eggs to the serving table.

  Back in the kitchen, I looked around. Joan was buttering toast while bacon cooked in the microwave. She glanced up as I walked in. “Thank you Joshua. Why don’t you get yourself a plate now?” She smiled at me.

  Mal may be right. She does seem the most human of the bunch.

  I ate quickly, then did my part of the cleaning up. Knowing I had to move fast, I darted out of the kitchen area and headed for the stairs, intending to grab a book and go outside, since going to the cabin was out of the question now. Stupid Celebration.

  “Joshua.”

  Not again. I turned. Estelle had appeared in the hallway that branched off the living room.

  “Come and help with the chairs,” Estelle said.

  Sucks.

  * * *

  By the time I was done helping Estelle get the Celebration room set up, I only had enough time to get changed and come back. I trudged up the stairs. It was insane how much things could change from one day to the next. Mal left and now I was a slave. How did he do it? I haven’t had to help on a Sunday in ages. It had been like a game. A game I obviously had no idea how to play. Mal had always taken the lead in avoiding the work that the adults found for the kids to do. “Us against them,” Mal had always said.

  In my room, I changed into a white shirt, some dark pants and my nicer shoes. I heard Sauly in the bathroom and wondered briefly where Luke was. As I pulled on my shoes, the door burst open and David and Ethan stormed into the room, pushing and laughing. I shook my head at the instant chaos. “Guys,” I said, tying my shoes.

  The two little boys ignored me.

  “David. Ethan.” I waited until they looked at me. They were both four, but Ethan was much taller than David. “You need to get dressed fast. Remember how much trouble we get in if we’re late?”

  “I know,” said David. He trudged to his drawers, followed closely by Ethan. Funny that Ethan was bigger, but David was the leader.

  “Ethan, I saw your shoes under your bed.” I walked through the door, closing it behind me. Esther and Mary walked by, both wearing dresses.

  Mal’s right. Esther is nice looking. Neither girl even glanced at me as they started down the stairs. I followed them, trying to keep from being too obvious about looking at Esther. Actually, Mary’s even prettier. What was wrong with me?

  As I forced myself to think of something else, Luke passed all three of us, pounding up the stairs to our room.

  In the big Celebration room, I chose a chair that was on the outer ring. Leaning forward to put my chin in my hands, I glanced around the room. I had cleaned all of the windows in this room by myself yesterday. I saw a few streaks and hoped Miriam would miss them. I still smelled window cleaner on my hands.

  More people filed in as I tried to conjure a soundtrack for the boring occasion. Out of nowhere, the favorite things song from Sound of Music came into my head. Oh come on. I tried to get the song out of my head. What a boring movie.

  As people filtered into the room, Luke ended up on my right, while the seat to my left stayed empty. I glanced around, then realized what I was doing. Mal’s not coming. My chest tightened. I’ve gotta get through how many more of these Sundays without Mal? I tried to count up the number of Sundays left before I turned eighteen. My calculations were interrupted by Luke jabbing me in the side.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Esther’s hot,” Luke said. Sometimes, even though Luke was a year older than me, he acted really dumb.

  “Shut up.”

  Miriam appeared, her brown eyes sweeping the room while she strode to the center of the nearly complete circle of chairs. Behind her stood the all-glass altar; it completed the circle formed by the chairs. Several tall, white candles arranged in a row on the altar sent up wisps of smoke. Frosted glass bowls sat near opposite corners of the altar. One bowl held a short, scented candle, while the other had olive oil.

  “God bless you, sisters and brothers,” Miriam began. We all responded. “Welcome to our worship. Welcome to the Fundamental Faith in God. Welcome to this Celebration of our god and beliefs. Let us sing praises.”

  She turned and sat in the seat reserved for her while Ruth called out a hymn number and began to strum her guitar. People opened the thin hymnals that were under every third chair and, following Ruth’s lead, joined the song. I mouthed the words, but heard Luke’s voice. The guy sounded pretty good. I glanced at him; he made a crude expression with his tongue in his cheek. I bit back laughter. Boredom set in as Bible verses were read and more songs were sung.

  Usually me and Mal could talk or make faces—or something. This sucked.

  Miriam waited for the last tones of Ruth’s guitar to fade. She scanned the room and said, “I am born again because I have put off the things of man.” Her gaze moved to Penelope, who sat next to her.

  “I am born again because I have accepted my fallen state,” Penelope said.

  Abraham was next. I sometimes wondered if Saul realized how different he had it from the rest of us, with his parents actually married and both of them in the Faith. He probably had no clue. “I am born again,” Abraham said, his voice falsely sincere, “because I have accepted the peace of truth.”

  He always said stuff that sounded like bad poetry. The peace of truth? What did that even mean?

  I thought fast, knowing I had to come up with something different from last week. Somehow at least one adult would know if one of us kids repeated ourselves from the week before. When my turn came, I stared at the burning candle on the altar. “I am born again because I am separate from the world.”

  Mal had said that last week. I controlled my urge to grin and waited for Luke.

  “I am born again because I know true beauty.” I heard the repressed smile in his voice and glanced over at him. He rubbed his forehead, hiding his face, and wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  True beauty. Yeah, right.

  Finally, when everyone was done, Miriam stood again. I watched as she took a breath and seemed to straighten her spine even more, although I had no idea how she could look even more like a board than she already did.

  “This world,” she said, “is like a hungry man who does not know how to fish. It is like a hungry man eating candy to sate the need for meat. This world is a hungry man who does not understand his hunger and thus does not understand how to fill it.”

  Wait for it, I thought. An image of an emaciated man clawing at candy corn flashed through my mind.

  “And this country leads this world into more hunger than ever before,” Miriam said.

  Here we go again.

  “How long, o Lord? How long wilt thou suffer that such desolation of spirit will live and prosper materially?” Miriam looked up to the ceiling, then around the room. “We will not allow the rank immorality of this country to sully us. We will not be a part of this filthy society and this nation that s
eems to glory in hypocrisy.”

  I rolled my eyes, carefully doing it while looking at the ground. Same thing. Every time.

  I pictured the books I might find tomorrow at the library, remembering the stories of the awesome black Arabian horse. I let my thoughts wander for a while and looked up when everyone said, “Amen.” But Miriam was still going on about the government and society in general. I tuned out the diatribe again and peered at the carpet under my feet. I imagined I was tiny, hacking my way through a carpet jungle. Music from Indiana Jones accompanied the image.

  This worked for however long it took for Miriam to show signs that she was close to ending her speech.

  “Purity is the ultimate level of worship. Let us keep ourselves pure of this generation. Let us stay spotless.”

  And exciting-less and fun-less. I looked up, not wanting to remind myself of what—who—else was now missing from the Faith.

  “And all the people said…” Miriam prompted.

  “Amen,” responded the gathering. I chimed in, knowing I would get a lecture and a solid hour in the corner if I was seen to not be devotedly toeing the line.

  “As is customary, this is now a time for personal worship. Please take the rest of the time for yourselves.” Miriam sat down again, her gaze fixed on the glass altar.

  For myself? If I could really do that, I’d be long gone.

  A moment passed. I saw movement from the corner of my eye. Like clockwork. Joan popped out of her chair and crossed the circle quickly, stopping in front of the glass altar. She dipped her left index finger in the olive oil, then her right index finger slid quickly through the gently flickering flame of the scented candle. She brought her hands together and bent her head. I wondered if she was really praying, really talking to God, whoever that was. When Abraham, then Ruth, then Estelle and others followed in Joan’s wake, each dipping a finger first in oil then flame, I wondered the same. Did they all really believe or was there some other reason they were here?

  I shrugged mentally. I’m stuck here. Mal’s gone. Does it really matter?

  Chapter 4

  “Remember that acceptance comes from within.” Miriam strode around the room, weaving among the paired-off chairs.

  I stared at Luke, focusing on the spot right between his eyes.

  “When you can fully accept another, you are in fact accepting yourself and making progress on your journey to yourself.” Miriam said the same thing every time, only in a different order. Where did all of this stuff come from, anyway?

  Luke waggled his eyebrows as Miriam walked behind him. I was ready for it and didn’t register even the smallest reaction. If I laughed or even smiled, Miriam would yell at me and Luke would be ignored. As always.

  “Let’s move to the Redirect step,” Miriam said. She stood at one end of the chairs, which were paired off in two rows, facing each other. “Rotate.”

  It was my side’s turn to move, so I pushed myself into the seat Aaron left behind as he slid over. Mary blinked at me, one of her eyes hidden by a lock of messy brown curls.

  “Those on my right will begin.” Miriam lifted her right hand.

  Mary’s eyes wandered as she thought fast. “Joshua. You smell terrible.” She tried to soften it with a smile. I didn’t care and she should have known better. It wasn’t real.

  “Thank you, Mary,” I said. “You are honest and very thoughtful.” My standard reply, unless Miriam happened to be near me for more than one round.

  I focused on Mary’s forehead, trying to think of something. I seriously knew nothing about her. “Mary,” I met her gaze, keeping my face straight. “You are troll-spawn.”

  Mary giggled. I shook my head a little, warning her to chill out and get a hold of herself.

  She took a quiet breath and fixed her gaze on me. “Thank you, Joshua. You are very smart and kind.”

  We did three more rounds before Miriam called a stop. Why did it seem like we were being taught to lie? What was this all about anyway?

  I forced the useless questions away. At least Focus class wasn’t as unbelievably dull as algebra.

  The next step was emotions. We separated the chairs and arranged them in a semi-circle. Esther was called to go up first and she stood where we could all see her.

  Miriam nodded once. “Anger.”

  “Why did you break my comb?” Esther’s voice cut through the room, sharp and loud. Fury infused her face. “I told you that was my favorite comb and you came along and broke it!”

  “Sadness.” Miriam leaned against the door, directing Esther.

  Esther’s face transformed instantly. Her chin actually quivered. “What am I going to do without that comb? I don’t have any money to get a new one.” I could have sworn a tear was about to fall.

  “Joy.”

  This continued and Esther nailed each one. It was as if she had no fear. She had always been that way. If she weren’t stuck in the Faith, maybe she would be an actress.

  “Joshua.” My stomach flipped.

  Crap. I stood and went to the open end of the semi-circle. I sucked at this.

  “Fear.”

  I glanced at Miriam. Fear? That’s not an emotion.

  “Joshua, fear.” She glared at me.

  I shook my arms a little, lifting a hand to my mouth and chewing on a finger. “No. Please no.”

  I heard the sigh in Miriam’s voice. “Anger.”

  I shouted something about my book being lost.

  Miriam cut me off. “Joshua. Stop acting and feel it. Emotions are a choice.”

  I’d been hearing that my entire life and I still had no idea what she was talking about.

  She gave me three more and by the time I was allowed to sit, sweat trickled down my spine and my face was burning hot.

  Everybody else seemed to have no problem doing the emotions. Well, except for Saul, who stood there shouting at every emotion dictated. He had ‘yell’ down pat.

  The sweat on my back had dried by the time Focus ended. Classes were dull beyond description, but at least I didn’t have to talk to anyone or in front of anyone.

  After the library trip, I shot upstairs and let my backpack thump to the floor. I pulled the next book in the horse series out and settled back to read.

  Before I got a page in, I heard a voice from downstairs. Mal?

  I set the book down and listened. He’d been gone for three weeks and I hadn’t heard from him at all.

  I heard the voice again. Mal! I leapt out of my room to the stairs. Mal stood in the living room, talking to Aaron. He heard me and looked up. “Bro!”

  I wanted to run down the stairs and grab him, but I forced myself to go slowly. “Hey Mal.”

  “Ah, a little cooler, I see,” Mal said.

  I grinned. “Shut up.” He wrapped me in a hug. I held on maybe a little too long. “How’s it going?”

  Mal nodded at Aaron. “Talk to you in a bit.” He pulled me outside. I noticed he blinked a lot in the bright afternoon sun.

  He led the way down to the goose pond and then to the woods. We talked about his job and this cute girl that came in every day to get donuts for her office. Her name was Tashina. “Bro. Girls in the city. Way different than here.” He barked a laugh that bounced off the pine trees.

  “Huh?” I sped up so I could walk next to him. “What do you mean?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Oh.” I felt the blush creeping up my cheeks.

  “Still a prude, I see,” Mal said. He was talking kind of fast. He was even walking a little different. Did living in a city with normal people make you walk with a shake or something?

  “Still a perv, I see,” I said, grinning. He loved it when I teased back, said it gave me a spine. I was glad when I could think of a good comeback before a week had passed.

  “The best one in the biz.” He barked another laugh. It sounded dry, somehow forced.

  We chatted about donuts and the parties that Mal was going to in Pittsburgh until we got to the cabin. It was as tall a
s Mal, with rafters that angled up to the middle, where we had fastened a long log with a bunch of nails and screws. “Still no roof?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

  “You’ve been gone like three weeks,” I said.

  “And you’ve been reading the entire time.”

  “Well, yeah.” I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t been out here since he’d left. It felt right to have him here, but how empty would it feel without him?

  We talked a little more. Three weeks out of the Faith and he already seemed older, maybe even a little thinner. Before long, he headed back toward the house.

  “Where are you going?” I followed him.

  “Bro, sorry, but I don’t have a lot of time. I gotta see Aaron really fast and hit the road. Me and Hank are going to a big party in P-town tonight.” He walked so fast I had trouble keeping up. “Besides, I don’t want to be here when the beggars get home.”

  “Are there parties every night?” I was already out of breath.

  “If you know where to find them.” Mal laughed again. I wondered if I would change that much so fast once I got out of the Faith. Would I start talking fast and going to parties all the time?

  At the house he pulled a bag out of what I was pretty sure was his friend Hank’s car. “Bro. These are all for you.”

  I opened the bag. Donuts. Like ten of them. I stared up at him. “Awesome.”

  “But don’t let them get you fat.” He laughed and hugged me again and hustled down the hallway to Aaron’s room, which was also the computer room. I watched him go. Why couldn’t I go to Aaron’s room? He’d made it clear that he wanted to talk to Aaron alone.

  What was going on?

  I wandered up the stairs, figuring I would hide the donuts in my backpack. Before I even got to my room, I heard Mal shout something at Aaron and pound down the hall. I stood on the landing and called him as he came into view. “Mal!”

  He waved and disappeared out the front door.

  “Come back soon,” I said. To nobody.

  * * *

  “Phone’s for you.”

  I looked up from my book. Ezekiel stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging partly open. Mal had said that was because Ezekiel’s brain needed as much oxygen it could get to be able to function at all.