Preacher Stevens

Craig scrambled to stay in the moment, but it wasn’t possible, because the change was inevitable as it was jarringly fast. He was disappointed the change happened when it did. Tina was about to reveal something, and here he was in his backyard, away from the important facts. Now, the sun was hot against his back. Alice wasn’t in the backyard. He was alone. He kicked at the grass and clods of dirt shot up. “Damn it, what was she going to say? Dr. Krone, you asshole, why did you pull me out of there when you did?”

The doctor was watching him from somewhere nearby. Perhaps on a computer monitor, because the man said he was hooked up to the machine. And how did the device pick out the memories? Did he have a mental locker of juicy history, a membrane in his cerebellum that contained this psychosomatic bullshit? Psychobabble talk was one thing, but to actually rip open the mind and relive these moments was an attack on his personal history.

Craig was disoriented, and the backyard spun around him, the sky tilting and the sun blinding and golden white. He landed on all fours and wretched at the assault. He was around thirteen or fourteen, he guessed, as he clutched his aching head, sucked in a round of breaths, and stood up again. He wiped the side of his mouth dry. The nauseous sensation stayed in the pit of his throat, and it would make its home there for a time.

A stifled laugh breeched the silence, rousing his attention. He peeked through the wooden slats of the fence at his next-door neighbor’s yard. It was Parker Stevens’s house. But what was Tina doing there? They were both exiting the back sliding door together. Tina’s face was flushed pink, and her smile, her face was conquered with the glowing sentiment of joy. It was a womanly thing he recognized with Katie as the after-sex glow.

This is getting interesting.

Parker was dressed down in black basketball shorts and a Celtics shirt. He dyed his gray hair brown. Tina wore a black tube top and cut-off whitewashed jeans. They hugged each other and punctuated it with a friendly kiss. The fence border was up on Parker’s property, and Craig supposed they were comfortable with the backyard display of affection.

The gate to their property opened. Craig ran back to the swing set and acted like he was minding his own business. Tina waved the man into the yard after spotting Craig. She whispered something in his ear, and there he came, edging toward him to have a talk.

I remember this. But now it makes sense.

Parker relaxed on the swing beside him. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you up to this summer?”

“Nothing.”

He smirked, thinking a second on what to say next. “All the kids say that. You’re doing something. You’re swinging.” He snapped his fingers. “You’re having a swinging summer.”

Good one.

The joke was lame even as a kid. He couldn’t think of what to say in reply. It was the on-the-spot feeling he couldn’t shake.

“You ever think about going to church?”

Craig had a good response, and this was his original statement. “My dad doesn’t believe in it.”

He placed his hand on Craig’s shoulder. “But do you?”

That’s a heavy question for a kid. Tell me your religious faith, kiddo, and while you’re at it, how do you feel about the Middle East and yoga?

“I like to see friends there,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. The adult in him added, “That’s about it, really.”

Parker moved on. This was a test, and he became more intrusive. The point of the entire conversation was about to happen. “So how are things, Craig? Are you happy? Anything you’re concerned about? You know you can tell me anything.”

He did say this back then, and he said it again now, “My dad yells at Mom a lot. He gets mad easily.”

“Do you love your father?”

“Yeah. He’s my dad.”

Parker understood, looking at him from the corner of his eye and then training his focus on the house. He caught Tina standing in the window. Parker admired her. She gave them a quick smile and went about what she was doing in the house.

He initiated conversation again. “Do you love your mom?”

“Yes, I love my mom.”

“She’s good to you.  And she’s a wonderful lady. Your dad’s a lucky, lucky man. The good Lord will see to it she gets what’s due to her.”

After a stretch of awkward silence, he asked another question. “Is there anything at all you want to talk about?” He crossed his heart. “I swear it’s between you and me.”

And the good Lord, and my mom…

He stayed silent, and Preacher Stevens prompted him, “You wish the best for your mom, right?”

He shook his head, baffled. “What do you mean?”

Parker realized he’d asked too deep of a question for a kid. “You know your mother loves you no matter what.”

He was frozen, confused, and couldn’t say anything. Ten seconds later, Parker gave up the battle, but adult Craig refused to let him off the hook. “You said I could ask you anything. We’re friends, right?”

He perked up. “That’s right, pal.”

Craig rolled his eyes, though Parker didn’t see it.

The question slipped out of him. “Are you fucking my mom?”

 

 

“The mouth on that brat! With a father like that, no wonder he’s talking to a priest with such language.” Parker muttered this on the way to his kitchen in a frenzy. The taste of Tina was on his lips—her saliva, her skin, and the potent flavor of her sex. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Woman’s stuck in a dead-end abusive marriage. She won’t quit that bastard, but that’s okay with me. I don’t love her, really, and I don’t need to.”

Dr. Krone rifled through the cabinet and discovered Parker’s secret stash of bourbon.

“Hey,” Parker yipped, double backing from the intruder, almost stumbling over his feet in shock. “How did you know where that was? And what the hell are you doing in my house? Do I know you? I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“I know everything in Craig’s mind, and I know what’s in yours too.” The man poured a shot and threw it back. “Grrr!—the mangy hair of the dog.”

“What are you doing in my house?” Parker raised his voice, now standing tall. “I don’t know you. Get out. I’ll call the police. Right now, I want you out. This is trespassing.”

“The line is dead,” the doctor warned him, pointing at the phone broken in ten pieces on the floor. He had a romp of a time smashing it. “And there’s no police here unless I want them to be here. Listen, I’m your friend. Let’s talk.”

Parker was shaken. He didn’t trust him. The man didn’t have a choice but to hear him out, too scared to be physical with the intruder.

“Calm down.” Dr. Krone placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m a friend. So tell me—and level with me, huh?—is Tina a good fuck? Does she enjoy missionary position? I guess any position with you is missionary.”

Dr. Krone knew he could instruct the man to obey him. All he had to do was think it. Will it. And he did. Flexing his strength was one of his favorite pastimes.

Parker’s face relaxed. He no longer distrusted him. He gave Dr. Krone a chiding expression. “That’s desperate pussy, man. She’s so scared of Brandon. It’s more passionate like that—you know, women in those situations. That’s why I like her. I can avoid marriage and still enjoy that high-altitude fuck. Women like Tina, they pretend they’re in love with you, but it’s exaggerated because of how shitty their romantic life has become. She even said she loves me. Isn’t that funny? She whispered it in my ear. One fuck, and it’s monumental to her.”

“Her tits look great in that tube top.” Dr. Krone poured a shot of bourbon for each of them. They toasted each other, swigging the warm bullets down. “I wish I could have a round with that head case. I know all about the emotionally abused. The insane are the best. You ever fuck a girl in a straightjacket? Fucking girls with dementia, it’s the best time you’ll ever have. The things they say and do, no ordinary woman would ever conceive it. I’ve been around let—me—tell—you!”

The doctor confided in him, now that they were good friends. “What would you do for another round with her, seriously?”

Parker stared out the kitchen window at Tina’s house, weighing his options. “It’s taking risks. We’re next-door neighbors. It’s been fun. And she’s one hell of a woman. I’m afraid of Brandon, though. He’d smash my face in.”

“Why not have more fun? It doesn’t have to end. You don’t have to be scared of him.”

He shook his head, dismissing the notion. “Naw. It’s for the best. She’s married.”

He winked at him. “She told me she wanted otherwise. She wants to be with you, and only you.”

Parker’s eyebrow arched. “Oh. She said that?”

It was so fun to inject hope into people. It always worked to his advantage, the doctor thought.

“Yes, it’s true, but we’ll have to do something about that husband of hers. You’re right to be concerned about him.” His tone demurred into a cretin’s. “I’m sure Tina will be receptive to anything you suggest.”