70. Truly Tortured
I’m waiting for my mom in Brennan’s after track practice. I’ve done this several times, coming in for dinner and then going home with her. Tonight I’m in a booth in the corner, finishing a chicken sandwich, when someone slides into the seat across from me.
“Hello, Chris,” Pastor Marsh says.
I suddenly feel sick. There’s no way I can find an excuse to leave, especially since Mom is still busy and I’m holding what’s left of my dinner.
“Please, don’t let me stop you.”
I stick the rest of the chicken sandwich into my mouth. Jeremiah Marsh studies me, looking amused and without a care in the world.
“You know something, Chris. I have to tell you this. I like you. I really like you.”
He says it in a way that makes it seem like he’s going to follow up with And now I’m going to eat you.
“Would you like to know why?”
I’m still chewing. This is the longest bite I’ve taken in my life.
“Mmmm hmmm,” I respond.
“Because you, unlike so many in this nice little pub and wonderful little town, are not a follower. Everybody else—so many, it’s pitiful to even count—is just doing what everybody else does. They just march on like tiny little ants. You ever see a line of ants going to something sweet and sticky on the floor? Have you seen them all going to get just a little taste, just a little suck?”
I sit upright, my heart racing and my head unsure what to do.
“But you’re not like them, are you, Chris?”
“What do you want?”
He smiles. No looking around, no wondering if my mom’s going to come, no worries in the world. I look around to see if I can spot Mom, but she’s not in sight.
“I was a lot like you when I was young,” Pastor Marsh says. “Really. I didn’t like doing what I was told. I liked figuring out things myself. I like this about you. Now, you’ve still got a lot of figuring out to do, right? But you’re doing it on your own, in your own way.”
He knows I broke into his house. He knows, and this is his way of telling me.
“Want to know the most powerful thing in this world?”
For a second, I think of Iris asking the same thing and wonder if they’ve been having coffee recently. He still hasn’t answered my question, yet he’s asking his own cryptic ones. I don’t want to play along.
“Can I do something for you?”
“Yeah. You can stop trying to play games and engage with me. Don’t act coy, young man. Don’t try and act naive.”
I hear footsteps approaching, then see my mom standing there.
“You guys okay?”
“Wonderful,” the pastor says.
I nod.
“Just give me a few minutes,” Mom says.
Wonderful, my brain echoes.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
Marsh shakes his head. “No, thank you. My wife and I just finished dinner ourselves. Just wanted to see Chris. Heidi has such good things to say about him.”
Mom hears someone calling her name and disappears.
“My wife, your mother—they’re not so different, are they? Both can get made up and look oh so pretty, but deep down they’re really truly tortured, aren’t they?”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to answer my question. What’s the most powerful thing in this world?”
I shake my head.
Love, Chris. It’s love. That’s what Iris said. Tell him that.
He waits for a moment, acting as if I’m going to respond.
“It’s fear, Chris. Fear. It will drive a person to do anything. If you grow desperate and afraid, anything can happen. Anything.”
I swallow. I want to look away, but I can’t.
“You know enough about fear, right? But imagine being able to invoke it in others. My young man—it is a taste that cannot get any sweeter.”
He stands, looks around, then glances at me.
“Keep looking. Keep learning. Ultimately you’ll understand. Ultimately you’ll know what to do. We always do.”
With that he leaves.
I sit in the booth shivering and breathless and wondering why he’s playing games with me.