mint. Nobody had ever told this man that redheads could not wear these colors, and the man was pink in the face, sweaty.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” said the man. Jake shook his hand, aghast at the sheer number of freckles, the bright orange hair on his arm as it emerged from the cuffs. The suit didn’t even fit him. Jake did not respond, because this man affronted him on so many levels. Plus, this man wore shoes in the house. Jake wasn’t even allowed to wear his house slippers in the house.
“I’ve been at school,” said Jake, dropping the man’s hand. “Where’s my mom?”
“Grocery shopping,” said the man. “You are a lucky young man. We’ve all taken a shine to Sister Krystal.”
“Sister Krystal?” Jake said the name, and giggled as soon as it escaped his mouth. “That sounds like that Night Ranger song.” Jake could not control himself now, and was laughing out loud. All he could think of was “Sister Christian.” Bert stood up from the couch, his neck a rash of fury, but the man held up a hand. Bert sat back down.
“I am familiar with that song,” said the man. “There was a time when I listened to secular music.” Jake could not help but notice Bert had been broken, leashed. Jake was impressed by the weird man and his unfortunate color scheme. He accomplished the impossible, and he had not tracked snow on the carpet.
“You’re gonna listen to the reverend!” Bert shouted this out, and it startled the man, but Jake was used to this. Bert was suddenly meek again, eyes on the coffee table, face scarlet with impotent rage.
“Fine,” said Jake. “Whatever.” He sat down on the floor and leaned back on his hands, crossing one leg over the other. He was glad he had chosen green-and-purple argyle socks, wiggled his toes to attract even more attention.
He listened for two minutes because it seemed the polite thing to do, and it rolled off him like another math class. He had been preached to before.
His mother returned from the store and shocked Jake with her amiability. It seemed that she had forgotten her promises, and Jake had no choice but to listen. Krystal and the reverend were an effective team. Jake stopped listening and began to protest. They had planned this ambush, clearly predicted Jake’s reactions, prepared counterarguments, and held fast to their demands. He stopped wiggling his toes and covered his face with his hands. He would not allow them to see the defeat. Frank had given up, too. Misty had been captured, taken away. The little faith and hope that remained inside him had been hung on his mother, and now it was gone forever. He would rather be an infidel; he would never be spineless, or submissive.
He would play along. This was just another thing to endure. Even though Jake couldn’t see Bert through his hands, the intensity filled the room. Bert didn’t need to utter a word. Jake could not believe he had let himself be taken hostage by his mild-mannered mother and a man in an ill-fitting suit.
* * *
It wasn’t Sunday school. It was more like day care. Sundays were the only day he could spend with his mother, and now they had been taken away. Bert drove Jake and the baby to New Life Evangelical before nine o’clock in the morning, and the baby was immediately shuttled off by a group of women wearing long jean skirts and homemade blouses. The blouses were all sewn from the same pattern, high-necked and long-sleeved, only varying in the shade, all faded pastels. They frightened him. If Jake had been religious, he would have offered up an honest prayer for his sister’s safety.
Reverend Foote waited for him in the kitchen. Jake poured himself a cup of coffee, and stood there, bleary-eyed, as the reverend went on about the need for Brother Bert and Sister Krystal to be alone together. They were trying to save the family. Jake knew they were just having sex. His mother was not religious, but Jake feared that Bert would try to convince her of the existence of God, in addition to the existence of his penis.
Reverend Foote took Jake’s coffee away and escorted him to a little room. He was horrified by the other children, blank-faced, sitting on their knees in cheap suits and dresses. The reverend sat in a chair, and instead of graham crackers, saltines were passed around on a paper plate. These just