Chapter 3 June 1998 #2
He smiled. Just the slightest twitch of his lip.
“Just you and me.” He led me inside, and as I crossed the threshold, I took in my surroundings.
Their house was just as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside.
The front door opened into a foyer. On the left, an archway led to the living room.
To the left, there was a staircase and another small hallway beside it.
Kent pointed down the hall, toward two closed doors.
“That’s Dad’s office, and the next door down is their bedroom.”
“Where’s yours?”
He pointed at the staircase. “I’ve got the whole second floor to myself.”
My eyes bulged. “The whole floor?”
“The whole floor. It’s gonna be just you and me up there,” he said, waggling his eyebrows like a goofball.
“My room’s right on top of theirs, so if we stay up past my bedtime, we can’t walk around or they’ll hear us.
We can just lay in bed and talk, though.
” He flashed me a smile and squeezed my wrist.
“I like talking to you,” I blurted, my skin tingling at the contact. Once the words were out, I cringed. Gosh. I sounded like such a weirdo.
He leaned forward until our foreheads were almost touching.
Then he thumped my nose. “I know,” he whispered.
“I like talking to you, too.” Jerking me forward by the wrist, he led me into the living room.
There was a couch on the left with an ugly floral print.
In front of it, there was a cheap coffee table that looked like it had been painted to look fancier than it really was.
A giant picture window was behind the couch, and the curtains were drawn, letting light blast through the glass, illuminating the room.
On the far wall, there was a fireplace, and beside it, a small TV with a VHS player on top.
Crucifixes were hung all over the place, and no matter which way I turned, it was like Jesus was staring down at me.
It was nice. It made me feel safe. When I turned to Kent, he winced.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot. Mom and Dad don’t hold anything back when it comes to God.”
I just smiled at him, wanting to put him at ease. “I like it. It feels like He’s all around us.”
Kent just stared past me and sighed. “Yeah.” He kicked his foot against the hardwood floor and stared down at his shoes. “It gets old, though. Sometimes it feels like my entire life is wrapped up in religion. I just want to… be, you know? Without God staring down and judging me all the time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d never heard anyone be so dismissive of God. It made me nervous, like God might throw a lightning bolt down at us. I covered his mouth with my hand. He arched an eyebrow at me but I shook my head.
“Don’t talk like that.” I darted my eyes up at the ceiling. “He’s always listening.”
Kent chuckled, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away from his face. “Let Him listen, then.”
I looked at the television set. “Sister Thorpe said Apostolics don’t watch television.”
“Dad had them record his sermons. He rewatches them a lot—usually one a night. Sometimes he makes me watch with him, which, ugh, the worst. He says he does it to improve his sermons, but I think he just likes to hear himself talk.” He squeezed my wrist and tugged.
“Come on. Let’s say hey to Mom and then we can head upstairs.
” He led me through the archway to our right, into the kitchen.
Mrs. Fox was standing over the sink peeling potatoes when we entered, and she was humming a familiar hymn.
“Gray’s here,” Kent said, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out two cans of Sprite.
He tossed one to me and I caught it, thankfully.
I’d never been too good at sports, and busting a soda can all over Mrs. Fox’s spotless kitchen floor probably wouldn’t have been the best first impression.
Granted, we’d seen each other pretty often when she came to pick Kent up from school, but still.
I didn’t want her to think I was a bad guest.
Mrs. Fox turned around and gave me a warm, welcoming smile.
Her hair was the same as it had been at church.
A frizzy hill of hair, held in pace by who knows how many bobby pins.
She was dressed head-to-toe in denim. Denim skirt.
Denim jacket. Her blouse looked like it was cotton, but it was still that same dark blue shade.
There were white splatters all over the fabric.
I could smell her perfume from the other side of the kitchen, a pretty scent, but it seemed like something an older woman would wear, like those ladies Kent introduced me to at church.
“It’s so good to see you, sweetie. I’d hug you, but I’m covered in potato peels and half a tub of sour cream,” she stared down at the white splatters on her jacket.
I opened my mouth to speak but she shook her head and cut me off.
“Don’t ask, cause I don’t have an answer for you.
I can’t even remember touching the sour cream, much less spilling it. ”
Kent knocked his shoulder against mine. “She’s a disaster in the kitchen.
” He’d said it loud enough for her to hear, and I half-expected her to pull him over her knee and give him a whooping in front of me, but she just snarled up her nose at him like a dog readying herself to attack. She let out a growl and everything.
“Watch it,” she said, kicking her foot against the kitchen tiles like a bull preparing to lunge. I didn’t know what the heck was going on and Kent didn’t give me any time to find out.
“Watch this,” Kent said before sticking his tongue out at his mother.
He grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the kitchen, then rushed us through the living room.
As I held onto my overnight bag for dear life, Mrs. Fox let out a cackle behind us, and I figured she’d just gone back to peeling potatoes.
I was wrong.
As we took the stairs two at a time, she raced behind us.
Kent dragged me through the small, second-floor hallway, to the last door on the right.
He opened the door and shoved me through, following quickly behind.
As he tried to close the door, she slammed through it and grabbed Kent, lifting him off his feet and giving him a big, bear hug.
“Oh my God, stop!” he said, laughing so hard tears were pooling in his eyes. She rubbed him back and forth against her shirt, smearing sour cream all over him. “I’m going to stink!”
After a few more rubs, she held him in her arms, hugging him tight.
At first, I thought he might object and say she was embarrassing him in front of his company.
I didn’t like the idea of him thinking I was judging him for giving his mom affection.
I wouldn’t have. Me and Momma, we never really had that kind of a relationship.
She wasn’t big on hugging. Daddy was, though.
He was warmth and affection through and through.
Kent craned his neck, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.
She returned his kiss and set him back on the ground before turning toward me.
“Dinner should be done in a couple of hours. I’ll call you both down when it’s ready. If you need anything, you just let me know, alright sweetie?”
I nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Fox.” Crap. I was supposed to call her Sister Fox.
I called all the class supervisors at school Sister.
When moms and dads came to get their kids from school, I’d call them Brother or sister, too.
I didn’t know much about evangelical people aside from what I saw at school, and I didn’t want to offend her.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to call you ‘Mrs.’, Mrs. Fox.
” I closed my eyes and groaned. I’d been there less than five minutes and I’d already behaved like a fumbling, bumbling fool.
“I didn’t mean to say it that time, either, if it helps. ”
Mrs. Fox snorted. “Sweetheart, you can call me whatever you want, so long as you don’t call me a pagan.” She winked at me.
“A what?”
“A pagan,” she repeated like it made a lick of sense to me. She frowned. “That was supposed to be a joke.”
“It didn’t land,” Kent said flatly, and when she shot him a dirty look, he just stuck his tongue out, making her chuckle.
“Well, the point is, it doesn’t bother me to be called ‘Mrs. Fox’ by someone who isn’t part of the church. Now, if you ever decided to join, it would be a different story.”
“I liked your church,” I said. “I really liked the music.”
“You did?” She had a hopeful look in her eyes, and I think she was hoping I’d ask about visiting again.
I wanted to. Even with all the dancing and the crazy man running on the back of the pews, I loved the way it felt like there were stars humming with static in my chest whenever the music would swell.
The way men held their hands to the sky, closed their eyes, and cried out their love for the Lord. The air itself felt alive.
“Would it be okay if I came back sometime?”
“We would love to have you, Grayson.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Thank you, Mrs. Fox.”
Kent gave her a stern look that would have earned me pop on the butt if I’d given it to Momma. “Don’t tell Dad, okay? Not tonight, at least. He’ll start preaching and then we won’t get to spend any time together.
Mrs. Fox nodded. “You’re right. As much as I love a Joel Fox sermon, it’s probably not the best form of entertainment for a sleepover.
Why don’t you boys just stay up here once dinner is over.
Dad and I can spend the evening going over Sunday’s sermon.
” She turned and arched an eyebrow at me.
“Which I’ll expect to see you at, young man. ”
“I’ll be there,” I agreed, excited to hear more of her singing. Mrs. Fox’s voice was one of the prettiest I’d ever heard. Back home, our songs were drab and were usually sung off-key. I wasn’t used to hearing someone who sounded like they belonged on the radio. “I can’t wait.”