Chapter Two
NOVAK
Going to church on a Sunday, to make feeble apologies for the sins we commit Monday through Saturday is not my idea of fun.
Yet, I’m always here, sitting in a pew, with my father and the newest additions to the family.
Dad started coming here after we moved out here from the city.
The divorce from Mom was old news to Dad, but so too were the empty dates that led to nothing and the long nights with nothing but me and the city noise for company.
The neighbors changed constantly in our building, in and out like passing seasons.
We never got the chance to make real friends even in our own neighborhood.
In the end, dad had announced we were moving to a smaller town to take over a lumber yard from my grandfather, just beyond the commuter belt, where we could find permanent residents who had real values.
We moved the same month, and suddenly we were living the whole small-town fantasy; shopping local, going to the High School games, church every Sunday.
It worked. Dad met Deb, a widow and Tess’s mom, at a church fellowship evening and the rest was the love story he had been hoping for. They’d been married for three years now and it was still hearts and flowers for the two of them.
Of course, not everything about the arrangement has made me happy.
Tess’s mom was a committed member of the congregation of this small church, so we became regulars as well.
It wasn’t my cup of tea but hey, anything to keep the peace.
Plus I liked Deb and it was a small concession to make for the positive changes she and her daughter had brought to our lives.
Tess has been coming to this church forever.
For all of her life, in fact. Her parents were married here.
She was baptized here, went to Sunday school and did the fellowship camps here, and traveled to outreaches and picnics on the church’s old bus.
The whole thing was a small-town church vignette. It could be a damned movie.
Now she was sitting in the pew, with her mom and my dad between us, listening attentively to Pastor Dyer, who has also been here forever – it’s that type of town.
I’d prefer to have Tess sitting on my lap, her fiery red hair whipping back and forth as she accepts every inch of my cock.
Being here is driving me mad. I stifle a yawn and settle back to listen to today’s sermon.
My logical mind will play the game it always does; deciding how much of what he says is true, how much could be true, and how much is just wild speculation meant to frighten the faithful.
It doesn’t help that today’s sermon is about ‘sexual violence in the family’ and what to do about it.
We sure as shit do need more people like Pastor Dyer doing the Lord’s work and saving the helpless souls who can’t fend for themselves.
But why did I have to listen to it, less than an hour after I was about to get my dick sucked by my step-sister?
“Amnon had cruel intentions for Tamar,” Pastor Dyer reads, flicking through the pages of his ring binder.
“His love for her, his lust for her, clouded his mind. And his adviser, his cousin, Jonadab was part of his nefarious scheme. Pretend to be ill, he advised Amnon, and when your father comes to see you, say to him, ‘I would like my sister Tamar to come and give me something to eat…’”
It’s as if this son of a bitch can see straight into my soul with his preaching.
Amnon and Tamar, brother and sister, and Amnon’s devious plot to seduce his sister.
Seduce? No. Rape his sister. Seems like I am not the sexual pioneer in this adventure that I thought I was.
It’s actually a tale as old as families themselves.
“Let her prepare the food in my sight so I may watch and then eat it from her hand,” Pastor Dyer continues.
“And it’s here that Amnon and Jonadab devised their devious plotting, and it’s here that Amnon and Jonadab constructed a most heinous crime.
When Tamar did as she was told by Absalom, her king, her father, Amnon acted out his malicious intents. ”
Pastor Dyer pauses. He runs a hand through his preternaturally ghost-white hair before he slaps a flat palm against his altar. The old man’s getting worked up. It’s good to see his passion isn’t mislaid by the ill intent of the reading.
Actually, it’s not fair to say he is an old man, as Pastor Dyer is only a few years older than my dad and Deb. He was the ‘cool new’ pastor when she married Tess’s dad, and you could say he has been tied to their lives ever since. In fact, he and Deb share a unique and terrible tragedy.
The large and solid church we are in now sits in the same spot as the first church – a smaller wooden building.
For years it sat in the crook of the creek’s elbow, under a swaying willow tree – truly a slice of heaven.
Then, one day there was a freak flood, the biblical kind that only happens every 500 years.
I am quoting the local paper there. Only two people were in the church when a wall of flood water jumped the creek banks and swept away the church as if it was made of matchsticks.
Tess’s father, George, was there to do some woodworking repairs on the porch and Pastor Dyer’s wife, Mary, was preparing the flowers for the Sunday harvest festival.
Both were drowned and both are buried in the sunny plot behind the new building.
I sometimes wonder why Deb stayed, but she said the church’s congregation had been her family in the dark days that followed George’s death and she did not want to take Tess – who was still a toddler – away from that outpouring of love and support.
Pastor Dyer stayed for the same reasons and somehow managed to forgive God (my interpretation!) and carry on.
The only noticeable long-term effect on him was that his hair had turned completely white and – if possible – his faith had become stronger.
My mind snaps back to today, before my eyes drift closed, and Pastor Dyer is still banging on about his biblical incest-fest.
“Tamar begged him not to do as he wished. She pleaded to let the King offer her his hand, if only he asked, but the words could not penetrate Amnon’s burning desire.
Bigger and stronger, Amnon advanced on Tamar and sated his vile desire.
But, when it was done, Amnon felt no pride in his actions.
He felt no strength in himself. He had been weak, and he recognized it for the first time.
Amnon had taken advantage of Tamar’s innocence and had broken a sacred bond.
The bond between brother and sister, man and woman… ”
My eyes drift towards Tess, who’s sitting on the other side of her mother and my father. Her cheeks blush pink, no doubt because of the same thoughts I have running through my mind.
It’s so unbelievably topical, I wonder briefly if old Pastor Dyer has a camera in our house. Perhaps an angel whispered the story in his ear! I stifle a laugh.
The congregation sits in silence as the pastor speaks.
Their eyes are fixed on the old man, who seems genuinely shaken by the topic.
Even the usual chit chat from the angst-filled teens sitting in back rows – too cool to be seen up front – is muted.
They’re probably wondering if Pastor Dyer read the same bible stories as they did, and regretting their lack of diligence.
Yup, it seems Pastor Dyer has found a way to instill the fear of God into every man, woman, and child in this place — talk about unsavory.
“After Amnon finished, and when he sat beside the woman he had defiled, there was no longer any love in his heart. There was only hate. A hate that burned with such intensity that he roared for her to leave.”
I chuckle. I really don’t want to, but I do.
It’s not funny, and I shouldn’t find it amusing, yet somehow it’s another point that covers Tess and my relationship.
Brother and sister? Check. Ungodly acts of indecent sexual pleasure?
Check. A deep-rooted hatred for one another?
Hit the coffin nail right on the head with that one.
I am not prepared for what happens next.
“Did someone say something funny, Mr. Christiansen?” Pastor Dyer turns his attention to me.
The entire congregation’s eyes swivel my way like mindless sheep. My folks and Tess are the only people who don’t look. The three of them stare straight ahead like an embarrassed trio of sheep.
“Nah, you’re alright. Carry on with the show,” I say airily. I have to play it off or I’ll look like an idiot.
“No, no,” Pastor Dyer waves me down. “Tell me. What’s so amusing about the rape of a defenseless woman?”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “I never said anything was funny. You did,” I say. “But while I’ve got the room’s attention…”
Oh shit, what am I doing?
“There’s a whole lot of bashing going on in Amnon’s direction, but wasn’t it Tamar who told him the King, their father, would allow her hand in marriage?”
“In times of absolute desperation, our minds wander to strange places,” Pastor Dyer says.
“Her brother Absalom said to her, has that Amnon, your brother, been with you? Be quiet for now, my sister, he is your brother. Don’t take this thing to heart.” I speak calmly. Two can play at this game. I’ve been coming to this church long enough to know the ins and outs of their Bible.
“Not even her own brother would stand at her side on it.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t understand it, Novak. You are a man. But, how would you feel, if someone came into your home and bedded your sister, Tess, without asking first?”
I’d tear his head clean off. No one touches Tess but me. I turn towards her, and notice that a mortified look settles over her soft features. Our parents seem less inclined to disagree, although I believe it’s because they’re the sort who believe in free speech for all.
“It’s easy to cherry-pick the words you want from the scripture, as many do when it suits them,” Pastor Dyer continues.
“But since you know the passage so well, I’m sure you also know that Absalom got his revenge for Tamar.
That Absalom ordered his men to strike Amnon down, while he was merry, giggly, and red-faced from drink. ”
“A coward, then? Couldn’t face his brother man-to-man, so he struck him down while he was drunk and jolly?”
“Did Amnon deserve to be jolly after what he’d done?”
“After he boned a woman?”
“Raped his sister,” Pastor Dyer corrects me in a barely-concealed annoyed tone.
“If it were anyone else? Wouldn’t they be thrilled to bed the King’s son?”
“Circumstances don’t dictate the cruel actions—”
“But they do. Circumstances dictate every action,” I say.
“Then Absalom is still justified since circumstances brought him to—”
Pastor Dyer falls quiet. Then he says, “We’re bashing heads for no reason on this topic. Whatever your reasoning is to defend Amnon—”
“Someone has to play the Devil’s advocate.”
There’s an audible gasp from the room.
“Of course,” Pastor Dyer says. “The lawyer, practicing his profession in a place of peace.”
“Good use of alliteration there,” I flash Pastor Dyer a lazy grin.
He ignores me and attempts to get things back on track, “I apologize. We’ve strayed off-topic, friends.
I’m not using this topic to cause a commotion or to stir up anyone’s beliefs.
My sermon today is meant to give a voice to the voiceless.
Fairgood Church is offering aid to those who can’t fend for themselves, and we want to help people in our community overcome any hardship that has been wrought upon them,” Pastor Dyer says.
“The passage I’ve read today demonstrates that gender-based violence isn’t something that only happens in the modern-day; it has occurred throughout history. I want to break the silence that often surrounds this topic, and I am here to help.”
Pastor Dyer continues speaking about the role he wants to play. It’s obvious he’s a good man and his intentions are pure. I guess his sermon just rubbed me up the wrong way, considering the bullshit relationship I’ve embarked on with Tess.
When he dismisses us, like the good children of God that we are, no one mentions my outburst. Tess gives me shady looks, although I won’t have to suffer them for long, before she heads off to work. My dad just goes on about the big game we’re meant to be watching this afternoon.
No one’s any wiser and that’s a good thing.
I wouldn’t know where to begin explaining myself.