Peeking into every doorway she saw, Sylvie discovered a tiny bathroom complete with rusty clawfoot tub and a cracked sink. Here she brushed her teeth and gave her short hair a quick finger comb. She debated whether ornot to have a quick bath—the thought of immersion in hot water seemed like a vision of paradise itself—but the absence of a lock on the door combined with the imminence of breakfast decided her. The bath could wait. For now, the prospect of food trumped everything else.

Following the sound of murmuring voices, she found the kitchen where Father James stood at the hot plate stirring a huge pot of oatmeal. He turned to her and beamed. “Ah, Sylvie, here you are! Good morning, dear! I’ve told everyone about you and they’re very excited to meet you!”

Four people sat in the next room, while a fifth bounded to his feet to shake her hand. “Sylvie, right? Dude, awesome to meet you! I’m Squid, you want anything, you let me know. Cool? Cool.” He nodded vigorously, backing away. Squid had a shaved head with blue tattoos of various clumsily-drawn symbols and sayings covered his skinny arms. Sylvie was too shy to look closely at them. He also seemed to be pierced just about everywhere it was possible to be pierced, with a variety of spikes and studs. The effect might have frightened her if he wasn’t so eagerly friendly. Squid was entirely too energetic for Sylvie for the time of day. She was not normally a morning person and quailed at meeting so many people at once. She blushed, hung her head and said, “Hi.”

Father James introduced the people seated in the other room (a kind of parlour filled with shabby mismatched easy chairs and rockers) one by one. “That’s Baba Janet, there, in the big chair,” he said. Baba Janet was a huge woman in a floral muu-muu, who smiled and waved silently at Sylvie, then returned to reading the morning paper.

“And the pretty girl in the next chair is Grace.” Grace was not pretty at all, Sylvie decided jealously, though she did have gorgeous hair, long, dark red, wild and curly. Sylvie patted her own mousy brown locks self-consciously and muttered, “Hi.” Grace seemed as shy as Sylvie herself, and fluttered her hand listlessly at the introduction.

Sitting in the chair next to Grace was a middle-aged, taciturn, unshaven man named Fred, who barely nodded at Sylvie. Last to be introduced was Julie, a chubby effervescent teen in ragged khaki who grinned and said, “Hi, Sylvie, glad to meet’cha. Welcome to Father James’ home for the fabulous and funky!”

When the oatmeal was ready, Father James ladled it into various cracked and chipped bowls and mugs, inviting them to add milk and brown demerara sugar. As Sylvie stirred the dark crystals into her mug, she noticed that everybody else was waiting before beginning to eat. She shrugged to herself. Her spoon was halfway to her mouth when Father James began to say grace. She lowered her spoon awkwardly.

“Dearest, wonderful God, mother and father of us all,” Father James prayed, “We give our sincerest thanks for the bounty and beauty of your earth and the gracious kindness of those who live here. Blessed be, amen.” Everybody closed their eyes and bowed their heads solemnly for the grace, even Squid and Julie.

What is this, some sort of religious cult? Sylvie wondered, suddenly wary. Her family had taught her to be suspicious of religion. She was raised in an atheist household, and the only time she had seen the inside of a church was for a cousin’s wedding. She chewed slowly, watchfully, shrinking into herself again.

Beyond Hope 7 

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 4th, 2006 at 1:22 am and is filed under general. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.