Aunt Toni who began calling Victoria “Vicki” and kept calling her that until the time came when Victoria did feel like Vicki. Their aunt and uncle were not members of the Holiness Union Church or any church. Uncle Chester’s religious philosophy would coincidentally later become a beer advertisement: “What I believe is you only go around once in life.”
Vicki decided that that was what she thought, too, and in those moments when she heard a tiny voice within her mind saying, “You’re cutting God out of your life,” when she felt something that was not exactly loneliness or emptiness within her but a particular type of longing hurt, she found ways to refocus her attention on the here and now. There were books she had never read, had not been allowed to read. There were television shows and motion pictures, and there were high school dances. She wore make-up and high heels. “Hon, you’re an attractive young lady with a cute shape to you,” Aunt Toni counseled, “and there’s not one thing sinful about dressing yourself up!” She giggled and gossiped and went out with boys to picnics and parties. The here and now, she learned, was quite all right. It wasn’t sinful; it was just the world as it was.
The farther Vicki drifted away from her strict religious upbringing, the more Carol Grace embraced those early teachings. Vicki could not understand her sister. Carol Grace…well, you could not talk with Carol Grace. Carol Grace did not answer questions; she issued proclamations. She did not converse; she condemned or proselytized or both.
Vicki Miller grew up, went off to college and dropped out in her third year to marry Warren Barringer, a graduate student who’d just been granted admission to the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop.
Carol Grace grew up and married Evan Kyle Dean, a minister, an evangelist, a faith healer who had gone on to no little renown. Carol Grace and Vicki had not spoken in ten years.
Uncle Chester and Aunt Toni retired and bought a condo in Clearwater, Florida, where they meant to enjoy their golden years, but Aunt Toni was dead in six months, a brain aneurism, and Uncle Chester followed her with a fatal heart attack a mere two months after.
So Vicki Barringer lived her life entwined with the lives of her husband and their child, lived her life in the here and now, occasionally taking note that God was no part of it.
And sometimes late at night, so alone, when she had no choice but to be totally honest with herself, she admitted she missed…Him.
“Really, you don’t have to feel obligated,” Laura Morgan was saying. “I just thought I’d ask if you’d like to come to church with me this Sunday. I’m not trying to convert you or anything.”
She wasn’t tracking and hadn’t been for a while, Vicki realized; she had slipped away from the here and now, but she heard Laura’s invitation.
“Yes,” Vicki said, “I would like that.”
— | — | —
Eight
Melissa? Melissa!
How come you always bother me when I’m sleeping? It’s bedtime. I’m supposed to be asleep. You should be asleep, too, Lisette.
No, Melissa. I can’t sleep.
Well, I can, so good night. Go away.
No.
I cannot hear you. I am asleep. I am snoring. Szzss…
Melissa, you said you were my friend. I’m lonely. Do you want to make me cry?
No! When you start crying and calling for your mama, it gets real icky, all cold and everything. Not cold like winter but cold like…
Talk to me, Melissa. Please.
Hi, Lisette. How are you, Lisette? How old are you? I’m seven. Do you go to school? I’m in second grade. Do you like hot dogs? I like hot dogs. Here’s a joke. What’s orange and throws rocks? An orange lawn. I lied about the rocks.
Hey, I thought you wanted to talk, so talk!
You are being mean to me.
So what? I could care less. You don’t know how to talk right and you won’t play and the only time you come is when I’m asleep. You’re like you’re all
Vicki decided that that was what she thought, too, and in those moments when she heard a tiny voice within her mind saying, “You’re cutting God out of your life,” when she felt something that was not exactly loneliness or emptiness within her but a particular type of longing hurt, she found ways to refocus her attention on the here and now. There were books she had never read, had not been allowed to read. There were television shows and motion pictures, and there were high school dances. She wore make-up and high heels. “Hon, you’re an attractive young lady with a cute shape to you,” Aunt Toni counseled, “and there’s not one thing sinful about dressing yourself up!” She giggled and gossiped and went out with boys to picnics and parties. The here and now, she learned, was quite all right. It wasn’t sinful; it was just the world as it was.
The farther Vicki drifted away from her strict religious upbringing, the more Carol Grace embraced those early teachings. Vicki could not understand her sister. Carol Grace…well, you could not talk with Carol Grace. Carol Grace did not answer questions; she issued proclamations. She did not converse; she condemned or proselytized or both.
Vicki Miller grew up, went off to college and dropped out in her third year to marry Warren Barringer, a graduate student who’d just been granted admission to the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop.
Carol Grace grew up and married Evan Kyle Dean, a minister, an evangelist, a faith healer who had gone on to no little renown. Carol Grace and Vicki had not spoken in ten years.
Uncle Chester and Aunt Toni retired and bought a condo in Clearwater, Florida, where they meant to enjoy their golden years, but Aunt Toni was dead in six months, a brain aneurism, and Uncle Chester followed her with a fatal heart attack a mere two months after.
So Vicki Barringer lived her life entwined with the lives of her husband and their child, lived her life in the here and now, occasionally taking note that God was no part of it.
And sometimes late at night, so alone, when she had no choice but to be totally honest with herself, she admitted she missed…Him.
“Really, you don’t have to feel obligated,” Laura Morgan was saying. “I just thought I’d ask if you’d like to come to church with me this Sunday. I’m not trying to convert you or anything.”
She wasn’t tracking and hadn’t been for a while, Vicki realized; she had slipped away from the here and now, but she heard Laura’s invitation.
“Yes,” Vicki said, “I would like that.”
— | — | —
Eight
Melissa? Melissa!
How come you always bother me when I’m sleeping? It’s bedtime. I’m supposed to be asleep. You should be asleep, too, Lisette.
No, Melissa. I can’t sleep.
Well, I can, so good night. Go away.
No.
I cannot hear you. I am asleep. I am snoring. Szzss…
Melissa, you said you were my friend. I’m lonely. Do you want to make me cry?
No! When you start crying and calling for your mama, it gets real icky, all cold and everything. Not cold like winter but cold like…
Talk to me, Melissa. Please.
Hi, Lisette. How are you, Lisette? How old are you? I’m seven. Do you go to school? I’m in second grade. Do you like hot dogs? I like hot dogs. Here’s a joke. What’s orange and throws rocks? An orange lawn. I lied about the rocks.
Hey, I thought you wanted to talk, so talk!
You are being mean to me.
So what? I could care less. You don’t know how to talk right and you won’t play and the only time you come is when I’m asleep. You’re like you’re all
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