Father of Lies

Father of Lies by Brian Evenson Page B

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Authors: Brian Evenson
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up into her face. I imagine it makes quite a tableau.
    â€œTell me.”
    She shudders, starts to cry again. I lean forward and put my arms around her. Her body feels warm.
    â€œThat’s right. Cry it out.”
    I hold her, smelling her hair, the faint damp odor of her nose as it runs sticky onto my shoulder.
    â€œDo you feel better now?”
    Shaking her head, she pulls herself slowly away.
    â€œI just want to help you,” I say. “You have to trust me.”
    She nods.
    â€œIs it hard to talk about?”
    She nods again, her face contorting, a red-blotched and twisting creature pushing through to the surface of her skin, her young beauty sloughed momentarily off.
    â€œDo you trust me?”
    â€œYes,” she says. “I guess so.”
    â€œWhatever you did, I am not going to think any less of you for it. We all make mistakes. It’s only when we don’t repent of our mistakes that we end up in trouble.”
    â€œI can’t say it!” she bawls. “I can’t talk about it!”
    I am losing patience. She is not proving herself the girl her figure promises each night in the way she walks past my house.
    â€œShall I try to guess?”
    She nods.
    â€œYou sinned alone?”
    She shakes her head.
    â€œWith another person?”
    Nods.
    â€œWas there a third person involved? Just the two of you? Stole something?”
    She doesn’t answer.
    â€œKilled someone?”
    She shakes her head.
    â€œFornicated?”
    She hesitates, nods, keeps nodding, starts weeping. My mouth goes dry, my tongue cleaving to the roof of it. The surface of my skin comes everywhere alive.
    â€œIt is not the end of the world,” I say. “There are worse things you could have done.” I draw myself a little closer to her, put my hand delicately on her arm. “God needs to know all the details. That is his way. I want to know everything.”
    I wait but she won’t speak.
    â€œYou fornicated with someone your own age?”
    â€œYes,” she says, her voice barely audible.
    â€œHe forced you, didn’t he?”
    She hesitates. Then shakes her head no.
    â€œHe must have forced you. I know boys. He was probably smooth enough to make you think otherwise, but he forced you.”
    She barely nods, just willing to acquiesce.
    â€œHow many times? Two or three?”
    â€œMore,” she says.
    â€œMore? How often? Hundreds? Did you use birth control?” I let my hand stroke her arm. “Did he?”
    She shakes her head.
    â€œDid you think it would be less of a sin if you didn’t?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she says, and starts crying again.
    â€œYou don’t know?”
    She closes her eyes, covers her face with her hands.
    â€œYou’re pregnant.”
    She says nothing, just stays with her face covered. So I figure I am right.
    â€œGod is telling me you are,” I say.
    She nods her head slowly.
    â€œThat’s hard, very hard, but there are worse things that could have happened to you. It isn’t the end of the world.” I move my hand to touch her neck. “Some punk kid did it, I guess.”
    â€œNo,” she says. “Not just someone.”
    â€œYou met him at high school?”
    She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move.
    â€œDon’t tell me you met him at church?”
    I look around slowly, then back to her. It is nearly dark now, difficult to see.
    â€œHow long have you known him?”
    In a low, quavery voice she manages, “A long time.”
    â€œOld family friend, is he?”
    She shakes her head.
    â€œDo you think this is some sort of game?” I say. “Can’t you just tell me the truth?”
    She doesn’t say, just sits with her head cupped in her hands. I stroke her hair.
    â€œYou can’t run from it. You need to turn and face it.”
    Then suddenly I figure it out. I withdraw my hand.
    â€œYour brother?” I say.
    â€œIs

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