The Urn Carrier by Chris Convissor

letting
you proceed unfettered.”
    Forsythe is pissed, Tessa can hear it in his voice. He might be a
creepy dude, but he’s showing her he has her back.
    “I’d like time to re-think the itinerary because they obviously
have a copy of it.”
    “That’s fine, but the route was made for the time of year and the
way it made the most sense.”
    “I’ll get as far as Prairie du Chien,
Wisconsin in the next couple of days, as long as I hit somewhere on the
Mississippi, that will be okay, right?”
    “Yes. I trust you implicitly, Tessa. You’re doing the right thing.
Get back with me on the changeups any time this week. By then I should have the
rest of the family on board.”
    “Thanks, Mr. Forsythe.”
    As Tessa drives, her memories are triggered by little steeples of
rural churches along the road.
    The few times they went to church Tessa was so bored she counted
bricks on the top of the wall to the right of the altar. If she made it all the
way through without Eli interrupting her to play paper, scissors, rock, she
began counting all the bricks on the top line to the left of the altar, to make
sure they matched up. Sometimes she got down two or three rows before her
imagination kicked in.
    Her mind settled into some sort of dream world where she became a
Pegasus/unicorn and she was above everyone, flying over their heads.
    No one ever saw her because they were all staring straight ahead,
trying to stay awake too.
    Since they didn’t see her, she flew to the
rafters above the empty church choir section and settled in comfortably until
she got bored. Then she flew over everyone’s head, recognizing Mr. Knepple’s
bald head without his hat on, and Mr. Shaggy Hippie Dippie dude, as her mom
called him, and smelled stuff that seemed like church incense but was sweeter.
    Her mom only took them on festive occasions like Palm Sunday, when
they got fronds, or Ash Wednesday when the priest smudged ash on their
foreheads with his big fat thumb and then they walked around all day,
sanctimonious with their special thumb cross imprint that occasionally dropped
ash into their eyes.
    Tessa’s absolute favorite day was St. Blaze
day. The priest crossed two candles at their throats and anointed them so they
wouldn’t get sore throats, or scarlet fever, or something worse.
    As Tessa drives, she hears again Great Aunt Sadie saying she left
the Church when the priest spoke one too many times about the woman obeying the
husband.
    “You mark my words,” Aunt Sadie said to all the girls, “you don’t
let anyone disrespect you. You don’t let me do it, you don’t let any man do it.
You don’t let anyone do it, you hear me? Not even the Church. Especially not
the Church!”
    The further Tessa gets away from Traverse City and her cousin, the
easier she’s breathing. She checks the time. In a few short hours she’ll be on
the water again.
     
    ELI VIEWS TESSA as his protector, even though he is bigger and
stronger now. Of all the people he needs to spend time with, it’s with her
first, even though he knows the conversation will be difficult and about their
dad.
    He can’t talk to her now, while he’s here in prison. It’s
impossible. He will not allow her to deal with the truth without him near. He’s
a part of it too. It’s his hate that drive the situation.
    When his father took a closed fist and hit Tessa in the head,
Eli’s animal rage exploded. He had no idea what he was saying or doing and each
time his father pushed him off or dared him to try again, Eli grew blind. He
lost track of time and they sparred and hit and tumbled and Eli didn’t feel any
of it, not until his father was choking the life out of him, crushing his
windpipe with his forearm, all his weight bearing down on Eli’s throat.
    Just as he began losing sight, just as he began blacking out, he
heard a thud and liquid splattered his face. The relief of the weight being off
him almost came too late. He was clenching at his throat with both hands,
trying to