I found myself unable to get out of bed for hours most days. I would check the time on my phone, and see her on my lock screen. Smiling, with the sun hitting her little brown curls. In bed, I would go through my photos, looking at the pictures and videos of her. Memorizing every word, taking every little piece of her I could find and trying to hold it close.
It had only been two weeks. Jeff had been dealing with it his own way, going to a church group every night the last few days. I hadn’t been able to talk about it, especially to strangers.
Tonight, I was going with him. He had begged me to try it, said they were kind people. Even if I wanted to leave after one minute, they would all understand.
The sun was setting over a well trimmed lawn. The church itself looked old, a small building with a white steeple and brick walls, glowing in the warm light. I didn’t recognize the denomination on the sign, which only read “Church of the New Dawn”.
The well worn brass door handle clicked under Jeff’s thumb, opening into a small meeting hall. Larger doors into the main church were closed, and about a dozen people chatted happily around a couple trays of cookies.
An older man with gray hair and sunspots pushed up his glasses as he walked toward us, offering a hand to Jeff.
“Earl, good to see you!”
They warmly shook hands.
“You must be Susan! I’m Earl. So glad you could make it. I hear you’re a teacher down at Hamilton Elementary?”
“Yes, for about six years now.”
“My granddaughter goes there. She’s in second grade, Kayla Oatman.”
I’d met her. A nice girl, and told him as much. When a man wearing a black collar with the typical white square in the center approached, I knew he must be Reverend Silas.
“Susan, so nice to meet you. I’m Reverend Silas Greenbaum.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Reverend.”
He was friendly and polite, with a projecting voice, which could be heard clearly even though he wasn’t speaking loudly. Small streaks of gray peppered his temples, but his hair was otherwise thick and dark. I guessed him to be about 40.
Over the next few minutes, everyone introduced themselves to me, with the exception of a lanky teenage boy sitting on a chair in the corner. He wore large sunglasses, and hadn’t moved from his seat since we arrived.
“Charles, come over and say hi please.”
Charles was the Reverend’s son, it seemed. He slowly walked over, patent leather shoes stopping on the tiles as the Reverend put an arm around him. First, he talked to Jeff.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He said.
The Reverend nodded at me, and he turned reluctantly.
“Hi. I’m Charles.”
His voice was flat, disinterested. I wondered if that was due to having to go to church every night as a teenage boy, or something else.
“His eyes are light sensitive. The sunglasses help him.” The Reverend added.
Charles walked straight back to the corner and took a seat. Soon enough, everyone picked up a chair and made a circle in the middle of the room. Earl talked about church business, such as bringing food and company to the members of the church unable to leave their houses. I respected a church where people put effort into caring for the members of their community.
The Reverend stood. Jeff had told me he normally did a small sermon on weeknights.
“I wanted to speak about providence, the will of God.”
This would be my first glimpse at what this church actually was about, and I was curious. Jeff was in a vulnerable place, and often people were more susceptible to extreme views after something like that.
“Everything we say is lucky, is in fact the work of God. Just last week, I was in the grocery store, and my son Charles here saw a man holding an onion. Just staring at it, for a full minute.”
Jeff laughed, as did a few of the other members. They must have heard this story before.
“Charles told me, ‘That man right there. Go to him.’ And I could see he had lost someone. When you lose someone you love, more than anything in the world…”
His voice cracked, and he paused to gather himself.
“It makes you want to give up. But you can’t. For them, you have to keep going. Believe me, children of God, that the ones you love are not lost to God, and they are not gone, as long as you will sacrifice yourself, the way Jesus sacrificed himself for us, so that we may live eternal.
“You have to sacrifice your pain, let go of how you suffer, and think of others. In a time of loss, it can be the hardest thing to do. But Jeff here has already done it.
“Just yesterday, Jeff brought dinner to Jean McCall. She can’t leave the house, and her husband is in the hospital with a staph infection, as you know..”
He paused, clearly affected, putting a hand over his mouth. Everyone was silent, listening.
“She called me and said she’d never had eggplant parmesan before, that it had made her day. Before he showed up, she only got out of bed at four in the afternoon, because she was so down. She only put clothes on because Jeff was coming. She hadn’t eaten all day.
“But then he showed up with a smile. The eggplant Parmesan was one of the best things she’d ever tasted. She was very clear that I had to thank the chef personally, and I’m smart enough to listen to my elders. So thank you, Jeff. You made an old woman’s day.”
A smile crossed Jeff’s face.
“Thank you, Reverend. And Jean already thanked me about a hundred times, she’s a sweet lady. But one more won’t hurt I guess.”
The Reverend laughed, and others naturally joined in.
“It never does. Let’s pray.”
On the drive home, I held Jeff’s hand.
“You didn’t tell me you were taking food for that old lady. I thought you were just bringing it to work for lunch.”
He smiled at me, squeezing my hand then returning his eyes to the road.
“I see why you like it there. They seem like good people. Also, you do make a mean eggplant parm.”
That Saturday, the Reverend was coming over for dinner. Jeff was cooking, as usual. I’d cleaned the place up, and was finishing dusting when I got to her picture. Rag in one hand, I picked up the cheap wooden frame with the other. I missed her smile so much. In this picture, she only had four teeth. Jeff had her in his arms, and I was hugging them both.
After a friendly conversation at dinner, we all went to the living room. Reverend Silas walked straight up to that picture, leaning over to get a good look.
“She’s beautiful. What a blessing to have her, and what suffering to lose her. May God give you strength and grace to face each new day. It is the worst thing in the world to lose your child.”
He sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes were piercing as he looked at me.
“I lost my wife last year. It was, uh, suicide.”
The Reverend’s face was heavy. It was the first I’d heard of it, and I felt for him.
“I lost her, but I still have my son. I still have Charles.”
He put a hand on my shoulder.
“Susan, there’s nothing I can say to take away your pain. When I lost… well, I found it helps to think about them, rather than thinking about our loss. Maybe we could talk about her a little. I never got to know Claire.”
At the mention of her name, a knot formed in my throat. I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Where was this?” He asked, pointing at the picture on the end table.
“The Knoxville zoo.” I said. “You can see the netting, right there, in the corner. That was the toucans. She loved those. The cereal she liked had them on the box, and we spent a long time teaching her how to say ‘toucan’. It always came out ‘coocah’. The whole drive there, she was asking ‘See toucan?’. I think she was disappointed at first, because it didn’t look like the cartoon. But one squawked and flew right by the net, and she loved them after that.”
I was smiling. I hadn’t smiled all day, I don’t think. As soon as I realized it, the smile was replaced with sobs. Deep, undignified, wet sobs.
“Remember those stories. Don’t forget them. That’s important.”
After he left, I began putting away dishes. Jeff joined me.
“You’re right. I am glad he came over. I didn’t think I would be, but I am. I see why you’ve been meeting with him.”
Jeff had talked to Silas alone two nights before, after the Bible study. He had gotten home late, after midnight. I thought it was a bit strange that he was talking to this man every day of the week, but it seemed to be helping.
As I stood at the sink, his arms wrapped around me from behind. I leaned my head back into his chest. Nothing could bring Claire back, but this wasn’t the worst night I’d had since Claire passed. At least, it wasn’t yet.
When I woke up, Jeff wasn’t in bed. I went to the bathroom, and he wasn’t there, either. Stepping out of the bedroom, I stood in the dark hall. There was a bright enough moon that light came in through the windows, and I could hear his voice, just barely, through an open door. Claire’s room.
I walked slowly, my bare feet pressing into the cold hardwood. As I neared, I could make out words.
“Lord, keep her. Please, Lord, I’ll do anything.”
When I stepped into the doorway, I saw Jeff on his knees, facing the moonlit window. I leaned down to hug him, but saw his arms.
With a piece of glass, he had slashed both forearms open, and blood was dripping onto the floor.
“Jeff! Jeff!” I screamed, and he looked up at me over his shoulder, face a mask of grief.
I drove him to the hospital. They stitched him up just fine, but both of us had to talk to the doctors for a long time before they would let us go. The car ride back was silence for several minutes.
“Call the Reverend.” Jeff said. “He needs to know.”
When we got home, he handed me his phone, and I called him. It was 4 in the morning, but I called.
“Jeff, how’d it go?” He said, before I could speak.
“What?” I asked.
“Susan. Hi. How’s it going? Sorry, I was asleep. Is everything okay?”
I took a deep breath. “Jeff cut himself, pretty bad. I mean, on purpose.”
I wondered how you’re supposed to even say that, and figured I’d done it wrong.
“I see. Do you want me to come over? Or I could stop by in the morning?”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d barely slept, we’d been in the hospital for a couple hours. My daughter was dead and I was worried my husband was going to kill himself, and leave me alone. When I began sobbing, he spoke.
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Just sit tight. Actually, sorry, can you give me your address again? Just so I don’t have to look for it?”
When he arrived, he hugged me as soon as I opened the door.
“We have to be strong. For Jeff, and for Claire. It’s the hardest thing in the world, but now is our time to be strong.”
I put on water for tea, as the Reverend sat with him on the couch. Jeff was already seeming better than I expected. When the kettle whistled, Reverend Silas said he would get it. Once he was in the kitchen, Jeff took my hand.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t know what came over me. I had a dream about her, and when I woke up…”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.”
I took his head in my arms, and we both cried. I didn’t notice the Reverend come in with the tea until a minute later.
“When there’s a good time, I’d like to pray with him.” He said.
I could tell he meant just himself and Jeff.
“I’m going to uh… go upstairs and clean.” I said.
“Susan, please let me. Just get the things together and I’ll clean it in a little while. It’s better you don’t have to do it yourself. Trust me.”
I did trust him. I nodded, and went to the kitchen to gather a bucket, gloves, sponges, some detergent. When I returned, the Reverend held Jeff close, speaking in a low voice I couldn’t hear.
“Please, come pray with us. Take my hand.” Silas said.
I knelt on the floor with them, the three of us holding hands in a circle.
“Dear Lord, hear our prayer tonight. Out of our loss, let there be rebirth.” He paused, and Jeff repeated after him. I followed his lead.
“Out of our loss, let there be rebirth.”
We answered each call.
“Out of our pain, let there be strength.”
“As you died for us, that we may have life eternal,”
“…let us give of ourselves, so that others may live.”
“Amen.”
“Amen.” We said.
The prayer seemed strange, even at the time, but I wrote it off as stress or exhaustion on the Reverend’s part. In hindsight, it took on a very, very different tone.
The Reverend slept on our couch, and I made sure he had plenty of blankets. Jeff seemed much better, and we actually got a couple of hours of sleep.
The next day, I called work to let them know I would be taking another week. My boss took the phone from our receptionist to personally tell me everything was covered and to take my time. They were good people to work with.
The Reverend had set things up for me to have dinner with a couple of people from the Bible study, who seemed nice. He wanted some one on one time with Jeff, to see if he could facilitate getting professional help. I agreed.
Jeff’s behavior was worrying me. He said he was feeling much better, but he seemed… too much better. Too relaxed, too peaceful. I couldn’t explain it, at the time. I was glad Reverend Silas was trying to get him help.
Dinner went well. It was at a woman named Dinah’s house, who was very sweet and had cooked some good spaghetti, but was not gifted in conversation. I don’t hold that against her, since making conversation with a woman you don’t know who has a dead daughter and a self-harming husband seems difficult.
As I took a bite of garlic bread, I got a coppery taste in my mouth. It’s hard to describe, but it unsettled me, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Washing my hands under cold water, I looked in the mirror.
I saw not myself, but Claire’s face, screaming. It was gone in an instant, but rattled me to my core. She looked terrified, mouth wide open, in a mask of fear which I’d never seen in her few years of life.
I’ve never been superstitious. I’ve never felt like I had any special closeness with God or spirituality or any of that. But when I saw her, I called Jeff immediately. He didn’t answer. Neither did the Reverend.
I told Dinah thank you for dinner but that something had come up. I tried calling each of them again, still getting no answer. Putting the car in gear, I drove home much faster than I should have. It was practically asking to hit a deer hauling ass like that at night.
The Reverend’s car was there, but none of the lights were on. The moon was out and bright again, casting shadows of leafless branches across the white paint of the house. Why weren’t the lights on? Why weren’t they answering their phones? I rushed up to the front door. It was unlocked.
Opening it, I was about to call out for Jeff when I heard a voice speaking. I didn’t recognize him at first, but drawing nearer to the stairs, the flat even diction was unmistakable. It was Charles, the Reverend’s son. The awkward one with sunglasses. I didn’t know he was coming, and might not have thought much of it if the entire house wasn’t dark.
Charles’ voice was coming from upstairs, and I made my way toward it. Moonlight made its way in through the windows, lighting up the thin white curtains, casting shadows from the banister on each of the steps as I slowly ascended them. I could hear the words more clearly now, some sort of prayer. Maybe that was why they had the lights off?
“...an offering, the greatest of which is life. By his sacrifice of body, we are given eternal life of the soul, in the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Shivers went down my spine. Something was very, very wrong with his voice. I’d never heard anything so cold. I can’t explain why, but I snuck toward the voice, not afraid of interrupting the prayer, but afraid that he would notice me. When I found its source, I felt a pang of disgust.
They were in Claire’s room. The door was open, and each step showed me more of the scene. I saw the Reverend, kneeling with bowed head, hands clasped in prayer. I saw the silhouette of Charles in front of the window, a black outline with hands raised to the sky. Then finally, I saw Jeff.
He knelt on the floor, where I had found him two nights before. His blood was still on the ground, dried and black under his knees. There was some kind of circle around him, in what I think was salt. On the floor in front of him was a picture of Claire, but what drew my eye was the gun in his hand, pointed at his temple.
“You, Jeff, can give the gift of eternal life. A selfless sacrifice, in the eyes of God, for your daughter, Claire. Repeat after me. I give my life to you.”
“I give my life to you.”
“I give my soul to you.”
There was no mistaking what was happening, as horrific and unbelievable as it was. I cried out, desperate.
“Jeff, no! You can’t do this!”
He turned to me, face half cast in shadow, with tears pouring down his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t live without her. But she can live.”
His voice trembled.
“Say the words! I give my soul to you!”
Charles’ voice reverberated through the room, deafening, undeniable. I cowered back from the door unintentionally, and heard Jeff begin to speak the words.
“No! This is wrong, honey! Please, Reverend, stop this!”
The Reverend looked at me, still kneeling submissively, sadness in his eyes.
“You can’t stop them. Not this late. I tried, once.”
I wanted to run to him, to hold him, to take the gun. When I moved forward, Charles stepped toward me, and I froze.
Even in the dim light, I could see his eyes. They were glazed, like a corpse’s, a haze over his irises and pupils. In the moonlight, they glowed. They glowed like the bare skin of someone you loved under the lights of a coroner’s table. They glowed like the bones of the last person on earth, under a dying sun. They glowed like death.
“You cannot go back! You cannot deny her! Do it! Now!” Charles ordered.
The gunshot flashed, a yellow light contrasting the moon. Jeff crumpled limply to the ground, and I screamed. As I staggered toward him, the Reverend bowed low, placing his palms on the floor.
In the center of the salt circle standing over Jeff stood a diminutive figure, in a dress, with curly hair. Her nose was Claire’s little nose. Her lips were the small pouty lips of my daughter, which used to kiss me on the cheeks. At her sides hung the tiny soft hands I remembered so well, with their little nails.
Her eyes looked at me, unfamiliar, with a white luminescence.