“Hey! Hey!” Before my eyes could even focus, the image of an angry red faced man flashed before them. My father’s face was two inches from mine. “What are you still doing in bed?”
My mind was still groggy from sleep. I just stared back blankly. “Do you want to make us late for church?”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“
“We’re leaving in five minutes,” my dad said, as he left the room. I leaped out of bed and hurriedly put on some clothes. No time to wash up this morning. Oh well.
It had been three days, reader, since you saw me last. Rest assured that the time was spent the best way a fourteen-year-old boy can spend it. I spent the time in play with David, and my other friends, arguing and running and wrestling and all sorts of other things.
I groped around my floor, looking for a clean pair of socks. I could hear conversation from down the stairs.
“Do I have to go to church?” Abel whined.
“Of course you do,” my father answered without pausing. “Jonathon, hurry up!” he shouted.
“I’m coming,” I shouted back. I had learned long ago that it was pointless to argue against church. Abel had not yet learned this.
“But I don’t want to go.” Watch out Abel. You’re on fragile ground here.
“You’re going anyway,” my father’s voice answered firmly.
“But I don’t even like church.”
There was a silence, in which I can only assume my father was giving Abel a disapproving look. Then, in a stern voice he answered, “Abel, church is where we go to worship God. When you talk about church, you talk about it with respect. Is that clear?”
“But church is boring.” Shut up Abel. Shut up, shut up shut up. “I hate church.”
I heard the sound of a slap, followed by Abel’s wailing. “Are you ready yet Jonathon?”
I pulled my shirt over my head. “I’m coming,” I called back down, as I opened my door.
Reader, allow me to be blunt. I think I can successfully summarize my attitude towards church back then in two words: church sucks.
The particular church we attended was only a ten-minute walk from our house. Very convenient. It was made up of all sorts of other elites who could afford to live outside the city. The Duke himself attended.
It was pure torture to sit through. The service was seldom over an hour long, but if someone had asked me back then I would have sincerely told them that the service was between two and three hours. It was drudgery. Adjectives, dear reader, fail me in my attempt to describe how hard the service was for an energetic boy to sit through. The stale music, the irrelevant sermons, everything. How I hated it.
I was not alone in this. Most of my school fellows hated church as well. Their objections will be recorded in due time. For now they must stay silent though. They all attended church in the city.
Very few children attended our church. Two boys, who were Abel’s age, named Cain and Seth, with whom he would frequently run off with after church attended, and one girl who was my age: Bernadine. She was a classmate of mine at school. A very intelligent girl, a very energetic girl, with wild eyes and a piercing gaze. I deeply regret the fact that I never got to know her back then, but I would discover later how powerful she was.
I should mention here that there were rumors that the Duke also had a son my age. Although no one had even seen this legendary son, these myths continued. You will be glad to hear, reader, that I never believed them.
We approached the church.
I am suddenly beset by a little nagging voice that urges me to describe the church. “What kind of an author are you if you don’t give vivid descriptions.” The voice has power. But reader, surely you know what a church looks like.
Picture it reader, for it is all there in your mind. Do I even need to mention the white steeple? The big tan doors? The stained glass windows? The rows of parishioners, all dressed in their finest clothes of the week.
Yes, I should include this now. I hate those dress clothes, that I was forced into every Sunday. I hated the tight collar, the stiff pants, and the shoes that always seemed just a little too small. Perhaps my greatest pleasure out of the whole church experience was tearing those clothes of when I arrived home.
We entered the church. The very staleness of it assaulted my senses. I coughed involuntarily from the feeling of staleness. Angry eyes flashed from all sides, upset that I would dare cough in the house of God. My father, whose hand was already on my shoulder, tightened his grip.
We sat silently in one of the pews. The service had already started. My father was somewhat embarrassed, although it was not unusual for our family to arrive late. My father knew how disrespectful it was to arrive late to the house of God.
We were not the only ones who were late however. Shortly after the service started, another figure slipped in the pew quietly next to me. He patted the side of my leg in a friendly manner. I looked over. It was old Flash himself. Flash was no stranger to my family. In fact, he had dined at our house once. Or was that twice. It’s so hard to remember the finer details.
Flash smiled at me, and I returned his smile. Flash, as busy as he was, never failed to attend church.
Rest assured, Reader, that with Flash sitting next to me I was on my best behavior for the entire service. After the service, when the benediction was given, people began to talk to each other again.
The Duke patted my leg again. “So Jonathon, it has been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Yes sir it has.”
“My, my. And how old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?
I assume old Flash was just flattering me. I am sure I did not look sixteen or seventeen. “I’m fourteen.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Really? Only fourteen? Well, Jonathon, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do then. Are you eager to grow up?”
What an odd question. I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “No, not yet.” It seemed like the appropriate thing to say. The fact was I couldn’t wait to grow up, but I knew if I said that it would open up all sorts of new questions.
The Duke smiled. “You’re a smart boy. Of course, you know when you do grow up, I’ve got a nice job waiting for you.”
“Yes sir,” I answered, faking as much enthusiasm as I could.
Flash bought it. “That a boy. I can’t wait to work with you, if you’re even close to being as clever as your father.”
At this point I realized my father had been standing behind me the whole time, listening to the conversation. He placed his hands proudly on my shoulder. “He’ll be a lot more clever.”
Flash laughed. “I don’t know if I could handle that. I might have competition for my job."” My father and Flash both laughed at the comment, but there was a sinister truth hidden behind it. The Duke dealt harshly to anyone who might be a rival to his power.
“Well, how are you Paul?” Flash asked.
“Its been a tough week, but I survived,” my father answered.
I had no desire to stay and listen to this conversation, so I slipped out. I went outside to enjoy the weather, although basking in the warm outdoors only made me all the more conscious that I had spent the morning in its absence. Abel ran by with his two playmates, Seth and Cain. I was hot in my clothes. I longed to be home already and to fling them off. I moved about stiffly in my clothes. Bernadine and her parents walked out of the church. Bernadine was a pretty girl, I thought. I waved, somewhat timidly. If she noticed, she chose to ignore it.
I waited and waited and waited. Eventually my father emerged from the church, still talking and laughing with old Flash. Our family departed.
We walked in silence for a while. Eventually, my father turned to me. “So you were talking to the Duke?”
“Yeah.”
Well what else was there to say? It was not a deep question. My father reacted in frustration. His face became tight. He took a deep breath. “You know, I really wish that you could communicate in more than one word answers”.
I thought this was unfair. I was asked a yes or no question. “What?” I said annoyed.
“Like when you were talking to the Duke. You only gave him one word answers.”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“Just be friendly. Talk to the man. Elaborate. Ask him questions.” The prospect of having a long conversation with old Flash did not thrill me. It must have reflected on my face because my father took it upon himself to convince me further. “You know you’re going to be working for him someday. You might as well get on good terms with him.”
Now I knew better, but I acted without thinking. “What if I don’t want to work for the Duke?”
My father stopped in his tracks. He turned angrily towards me, his hand grabbed my arm. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Abel smiling. Like all siblings, Abel delighted when I was in trouble and he was not. I silently resolved to get him later.
“What are you talking about?” My father yelled angrily. I didn’t know what to say so I simply remained mute. “What else would you do?”
A million answers flooded into my head: write, teach, draw, sculpt. Travel. Just travel. Just get out of here for once. Be an athlete. A merchant. Anything. Just ever-loving live. Just live! Nothing. None of these options I could make a suitable living on, and I knew it. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Something.”
My father glanced away and then back at me. “Okay, listen to me. Are you listening?” Of course I was listening. What else would I be doing? I nodded silently. “You are a very privileged boy. You know that? You know how many people would love to have the opportunities you have at your fingertips? I’ve worked hard my whole life to get into this position, and you’re going to be able to slip right into it. Do you appreciate that? Your life couldn’t be easier. You’ll never find another job that is this good. Do you understand? Do you?” I nodded. “Alright, so don’t do anything stupid then. You’ve got everything you need already.” Of course I did. I felt everything closing in on me.
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