Chapter Four

The sun set soon after they got back on the highway. Father Mike stared at the patch of road illuminated by the Taurus’s headlights in front of them and tried to think of what to say. Alex hadn’t turned his head from the open passenger’s side window since they left. He wrung the wig in his hands.

“When we get home, I’m going to talk to your father abou—”

 “What the fuck is that going to do!?” Alex exploded.

  “Language!” rebuked the priest.

“I couldn’t give a shit! Why did you take me out of there!”

“I know things are bad at home, but you can’t stay at that place!” Father Mike pleaded. “Those people are perverts!”

Alex turned back to the window and grumbled, “Guess I’m a fucking pervert to you, too.” 

Father Mike was at sea. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to feel. A used condom stuck in that swinger’s white vinyl couch could only mean one thing. He should have known as soon as he met “Sister Love.” The fact remained, though, he was returning Alex against his will to an abusive home. Was that what was best for him? Was it all just a choice between bad and also bad? 

It was all so simple before he had seen Agnes Ross. The change in her was real! Father Mike couldn’t believe she was acting. There was no reason for her to. Is it possible her miraculous change of mood was because they’d convinced someone to sleep with her one last time? It was all too much.

“Alex, this is very important. Has anyone there done anything to you?”

“No,” he responded sullenly.

Father Mike couldn’t let it rest at that. Alex’s opinion of him didn’t matter. He needed to know the truth, for the boy’s sake. And his own. “No one at that ranch has tried to have sex with you?”

“I haven’t had sex with anyone yet!” Alex fired back. “Weird question coming from a creepy old priest.”

Father Mike had no retort. 

“Who cares what the older family members do with each other?” Alex broke after a long interval. “They accept me for who I am!”

“Whatever you are is between you and God, but you’ve got to be careful with groups like that. The price of admission is never what’s advertised.” The boy didn’t notice the priest was talking mostly to himself. 

“Fuck ‘price of admission’!  I don’t need God’s help or yours. I just want to go back home.”

Silence ruled the car until they pulled off the road to the driveway of the Cielo home. A Spanish tile roof crowned an otherwise bog-standard McMansion. Buttery yellow light spilled from the house’s many widows to die in a dark expanse of yard. The lights from the Cielos’ closest neighbor’s homes twinkled like distant stars hundreds of yards away. Alex’s father’s salary at the university must have been substantial.

Father Mike turned to Alex as they rolled to a stop. “Let me investigate a little. Make sure that they’re not dangerous before you go back.”

“Do what you want. I don’t care.” He slammed the door and paused. Turned back and bent through the Taurus’s open window, giving Father Mike a generous view of his fading shiner and his sneer. “Thanks for the ride, Father.”

Alex stomped up the steps to the house as Father Mike stewed in the darkened car. He heard the door open and Maria Cielo cry, “Ali! You’re home!”  In response, he hit the gas and sped back into the night, alone with a million thoughts. 

*

Hours later, Father Mike was pacing the rectory kitchen. He still wore his black formal pants, but the dry heat had prompted him to strip to his undershirt. In one hand, he carried a glass of scotch. In the other was a cordless phone.

He dialed with his thumb, generating a series of icy beeps, then stopped pacing and raised the phone to his ear. It rang and it rang again. He sipped his scotch and waited.

“You’ve reached the phone of Martin Grant. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Hey! Martin! I hope you’re not not-picking-up because of last time. Listen, I went and got that kid back! It was ... weird. Totally not what I expected. Thought you might want to hear about it. I don’t know. Call me back.” 

Father Mike booped the end call button and downed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp. He dumped the phone on the kitchen table then stalked off to bed.

*

Sunday Morning. Mass again. As the final chords of the opening hymn died out, Father Mike pushed himself off his uncomfortable wooden chair in the sanctuary and approached the pulpit.

“Good morning.”

A hundred odd voices mumbled back “Good Morning, Father.” The acoustic effect was unsettling. The response from one side of the church was notably more enthusiastic than usual. Father Mike’s eyes were immediately drawn to the source.

Maria Cielo was dressed immaculately and surrounded by her family. Her gratitude beamed at Father Mike like a spotlight. Next to her was her husband. Upright, impeccably respectful, but his face betrayed disinterest. It was the first time Father Mike had ever taken note of Dr. Cielo. He was older than his wife. Ten, maybe twenty years? Not a large man either, but he exuded an aura of health and confidence. His hair and mustache were thick—black alternating with iron gray. He wore a Brooks Brothers sport coat over a polo shirt and chinos. Father Mike had no trouble believing that this man would have a contentious relationship with his son.

A boy and a girl, neither over twelve, were on Maria’s left. They wore the fancy clothes and sullen expressions common to young children in church. At the end of the pew, arms folded, outdoing either of his sibling’s petulance, was Alex. Clashing with the preppy finery of the rest of his family, he wore a ratty tank top with some band’s logo on it. Unlike his siblings, he was too old to be told what to wear. Within reason. The wig was nowhere to be seen.

“Ahem. Our first reading is from the Book of Mark.”

*

Mass had ended. As always, the procession of officiants reached the outdoors halfway through the closing hymn. The altar boys scattered back to the rectory to get ready to leave with their parents. Father Mike was left waiting on the church’s steps to greet the parishioners as they filed out.

The Cielos were almost the last to leave. The family followed behind Maria like a boat towed by a truck. She clasped Father Mike’s hand with both of hers.

“Thank you so much for bringing Alejandro back, Father!”

He grinned sheepishly.  “I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah, you did a good job!” Dr. Ceilo cut in. “Ha! Can we call you next time he runs off to fag it up in the desert?”

Maria’s face fell. Father Mike stammered.

Alex alone wouldn’t let the affront pass. “I’m right fucking here, Dad!” He stormed down the stairs, his father close on his heels. Father Mike glanced around to see how many other parishioners were left to observe the ruckus. Thankfully not many.

Dr. Cielo grabbed Alex roughly by the arm. “You want to embarrass me like that? In church?”

“You’re the one that fuckin—!”

Maria swung to Father Mike. “I-I’ve got to go. I’ll call you about that counseling we talked about.” She hustled down the stairs to separate her husband and son. Father Mike took a step after her.

“I can help now if ...”

Both men stared up at the interloping priest. Their looks held him responsible, by observation, for the shame of their behavior. Maria, still facing them, turned her head back to Father Mike.

“No. We’ll get home okay. Right, Luis?”

  Dr. Cielo threw his son’s arm down and addressed to Father Mike. “You work your whole life to be someone. To build something real for your family. Then they throw it all away on fairy stories. Guess you wouldn’t understand, Father?”

Father Mike was aghast. It’s one thing to be told about circumstances like this: You wave it away with a name. Form tidy little opinions about it. But that ignorance dissolves quickly when it plays out in front of you. 

Alex’s glare didn’t waver. Unlike his Father, he had a reason to blame Father Mike. The priest’s meddling had brought him to this very spot. Father Mike couldn’t bear the boy’s eyes and looked away.

*

Clank! The gate that protected “Home” noisily retracted once more.

Father Mike couldn’t believe he was back at the ranch. Couldn’t believe that he was actually investigating if it was “safe” for Alex to return. And if he decided it was, what then? Give The Prophet a lecture on sexual decorum and drive Alex back?

No. If it was all a case of overly emancipated but otherwise harmless hippies, he’d just get out of the way. If that “emancipation” didn’t include minors, that is.

Father Mike parked in the same spot he had the last time. Ascended the same stairs. As he knocked, he braced himself for the violent hug that had christened his last visit. Sure enough, the door swung open and he was lifted off his feet in the embrace of a white-robed figure. 

This time his host was male. He was several inches taller than Father Mike and heavily muscled. 

“Welcome home! My sister told me all about you!”

The man let Father Mike down. He shared Sister Love’s blonde hair, except that his was closely trimmed into a Princeton cut. His expression was fair and guileless. A bodybuilder with the face of a child.

“Uh, Brother Love?” Despite himself, Father Mike slid into the unease of interaction with a highly attractive person.

“Hey! You’re a sharp one!” Brother Love slapped Father Mike playfully in the chest with the back of his hand. “Now, since this is your second time here, we’re going to have to ask you to follow a few more of our rules. First, leave your shoes here. We’ve got flip-flops for walking between buildings, but other than that, we go au naturel while we’re at Home.”

“Sure. Okay.” 

Father Mike sat down on the wooden steps and began prying off his heavy black shoes. Brother Love took the opportunity to reach behind the door and pull out a gray plastic bus bin. 

“Secondly, cell phones. An unwanted distraction of the earthbound world. You can leave yours in this box and pick it up when you leave.”

Father Mike reached into his pocket for his outdated flip phone but hesitated. This was clearly the effect that Sister Love was supposed to have made on him when he had first come. No. It didn’t matter. This dumb side of beef wasn’t going to change his mind about anything. He had already made up his mind! Besides, the bin already contained a half dozen phones. His own made a hollow thunk as he tossed it in with the rest.

“You are so lucky to come back today! The Prophet is about to make a huge announcement!”

“I just wanted to talk to him a little.... About Alex.”

“You will. The Prophet Samyaza has to make his announcement first though. He’ll be addressing the whole family!”

Brother Love led Father Mike through the welcome trailer. On the other side, dozens of people sat on blankets in front of the geodesic dome. A low wooden riser had been set up in front of the dome’s only entrance. Twin bonfires burned cheerfully before the makeshift stage.

The two of them descended the stairs into the throng. Now that they were enveloped by the crowd, Father Mike could hear an expectant chatter vibrating through the people. Brother Love picked an empty blanket and sat down with crossed legs. He patted the space next to him invitingly. Father Mike gulped and obliged. He opened his mouth to vocalize the rising wonder in him but was gently shushed by his grinning host.

The conversation died away as the sun sank to the horizon. When it fully disappeared, leaving only a faint, lingering daylight, everyone was silent. Only then was the tarp covering the dome’s entrance thrown aside. The Prophet emerged. The change in him was astounding.

He was shirtless to the waist and cut! His muscles were smaller than Brother Love’s, but sharper and more defined. Contrasting his former paleness, he glowed with a healthy tan. Father Mike would have doubted it was the same man, but the face was unmistakable. Especially the eyes.

“What happened to him!?” spat the priest. 

Brother Love patted him on the leg and shushed again. The Prophet stretched his arms wide and spoke.

“Purification and renewal! It’s what we work towards for this sick and earthbound world!”

A pregnant pause. He swept the crowd with his gaze before lowering his arms and proceeding. “I’ve had my low points! Physical! Mental! Spiritual! No matter how bad off anyone here has been, I guarantee I’ve been worse. I was broke, drug-addicted, middle-aged and going nowhere. I saw no purpose beyond my next meal, my next fuck, my next high.”

The Prophet stalked the stage, looking down into the individual faces of his followers as he passed. “We all accumulate sickness! Daily contact with contagious evil is an unfortunate side effect of being alive! Most people ignore the sickness. They look fine, too.” He turned aside and chuckled. “For a while, that is. In eighty years or less, the accumulated toxins of this world become too great to ignore, and they dive headfirst into the grave!”

The crowd followed his movements, hypnotized. “The truly difficult thing is to acknowledge and contend with the evil we have consumed. The period of reckoning and purification is arduous! You saw me!”

The Prophet threw a white towel over his head and stumbled around the stage, coughing and wheezing in a parody of his former convalescence. The people laughed uproariously. He threw off the towel and continued.

“Once we stop pretending to be healthy and accept the sickness as a part of our own body, we gain control over it! We are the true masters of ourselves! Most people simply can’t handle that responsibility. But when we reassert ourselves as the rulers of our bodies, the commanders of our fate, we can turn sickness into health!”

The Prophet was building to a crescendo. “Few people have the perspective and strength to become pure on their own. I certainly didn’t. These revolutionary ideas are not mine. They were a gift to me. A gift from the stars above! I am Star Touched!”

Uproarious applause died with a sweep of his hand. “Don’t think that I received this gift for free, though. No, the price I paid for my knowledge was heavy. I vowed that I would do my upmost to spread this star-spawned wisdom to every corner of our ailing blue planet!” The crowd didn’t dare breathe.

“I leave it to you to judge my progress in this mission from above. It’s my pleasure to reintroduce a member of our family. One who has gone through torment even I have never endured. A woman who has broken through her earthbound thinking, and now can truly be said to have joined me among the Star Touched.”

He gestured to the porch of the welcome trailer at the back of the crowd. “Family members, honored guests: Agnes Ross!”

All present sucked in a collective gasp. The woman hadn’t been able to stand a week ago. Now she moved toward the stage with an easy, painless stride. She didn’t just look healed. She looked young. Sixty. Maybe Fifty. Even in the low light, it was impossible not to see the tears pouring down her cheeks. They glittered with reflected fire. 

She ascended the stage. “I’m so happy, Sam! Thank you for everything!”

The Prophet enfolded her in his arms. “Don’t thank me! Now, you too have the burden of sharing your success with the world.” He raised his right hand, bringing the entire crowd into their embrace. “You can start by showing these people the fruits of defeating your earthbound diseases!”

Agnes Ross snuffled and cleared her throat. “I’ll do my best!”

She stepped backward carefully, hands extended behind her until she lightly touched the surface of the dome. A pause. A breath. She dashed toward the onlookers. 

At the edge of the stage she leaped, arcing over their heads with arms outstretched. Diving downward, she hit the ground and thrust herself back into the air, missing audience members by inches! She somersaulted three times before landing with both feet like a champion gymnast. 

The crowd could no longer be suppressed. They jumped to their feet cheering. Dancing. Smothering Agnes with hugs. The Prophet’s voice rang out over them, no longer holding back the celebration, but a part of it.

“You see the possibilities?! You see the hope for this whole planet?! Are there any guests that want this miracle for themselves? Do we have any brave souls who want to heal a sickened world! Who here wants to become Star-Touched!”

Elated, shouted responses.

“I do! I do!”

“Me too!!!”

Father Mike leapt to his feet. “Me! I want to help!”

Brother Love rose beside him and crushed him in a bear hug. This time there was no resistance. As he was placed down, he noticed a sparkling blonde head moving around the edge of the crowd. Alex in his wig. Father Mike grinned and waved. Alex waved back bashfully and stepped behind another celebrant.

Music began playing from hidden loudspeakers. Red solo cups appeared containing Kool-Aid or red wine. Everyone danced and laughed and hollered in absolute euphoria until they couldn’t remain standing any longer. The last of them didn’t collapse from exhaustion until the early hours of the morning.