I wanted to hug her.
“I honestly don’t know.” I pushed my hair out of my eyes. I normally kept it cut short, but there didn’t seem to be a hair trimmer anywhere at The Retreat. The men all wore their hair as long as the women, as if they were allergic to a haircut. Because of that my dark hair had grown down past my ears. It was the longest it had been since I was fifteen and had been going through my emo douche phase. I wanted to hack it off. I had also grown a weird goatee that was trying to be a beard. My facial hair grew in splotches and was incredibly uneven. It was slow growing and thus I didn’t look full on mountain man yet. It was scratchy. I craved a razor about as much as I craved a decent cell phone connection.
It enraged me that free will was battered away little by little. We couldn’t shave. We couldn’t cut our hair. We weren’t allowed to eat sugar and you could forget drinking a drop of alcohol. I had the feeling Pastor Carter got sick pleasure out of the disciples’ willingness to follow any and every mandate he set. No questions. Like a herd of lemmings scurrying off a cliff. Biting my tongue was proving harder and harder.
I thought about my parents. How worried for both of us they must be. I was able to send a quick text to my mom when we got here, but that was it. There wasn’t a cell tower so there was no reception. And given The Gathering’s aversion to modern technology like computers and Wi-Fi, I couldn’t exactly charge my phone once it died. The only place with electricity was the gathering room and dining hall. And of course Pastor Carter’s house had power. Couldn’t have the wacko tyrant go without lights and hot water.
Anne and I regarded my brother. He stared back at us. His brown eyes were deadened. I couldn’t stand it.
“He should be in counseling. Or taking drugs to stabilize him. I don’t think there’s anything you can dohere. Praying doesn’t do shit,” I answered nastily, then felt bad for it when I saw her flinch. “Sorry,” I muttered.
“Praying does help, Bastian. We wouldn’t be here if it didn’t,” she said forcefully. There was steel in that small frame that I had to remember not to underestimate. “You should go to Daily Devotional. It sounds like you need it.”
“I’m not leaving him when he’s like this. You don’t understand how he can get—”
“First of all, don’t talk about him like he’s not here. He’s not deaf. Treat him with some respect,” she scolded me and I felt sufficiently chastised.
“I’m not—I didn’t mean…Jesus.” I felt like shit. She was right.
Anne frowned. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” She made me feel like a naughty school boy.
“Okay, yeah, sorry.” My brother started to sit up and I rushed over to help him. “Put your arm around me so I can help you.”
He smacked my hand away. “I’m not a kid, Baz. And I’m not an invalid. Back off,” he barked and I grinned. I’d rather him be pissed at me than lying there like he was in a coma. He grunted as he pulled himself upright, as though it took considerable effort. But I didn’t help him. I gave the man his dignity.
His face was pale and gaunt. He wasn’t eating enough. His eyes were sunken and the scruffy beard he had grown made him look like Grizzly Adams. He appeared rough and intimidating, but he smiled at the girl beside me.
“Hi, Anne.” His voice was gruff.
She crossed the room to his bed and sat down beside him.
“How are you feeling?” She took his hand.
“I’ll be fine,” he answered, though not convincingly.
“You need to eat, David. You need to pray. You need to let God heal you.” They sat close, their hands clasped together. Their heads bent towards one another. “Let me get you something to eat,” she offered and he nodded. He took her help. Just not mine. I tried not to be hurt by that.
They whispered together. I made an effort not to eavesdrop. It was becoming obvious my presence wasn’t required. “I guess I’ll go pray now,” I announced. Even though the idea of Daily Devotional had me wanting to throw something.
David didn’t acknowledge me, his eyes glued to Anne, but she nodded. “I’ll stay with David. You go on.”
I didn’t want to leave my brother. But I also could see that whatever Anne was doing worked. David needed what she gave him. I wouldn’t ruin that. Not for anything.
“Okay then. Dave, if you need anything, I’ll be at that clearing, or whatever it’s called.”
“Thanks, Baz,” he replied.
Then he rested his forehead on Anne’s shoulder and that was my cue to leave.
I walked outside and headed towards the clearing where the other members were. Despite how I felt about the group that lived at The Retreat, I could appreciate the place they had claimed as their home.
The Blue Ridge Mountains were beautiful. I wished I had brought the sketchpad and pencils with me. Art was one of my few emotional outlets and for the first month, it had been cut off from me. If it weren’t for Sara’s gift, I’d be totally adrift.
That’s what Pastor Carter did. He separated a person from their family. From their friends. From everything that made them who they were.
And he had the nerve to preach about sin and damnation.
He was confining his “family” to a living purgatory.
