“Wow, how did you know?”
His friend rolled his eyes. “It’s called Google, dude.”
“Right.” David flushed with a little embarrassment. He’d never checked up on his old friends. “I’m an exit counselor, though, not a deprogrammer.”
Usually paid by the family of a cult member, deprogrammers retrained a person out of their belief system, and some used kidnapping and confinement. Exit counseling was voluntary, more like an addiction intervention.
“Whatever you say.” Deacon shrugged, the difference lost on him. “Did you think I wasn’t coming? I assume you got the same letter I did.”
“I don’t know what I was expecting.” David thought about it. “Now that I’ve come all this way, I feel funny, like I don’t belong here. Don’t you? Whatever life Emily made for herself, I wasn’t part of it.”
Deacon’s eyes roamed the room until settling on Nick. “On the other hand, these people weren’t a part of her life with us. I don’t think they even know.”
“You talked to Nick, her husband?”
His friend ignored the question. “Which do you think was the real Emily?”
David shook his head, which hurt just thinking about it. He was having a hard time processing who he even was right now. “I need a smoke.”
“Excellent idea.”
They emerged in the dim parking lot.
Deacon lit a cigarette. “Is Angela coming?”
David leaned against the funeral home’s brick wall and blew a stream of smoke. “I seriously doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“She’s angry.”
Deacon snorted. “So some things don’t change.”
“Only she’s a police detective now, so it’s even scarier when she gets mad.”
“I wonder what she made of Emily’s letter.”
“I know she’s mad at Emily for doing what she did.” David didn’t want to talk about his big sister, with whom he rarely kept in touch. He gazed across the parking lot toward the distant red glow. “Jesus. Look at it. I hope it rains soon.”
Deacon cast his own eyes toward the fire. “Two million acres going up this year, all thanks to climate change. The ol’ Reverend was right. The world’s coming to an end. Only it’s happening so slowly, hardly anybody is noticing.”
He didn’t want to talk about the Reverend either. “So how are you, Deek? How’s life been treating you?”
Deacon pursed his lips. “Uh, good, David. How about you?”
“I’m doing good. Real good.”
They smoked in silence for a while, which suited David just fine. Nothing stirred among the cars parked in the dark lot. Deacon seemed to want to pick up where things left off years earlier. David was one bad vibe away from fleeing to his car. A little small talk wouldn’t hurt. A little quiet.
His friend had never known how to take things slow. He seemed ready to talk everything out. He’d read Emily’s letter and found some hidden meaning.
David gazed toward his car, which promised the safe routines of home.
A woman emerged from the gloom to pose with her hands on her hips. “You boys. I leave you alone for fifteen years, and look what you get up to.”
Beth Harris was still petite, though she’d filled out in womanhood, and her long, straight, sandy hair was pulled back in a bun instead of flowing free around her shoulders. Otherwise, the years had done little to age her pixie face.
David hugged her. “It’s really nice to see you.”
She patted his shoulder. “You were brave to come.”
He released her, and she and Deacon regarded each other with goofy grins. They stepped into an embrace that was far friendlier than the one she’d given David.
Get a room, David heard his twelve-year-old self say.
At last, they let go, though the tension between them hung in the air.
“Look at you.” She appraised Deacon. “Rock ’n’ roll star.”
“You’d never guess what put me on this path.”
“We’re going to talk,” she said and turned to David. “But we’re going to take it slow.” She reached into her purse and produced a silver flask. “I brought a little bottled courage to guide us on the path.”
David smiled as Beth handed it over. The strong scent alone braced him. Rum. The alcohol burned down his throat with a warm, fuzzy aftermath. He passed the flask to Deacon, who tossed his head back in a long swallow.
Beth shot David a questioning glance. “No Angela, huh?”
“Nope.”
Deacon stared at the distant fire. “God, look at it now.” The fiery glow shimmered and pulsed in a natural light show. “It reminds me… Listen. Can I tell you guys something about the last night at the mountain?”
Beth raised her hand. “Going slow, remember?”
Deacon shuddered and took another long swig. “Okay.”
“So. Have either of you visited Emily yet?”
They shook their heads.
“Then we should tear off that Band-Aid first.” Her large brown eyes flickered between them. “We can visit her together.”
David produced his box of Marlboros. “I need a quiet moment. You guys go ahead.”
“We have to say goodbye.” Beth rested her hand on his arm. “Once you do, you’ll take all that weight off your shoulders.”
He put away his cigarettes. “All right.”
They entered the funeral home and threaded the crowd toward the viewing room. David’s heart crashed like a rock flung at a brick wall.
Beth slipped her hand into his. “I’m right here with you.”
He answered with a vague nod. There was no controlling his legs anymore. He simply floated toward the casket. Emily lay with her hands clasped as if to hide where she’d parted the flesh of her arms with a razor.
Memories flashed across his vision, which fragmented into puzzle pieces. Emily sat next to him in a dark supply closet. Gripped his hand while his mother purified herself in the Temple. Said goodbye the day they left for separate foster homes and promised they’d be together again, as it was meant to be.
He groaned as Emily’s corpse rematerialized before him. Sweat soaked through his dress shirt. He was shaking. Was going to be sick. The stress of revisiting the past. All the smoke in the atmosphere. Something he ate.
Beth guided him out the door into the open air. “You’re having a panic attack.”
David stood outside on trembling legs. His blood roared in his ears, his heart about to burst. His car seemed miles away. He spotted a row of camellias planted around the base of the funeral home and burrowed into them to sit on the mulch with his back against the rough wall.
“Look at me.” Beth crouched to face him. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe. Just breathe, okay? In through your nose for a few seconds, now out through your mouth, nice and slow. That’s right. You’ve got it. It’ll pass soon. I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to.”
David wiped cold sweat from his face. His tears were warm. “I’m stupid.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I thought I was safe.”