Chapter 1: Matter of Faith

Chapter 1: Matter of Faith

 

I was high up.

            My arms were spread outwards and my legs bound straight down. My hands weren’t even hurt. You’re probably calling me crazy considering the fact they have nails piercing through them and into the wooden board I’m stuck to. But they were really just numb. I opened my mouth, only able to manage a wheezing noise. Whatever air did come in was revoltingly dry and hot. 

            Above was clear sky the color of steel, below was cracking sun-bleached sand. The white sun itself was unforgiving, looming straight above me.

            Slowly my head seemed to lose will to stay up and drooped down; the only part of me that wasn’t bound or nailed. Something trickled down my cheek and on my lip; it had this bitter metallic taste.

            Blood. So the crown of thorns on me was finally digging into my temples. That pain I felt.

            My sides ached a storm as well. I could see the long whip wounds on my skin stretching over my ribs. My skin was too sun damaged to even describe as “tan.” More like “well-done.”

            I could’ve sworn the people weren’t there before, but now they were down below from where I was bound. They both had their heads down; one was a man with light curly hair and the other was a woman with a pale head wrap.

            Help! I wanted to scream. Instead, I only gave another wheeze. This time though, the air wouldn’t come back to me. In that second, I could feel my dried lungs giving out. My heart stopped pumping and began to exhaust. I let out one last wheeze.

            And my eyes quivered open.

            I threw off my sheets and didn’t waste time, ripping my nightstand drawer open.

            “Damn,” the drawer was empty. I knew I had forgotten something last night. Now I had to run to the bathroom. I warily stood up and jogged there. I didn’t think to put on socks until I was already half way there and blood was already trailed from my room to where I was. I shook my head and quickened my pace. As soon as I got there I opened the cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out the roll of bandages there. As I sat down and began to wrap up my hands, I felt a little better.

            I was finishing wrapping my feet when a voice came from my doorway, “You’re making a mess, Roman.”

            I pursed my lips. “Sorry for bleeding all over the carpets, mom.” I felt my sides, debating if I should wrap them or not. Mom sighed and came over to me. I shooed her hands away as she tried to help me bandage myself.

            “I thought I told you to refill you drawer,” she shook her head.               

            I shrugged, “Looks like I forgot.”

            Her expression remained stone and she crossed her arms. “Ro, are you doing as I said? Are you praying every night? Are you saying grace to every"”

            “Mom, I’m doing every little thing you told me to do,” I waited for her to move aside from the door then left the room.

            “You’re not praying hard enough,” she was right on my heels as I walked over to the kitchen. My bandaged feet went cold against the tile floor. I slid into one of the three chairs set up at the corner table of the room.

            My mom joined me there. Her black hair was messy, spilling off her shoulders. “Are you wearing your cross?” she took out her own gold chain from under her shirt.

            I sighed and did the same with mine, “Yes mom. I never take it off, not even to shower. Though, I might start to, it gets all soapy,” I tucked it back under my shirt.

            “Roman, this is serious.”

            “I’m not laughing,” I risked a glance at her. She had such a troubled expression all the time. It was either because that’s just how she looked or she really was troubled all the time. I’m going with both. Her black eyes dug straight into me and I had to look away from her. I hunched my back and lay my head in my arms across the table. I felt her hand at my head and she ran her fingers through my hair.          

            She heaved a dark sigh. “Roman, have you heard of stigmata?”

            I brought my head up, leaning my chin on my hand. “Like that horror film from the 90’s?”

            “No. Stigmata are the marks of Christ’s crucifixion wounds.” She gently touched my wrist, wrapping her thin fingers around it. “Sores on His wrists and hands.” I felt her toe poke my calf from under the table, “Cuts on the feet.” She stroked my hair, revealing small red divots in my head, “Marks from the crown of thorns, and wounds on His sides.”

            I hesitantly lifted one side of my shirt and sure enough, there was a big purple bruise developing on my skin pulling over my ribs. “S**t mom, I’m the Messiah!”

            “Roman!” she smacked me over the head. “Don’t joke about that. The second advent is no laughing matter.”

            “Why are you bringing this up? I mean, what does this all mean?” I touched my wrist.

            My mom heaved a sigh. She rubbed her nose dotted with dark freckles. “Honestly Roman, I don’t know. I just think it’s a matter of faith,” she sat back and straightened her posture.

            I decided to leave it there. Once my mom brought faith into the conversation, there was no changing her mind or discussing the topic any longer. Faith was the reason for everything, according to her. You don’t have to see it, there doesn’t have to be proof, you just need to have faith.

            In other words, she was the complete opposite of me.

            She slowly got to her feet and went to the coffee machine. “Do you want me to cook you some eggs?”

            I licked my dry lips, “Yes.”

***

            “Hey, Jesus,” Jazz was at her locker.

            “Is that how you treat your newfound leader?” I crossed my arms. “You should be washing my feet.”

            “I’m an atheistic, half-black Jew may I remind you,” Jazz slammed her locker closed. “Your feet will burn in my hands.”

             “Your time will come when you are cast into hell. I will make sure of it.”

            She smirked. “I’ll tell Satan you said hi.”

            And that’s my best friend, Jasmine Lourie. She moved to here in Nevada and back to New York a lot, though she’s stayed here for a good few years now, only going back during holidays. Her parents were divorced, her mom in New York and her dad here. I’ve never met her mom but her dad was pretty cool. He’s some sort of college professor.

            With her Legend of Zelda shirt half way tucked into her gray pants, denim jacket covered in buttons of band’s no one’s heard of, and muddy converse, Jazz stuck out like a sore thumb and you could tell she wasn’t from here. I mean, sure our town, Sunrise Manor, was inside Las Vegas but no one here was as strange as Jazz.

            But frankly, Jazz was my only friend. And I was okay with that.       

            She took her thick glasses off and started to rub the lenses with her denim sleeve. She growled, realizing it just smudged them more.

            “Here,” I took her glasses from her and cleaning them with my cloth of my long sleeve shirt. I glanced over at Jazz; her amber eyes looked so big without her glasses. Her face was round and her cheeks were still kind of big like from she was little.

            Once I gave her glasses back to her, she looked up and down at me. She stared at my arm.

            I was about to pull it back when she quickly snatched it and pulled my sleeve up. I had bandages wrapped all around my hand up to my inner elbow. “I see your marks returned,” she rubbed two of her little fingers on my bandaged arm. “Or you’re starting a new fashion statement. I kinda dig it.”

            I took my arm back and made sure my sleeve covered it. I had to wrap them up along with my feet every day. Even when they weren’t bleeding I did. No one wants to see my ugly scars.

            “So Ro, what do you want for your big day?” Jazz elbowed my gut.

            “What?”

            “You’re the birthday boy, you dumbfuck,” she reached up to ruffle my hair. “What should I get you?”

             “You don’t have to get me anything.”

            “Well, I know I don’t have to, but I should. Perhaps a new roll of fresh bandages? I could get them in your favorite color if you want.”

            “You’re kind of an a*s.”

            “Only kind of? Half an a*s, huh; I was hoping for a little more,” we began to walk.

            “I’ll give you the other half for your birthday,” I promised.

            “What every girl dreams of,” she batted her long eyelashes.

 

 

            “Is this room 213; Ms. Shelter?” someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to where I expected to see someone’s face, but instead I saw a shirt neck. I had to tilt my head back to find the head. Man, this guy was tall.

            “Sure is,” I looked up at him wearily. I was pretty tall myself but next to this guy I might as well have been Jazz’s height.

            “This is your class too?” His eyes were bright and I nodded. “Looks like I’m your new classmate!”

            I threw my hands in the air. “Yay!” I walked on in to the class; if this new guy was looking for a friend he was going to have to find someone else.

            I found my seat, the second to last chair from the back and dropped down. I saw the new guy come up to Ms. Shelter to introduce himself with a wide-a*s grin. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He was way too charming. Ms. Shelter put a hand on his shoulder then pointed in my direction. It took me a second to realize she was telling him the only empty seat was the one behind me.

            Great. Now I’ll probably have to talk to him.

            As the guy came walking up to his new seat, I tried to determine where he could be from. His skin was brown and his slick black hair flipped up in the front. He wasn’t black or Indian. Maybe like Middle Eastern or something. I had to squint my eyes as his gleaming grin came closer and closer to me.

             “I am Darius Essa,” he stuck a huge, long fingered hand at me for a handshake. He talked with this strange accent that I couldn’t quite place.

            I high fived him instead. “And I’m Roman Becker.”

            Darius’ smile took up his whole face as he burst out laughing. “Good one, Roman! High-five handshake!” He remained laughing as he took his seat behind me.bb

            “…sure we will all welcome our new student with open arms,” Ms. Shelter clapped her hands together, eyeing Darius behind me. The rest of my class followed her gaze and I ducked lower into my desk, making sure they were looking at the right guy. In the corner of my eye I saw Darius smile and give a little wave. Some of the guys glared while some girls giggled.

            “Okay, back to class matters. Everyone, pull out your textbooks from under your desks. You’ll be analyzing two poems by two very different authors but with a similar motif. I want you to create a Venn diagram with a partner"”

            The class let out a cheer. I silently did too; I usually just did things myself. By things I mean just scribble little comics on my paper and text Jazz.

            “"which will be chosen for you,” Ms. Shelter looked from above her reading glasses as the class groaned. “Every other person, starting from the front row, will turn their desks around to work with the person seated behind them. Go!”

            There were some mumbles of relief and others of disappointment as people twisted their desks around.

            “Looks like we are partners, Roman,” Darius’ voice came from behind me. Before I had time to respond, the whole world was spinning before my eyes. It came to a stop and I was facing Darius.

            “You just spun my desk around with one hand. And me in it.”

            “I know, right? Okay now, let’s get reading!”

            The whole class was spent as productively as if I were to work by myself; Darius talked the whole time. It was so annoying I even wanted to work instead of listen to him. I tried to rush out when class ended but, he kept up with me, following me all through the school. He even came to my locker with me. I was practically running as I made my way to the front parking lot of the school. I looked around, thinking I lost him. That was until he turned out to be right in front of me.

            “Isn’t that funny Roman?” He laughed to whatever the heck he was talking about.

            “Hilarious,” I gritted my teeth. I looked behind him, trying to find Jazz. After school she would always pull up in her crappy pickup truck and drive to my house to stay for a while.

            “…your phone?” Darius touched my shoulder.

            “What?”

            He just laughed again, “Could I borrow your phone? I must call my father.”

            I took my cell out of my pocket and handed it to him, doing whatever it took to get him to stop talking to me.

            “Thank you,” he nodded and stepped a little away. He waited a while, the phone to his ear.

            “Salâm?” I heard a small voice from the other line.

            Darius went on talking quickly in a different language. He sounded kind of peeved with the other person on the line. Suddenly Darius raised his voice louder then hung up. I heard him take a deep breath before turning back to me. He had a smile.

            “Mamnū…I mean thank you,” he handed my phone back to me.

            I hesitated, “Everything all right there?”

            He opened his mouth but was interrupted by a honk of a car horn. I turned around to see Jazz at the curb. At first I thought she was waving but I looked closer to see she was giving me the finger.

            “Um,” Darius looked at her.

            “It’s alright, I know her,” I assured.

            Darius squinted, “Yes, she is in my math class. She’s very…”

            “…offensive?” I suggested, walking towards her car.

            “I was going to say unique,” Darius followed close behind me.

            “Alrighty then, Ro-Ro,” Jazz looked down at me, remaining in her car. “You ready?”

            I nodded then turned to Darius, “You driving or something? I mean, you know the buses left just a minute ago, right?”

            Darius shook his head, “I’ll just walk.”

            “Where do you live?” Jazz raised an eyebrow.

            “Henderson.”

            “Dude, that’s like,” Jazz shook her head, “Like a twenty miles away.”

            Darius shrugged.

            “Do the school buses even go into there?” I crossed my arms.

            He shook his head, “Guess I better start walking now. Bye!” he smiled and went to leave.

            Jazz and I looked at each other, and then nodded.

            “Bro!” she called. “I could give you a lift.”

            Darius looked at us. “I can’t…I can’t arrive home right now though. I have to wait some time.”

            “Your turn,” Jazz looked at me.

            I rolled my eyes. I slowly said, “I guess you can stay at…at my house.”

            Darius smiled, “You two are very kind.” He came around the truck to enter into the passenger side.

            Jazz’s truck had just one row of seating, three seats at that, right in the front. But comfortably, only two could sit. Especially since Darius was a giant and the middle seat was the smallest, I knew it wasn’t going to be a fun ride. Once he squished Jazz, I squished on his other side, closing the door behind me.

            “Well this should be fun,” Jazz moved her feet as Darius shoved his backpack on the floor of the car.

            “Extremely,” I sighed.

            “Definitely,” Darius looked back and forth between me and Jazz.

 

            “So,” I glanced at Darius for a moment, “how long are you going to have to stay?”

            As soon as we got home, Jazz and I began playing Smash Brothers Melee in the living room. [Yeah, GameCube was old but, it was still the best.] Darius insisted on doing all his homework. We tried to convince him Friday’s homework was for crappy Sunday nights but, he continued anyway.

            He looked up from his math packet, “I have to call my father again in an hour to see.”

            “Damn you, Becker!” Jazz threw her remote down as her character flew out of the screen and her last life disappeared.

            I put my hands up in the air, “Don’t hate me just because I’m better than you.” Jazz glared at me. “Here,” I handed my remote to Darius, “I have to find my mom.”

            Darius looked at the remote blankly and turned to Jazz.

            “I’ll show you how to play,” she offered.

            I got up and left the room. I had a relatively small house, only one floor and a basement. Off to the left of the living room was a short hallway"where all the bedrooms were"to the right was the kitchen, and straight ahead was a bathroom. Despite my simple house, we had a nice backyard with an in ground pool. Most people here had a pool since it’s usually scorching weather. We did live in the desert. Though recently, it has been mild at only sixty degrees or so.

            I followed the sound of my mother’s voice to the kitchen. I took a second to look at the scene. She was talking roughly to a woman, probably in her early twenties. She was stunning. Her dark hair was pulled loosely into a ponytail, a gray cap on top of her head. Matching gray overalls were tight over her body, showing off her curvy form. Tan arms were at her sides. When I came to look at her face, I nearly jumped to see she was staring right at me.

            Jesus, her eyes were shocking. They reminded me of the last time Jazz and I took a night drive last January to go star gazing. This girl’s eyes were the same color and temperature as that winter night’s sky.

            My mother stopped talking and followed the woman’s stare, coming to look at me. She grunted in disapproval and I pulled myself away from the stranger and went to the fridge. I pretended to look for something inside the refrigerator, still feeling the woman’s eyes piercing through my back like a knife.

            “Ahem,” mom cleared her throat and I knew the woman brought her attention back to her. “How long exactly will this take?”

            “I used the formula to unclog your pipes today,” the woman’s voice was low. “I’ll be stopping by for the next couple of days to see if it is working.”

            It occurred to me they were talking about the stupid toilet that didn’t want to flush. The woman must’ve been a plumber or something. I grabbed the lemonade out of the fridge and turn around to watch the conversation.

            “Now, how much does this all cost again? Am I paying for all your visits?” my mom stared the plumber down and she returned a charming smile.

            “Don’t be silly ma’am, all the visits are free; you just pay a flat fee now.”

            “Now what is this fee for? I mean, did you just pour some liquid down my toilet and now I’m paying or…”

            “I did a thorough cleaning of your toilet as well as your sink, and tightened some pipes to ensure no leaks occur,” the woman handed mom the bill.

            Mom took the bill and scanned it over, checking the back of the paper and everything. “Are these all things I could have done on my own? I don’t believe"”

            “Mom,” I couldn’t help from breaking in. Bethany Becker had to question everybody, criticize every move. She and the plumber both turned in my direction. My mother was frowning with her thick eyebrows burrowed. The woman had a thin smile, her eyes bright, looking up and down at me.

            “Roman, leave immediately, this is none of your business,” mom spat.

            “It’s my toilet too you know,” I said plainly.

            The plumber woman laughed slightly, still looking at me. I managed a smile back at her; man she was pretty. My mother seemed to see what was going on. She raised her hand and slapped the plumber girl over the head.

            “Hey!” the woman stepped away.

            “Mom!” I came up to her.

            “Don’t think I don’t know who you are,” my mother hissed at the woman.

            “I"I’m sorry?”

            “You should be glad that I let you enter my house, but you and your kind will not even speak to my son.”

            The dark haired woman looked up and down at my mother like she was inspecting an item in a museum to see if it was the real deal. “Don’t think that you and I are all so different,” she said calmly. “Cash or check?”

            My mom bit her lip, “Cash.” She grabbed her wallet out of her back pocket, got a couple of bills out and handed it all to the woman.

            “He’s going to find out soon though,” the woman said to mom. “Find out everything.”

            My mom growled, “Leave. Now.”

            The woman winked at me then left out the door.

            “Okay, what was that all about?” I looked at her.

            “Nothing you need to worry about,” her voice was like a harsh whisper.

            “But she said"“

            “I know what she said. I was there,” my mom crossed her arms.

            “Whatever. Jazz and another…friend of mine are over.”

            My mom looked at me suspiciously, “Friend?” she walked out of the kitchen and I followed behind.

            “I’m not sure how long he’s gonna stay,” we came into the living room.

            “Oh yeah!” Jazz cheered. She and Darius were jumping on the couch. I assumed they played as a team and won against the computer players. Jazz saw my mother and me standing by. “Oh,” she jumped off the couch, “splendid evening Mrs. Becker.” She gave a bow.

            “Jasmine,” mom said plainly. She got used to Jazz’s sarcastic ways years ago. “And you are…?” she looked at Darius.

            Darius came over to her and gave his usual smile, “I am Darius Essa,” he stuck his hand out.

            My mom just looked up and down at him. I thought it was funny how they looked next to each other; the top of mom’s head was at Darius’ chest.

            Darius took his hand back, “I guess hand shaking isn’t for the Becker’s,” he laughed.

            My mom remained plain, “Darius Essa?  Are you Muslim?”           

            “Mom,” I warned. She had to go through every aspect of a person, from what their religion was to what brand toothpaste they preferred.

            Darius nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

            “Which denomination"?”

            “Okay mom, enough interrogating,” I put my hands on my mom’s shoulders and pushed her away.

            She grabbed one of my hands and pulled my sleeve up, “Were you bleeding all day?”

            I glanced behind me, knowing Darius was listening in. “I’m fine,” I pulled my sleeve back down, covering as much of the bandages I could.

            “You don’t need to change your bands?” My mom laid a hand on my shoulder.

            “I’m fine,” I said again and came over to the couch. Darius looked over, peering at my arms. “What?” I spat.

            He quickly looked away. “I’ll do my math now.”

            The rest of the day was really a blur. My dad came home from work at five, Darius’ father picked him up at eight and Jazz’s father called for her to go home for dinner. She pulled her backpack on and scooped up her binders. “Hope you’re pumped for tomorrow,” she grinned. She pulled two paper stubs out of her pockets.

            “Tickets for what?” I grabbed one.

            “You know those Queen tickets I was looking for?”

            My eyes widened, “You didn’t…”

            “Nope, I didn’t. But, I got some stupid other band that might be alright.”

            I looked down at the yellow stub. “They probably reek.”

            She smiled again, “Probably. See you tomorrow.”

            “See you,” I plopped down onto the couch as she left through the front door. I brought my feet up and took my socks off, my feet were killing me. The bandages were getting dark.

            Mom entered the room and sat next to me, lifting my legs over her lap. “So,” she put a cup of tea on the table, “what time is your date?”

            My father stumbled into the room. “Date? Roman’s got a date?”

            “Yeah, on his birthday tomorrow,” my mom pat my shin.

            “It’s with Jazz, isn’t it?” Dad took his usual spot in his armchair.

            “Okay, well, no because I don’t have a date. Jazz and I are just going out to a concert,” I pulled my legs away from mom. “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

            “You mean you’ve gone on other dates?” Dad leaned forward.

            I stood up. “I’m going to my room,” I looked at the both of them. Whenever I saw them together, I noticed how I don’t look like either of them. My mom had dark hair and eyes with pale skin. My dad had salt and pepper hair with beige skin and green eyes. As for me, my eyes were amber and my skin was easily tanned. It made me wonder if I was adopted. But then I remembered back to the pictures of my mom when she was pregnant and the both of them holding me as a baby. Maybe I got looks from a relative or something. I shrugged the thought off and headed off to my room.

            “Make sure you change your bandages!” my mom called. “And you better pray before you go to sleep!”

            “Yes! Make sure you get enough sleep for your date!” Dad added.

            “Oh my God,” I closed the door behind me. I changed into pajamas and new bandages. Then I opened my window and looked out. It was a pretty quiet neighborhood I lived in. But if you looked at the horizon, you could see the Vegas everyone else saw: bright lights gleaming and cars drifting around. I’ve been there a couple of times, mostly during the day and with my dad. My mom refuses to set foot in that city. I found it strange how that just a couple of miles away, some people were gambling their live savings, going to hot parties, and getting wasted. And I here I was in my room, getting ready to crawl into bed. Weird…and a little sad.

            I glanced over at the desk to my right, eyeing the photo of me at my thirteenth birthday in its square frame. I shook my head. You could tell those weren’t my good days. I was a zitty, brace-faced knobby kneed dork. Now… well at least my skin was clearer and my braces were off. Jazz was next to me, that’s when she had really long hair dyed black. She was also really skinny back then. But now she was rather curvy…not that I thought about much.

            In my head I gave my usual silent prayer, if even that’s what you can call it: Hey God, thanks for everything you put me through. I really appreciate it.

            I wonder if he could sense sarcasm.

            I grabbed my laptop and sprawled across my bed. I probably fell asleep at one in the morning, the laptop still in my lap.

            I had this strange dream. I was at the Grand Canyon, looking out over a ledge; an endless view of copper boulders and cliffs. The sky was a crisp blue and the air was fragile. I was just standing there, seemingly waiting for something. Suddenly I saw something in the distance, just strutting across a cliff not too far from the one I was on. It was an animal, for sure. I came dangerously closer the edge, trying to get a better glimpse. By the time I was able to see what it was, my toes were nearly hanging off. It was a horse. It seemed to of been looking right back at me. I had this feeling that I needed to get to it. Or that it should come to me. It galloped along the cliff edge towards my direction. I waited eagerly. That’s when this weird force rumbled inside of me, trying to get me to run away. But I refused; I wanted to wait for the creature. I felt like it was calling to me.

            My eyes seemed to have been pulled open by something and I was awake. I looked over at clock to see it was only seven in the morning. I debated whether or not I should get up. My mind told me to move but my body didn’t seem to want to respond. Instead I pushed my laptop off my body and let it fall to the floor. It’s old so I didn’t really care about keeping it protected anymore. Besides, maybe a new one was in store for me later in the day. Then again, looking back on my parents…probably not. 

Author's Note

blegh this chapter need a lot of improvement; if you could point out maybe any confusing parts if you found any?