ALL NOVEL A Tract On The Glory Of Forgiveness And Grace, Or Why You Need to Forgive That One Thing That Happened At Jesus Camp, Even Though He Never Apologized
Memo to C. Everett Koop from the department of Health and Human Services
Mister Koop, while we appreciate that you believe Gay Related Immune Deficiency Syndrome is a risk to normal families, the fact that you have provided funding to the Providence Autonomous Clinic Union in order to suppress it in the booming Homo and Gimmie population in that city is disgusting and offensive to our policy of promoting the family. As long as GRIDS remains isolated in the anti-family part of America, we should regard it as not our problem. Furthermore the PACU are an anti-capitalist organization and thus have no business getting handouts from our government.
Please stop undermining our agenda by serving the Communists,
best,
Margaret Heckler, Secretary of Health and Human Serives (1984)
Document granted posthumously to Narragansett Truth Now! by the Estate of C. Everett Koop (2014)
Paul looked dead tired stumbling into the dining room. Darla lifted her gaze from a black instant coffee. The herbalist forced himself into a chair and leaned back with a thump. "He's up." Lavender's cloud of frizzy slept on hair twitched. The mug of cooling tea next to her rippled. Darla checked the ceiling for cobwebs, letting it sink in.
When Lavender and Darla returned to the village, they had deposited Mike in the hands of an newly-awake, newly-groggy Paul. After explaining the situation, Paul was all too understanding, pushing them to attempt the novel act of sleep. Unfortunately, the 5 hours of bed time they had gotten in Lavender's room had not been kind. It seemed that neither knew how to actually sleep with another person. The adrenaline still in both their systems had stopped any attempt at peace.
Darla had laid wide awake seeing the moment the bullet had torn through Mikes arm. At one point Lavender started crying again This time Darla felt unable to help. She was stuck flashing to the sound, the blood, the weight of Mike slumping onto her. She thought about joining Paul to wait for Mike to wake up. Anything to stop her closed eyes from showing the scene over and over and over. Yet every time she moved to leave she would hear Lavender's sobbing. Darla stayed, shackled to the futon. Trapped 3 times in one night, how was this the least free? When she managed to catch snatches of sleep she dreamed of blue jays. Released and recaged. Over and over, like the Hebrews being expelled and returning to Canaan, the breath of God.
Around 9 it was too much. Darla dragged Lavender out of bed, worried that they might miss Mike waking up. And now, after three mugs, she had. She downed the rest of her latest and rushed to Paul's room. No time for confirming that 'Setts had finished with her in the mirror, Mike needed her. On her way out she jostled Lavender trying to get her to move. Met with nothing but a groan, she immediately gave up.
When Darla arrived at Paul's room Joan was already there. She was surprised when she found her two friends chatting amicably. About what? She rapped on the door frame to get their attention.
Joan quickly gave a worried smile, but Mike visibly perked up at her arrival. "Joan tells me you've taken the name 'Darla"?" He asked. His shirt was cut to pieces on the floor. His bare torso showed off his Army tattoos, his Army guaranteed muscles, and his standard issue off duty Army guy beard. There was a fresh bandage professionally wrapped around his Bicep, and while he still had an anemic coloring, he was in surprisingly good spirits for the hangover and bloodloss he was probably going through.
Darla couldn't stop herself from staring at his arms. They looked slightly thicker then Lavender's, who already gave killer hugs, how good would Mike's be? She stared thinking of what it would be like to enveloped in those muscles, how safe she would feel, how feminine.
She coughed remembering that he had asked a question. "Yep! That's what they call me! Darla!" She awkwardly pointed at herself.
Mike laughed. "Please tell me you didn't just put your first initial in front of Mrs. Kenton's." Joan, bless her, bit back her own giggle. Darla slumped, they had never ganged up on her like this.
"Yeah, yeah yuck it up. You try and come up with an on-the-fly-lie about why you sound like your ma to your pops on the phone." She put her hands on her hips and cocked them to one side, as she had seen the more spicy church moms do.
Mike howled, not dissuaded in the slightest. "God damn you're cute when you're mad!" He tried to slap the futon with the bandaged arm only to wince away. He took a breath and grabbed a brown dropper bottle labeled "poppy tears". He gulped down a few drops and took a moment to center himself, shaking a bit as he did.
It wasn't long before a huge grin was plastered back on his face. He big show of pulling Joan aside to stage whisper. "So... Is she taken?" Darla humphed and glared.
Joan pursed her lips, taking a beat to give Darla a look. "Yeah, but it's Lavender." Mike looked lost. "The girl who shot you last night?" Mike bit his lip while staring out into the middle distance. His hand twitched. His body stiffened, as if expecting a blow.
"Oh." He muttered into his beard. Darla felt a twinge of guilt, as if she should be comforting him on the fact that she was taken romantically, and not that he had a hole in his arm.
Joan turned to Darla and shook her head. "I can't say I didn't warn you." She turned to Mike. "Not that I'm particularly happy with your way of dealing with things either, mister." And there it was.
She and Mike were not friends. She didn't like Mike 'pushing Danny to become a stupid meat head and join the military' and wouldn't shut up about it. He hadn't got why she was making a fuss at the time, and his friends got pretty hostile about 'that bitch dyke Joan', but looking back being a jock had gone very poorly for him (her! she reminded herself).
Mike slumped. "I brought this on myself, huh?" He said sullenly. He rubbed his good hand over the bandaged arm, and blew out his cheeks.
Darla's heart broke. She opened her mouth to tell him that, no, he was fine, he had apologized hadn't he? But Joan cut in. "I've only hear what happened in snippets of gossip, but both of y'all fucked up so goddamn bad." She touched Mikes good hand. "You should know what your friends look like." Mike looked down with solemnly, probably praying for forgiveness. She swung around on to Darla. Stuck in the doorway as she was, a fly in a web. "I know I can't speak for her, but if I had Darla's shoes on I'd dump Lavender on the spot." Joan's gaze pierced through her, and she felt every bit as disgusting as she should.
It was if Joan had looked into her and seen it- the terrifying fact that monsters set her blood on fire. Evelyn and Lavender. Everything audacious they had done had been one more step into her heart. At least Evelyn had the decency to limit her brazen disrespect to Darla alone. Lavender seemed to expand it to every normal in Twin Crossings. They had hurt her over and over... Could Darla really bring herself to care?
She looked at Mike. He smiled weakly and her resolve broke. This town was just as much her community as these queerdos were. She had been on a single date, and sure they had explosive chemistry, but it was made with real explosives. Now that Mike knew who she was, the logistic barrier to getting home to the Kenton General has practically dissolved.
She didn't have to date Lavender. She didn't even have to stay here! But did she want to? The sooner Pops realized his mistake, the less pain the two communities would inflict on each other. Looking again at Mikes arm was enough to remind her that it had already gone too far.
"Earth to space cadet, Dan-fuck-arla?" Mike grimaced. "I only see that blank a stare in the VFW." He looked about as worried as he could, given his range of emotion.
"Yeah." Darla muttered. The prospect of not going steady with Lavender scared the shit out of her. She bit her lip as she flashed to Lavender's crooning promises of a good lay. Still, it was clear just how possessive the woman was. Darla realized with a dawning fear that maybe her transition was too fresh for dating. "Yeah, me and Lavender should probably cool it, at least for a bit.
Joan twisted her mouth and sucked air through her teeth. "You're date shot your buddy and the best you can come up with is 'maybe we should go on break?' Jesus, Darla." she shook her head.
Mike laughed. "Give'er a break!" He stuck his tongue out. "Can't you tell she's down bad?" He brought up two fingers to make his gesture obscene. Darla forced down a 'well, actually' about Lavenders dick.
Joan flushed, then rallied. "Yeah, I know I'm trampling on a beautiful sapphic romance." She rolled her eyes for emphasis. "How could I dare break up an impressionable abused 21 year old completely new to girlhood, and a 26 year old woman with multiple assaults with deadly weapons?"
Mike whistled. "I wasn't her first?" He looked Darla dead in the eye. "and you went for that?" He chuckled "Maybe I do have a chance"
Joan sighed "For the love of god Darla, don't rebound with Mike."
"HEY!" Mike said playfully.
At this point Darla was covering her face with her hands from the embarrassment. "I just need to talk to Lavender again." She tried to give her words conviction, but she could no longer muster the feeling from the ride back. Disconnected from it. Cut adrift in shark infested waters. "I saw it last night after everything, she can change, she doesn't need violence to sustain her." Sell it like you mean it Darla, you have to try. "I can help her."
Joan quietly got up and walked to the doorway. Laying a hand on Darla's arm, she made strong eye contact. "You went on a single date, you don't have to do this."
Darla shivered, whimpering under the cutting gaze of her oldest friend. She bit her lip, how hard would it really be to walk away? All of yesterday she had felt like she was so intertwined in this, like her problems had melted away and the problems of this community took president. Now that she was really thinking about it, though, she had every reason to get the hell out here. She didn't have to deal with Lavender's violence. She opened her mouth to acquiess.
It's easy to believe in curses. The most negative things are emphasized in our minds in order for us to improve, and pattern recognition is important for learning the skills we use for survival. You put those facts together with a string of bad luck doing something specific, and bam you have a curse. Darla reckoned that some entity must have cursed Lavender. Her timing was so consistently bad it beggared the imagination.
She looked like dogshit. The black rings around her eyes were considerably raccoon like. Her hand traced the hallway wall like an injured final girl in a slasher movie. She wobbled as she tried to hold herself upright. It was as if she had shot herself in the arm.
It was pathetic to see, but Darla understood. She had often been caught in the cycle of transgression and penance, it was the basis of her relation with God. At the bottom of tribulation when you find yourself at the feet of any authority willing to chastise you but offer redemption, your eyes hold a terrible broken hope.
Joan stepped aside, inviting Lavender to the confessional. She looked on with a mix of rage, fear, and pity. Mike’s eye’s widened, how does a pastor's son show grace at a mess such as this? He cleared his throat, winced, cleared it again, looked away, unable to meet Lavender's pleading gaze. His hand clutched the sheet. "Hello, Lavender." His affect was flat, couldn't look her in the eye.
Lavender had the desperation of the starving. She fell to her knees next to the futon. Taking the posture of a penitent before the cloister, she began the ritual. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've shot you. It was reckless and a horrible thing to do."
Darla was nodding along. This was right, this was proper, she almost started mouthing along to what clearly came next. The denouement of supplication. 'I understand my actions are yours to forgive, and I'll do anything to gain it' or words to that effect.
Instead Lavender, lovable scamp that she was, ruined it. "But you have to admit it wasn't totally my fault." Joan stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the horrific absurdity. Darla, for her part covered her mouth in horror.
Mike's jaw dropped. Was this just a cultural clash? A Lebanese perspective on asking for forgiveness running smack into Midwestern Protestant customs of penance? Or was Lavender really that self centered? Darla raced through eventualities trying to find an excusable answer. She came up empty.
Mike began shake. "Get. Out."
Lavender fidgeted with her hands. "No, I mean, I really am sorry, its just you did..."
His tone took a dangerous turn. "My patience is only so thin so help me God."
She held her hands in front of herself pleading a voice bereft of dignity. "Please can we talk about this? I want to have a discussion of this, that's it."
He spoke deliberately, near, but not quite at, the point of yelling. "I. Have. Apologized. To. Darla. And that is all that matters."
Lavender looked at Darla and Joan for help. Joan didn't even bother hiding her smug smile. Darla was a deer in the headlights. She didn't know what to think, how to act. A part of her screamed to come to Lavender's aid, to defend her from accusations of undue narcissism. And yet, she was stopped by a bigger part of her. The part that believed Joan, her only friend that had understood Darla for years, that Lavender was too unstable.
Lavender could apparently see Darla's inner turmoil on her face and grimaced. Looking back at Mike she murmured "Please, I know I fucked up...." She cut herself off girting her teeth. Mike was refusing to even look at her. Darla realized it too late. Having her and Joan here for this intimate exchange, turned a possible moment of growth into a backfiring intervention.
Darla opened her mouth. She needed to deescalate, needed to get them to detente. She was to late.
Lavender climbed to her full height. Her grimace extending into a humorless smile. "You know what? Fuck y'all." She looked around the room at the three of them. "You!" She pointed at Mike. "You fuckin' kidnap my date and pull a gun on me, then act like I'm one hundred percent in the wrong when I shoot you?" She spat. "Fuck off"
Mike looked uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to respond, but Lavender had already wheeled at Joan and was onto the next volley. "And You!" Joan's smirk had dropped, as she exchanged glances with Darla. "You seem to hate me for no fuckin' reason! What have I ever done to you?" Joan backed up against the wall extenuating their height difference, as Lavender strode ever forward in the cramped space. "I can tell yer takin' his side in this!" Her eyes were wild. Darla felt a dampness on her leg and wondered if she had peed herself. "I... I thought we were comrades." Lavender seemed to deflate.
Joan Inched away from Lavender, who just stood there, crumbling. Mike coughed. Darla couldn't help herself. She took a step toward Lavender. Put a hand on her back to comfort her. It was like touching a wild animal. Darla barely had time to process anything before Lavender was in her face. "And why didn't you back me up?" Darla stumbled through half words before Lavender shoved her and made a beeline for the exit. "This was your stupid idea anyway." The door slammed shaking the house.
Joan whistled. "Damn, guess I don't have to talk you into ending things permanently after all." Darla felt the weight of utter failure rest on her back. She started to cry.
"You okay?" Mike asked in his most comforting voice.
"No." She replied through a mess of sobbing.