A Small Crowd of Strangers by Joanna Rose

Author:Joanna Rose [Rose, Joanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Forest Avenue Press
Published: 2020-08-08T16:00:00+00:00

Mrs. Bryn sat in the back seat of the rental car with Claire. One of them had perfume, or hair spray, or something that tasted like rusty metal. Michael steered them under the brick arches of Raritan Valley Acres, out to the curving streets of Edison, orderly and empty, and then the straight, short blocks of Edison where people waited at bus stops and cars waited at stop lights, all the dark way to Christ the King, and the cement steps where they had all stood, Easter Sunday, meet the meerkats, Claire wearing lavender shoes. Now she wore short black boots that zipped partway up the side and disappeared under dark, slim pants. The sky had a sodium orange color on one horizon that Pattianne didn’t think was east.

Michael pulled open the tall wooden doors, all carved with figures, and surely there would be a unicorn in there if she ever had a chance to look, which would not be right now. He held the door for the three of them, Michael Bryn’s three women, and he followed them into the vestibule. The smell was a taste and a memory, all memories, of all churches. Once her parents took them to a brand-new church in Jamesburg, the first Mass. It was a low, modern building of pale brick. The stained-glass windows were geometric patterns of red and pink. The smell was this same old church smell, like it had secretly always been a church, waiting for the building to go up around it.

Michael took his mother’s elbow and went in, then Claire, each of them blessing themselves at the holy water. She dipped her finger into the cold water, and touched her forehead, and her finger was icy cold. She thought, I have lost my mind. She touched the middle button on her coat like she was just touching the middle button on her coat, like she had not lost her mind. Like there was not this burning icy cold spot on her forehead now.

Christ the King was mostly empty, single figures here and there, kneeling, praying, no one looking up at the sound of Claire’s footsteps in her little black boots. A row of old women sat in the very front. There was organ music, somewhere between a roller-skating-rink tune and a Vincent Price movie. The main aisle seemed like it was moving for a second, stretching forward, and she was dizzy for a second, and then she just followed the Bryns up toward the huge crucifix.

Michael pulled the kneeler down perfectly silently, and they all knelt. She was between Michael and Claire, and Claire’s hair was damp, and the smell of rusty metal came closer, like it would burn the skin on her cheek. She shut her eyes, and the sharp edge of the headache was there again, so she opened them.

She didn’t even know any of the words anymore.

She could remember how to say a rosary. Like saying a rosary would help Mr. Bryn. God like a Saturday-night radio DJ, taking requests and dedications.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.