I type back, “Cool.”
She knows me well enough to know that when I reply “Cool” it means the opposite of cool. She knows my mannerisms but she doesn’t know how I’m really feeling. And that’s what makes me think of Nikki as the real reason I’m going to keep doing this. I’ll break up with Becca when this is all over and Nikki and I are together.
Becca types back, “We’re heading out now. Be there soon, like ten minutes.”
“Okay,” I reply.
I lean back in bed, laptop on my stomach, hands in my pockets to keep them sort of warm.
I wait — wait for something to happen.
I look at my phone next to me; the screen’s lit up, people reacting. People are always reacting.
If anyone’s confused by this, just think of how confusing it is for me. I’m full of mixed emotions. I want it gone but I also know that none of the attention would be there if it weren’t for the demon.
I think, “You are the reason I’ll be remembered.”
I expect something to happen, but nothing does.
I stare at the screen, watching the social media feed scroll with the latest from hundreds of people I follow.
Nothing happens.
I start to count each breath I see.
Then there’s the sound of someone messaging me.
I blink, realizing I hadn’t blinked in a good minute. Hands out of the pockets, I lean forward and read the message.
“They are outside.”
I look at the name of the sender but the name is mine. It’s my name.
I don’t know what to say, so I say, “Thanks.”
“The door is open.”
I read the message and then look at the door, wander over and give the doorknob a tap, then a slight jostle.
It’s open.
I look over at the laptop, breathing out a sigh that I see as a little plume, a cloud in front of my face.
When I look back the sender appears as “offline.”
I don’t have time to react though because whatever that was, it was right. They are outside. Jon-Jon’s car parked behind mine, Becca looking up at my bedroom window, waving.
I look at the phone and see a few missed calls.
Oh yeah, it’s on silent.
I switch the ringer back on, notice over two dozen missed calls and more than a handful of text messages. I run downstairs, taking along my laptop and the power cord too, because, well, I’ve learned my lesson.
At the front door, I shove the laptop in my book bag and I leave the house without looking. I don’t get a real chance to think about what happened until I’m sitting in one of the back pews of the church, waiting to be seen.
I put all the pieces together. And then it sort of makes sense, but not really. I was messaging myself?
Was that you?
5
JON-JON TELLS ME THAT THE EXORCISM IS THE REAL payoff. At first I don’t really follow. Sure enough he explains that first there are a series of meetings.
“Only, like, three,” Becca corrects him.
Jon-Jon brushes the comment aside. “Yes, three, but you see, there will be time — plenty of time, in fact — to milk this for some serious money. The payoff will be the exorcism.”
This bothers me. Jon-Jon isn’t a friend. He’s a businessman. He lives well as long as he makes money off others. He sells, sure, but he’s also got the betting thing going on. And I’m becoming, I think, his main prize.
“Why are you here?” I ask him, just because.
Jon-Jon with another one of his questions: “How confused are you, on a scale of one to ten, ten being amnesiac?”
I don’t answer.
Becca doesn’t like Jon-Jon either and tells him to leave the church. “This is a spiritual place, like, take it outside!”
Jon-Jon raises his arms in defeat. “Fair enough. I’ll be in the car.” To me he says, “Big money, think ‘big money.’”
When he’s gone, I ask Becca, “Why did you bring him? Of, you know, everyone you could have asked for a ride, you chose that guy…”
Becca’s embarrassed. She’s staring at her phone, compulsively refreshing her social media feed. “He asked me, okay? And I thought, ‘Emergency,’ so I just said okay instead of looking for someone else.”
I don’t want to even look at my phone. Forget that it’s there.
Everything’s exhausting. Everything’s also very, very good… but I won’t mention that. Not now. Not here.
We wait in the last pew for, like, an hour, but not really, it just felt like that long, before a priest who isn’t Father James introduces himself as Father Albert, greets us and apologizes for the wait.
“Okay,” I say.
Becca leads the way. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice!”
Father Albert sort of bows. “My pleasure, my pleasure.”
On the path to becoming a priest or a deacon or a nun or a monk — spiritual people — I guess you learn how to have a crap-ton of manners. Like, this Father Albert is incredibly nice. Like, too nice. So nice it makes something deep inside me angry. It feels insincere. No way Father Albert is really this glad to see us. I’ve got a demon attached to me; why would he be “delighted to see us”? Wait, did he even say that? Maybe I made it up.
He’s excruciating though.
Look at the way he walks. All pious and calm, like every day lasts forever and there’s nothing more important than seeing and speaking to Becca and me.
Father Albert’s office is really neat and tidy. Of course it’s neat and tidy. Why wouldn’t it be? Look at the guy.
Becca does all the explaining.
Father Albert folds his hands and listens all calm and contently.
He’s really bothering me. I mean, yeah…
Ugh. I just can’t stand it. People like this.
He can’t be serious.
Father Albert apologizes for a second time. “Unfortunately, Father James will be unable to perform the exorcism. Yet I am able to accommodate you and happy to complete the task.”
Becca smiles. “That’s great. I understand.”
Father Albert asks me a series of questions, starting with “How do you feel right at this moment?”
I should be honest, right? I should just say what’s on my mind. Yeah.
Well, here it goes: “I’m kind of annoyed. Annoyed at you, at this whole thing.”
Becca’s like, Hunter, the fuck? But she doesn’t say that; she just looks at me in a way that says something along those lines.
Father Albert nods. He’s so understanding.
I say, “And see, that makes me even more annoyed.”
Father Albert says, “That’s fine. Next question I want to ask: Has the unclean spirit contacted you directly?”
Unclean spirit? I think about this one… but then I go with: “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve heard things. Whispers. My name, maybe.”
“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm — this is quite normal.”
But then I remember the messages. I kind of stop myself, second-guessing it, but then — why the hell not? — I tell him. I tell him about the messages.
“That does sound like direct contact.” Father Albert starts writing in a Moleskine journal.
Becca looks freaked out. “What does that mean? Like, what does it mean for us, I mean Hunter, if the demon’s contacted him, like, directly?”
Father Albert takes her question like target practice. “It implies that the unclean spirit — we prefer not to label them ‘demons’—is increasing in presence.”
“Like, getting more powerful?” Becca says, all confused.
Father Albert nods, not even looking at us while he writes in that stupid journal. “That is correct. The unclean spirit will begin breaking down Hunter.”
I’m already broken down, what else can happen?
Becca, she doesn’t have to try so hard. Her face is flush red and she’s biting her nails, “Oh no, oh no. That means… what does that mean?”