Chapter 36-2
Behind Enemy Lines
Part 3
Today is a big day, as I once more got ready to meet my doom, sitting in my boxers with the rest of the boys at the kitchen table. Mom would have it no other way, considering she wanted us and our church clothes clean, pressed, and tidy. Even in the winter, with ten inches of snow, we could only dress if we needed to shovel the snow to clear the driveway. Mom and Dad firmly believed that we should not do any work unless it was absolutely necessary. The only permitted chores were meals and snow removal.
They committed everything else during the day to God. No TV, no sports of any kind unless, of course, if it was the super-bowl or the playoffs in Basketball and Baseball. We seldom missed a game on Sunday until Dad bought a VCR to record the games which Mom highly approved of. If I had a choice, I would miss them altogether, but Dad would never allow that to happen.
Fast Sunday differs from other Sundays. Where we sit and listen to people get up from the audience and go up to the podium bare their testimony; basically repeating over and over what others said. Like what they believe in or are thankful for, talking about blessing they had received recently or lesson they had learned. Plus, skip one meal or two if they can. The meal we'd be skipping today was lunch and the money it cost to prepare it would go towards fast offerings to help the ward with families that needed it.
Tithing which differs from fast offerings which comprised taking 10% of a person's total earnings each month and giving it to the church to use how they see fit like; paying maintenance of the building, and building new temples, funding church functions or if there is great need in the ward like funding missionaries out in the field, but not limited too. Some say it is fire insurance against going to hell, being it required by God. I believe all churches practice this in one form or another because Malachi 3:10 in the Bible states it. (I will refrain from quoting scripture.)
Like I said it was a big day and it would be the start of something terrifying lurking deep within the Rothwells home. All because of me and Jeff, or if you would like God. For God sees everything, including the hearts of men and women, I have been told. But once again Jeff wasn't there with me. I could sense, but still I felt I needed him as I sat waiting in the hallway in front of the Bishop's office with Dad and Mom on either side of me. Mom checking to see if I had a fever every so often, in which I did; a small one and it was getting worse as she frowned saying, "Robert, I am not sure if this was such a good idea; he still burning up."
I hated the fact my Dad's first name was Robert, for every time she said it would remind me of the Downings and my brother Robert who I missed terribly. The fact this quick to anger giant had his name appalled me and disgusted me to no end, but it was what it was. I needed to get beyond it soon as I grimace trying to stretch my back feeling hot in this sweater vest. To hide the blood underneath my clothing as it soaked through the cloth bandages. That it made me want to do was strip down right there and take them off my back as the tape lifted off my skin, causing it to a tickling itch.
Don't think I thought about it, but it would be terrible to do so here in the hallway. Even worse, in the church house on Sunday unless you were a baby in swaddling clothes. While I watched from my chair; people getting ready to go inside the chapel. Dad whispered for me to sit still not understanding my predicament.
The door opened finally letting the last visitors to leave. Mom, Dad and I stood up to shake his hand and were about to join me inside, but the Bishop stopped him at the door saying. "Mr. Rothwell, we have agreed that Eric would visit me alone and I would walk him back personally so he wouldn't get lost along the way;" closing the door in his face. We took our seats, me feeling very uncomfortable, knowing the Bishop had guaranteed me a beating when I got home; and very long talk in regards to what we discussed in here.
I had been told that what everyone says in here is in complete confidence that would stay between the Bishop and God and nobody else. Yet I had a feeling that Dad or Mom had no such intentions when came to anything about my personal life. Nothing is private or will ever will be private when concerns them or me.
The Bishop smiled like he was the cat with all the cream as he steeples his fingers together. Starting off how I was feeling? Or how I was adjusting to my new home and parents. I would give vague answers not trusting no more than I had to. To me, the trust had to be earned. I had learned that not all Bishops can keep what you say in complete confidence. I told things were difficult, losing the only home I knew that loved me. And being betrayed both by the United States Government, Family Court and Social Services and by my own parents. Didn't make my life or my grief any better. So we talked about it in great detail. I didn't lie until we came back around to the Rothwells and what really happened to my back. We both knew it wasn't a skateboarding accident as to how bad it was. I would have had to be dragged by a car for at least a mile, not a bicycle, to get these kinds of wounds.
For a brief moment, I sat there trying to debate to tell him the truth or a lie until I could trust him. Jeff wasn't around to help me decide. Instead, I was completely alone. "I really couldn't answer that," I simply said, suggesting that it would be better if we didn't talk about it, but to believe it was the way it happened. I knew he wasn't happy with my answer, but I would not lie, and I would not tell him the truth either about what actually happened. If the Bishop truly desired to know and had a connection to the spirit world, I assumed that Jeff or someone similar would inform him. He sat there stumped, pondering. Then asked questions about Arthur and the other kid named James that was no longer with the Rothwells.
Again, I was vaguely saying. "I seldom see Arthur except during mealtimes or doing chores. That he pretty much stays in his room in the basement. It was the first time I have heard about the kid's name, James. But I would keep my ear to the ground if I find out anything." Then we talked about Arthur never taking part in priesthood duties or scouting, mutual or other church function with other boys.
I said. "It was between the Rothwells and him. If he wanted to know more to ask Mr. Rothwell why he won't let Arthur take part and I was no squealer, but if I had a reason, it would be that they feel Arthur was mentally incapable." Bishop stating that I am not, and he would force their hand. I asked him not to grimace, as I knew the beating I would get. He must have seen the terror in my eyes as he sat there, judging me as he sized me up. Asking me to explain the reasons why I said for him to pray and ask God and seek his answer that doesn't involve me of getting in trouble. I knew I was being rude and vague. But I wanted to live to see my next birthday.
The clock was ticking away as I waited for my doom outside that door. I knew if we sat here any longer Dad was going to break down that door and beat the living hell out of me. So I said politely. "That I believe that I have answered enough questions for today and didn't want to take any more of his time as I was feeling a little feverish due the fever hasn't quite left me and I didn't want Shane to take me home to cool off in the shower and come back." Saying. "It would ruin our whole day if I and Shane had to come back soaking wet so we wouldn't miss priesthood getting us both in trouble."
He laughed, saying. "In that case, let's all means avoid that," asking if I was well enough to pass the sacrament with the other boys. I didn't answer right away nodding that I could and that exercise would be good for me and I wanted to make some new friends while I was here. Saying it would be short-lived always like Arthur to have a chaperon so I would attend class with Shane until future notice.
Not saying that I was already going to get a beating that I might as well make it count and perhaps Mom and Dad would begin to trust me. The idea that I was still planning to runaway seemed like I was going to break their hearts, but I needed proof, and to get that proof I needed them to trust me. I grimace, wanting to rip this sweater vest off and the shirt beneath it so I could rip the freaking bandages off and hopefully stop sweating, which was mostly because of the fever that was already spiking. Noting that it is 95 to 100 degrees outside and would be for quite sometime, stupid people would wear a sweater with those temperatures. Well, maybe not when I think about my parents.
He asked, and I said. "They don't trust me or him to run off." Not giving reasons except to smile and say. "I am a master at running away." He laughed, telling me he had no doubts about that. If I really wanted to, wild horses couldn't stop me. But he suggested before I do to see him first. I nodded I would and begged him not to say anything. He agreed, for now at least to earn my trust. Said my friend Jeff says that he had some errands to run and for him to keep a close eye on me.
That being one of God's messengers, he had to listen or God himself would strike him down if anything happened to me. Again stating, me and Jeff are really good about being vague, and he is sure there is a good reason behind it. Understanding why I wouldn't trust him because of so many disappointments said. "We'll work on that," standing, walking me back as agreed, but stopping to chat telling someone as he said. "This young man will be assigned to you every Sunday and to invite his foster brother Shane to join them in Sunday school and priesthood." Watching the man adding me and Shane to the list. He then walked me down to the chapel, seeing Dad stand and waiting, showing for me to sit in my place.
I started to, but the Bishop carefully put his arm around my shoulders, telling them he would like me to pass the sacrament with the other boys my age, inviting Arthur as well. Dad said he would think about it, but for now the answer was no, once again inviting me to sit in my spot. The Bishop once again saying that he was insisting unless he has a good reason to keep me from performing in my duties. I knew I was going to get a beating, so I nodded I would rather sit with Dad. But the Bishop was a stubborn man asking if Mr. Rothwell would like to discuss this in a more private manner after sacrament meeting.
Dad's face turned quick to anger than quickly controlled himself, stating it wasn't necessary. Telling me to behave or there would be consequences afterward. Mom, feeling my flushed cheeks and forehead, asked if I felt up to it. Seeing I was indeed feverish. I nodded. "If it got any worse, I would have Shane bring me home after sacrament meeting." Mom was good at playing the protective, caring mother. Asking the Bishop if he wouldn't mind if she could attend to my wounds on my back in his office, he agreed Mom told Dad to sit here with the rest of the family.
It was just what I needed Mom to beat me and in the Bishop's office in all places. But it was what it was. Bishop kindly walked us back to his office with me and Mom in tow and opened the door. Mom said it would only take a second, but the Bishop instead, saying he had already seen my back and he had two boys of his own. Mom nodded and helped me off with my sweater vest and unbuttoned my shirt and helped me take it off, sighing seeing some of the blood leaked through, but it wasn't too bad. Considering I was wearing a red stripe shirt.
She quickly cleaned it with wet wipes and some alcohol, which stung as I groaned in pain because she wasn't being all that careful. She was doing it in a hurry, and I could tell she was angry and taking it out on me.
Saying coldly sorry, and helped me redress, whispering. "If anyone asks?" As she was pretending to kiss my cheek.
Me saying. "I promise Mom I won't say anything, and I will behave." Taking the sweater vest and folding it over her arm; letting the Bishop walk me to the other boys as the prelude music started. He introduced me to them, teaming me up with another boy named Ron, who would later become my best friend and would make sure I got to class ok.
Ron was the same age as me fourteen and a half. Red hair and green eyes with lots of freckles on his cheeks and strong-boned chin; he stood four feet six, about my height with broader shoulders than mine, with braces against his teeth like most boys his age or younger. I had my turn when I was ten and had them for a year and a half thanks to the Fry's. I was never sure if it was genetic, and most boys had them or were it because of my father always beat me that caused me to lose my baby teeth faster. That tooth fairy had to charge interest, so she had something to live on.
Shawn growled "mule boy" seating in the back of me; giving me a hateful red glare as he does his best to discredit me telling everyone I had no business or right to sit here with them. That I should be with sitting with that retard Arthur. I did my best to ignore him when he said he would make me pay if I dared so much to step out of line. Shane's mouth gasped at seeing me sitting there with the other boys. Something in his eyes saying he approved and nodding that we were going to talk. Providing I lived long enough to do so. He watched as I wiped the sweat with the back of my sleeve, mouthing if I was ok. I nodded, indicating I was. Even though I still felt hot and very feverish without the vest, but it was better and my back didn't itch as much.
Ron explained we were to give the Bishop the sacrament and the path or section we would do, and me being the new boy he would give me that honor. Saying if the Bishop found me worthy, he would partake. If not, it was a sign to the rest of us. I shouldn't be here. But considering he placed me personally that it won't be a problem. Smiling with his braces. That seemed uncomfortable. Saying he had just started warring with them. I told him I knew how they felt, that it does get easier over time.
Even though Shawn did his best to trip me when we broke off from the rest as they headed towards their assigned sections. I followed Ron and did my duty, giving the Bishop the opportunity to say yea or nay. He just smiled at me, indicating that I was doing fine. For me, it was like riding a bike as my memories rushed together. I was once more living with the Frys passing the sacrament and Jeff was a priest, but it was Shane taking his place as he nodded. I was doing fine; and then scowled at Shawn for almost making me drop the tray as I hand it to him.
If Shane and I didn't have a firm grip on the tray, we would have spilled it across the table. Embarrassing me right there in public. Something in Shane's eyes said Shawn, and he was going to have a long brotherly talk.
After it was done, and everyone partook of the sacrament. I followed Shane back as he put his arm around me, brushing my cheek whispering to Mom as I took a seat in my place next them telling her I was burning up again. Mom smiled, asking if I needed to go home. I said no, shaking my head as she leaned my head towards her shoulder, saying to everyone else, she was a loving mother, and I was her son. But I knew as she scolded me in my ear that Dad and she were not pleased. Feeling my head frowning at Dad, his eye giving me a hateful glare then it was gone, the wolf once again turning into the sheep.
I knew I was in trouble; I knew I was about to die, and it was the Bishops' fault. I could see him staring down at me as the tears slowly fell down my cheeks. He knew I was terrified; as I sat there with my head against Mom as she stroked my hair, loving me and pulling hard every once in a while, as she released the anger inside of her. She knew I was crying as my body shuttered against her, but I didn't make a peep. Instead, I closed my eyes to the world. I didn't have to write today, just pay attention. It was fast Sunday, and I was about to die.
The Bishop stood as my eyes opened; they seemed warm and caring as he looked down upon me. He smiled, and I hated him for getting Dad and Mom angry at me. I knew it was his fault that they were going to beat me. While my eyes closed, I allowed another tear to escape, desperately attempting to connect with Jeff, yet there was no response. In my solitude, I was completely and utterly alone.