Wicked Hungry

“Same difference,” Josh says.

It’s hard to argue with a six year old. I mean, you can do it, but you can’t win.

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re right.”

“I mean, I would never eat Max,” he says.

“Me, neither,” I say.

“You promise?” he asks me.

“Come on, Josh, seriously?”

“Promise me you wouldn’t eat him,” he asks me. “Or let anyone else hurt him. No wait, pinky promise me.”

“Pinky promise?” I ask. “That’s kind of serious, don’t you think?”

He looks at me, his eyes wide. I want to laugh; he’s so cute with his missing front tooth. But I know if I do that right now he’ll take it the wrong way. So I hold out my pinky instead.

We pinky promise as my mother parks our Prius in the church parking lot.

I look around for Karen, but she’s nowhere to be found. Which I guess is no big surprise, considering the sun is coming down strong. Plus, I figure she’s not keen on running into Zach right now, either.

Inside, my mother is the first to speak.

She starts out strong and clear, talking about health, the environment. Ethics. Factory farms. Baby cows that never see the light of day, chickens that can’t move in their pens. But then she gets personal.

She starts talking about my family. Stuff I’ve never heard, let alone talked to people about. About my grandfather, and how he ate beef five days a week and had heart disease. And my grandmother and her omelets. And how after my mother joined the church and the coven she made a pact with Diana, with the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the hunt, that she would take none of her animals, and she would protect them, if Diana would protect her family. How her children would never eat meat, honoring this sacred pact.

Oh dear Goddess, not only am I letting down my brother and my mother, I’ve also defiled some pagan pact she’s made with the moon deity.

It all sounds ridiculous, but what if she’s right?

What if I’ve made all the wrong decisions and she doesn’t know?

My face goes hot. I just want to get out of there, now, but I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don’t even have to turn to know who it is, because he’s talking in my ear.

“You need anything, Stanley?”

And I just nod. My little brother is sitting next to me, squeezing my hand, and I don’t want him to know.

“I’ll slip you a bottle at coffee hour,” Zach whispers in my ear. “But you’re going to owe me a favor. Will you be able to follow my instructions, when the time is right?”

I nod, although I wish I knew what I was agreeing to. But hey, what’s a favor? I mean, he’s helping me out, right? And right now I am seriously strapped for cash.

He’s silent for a moment, then touches my shoulder again.

“Good. Now listen to your mother. I never would have figured Diana had anything to do with it, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Like I always say, your body is your temple. I sure hope you’re not polluting it.”

Josh is looking up at me, trying to figure out what Zach is whispering in my ear.

But Zach? He’s already standing up, walking down the aisle. People look at him; my mother looks at him. Even my brother Josh stares at him.

Am I surprised? He’s always been the one with the crazy charisma. The power of persuasion. The manipulative charm that he can turn on at will. And now, standing at the podium, he’s turned it on. Everyone is listening, everyone is staring, and he hasn’t even started talking yet.

I sigh out loud, and my brother reaches out a hand to quiet me. My mother gives me a disapproving look.

And Zach? He starts to talk. For my mother, for my brother, for the whole congregation, it’s like I’ve suddenly become invisible. Zach is the son, the brother, the congregation member they’ve always wanted.