Strawberries

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Book excerpt

Prologue

The boiling oil from the deep fried turkey spit like a geyser drenching the concrete slab beneath. Despite her uncle declaring his fluency in this kind of cooking, it was clear to Elizabeth that he had no idea what he was doing. The remainder of the family, who had gathered to watch the turkey being dipped, moved back, away from the grease and flame. Some of the cardboard that her uncle had fashioned into a makeshift grease screen was now on fire. Elizabeth’s Aunt Gloria dumped a glass of ice water onto the cardboard before Uncle Bob could stop her, causing small, feathery flames to cascade downward to the lawn.

In the end, only a bit of grass and a couple of egos were scorched. Miraculously, the turkey survived, and to Elizabeth’s delight, was perfectly edible. The turkey would be the highlight of her Thanksgiving dinner with the family. The rest would be a hell that she knew all too well, and too often.

Her family was tried and true, God fearing, southern Catholics. She too was raised in the faith, but abandoned the idea around the age of thirteen. She had always had more questions about the world in general than the rest of her family, and when the church could not answer her questions, she began to look elsewhere for the answers. She had decided that organized religion was just a brick wall that kept other knowledge out. She continued to go to church for a couple of years for appearances, but at seventeen, Elizabeth declared to her parents and brother that she would not be attending church on Sundays anymore. She had a different outlook than they did, and she hoped that they could respect that.

They could not.

The months after her declaration were filled with attempts to change her mind. Religious books were left on her bed. Dinner conversation was less focused on the day’s tribulations as it was on the glory of the Almighty. Father Duncan, from her former parish, made several house calls under the guise of dinner invitations, though his focus had been perpetually on her. He soon began to come over every day to speak with her, and during the summer he would come at odd times; like when her parents weren’t home. On one occasion, the last as it turned out, he put his hand on her thigh. When Elizabeth removed it and crossed her legs away from him, he put his arm around her, pulled her close, and then moved his hand lower on her back than any Godly man should. She swung away from him and slapped him with as much force as she could muster, and then she started laughing. She laughed so hard that tears streamed down her face, and nasty snot bubbles began to burst from her nostrils. Here was this holy man who was supposed to save her and shepherd her back to the fold, and all he really wanted was to get his jollies like any other guy.

“Get the fuck out,” she calmly stated as she opened the door to her room.

Though he continued his service to the local parish, Father Duncan never made any further attempt to convert Elizabeth.

Soon after, she got a horrible job at a dingy dining establishment aptly called The Shack. She hated it there, but she saved every penny she made, and in just two months she was moving out of her parents’ house and into the world alone.

A woman free from religious tyranny! That was what she called herself. 

It took several years to realize that her hatred for religion was not what she needed either. She eventually understood that neither blind faith, nor complete rejection held much value. She simply had to be herself, and that thought brought a peace with it that she still had to this day.

The struggle came when Elizabeth returned home. She didn’t come back often, but she made it a point to come home and see the family on holidays. She still cherished the notion of families, and that romantic thought kept her coming back. She had married a wonderful man, Tony, and with him, she had a beautiful daughter named Emily. They didn’t come with her this Thanksgiving. Tony had long since given up on her family. He had never discovered the peace that Elizabeth had found. However, her daughter was a different story. Elizabeth didn’t want Emily to be there. Peace or not, she didn’t want any of that Christian hate mongering goo to dribble over her poor daughter. 

So this Thanksgiving, Elizabeth was alone, surrounded by the people she loved for the sake of loving, and whom she knew might not actually love her back. As she sat at the dinner table, fork in hand and napkin in lap, she glanced around at them. They were like pigs at the trough, stuffing their faces. All except her grandmother who was looking back at Elizabeth, her eyes filled with contempt. Elizabeth believed that she could actually feel the beams of hate shooting into her as their eyes met. Her grandmother looked as though she was about to speak, but Elizabeth's Uncle Mike interrupted their ocular exchange with the same comment that he made every time he saw her. “So Lizzy, we haven't seen you in church in a while.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn't it,” Elizabeth said. This was her standard response, every time, to try to avoid the conversation. She was always avoiding something when it came to her family. She knew Mike would push the matter though, and she was prepared to quietly swallow her anger just as she always had.

“Lizzy you know that we just worry about you. We all do. We simply want to make certain that you’re okay, but we never hear from you.”

“I know, Mike. I've just been busy with work is all. And with Emily and the addition to the house, it seems like I just don't have any time at all these days.” She hoped that would be enough to halt the inquisition, but then she noticed her grandmother. Elizabeth got the idea that those eyes had not left her for a moment. That angered Elizabeth. She could feel fiery words boiling up from the pit of her stomach, threatening to escape from deep down where she had banished them. As Mike pushed on the subject again, those words erupted, flowing like lava over everyone at the table.

“Look, Mike, just stop it okay! You haven't seen me in church in a while because you haven't seen me there since I was a kid. I don't go to church because I don't believe in it. I don't believe in the institution, and I certainly don't believe in God! Now, can you and everyone else please just drop it so we can have this meal and act like a family for once?”

Elizabeth heard the sound of silverware collectively dropped onto the fine china used only for these holiday meals. Most of her family had their heads bowed, eyes on their food, as if they were awaiting some sort of punishment for their sins.

Then, her grandmother finally spoke; her raspy voice, the penalty for a lifetime of cigarette smoke. “Our family goes to church. Our family respects the Holy Father and sings his praise every Sunday. We pray before dinner. We don't just bow our head and say nothing, hoping that no one will notice. Our family loves the Lord, and anyone who doesn't isn't part of our family.”

That was it. Elizabeth was not a part of the family as far as her grandmother was concerned. The rest of the family now had their eyes fixed on her. Every one of them was silent. Not one made the slightest inclination that they were going to disagree with her grandmother.

Elizabeth backed her chair away from the table and put her napkin down on her plate. That small bit of movement seemed to awaken the family. They murmured and sputtered anger at her, as if they were enraged at having been raised from an ancient slumber. Their words grew in magnitude. Obscenities were flung with fervor. Each hit her hard, and each scarred her. She realized that as much as she had been holding her feelings in, so had her family, and now the floodgates had opened.

Elizabeth moved away from the table and into the front room. Tears moistened her cheeks, but her family didn’t stop. They pursued her as she moved out of the room, and it reminded her of the zombie films that her husband often watched. Yet, these were not the walking dead. This was her family attacking her. Not with violence, but with words. As she tried to drown out the shouting voices, she thought that she would rather be physically beaten than endure this. She had to do something. She had to retaliate or be overwhelmed. “There is no God,” she said timidly, “and if there was, do you really believe that this is the way he would want all of you to act?”

Her grandmother pushed through the rest and stood directly in front of her. It was impossible to tell how small a woman she was while she was sitting down, but now that she stood among the others, her stature was evident. She was a full foot shorter than Elizabeth--and Elizabeth was not a tall woman--but the small frame of her grandmother did nothing to diminish her presence, and right now she seemed deadly. She looked at Elizabeth one last time, and then slapped her face hard. She had to reach up to do it, but it was more powerful than would have seemed possible from such a frail human being.

Elizabeth's face was forced to the side, and as her cheek began to turn red, her skin felt as if on fire.

“Get out,” her grandmother said with a certain calm. “You are no longer welcome in this house.”

Elizabeth backed toward the door. She looked at her family, who had finally stopped shouting at her, and they seemed like strangers. As she grabbed her coat off the rack, several others fell to the floor. She didn’t bother to pick them up. As she opened the door and stepped out, she looked back one last time. No one had moved. They were not hers any longer. She shut the door behind her and walked to the car.

The drive home was short, but due to Thanksgiving traffic, it was longer than usual. The motion of the car calmed Elizabeth and her mind and body went numb. By the time she pulled into the driveway of her home, she had nearly forgotten her sadness.

Wasn't that funny?

She took a moment to check her face in the rearview mirror. There was no sense in appearing distraught in front of her family; it would only worry them. When she got out of the car, she caught a glimpse of the small shed that her husband had built in the backyard. Tony had said he needed it as a place to get away and do man stuff, but it had turned into a place where they all spent a lot of time. Tony would often tinker with a carpentry project while she and Emily would watch and play. She knew that he and Emily were there now, as Tony never left the light on if he was not working. Instead of going into the house, she headed straight to the shed. She needed to be with her real family as soon as possible.

As Elizabeth walked in, she met her husband's gaze and smiled. He was hammering on something and smiled back at her. He made as if to stop, but Elizabeth gave him a gesture that said, “No you keep working.” 

Emily was just to the right, playing with a plastic workbench that they had gotten her for Christmas last year. She was mimicking everything her daddy was doing, and barely noticed her mother enter.

Elizabeth went to the back of the shed and pulled herself up onto one of the counter tops. She had spent many nights on that counter just watching her husband work and her daughter play, and this night would be the same. This is where she was calm. Everything that had happened just an hour earlier drifted away on the currents of her mind, and she smiled. This was her family, and that was all she needed.

‒‒ • ‒‒

Emily hammered when her daddy hammered. She sawed when her daddy sawed. She couldn’t quite figure out why her things didn’t match her daddy's things, but she played on. Her father looked back at her and smiled. He always smiled at her, and she liked that. Her mommy had come in a few minutes ago, but she didn’t look like she wanted to play, so Emily just kept building what her father built.

Soon, however, she began to tire of building, and wanted to go outside to play on her swing set. She glanced at her daddy and then at her mommy; both were busy, so she turned to the door of the shed to go swing by herself.

What she saw made her jump. 

The door was open and a man was crouched down just outside the doorway. Both of her parents were looking at other things and didn’t see him. He looked at her and smiled. It was a big smile. The teeth in his mouth were very white and almost sparkled. Emily smiled back, and the man bent his finger in a motion telling her to come over. She hesitated, but then her daddy turned on that loud saw and it made her jump again. She didn't like the sound of that saw. Her mommy was reading a magazine and paying her no attention. The man outside was still smiling and looked like he might want to play, so she walked over to him.

He looked like a clown with no makeup and that made her giggle. His head was all bumpy, and he didn’t have any hair. He smiled and chuckled with her. She turned towards her daddy again to show him this funny man, but he was still using his saw--and it was so loud. Emily put her hands to her ears, but the clown man took her hands in his instead and made her lower them down to her sides. He pulled her gently toward him, and now she was standing just outside the shed door. The sound of the saw was not nearly as loud now. 

He poked her nose lightly with his finger. “Boop,” he said, and Emily giggled again.

As he smiled his big smile, he grabbed the bottom of her dress, bunching it up in his fist and pulling her even closer. She didn’t like that, and she tried to pull away, but the clown man held her firm. She looked down at the wrinkles he was making in her pretty yellow dress, and when she looked back up at him, he didn't look funny anymore. He was still smiling, but now his smile scared her. She called to her daddy, but he couldn’t hear her over the sound of his saw. 

Then the clown man took a plastic cup out of his pocket and put it over his mouth. Emily forgot about her dress for a moment because she couldn’t figure out why he was doing that. The clown man made noises into the cup that sounded scary.

“Do you know why I sound like this?” the man asked in his creepy cup voice. “It's because I have a cup over my mouth.”

Then the man laughed into the cup. It sounded like thunder and frightened Emily. She tried to pull away again, but the clown man held her in place. She couldn’t move at all.

“Do you know why you are so scared?” the clown man asked with a grin. “It's because I am as strong as strawberries.”