Burning Crosses - Part 11 - Baptism

When I stepped into the foyer, I found Jack still standing in the middle of the hall, his gigantic fists resting upon his hips and his head thrust forward so that the muscles strained. I kept a trembling hand resting upon the doorknob. He reminded me somewhat of myself when I was angry or disgusted. Mom had once taken a picture of me when I'd been in one of my snits and I looked almost exactly like my father did now. I would have laughed right now, had the circumstances been different, but I merely froze.

"Yer done saying yer good-byes?" he asked, his voice straining as if he was trying to control anger.

"Yes." I forced my lips into a smile, trying to cover up my intense fear of the man. Remember those acting classes, I told myself again. Remember how to cover up your stage-fright. Pretend the entire audience is naked. To think of Jack naked was enough to make me want to puke.

He dropped his arms at his sides and took a step toward me. "So…ya hadn't been to church at all, have ya? Except to git baptized, is that right?" he pursued as I flung the door shut.

I licked my lips. "I went once when I was eight for my cousin's christening, but other than that, I haven't gone save for my own baptism. My stepfather just didn't see any reason in us going, as he thought church was nothing more than a scandalous thing nowadays and-"

Jack held up his hand, indicating complete silence from me. He drifted even closer to me until I could smell the sharp scent of whiskey and expensive cologne on him. I backed against the door until I could feel the doorknob digging into my butt. He stared deep into my eyes. I didn't dare shift my gaze elsewhere.

"I know what we have to do now," he mused out loud, stroking his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"What's that?"

"I think yer gonna serve penance th'next few days. Yer gonna be saying prayers, spending yer time in prayer, and I'm gonna baptize ya again. Make sure th'sins are washed from yer body. Tonight."

"I'm getting baptized tonight?" I choked out, imagining him dripping holy water over my head as I leaned over a chilly basin.

"Yes, tonight. No better time than now to cleanse ya of yer sins. I wanna make sure yer a holy, pious young man; ain't no way I'm gonna have a sinner live under this roof!" His teeth flashed light into my face.

Kelly Sue stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "Did ya wanna git some apple pie, yet, fer dessert?" she asked, smiling benevolently at me. She shook her pale blond hair over her shoulder.

Jack spun around on her. "Heck, no! Not yet, anyway. I'm gonna baptize this boy right now and make sure he's cleansed of his sins, just so he doesn't turn out like his mama, or that nasty john she brought over here! And, most of all, I don't want him to be like other people in this house…" His gaze slid into the living room, where I heard someone switch on the television to Highway Patrol.

Kelly Sue's lips whitened. "That kin wait, Jacob. Rune is a good boy, a polite young man, and that kin wait till he's settled in this house."

"No, it kin't wait! I'm gonna make sure he's baptized tonight, before we even think 'bout dinner! There's no telling what boys like him might do behind our backs!"

"Oh, and what do you think I would do behind your back? Drink, steal, lay with girls?" I snarled. Jack opened his mouth, but I continued, "Don't go judging me before you even get to know me, old man."

His face blanched. "See what I mean?" he snapped at Kelly Sue. "He talks back to me already and we ain't even got to know each other yet! He's not gonna wait till he gits settled in – he's gitting baptized right now!" He took me by the wrist. "Come on, Clayton, let's git ya glorified in the eyes of th'Lord."

"Let go." I jerked my hand free of his. "Look, I'm not evil and you don't need to worry about me," I said, hoping I could talk him out of this. I didn't know how he planned on baptizing me, exactly, but I had a gut feeling it would be enough to make me want to die.

Jack clasped his hands together in front of him, as if he were about to pray. "Clayton," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "Clayton, I need ya to cooperate with me, here. Understand that what I'm doing is really only fer yer own good and that I only want what's best fer ya. So let me do this my way and yer gonna see that what I want is only fer ya to be a good human being. What ya say?"

My shoulders sagged. "I guess so," I said submissively, keeping my eyes on my stepmother, who was looking wary-eyed at her husband. Her hands wrung the towel. Perhaps he only wanted what was best for me, for me to be a good, gracious person, to be accepted beyond the gates of heaven.

"Good." He smiled, baring his straight, white teeth. "Go on to th'bathroom and I'll git things ready fer yer baptism." He gave me a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom.

"Jack, wait," Kelly Sue protested. I turned my head over my shoulder just in time to see her grip Jack's forearm. He shook her off.

"Leave me alone, woman, and let me do what I gotta. I ain't gonna have some Yankee sinner living under my roof! Not now, not ever! So leave me alone!" He shoved her away from him and strode on down the hall behind me. "Go on, Clayton! Git in that bathroom!"

I caught a quick glimpse of Ben in the living room, perched at the edge of the plushy white sofa. His eyes were wide as he watched me stumble toward the bathroom, almost as if he sensed something was going on. Jack's fingers pressed against my backbone, prodding me forth as if I were no more than a cow going on to be slaughtered. This place reminded me of a big factory, where people would be transformed into loving and gracious Christians as soon as they entered. They had to fit the cookie-cutter mold or be forced to keep Satan company. A blazing sign read: No Individuality! Conform, conform, conform! Obey, obey, obey!

Jack slammed the door shut behind us and twisted the lock. I drifted dreamlike into the all-white bathroom with the thick carpeting so soft it felt like I was walking on clouds. The countertops were a glistening, pearly white with a matching sink underneath a massive, gold-rimmed mirror. A toothbrush holder hanging next to the mirror held four toothbrushes. A matching cup and soap container rested on the counter underneath. And hanging on the towel rack were white towels with a gold S monogrammed in the corner.

The walls were covered with wallpaper decorated with tropical, sunny fish. A matching shower curtain was hanging from a metal rod above the old-fashioned, claw-foot bathtub. But at least there was a shower spigot, so I wouldn't have to worry about being subjected only to baths, though showers were beginning to become just as terrifying. I dreaded even the mere thought of rain.

Jack stripped his sports jacket off and unbuttoned the sleeves of his button-down shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows wordlessly. I sat down upon the puffy, white toilet seat and waited for him to get ready for this baptism. He nodded at me. "Yer gonna wanna take off everything but yer underwear," he suggested. He bent down next to the bathtub and ran the water.

"Yes, this should git ya on th'right path. And, until ya've gained enough understanding of th'Bible, yer not gonna be doing too much labor on th'farm. We just wanna make sure yer a good, Christian man like myself, yer sister, and yer stepma," he spoke lightly, as if this might appease the fact that I was trembling inside.

"What about Ben?" I bent down to untie one of my large, size 13 shoes.

"Ben's a sinner and I've already lost faith in that boy. There ain't anything I kin do to fix him, nothing at all, though I tried." His voice turned dark. "He's doomed as far as I'm concerned. Deflowers girls left and right, seduces others, hangs around that dreadful Madame Stella's in town."

"Is that a house of loose woemn?" I asked as I yanked off my thin, black stockings.

"Durn right it is! Ya better not even think of entering that horrendous place!" He pointed at me with a thick forefinger.

I shook my head, laughing. "If that's true, it's hilarious!"

"No, it ain’t, young man," my father scolded, sticking the plug in the bathtub drain. "Second of all, don't go thinking yer too old to be cleaned out. Iffin ya set foot in that place, I'm gonna clean ya out good, so don't even try going there!"

I mashed my lips together and stood up to strip off my blazer. Jack rose and stood to his full height, examining me as I stripped off my clothing. He watched without comment as my long fingers flew down the front of my shirt, undoing all the pearl buttons. That's when I caught a glimpse of the bathtub.

Frail steam floated up from the bathwater. My mouth fell slack and, tentatively, I bent down to stick my fingers in the water. Immediately, I jerked my hand back – the water was hot! "My God, that water is hot!" I screeched. "Are you going to add cooler water to that?" I glared at my father.

"Don't ya understand my meaning behind this, Clayton?" He laid his heavy hands upon my shoulders. "It has to be hot so th'sin is burned outta ya. I ain't gonna let ya be a sinner and if this is th'way it's gotta be done, then so be it. So strip down so we kin git this over with."

I jammed my feet back into my shoes without even pulling on my socks. I pulled my button-down shirt tight over my thin undershirt. "No, I'm not going to be baptized in scalding water. Either you drain that thing or I'm going to leave tonight," I threatened, tightening my lips a thin slash. Not even the wrath of God was going to get me into that piping hot water! Somehow, I had to get out of here, get back to Mom, and beg her to reconsider this jaunt to L.A. I should talk her out of it and convince her that Boston is a much better place.

Jack's steely fingers dug into my upper arm, pinching the flesh until I winced. "Listen here, Clayton, yer gonna do exactly as I say and no, yer not gonna leave tonight." He thrust his thin face close to mine, the reek of whiskey wafting from his breath and making my stomach churn. I clenched my teeth and turned my face away, disgusted. He shoved me away from him; I fell against the wall by the window. There was something I saw in his eyes. A mixture of pure rage, hatred, and distrust all brewing within the tiny irises of his narrow eyes. Oddly enough, that terrified me more than the prospect of being plunged into burning water.

"Well…are ya gonna do as I say?" He rested his big fists against his narrow hips.

I glanced again at the bathtub, the sound of the water rushing from the faucet growing deafening in my ears. The water was growing deeper, deeper – surely I would drown when that jerk dunked me under the water? In his quest to turn me into another empty-eyed child of God, would he accidentally drown me? "Could you stop running the water? Drain it a bit?" I pleaded.

"Why?" he demanded, his face twisting into pure disgust.

"It's too deep for me." I swallowed the golf-ball sized lump that had risen in the back of my throat. "I…ah…I don't want to drown."

He laughed cruelly and bent down to test the water. "Drown…in this? What are ya, a sissy?" he demanded, balling his hands into tight fists as he straightened up and faced me.

I backed against the wall until I could feel the windowsill against my back. "I'm not a sissy. I nearly drowned when I was younger and I'm terrified of water deeper than a few inches. If you are truly as caring of a man as you claim to be, as much of a man of God as you supposedly are, then you are going to drain that water for me." I folded my arms across my chest and stood with my feet a good foot apart. There was no way in heck I would even set foot in water that deep! Not even a gang of Nazis would get me in that water!

"How dare ya tell me what to do!" he balked. "Do as I say, ya sinner; strip off yer clothes save fer yer underwear!" He flipped open the medicine cabinet behind the extravagant mirror and yanked out a bottle of holy water. I watched with horror as he unscrewed the cap and dumped the entire contents into the already quickly-rising bathwater. When he saw me motionless, he raised a gigantic fist. "Undress, sinner, or I'll rip off yer clothes!"

I kicked off my shoes reluctantly and removed my shirt. It felt like I was baring my soul, my true feelings for this strange man to see, parading my true face in front of someone who I didn't want to see how terrified I was of him. But I had a feeling he could read everything that went on inside my head. It was inevitable in those gimlet eyes of his that glowed in the light above the mirror. They were narrowed with contempt that he caught me, at last, exposing what I truly felt.

Smile, I told myself, pretend nothing is wrong. For God's sake, those acting classes weren't taken for nothing!

Jack watched wordlessly as I unbuckled my belt and dropped it at my feet by my shoes. His own belt buckle glittered in the light. It was shaped like the head of a horse and colored gold, accompanying the thick leather of the cowhide belt nicely. I undid the fly of my pants. I stood in front of my father wearing only my white briefs and thin, sleeveless undershirt.

"Take off yer shirt, too." Jack inclined his head forth. I reluctantly drew it up over my head, dropping it beside my other clothes. I faced my father, feeling foolish and unprotected from his probing eyes that were raking up and down my slender figure.

"Ya keep yerself in pretty good shape," he commented, once again stroking his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Nice muscle definition. Yer an exceptionally handsome boy, Clayton, but let's hope ya spend as much time in prayer and studying th'Bible as ya do with making yerself look handsome to th'girls."

Ever since I first started high school, some of my friends and I would spend some time in the gym after school to build up, just so we weren't thrown around any longer by the jocks. Eventually it helped, especially when one of my buddies blackened the eye of a jock for shoving him against a locker.

Thinking that I was in his good graces, I glanced again at the water. "Please, can you drain some of the water? Maybe cool it down a bit as well?" I pleaded.

"No, dad gummit! I gotta make sure th'sin is washed outta ya, and iffin we have to use hot water, then so be it! Now quit whining and do as I say!" He raised a clenched fist to show he meant business. Whoa! I did not even want to imagine the damage that Godzilla-sized hand could do if it struck me!

He bent down beside the bathtub and turned off the faucet. Straightening up, he backed away, his arms crossed over his chest. "Kneel down beside th'tub so we kin begin yer baptism."

"That's a waste of water," I commented, seeing the full bathtub of water. "Doesn't the Bible say something along the lines of 'waste not, want not'?"

"We're gonna need a lot of water to cleanse ya of yer sins."

I nearly busted out in laughter. "What sins have I committed that are so bad as to having me deserve being scalded? I don't drink, I never killed anybody, never stole, never lost my virginity, so I don't see how I could be so deserving of this!"

"Yer illegitimate and ya were born out of an act of adultery, so yes, yer a sinner."

"You're the one who committed adultery!" I pointed out.

Since when did he have the right to act like he was without sin? No wonder Cookie was the way she was! Her self-righteous genes have obviously been carried down from Jack. I hope Mom didn't take too long in getting her act together; the thought of having to stay here for very long with a bunch of arrogant jerks was too much for me to bear!

His hand snaked forward, the fingers biting brutally into the bare flesh of my upper arm. "Git in that water, right now!" he seethed through tightly-clenched teeth. A scream bubbled up in my throat. Before me, as I faced the bathtub full of water, I could see in the back of my mind the drowning. The corpse floating underneath the water…mouth open wide in a scream as the skin hung slack from the bleached bone. Someone was crying, I could hear, crying in loud, noisy gasps as if the person were trying desperately to muffle the sobs.

I struggled to fight Jack, my legs lashing out at whatever my feet could come in contact with, arms flailing, but he was so insistent on getting me into that water that they were mere nuisances, like flies on a horse's back. I knew that water was going to burn.

"Let me go!" I screamed, slapping out at him. My fist came in contact with his face. He let loose a howl loud enough to render any heart. His fingers loosened and I slithered out of his grasp, my hand shooting forth to wrap securely around a towel rack. There was no way I was going to go into that water, even if he killed me for it. I'd rather die than even set foot in that bathtub!

He rested his hand against his cheek, his eyes turning into mere slits. "You sinner," he muttered repeatedly. "Idiot trash scum!"

"I said, drain that water right now," I commanded. "I will not sit in that deep of water, especially with it being scalding."

Wham! His fist smashed against my jaw! Pain exploded in my face, spreading down to my neck and into my chest. Dear God, please manipulate Mom's mind so she turns around and comes back for me!

Suddenly, I was caught off balance. Jack's fingers dug into my ribs, hoisting me off the ground and plunging me right into the steaming hot bath. The sounds of the house, including the television, faded into a high, mosquito whine. My eyes were wide open. And instead of seeing the porcelain white of the tub, seaweed waved back and forth in front of my eyes. My fingers were spread against a bloodstained wall of water, reaching toward a gun lying in a bed of seaweed, glittering in the faint moonlight.

I exhaled deeply and slapped my hands down onto smooth porcelain, shoving myself upward and out of the water. As soon as I burst through the surface, I gasped greedily for air. Jack's hands were on my shoulders, twisting me so I was sitting on my butt. His face was a blood-red moon, two beady circles where the eyes were and a slash of a mouth chanting words I could not interpret.

Terror surged through me as the bloody, seaweed-infested water swirled around my waist. I opened my mouth wide and let loose a scream. I tried to grab a hold of my father, to slug him. "Let go of me! You freak, let me go!" I spewed.

"Cut it out!" Jack hit me again and again, hitting me in the cheek, just under my eye, my jaw. I felt as though my face would shatter. I gritted my teeth, praying he wouldn't bust out any of my teeth in the process.

Oh God, everything hurt so badly.

In my drunken haze, I could hear him twist off the cap a bottle of holy water. Within moments, I could feel the cool liquid being dumped over my head. Funny how it brought relief to my face, my body. It ran down my shoulders, over my collarbone. I closed my eyes, sputtered, and allowed my father to "baptize" me, however much pain I was in.

I was trembling as badly as someone with the DT's. Jack pulled a towel out from the gigantic, oak cabinet and unfolded it, holding it out for me. "Come on, Clayton. Put this towel 'round ya and head upstairs to yer room to put on some nice, clean clothes. And after that, come down into the living room so I kin lay down th'rules fer ya."

I used the faucet to pull myself to my feet. I swayed on rubber band knees, my entire body feeling as though I'd been cooked alive. As I emerged from the water, I noticed how red and terrible my skin looked. And reflected upon the rippling surface of the bathwater wasn't my familiar face, but that of someone else. Someone thin and terrified with light hair.

I immediately stumbled out of the bathtub and into the towel Jack held out for me. He wrapped it tight around my shaky body. "There ya go. Nice, clean, and pure. Yer gonna be a nice, pious boy, aren't ya? Pious and good," he crooned.

Screw you, I thought, whipping a glare at him as I clutched the towel. He bent down to scoop up my clothes, my shoes. "I'll dump these clothes in th'laundry basket fer ya," he offered, his voice kind in comparison to the cruelty he'd sputtered forth earlier. He handed me my shoes. "Now git on upstairs and put some clothes on."

I didn't say a word as I rushed out of the bathroom and toward the stairs. Jack followed behind me. I caught a glimpse of my cousin in the living room, still watching television, on the way to the staircase, and a sick feeling brewed inside my belly. His gaze swung from the blaring television toward me. He sucked in a deep breath. "Rune."

"Leave him alone, Benjamin, and continue watching yer show till we're situated and ready to lay down th'rules fer him!" Jack commanded. He gave me a shove toward the stairs. "Go on upstairs, Clayton, and git dressed."

I thundered up the stairs, grimacing as the towel chafed my raw, burned skin. I realized I hadn't glanced once in the bathroom mirror, but there was that full-length one I could gaze into once I was in my bedroom. I locked my bedroom door, lest that turd decide to come up after me. I dropped the towel to the floor on the way over to the mirror.

Oh Christ, I brought a hand to my mouth when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was as red as a fresh lobster, my skin raw and my face puffy from where Jack had punched me. My hair stuck up in wet spikes. My eyes were bloodshot and there was a bruise forming on my jaw. I bit down on my lip and went to my suitcases.

I didn't need to keep up appearances with this jerk any longer. I selected one of my thin t-shirts and a pair of black jeans. Who cared if I didn't look like the son of a respected pastor? That pastor shouldn't be respected amongst these townspeople, considering how horrendously he'd just treated me! I wondered what Mom would do when I informed her of just the type of person her former lover was. I gave a snort as I pulled on my beat-up tennis shoes. Jack wouldn't receive any respect from me right now at this point, not unless he did a complete one-eighty and apologized to me. And if he was that cruel all the time, you could bet your butt, I'd be out of here.

No questions asked.

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