Twice Removed | 3 | Home
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The pleasant white noise tones of their home were interrupted by a crack of the door and their father shouting, “O2 to 23 percent!”
A different, high-pitched tone sounded, and a faint whirring could be heard behind the walls. He shouted again, “Iz, turn that damn noise off!” The lower tone sounded three times before the high-pitched tone played again, and the white noise faded away.
From the other room, a loud, exaggerated southern voice cut through the fading white noise with sharp cracks to the end of his words, “… and that is exactly what God wants from you! How simple is that? He loves you so much that he gives you only what you can handle, and in return…” His pause was just long enough to feel uncomfortable before he continued with a whisper, “he asks only for you to give, and your gift will be repaid one hundredfold!” His words were met with thunderous applause.
Their father shook his head and shouted again, “Nevermind, Iz. That white noise shit’s better than Jason Hunter.” Only one lower tone played this time, and the white noise rose again, drowning out the shouting from the other room.
He looked toward Chip and Isaac. “Look, kids, go get cleaned up, and let’s make what happened today stay between us, OK?” He motioned toward the other room. “There’s no need to get her all worked up.” They all nodded agreement, and he rubbed Chip’s head before the boys went to their rooms. After he watched them round the corner at the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath and turned, walking into the room with the booming voice.
As he crossed the threshold, the white noise faded quickly, while the booming voice filled the room. “Just like the farmer plants seeds that grow, you plant your capital, and it will grow into a bountiful harvest. That’s why I’m asking every one of you right now, sitting here in the pews or at home watching on the television, send in some of your capital and let it work as a seed for the lord. I can promise you that the second you touch that phone or that billfold to get out that seed money, the lord will start working for you to make that come back to you tenfold.” The buzz and motion of the crowd grew with every phrase. “They will reference all kinds of fables about camels and needles… friends, let me tell you, they specialize in twisting words. Stay vigilant, my friends, there will be times in your life that you are tested. God will help the ones that help themselves! I ask you, is work only manual labor?” The crowd erupted in unison, “NO!” He smiled. “Our good lord helps those that help themselves. Yes, he does. But he can’t help everyone, no, no, no. There are some horses you lead to water, and they still refuse to drink! Those evolved Europeans might treat money as evil. They say it’s a human creation, and it should be taken from the strong to give to the weak.” Boos could be heard, “These are the same people that preach the doctrine of evolution, saying only the strong survive! Divided philosophies such as these can’t live in a sane mind at the same time. As with most things, two wrongs don’t make a right!”
The noise of a crowd erupted and filled his chest like a war chant. The walls were alive with members of a crowd waving their arms, jumping up and down, rocking, shaking their heads triumphantly — but everyone was looking in the same direction, toward the stage where a thin man with shining black hair paced back and forth. In the middle of the room, his wife stood with eyes glazed white, staring at the figure on stage with the booming voice as if she was at the front row of a concert. She seemed to mirror the cadence of his words, rocking and holding herself as the voice grew low or hopping and waving an arm as the voice boomed from the walls.
He called her name, but she couldn’t hear him over all the “Amen!” and variations shouted out from all around him. He reached out to touch her, but had learned to take a cautious approach when jarring her out of her nightly worship. Annoyed, he sat in the chair beside her and swiped a finger across his temple. His eyes glazed white.
The jump in volume made him shudder and reach for his ears. The lights were no longer projected on the wall, but now were seemingly real, warm objects all around him. He stood up and called out to his wife through the side of his mouth, eyes transfixed on the pop star pointing around on the stage below him. “We are back home, my dear.”
She looked at him, her smile felt forced. “Good! Did you get that out of your system? Did he like it?” She turned back to the stage and her gilded smile returned.
He struggled to get his words out over the deep bass from the crowds chanting in unison. “Yes, dear, it was a good time. Chip was tearing up the course!”
“I… I don’t get it. Is ‘tearing up the course’ a good thing?”
He let a fleeting “hurrah” from the crowd die before continuing, “Yes.” His voice dropped, “Isaac had a… bump.”
Without turning away, she responded with a short, “Hmm. I’m sure he’s alright?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Don’t worry.”
She cut him off sharply, “I am not spending my time discussing this further. Dinner will start at 7. Until then…” She turned to the wall and rejoined her pulsating masses.
“And that is when Mandy decided to step in and help.” Pictures slowly panned throughout the grey void showing an attractive young woman posing for group photos with teens in tattered clothing. “My story is my movement, and my ultimate goal is to transfer some of my positive energy onto those around me and get their stories out there… to start their journey!” Mandy was now sitting in a chair beside each of them, as if they were plunged into the middle of a comfortable chat at a cafe. “There is nothing like the power of positive thinking, and once you have a supportive community invested in you, it can really transform your life!”
Chip shouted above the narrator, “Let me guess? Mandy, were you a little weirdo growing up that felt like an outsider even though you look perfect and everyone always adores you?”
Isaac giggled as their mom inhaled to scold him while Mandy continued, “My dad liked to call me his little alien girl when I was young. I don’t know… I just didn’t fit in with anyone, and I liked reading and writing-” Isaac exploded into laughter.
“Isaac, you shut your mouth! Don’t encourage him!” Everyone, except their mom, shot glances and smirks between themselves. “Just because you two are almost teenagers doesn’t mean you know better than everyone else.” They all rolled their eyes as Mandy continued.
After 30 minutes passed and two other variations on Mandy came and went, they finished eating their meals and disconnected from the sync. They slowly stood up and stretched before bringing their dishes to the sink. They were all in a small daze as they waited for their plates to be cleaned. Isaac looked to Chip and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Oh… I’m fine.”
Her eyes perked and her brow grew confused, “What’s the matter?”
Their dad shot a worried glance as Chip stuttered out, “Just caught my wind a little today.”
“Where? When did this happen? Did this happen at that stupid car park?” She looked at their father. “When were you planning on telling me?”
The three of them grew uneasy. “Now look, honey, it’s no big deal. He calmed it down and was in rich air just as soon as it started.”
“Rich air?! Where? At your nostalgia park?” She gasped, “Oh my, he never got air until you got home, did he?”
Chip reached out for his mother’s arm, “It’s no big deal, really, I got it under control real quick. Besides, if I play sports next year, I won’t always have air ava-” She cut him off as she reached down to coddle him, smothering his words. She felt his forehead, looked in his eyes, felt lymph nodes, all while spitting out questions without pausing to hear the start of an answer. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Dad took care of me.”
Upon hearing “dad,” she turned to him with the vociferous tone they all knew, “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
He rolled his eyes, “You always overreact when Chip gets winded. It wasn’t even that bad this time.”
She stroked Chip’s hair, “Wasn’t that bad? Look at Isaac’s face. Something tells me it was a little more than nothing.” She looked over at Isaac, “How is that feeling, by the way?” He shrugged his shoulders, and she stroked Chip’s hair again. “I’m proud of you, you know? Fighting your way through that. It took-”
Chip burst out of his mother’s arms, flailing as if removing a spider and shouted, “STOP IT!” The sudden display took the three of them by surprise. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I mean, I need you to stop babying me so much. I’m fine. I haven’t had a big attack in a long time, and none of my friends have either, so doesn’t it seem like it’s getting better? Besides,” he looked at Isaac and his eyes filled with tears, “I’m not even the one that got hurt and you two aren’t even worried about Isaac!” The tears turned to streams as he ran out of the room, upstairs, and slammed his door shut. Isaac ran after him. She shook her head in disappointment and stared daggers at their father.
He put up his hand in disgust, “Now is not the time for your tit-for-tat.”
“Now is the only time when it matters. You brought our son to that redneck wonderland even though I told you it was a bad idea. I didn’t think I had to spell it out for you!” She hung her head and began to silently weep. He approached her, and she managed to spurt words through the tears, “He’s right, you know. The occurrences have gone down at his school and all the schools in the county. I saw it in my feed this morning. But this week,” she sobbed more heavily, “there have already been two kids from his school this week. I thought it had stopped! Ugh, they said it looks like it’s turning seasonal.”
Isaac screamed and interrupted her from upstairs, “MOM! DAD! COME QUICK!” They raced up the stairs and opened Chip’s door to find Isaac fixed in fear, staring at his blue-lipped brother lying limp at the foot of his bed. Iz shrieked as she dove towards him and started soothing Chip, “Get the mask!”
As their father turned to exit the room, he caught eyes with Isaac and shook his head in disgust, “Why did you have to go and open your mouth?” He flung open the door and ran down the hall, leaving Isaac to watch his brother’s lips turn more and more blue.
The early morning rays danced on Chip’s eyelids, and the warm colors of his illuminated eyelids looked like a dancing fire. The warmth of the sun strengthened the trance, and this morning, unlike other mornings, he didn’t feel the compulsion to bliss out and check in on what he missed. He stayed like this for several minutes until a soft bang from downstairs shook him from his slumber.
He looked over at Isaac, who lay motionless in his bed. It was rare that he got up before his brother, but Chip didn’t mind because he never liked the way Isaac slept, with his mouth ajar and eyes uncomfortably open. The sight jolted Chip awake, and he sat up in his bed. With disgust, he called out, “Hey! Are you awake?”
There was no response.
He hung his head and remembered hazy fragments of the night before. His parents staring at him with that look, doors slamming, and his parents screaming at Isaac. He saw the cut on his brother’s forehead and felt even worse. Isaac always slept hard after his parents laid into him. He looked over at his brother and felt guilty but couldn’t figure out why. A tear grew in his eyes, and he gritted his teeth. He muttered aloud to himself, “If I didn’t have this damn… allergy!” He shook his head and cursed himself.
Chip sat forward and wiped the tears from his eyes before he quietly got up and left his brother to sleep. He stared at Isaac’s chest and felt relief upon seeing the shallow rise and fall. He whispered, “Stay asleep. I will keep Mom and Dad from waking you up.”
Chip entered the kitchen to find his parents in a quiet discussion. His dad tapped his mom on the knee when he noticed him enter the room, and she instantly turned to him with a smile. “Good morning, honey! How are you feeling? It’s good that you slept in like this; it’s good for your strength.” She walked up to him and gave him a hug.
His dad picked up right after her. “How are you doing, son? Did you get a good night’s sleep? It’s getting late. Is your brother up yet?” Only minutes before, he was in a deep slumber, but now the questions were flying at him faster than he could process. He managed to get out only single-word answers with some difficulty. “Good,” he squinted. “No, he’s asleep.”
“Well, breakfast is nearly ready! I should go get him up!” Chip called out to stop his dad and let Isaac sleep, but by the time he opened his mouth, his dad was already down the hallway.
He sat at the table and nearly dozed off but was interrupted by the movement of everyone sitting down. He looked over at his brother and joked, “Dude, you looked dead two minutes ago. How do you wake up so fast?” The brothers snorted out exhausted laughter.
Their parents smirked, and their mom said, “That’s how you say good morning to your brother?”