Cedar Ravine: 5.3

The air conditioning was humming loudly inside Taco Bell. 

I heard it over the murmur of Justin's voice, as he talked with the young man at the cash register, echoing all throughout the empty building. 

I sat stiffly in the booth, keeping my hands in my lap. It was no wonder the place was empty. Crumpled napkins were stuffed under chairs, crumbs and leaking sauce packets spilled across tables, and the floor looked as if it hadn't been mopped since Cedar Ravine first became a town.

I could feel my mouth beginning to twist. I looked out the window beside me, saw Mama talking on the phone outside. When I looked closer I saw smudges on the window, cobwebs piling on the sill. Ick.

"You're not going to get anything?"

Justin sat down across from me, scrutinizing my face.

"I'm not hungry," I said. My stomach was still full from breakfast. Zoey's casserole had been one good thing that happened while we were here. Zoey.

"You're crazy!" said Justin. Then he laughed and looked at his stomach. "But I suppose I probably should learn your ways. I eat too much, anyway."

"Justin," I said, and he looked at me.

"Do you know Zoey that well?" I asked.

Surprise flashed across his face. "Why yes, of course. I see her everywhere." He motioned out the window. "She lives in the same trailer park as me and my mother." He cocked his head a little. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "She came by our house this morning. Welcomed us and stuff. Said she was sorry she couldn't make it to church."

I waited, watching for a reaction, but he only bobbed his head, a sympathetic expression on his face. "I was just... curious about her," I faltered out. Dear Lord. I was making a mess of this.

Justin didn't seem bothered by my nosiness. "She's fairly new around here," he offered. "Moved to town a little over..." He looked up at the ceiling, pondering a moment. "Yes, a little over a month ago. It was right after Pastor died."

"Pastor?" Almost as soon as I said the word I realized who he was talking about.

"Yes," Justin folded his hands atop the table, seemingly unaware of my surprise. Somehow the fact that he called the man Pastor unnerved me. "It was too bad they never met. She would have loved him." A faint smile tugged at his mouth, as if he had suddenly recalled a happy memory.

"He was that great?" I folded my own hands on the table, mimicking his action.

Justin looked out the window, the smile fading from his face, and a second passed before he responded. "Yes." It was a simple answer but there was so much more to it. A deep, sorrowful pain I would have never thought him capable of possessing. And it was then I realized just how real Jonathan Anderson had been.

I'd heard of him. I'd imagined him. I'd even seen his gravestone. But he had always been something of the past, someone I didn't know, someone I couldn't know. Until now. Now that I met someone whose life he'd impacted.

I felt at a loss for words. Clueless on what to say. I'm sorry? But I wasn't sorry. The man had a wreath on his grave. His congregation sat in dreadful silence on Sunday while Papa preached a message they should have had some familiarity with. Why didn't they?

Justin still stared out the window. It was as if I had lost him. He was in his own little world now. Far, far away from me.

"You must miss him," I finally managed to say.

He snapped out of it at that, straightening in the booth, light brown eyes returning to mine. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Justin!" The dude at the register was waving a tray from behind the counter. "Your food's done."

The gray cloud over Justin's head evaporated at that. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" He slid out of his seat and trotted over.

I watched him, a thought springing into my head. It had just been him and his mother at church yesterday. No father in sight. Did he even have a father?

I saw a movement in my peripheral vision and realized Mama had begun pacing outside, her long black skirt flapping in the wind.

Justin's shoes squeaked on the tiles when he approached. "Wow," I said, eyeing his food, as he set the tray down. "You must be hungry."

There were two burritos, two tacos, a bowl of nachos, and a fountain drink arranged neatly before him.

He coughed. "This is actually rather embarrassing. Um, Maddie? Are you sure you don't want anything? I can't just eat this all in front of you. Gives me the wrong image." He looked around, suspiciously, as if someone might be spying on us.

"Oh, Lord," I said. "I'm the only one here. And no, I don't want any."

He sighed and crunched on a tortilla chip. "If you say so." A little smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and eyes again. "Pastor would eat here with me some days, and we'd clear their kitchen of cinnamon twists. It was great."

"Were a lot of people close to him?" I wondered.

"Oh, yes. Everybody loved him." He hesitated a moment, chip halfway to his mouth. "That might be one reason why your family is struggling, and why people are finding it so difficult to adjust to you guys. When a stranger replaces someone you love it's... difficult."

I remembered Silas's face on Sunday, the color growing as Papa expounded the scripture. "But..." I looked at my hands, a little hunch beginning to grow inside. "I don't think it's just us they're having a problem with."

"What do you mean?" Justin was examining his taco.

Now I could ask him. Here's where I brought up the cult. Or at least in a way I could. I felt nervous, and I didn't know why. Justin didn't seem as if he would freak out or throw his tacos at me if I mentioned it. 

But that was just it - Justin didn't seem like he was a part of any cult.

I rolled the words around on my tongue, uncertain how to express myself. "Did he talk about the Bible a lot?"

I caught him in the middle of a mouthful, but I did see his brow darken. "Oh," I heard him say. "That's what you mean." He hesitated. Took another bite. Fingered the napkins on the tray. 

Was he thinking, or was he stalling?

"I grew up in this town," he said suddenly, looking me directly in the face. "My mother and I always went to church on Sunday, and I always remember it being pastored by... well," he lifted his shoulders, "Pastor."

He wrinkled his forehead, as if trying to recall a memory. "I remember - well, things used to be different. He would read all these passages from the Bible. I have these vague memories of that. We would pray, and we would worship, and... someone would play the piano. But -" A funny expression crossed his face.

"But what?" My voice sounded breathless to my ears. "What happened?"

"Your neighbor," he said, and he took another bite from his taco.

Mary?

Someone tapped my shoulder, and I jumped. Mama stood above me, phone in hand. 

I blinked up at her. No, no, no. 

"Hey." She offered a small smile towards Justin. "Sorry we couldn't stay and eat, but we need to get going."

I grounded my teeth. Of course we did.

"Apologies," I told Justin. "I don't think it's possible for us to have a reasonable conversation without being interrupted."

Mama ignored that comment.

"No worries." Justin smiled, cheerfully. "A true friendship will always undergo trials." And he laughed a little, but I didn't. 

That little needle of guilt had pricked me again. Did he think this was true friendship? I felt uneasy and wished I didn't.

All I could work out of my mouth was, "I'll see you." And then I fled out the door.