MORNING "Remember when that used to be the video store?" Keith nodded at the Vineyard Church and then checked the traffic light again. It was still red. "You see anything that says no left turn on red?" Jessie leaned forward in the passenger seat and looked to the left, around and behind Keith. He ignored his second question in favor in favor of the first. "Yeah, Stars And Stripes Video. Remember the giant, pink elephant out front? He waved his hand in front of his eyes. "With the glasses? That thing was damn near life-sized." They laughed, shaking the tiny car. "And they had one in front of every one of their stores. What the hell did a giant white elephant," "Wearing glasses." Keith reminded him. "Wearing glasses," Jessie repeated. "What the hell does that have to do with stars and stripes? What does that have to do with anything?" The light changed and Keith turned left onto University Drive. "Didn't the elephant used to have a graduation cap, too?" He asked, his eyebrows arched on the edge of epiphany. "Yeah, but only during graduation. Not all year long." "Oh yeah, I remember now." They drove past the other stores in the old shopping center. The biggest one was now the Vineyard Thrift Store. "Didn't that used to be a supermarket?" Keith asked. "Yeah, Jewel Osco. The Osco part is now the Vineyard Food Pantry." Jessie said, pointing to the slightly smaller drugstore connected to the supermarket. Jessie stopped answering and asked instead. "So is this where we're going?" He waved an open hand over the empty street. "This is the only church I know of out here on this side of town." "No, Tom said it was an Episcopalian church." Keith winced when he saw the Vineyard Coffee Shop where the big box book store used to be. "I don't know what these people are." "I don't know either." Jessie laughed. "But they make one hell of a cup of coffee. Cheap, too. Wanna stop and get some and then get back to looking for the Episcopalians?" Coffee did sound good but Tom had also told Keith that the wedding was at ten and it already was nine thirty. "I don't know, Jess. That's cutting it kind of close." He held up his wrist even though he hadn't worn a watch in years. "Come on, Keith. Its September." Jessie pointed to trees, far away and golden, shimmering like a mirage beyond the buildings. "I'll bet they've already busted out the pumpkin spice flavored coffee, too." "Hardy har har, smart guy. I laughed so hard I drove right by the place." Keith smirked. "What you gonna do now?" Jessie lunged for the steering wheel and Keith's life flashed before his eyes. Jessie was in most of it and scenes like this one played over and over again, always ending the same. Keith curled up around the steering wheel and Jessie stayed his hand. Laughing, Jessie fell back in his seat, order restored. "Very funny, Jessie. Next time, hit the brakes too." "OK," Jessie said, looking at nothing and seeing it all. He imagined Keith's car spinning on the driver's side front tire, brakes engaged and full of rage. Spitting smoke and signing his name.The tiny car was a slow motion spirogragh spinning down the street. He grabbed for the wheel again but Keith didn't believe him this time. "Come on, Jess. Be serious. Do you see anything?" He looked at the time on the dashboard and Jessie looked at everything else around it. "Man, I don't see shit." Jessie laughed. "I think this whole side of town is out of business." He nodded at a little cement block bunker as they drove by it. "Remember when that used to be the movie theater?" Keith saw the movie theater in the rear view mirror, disappearing behind the horizon even as its parking lot reached forward, connecting it to the next empty space. "Yeah, I do. So does the Vineyard own that, too?" he sneered. "No, the university's got that one but they aren't doing anything with it." Jessie nodded at the next empty building. "Same with the old Del Zell's next door." Neither one said anything, remembering the empty car dealership as it was, trimmed in balloons and dripping with financing. "That's alot of space." Jessie was talking about Del Zell's but he was looking at the trees behind it. "Well, I don't think the church is over there." Keith said, following Jessie's eyes into the trees. He looked at the dashboard clock again, and then left and right. "Tom said it was at the Episcopal Church, across the street from the credit union. And there's the credit union." They looked at the credit union, next door to Del Zell's and just as deserted but only because it was Sunday morning. The University owned the credit union too and bright purple and yellow flags snapped in the breeze above the empty parking lot. "Open To The Public" proclaimed a vinyl banner, flapping and frayed like the skin of Prometheus across the front of the building. They looked across the street. "Didn't that used to be a credit union, too?" "Kind of." Jessie said. "I think that one was a savings and loan." "Tomato, tomahto, it all rots the same." Keith turned left. "And I'm pretty sure this is the place anyways." Keith pointed to the flag above the red peaked roof. Jessie squinted up at it. It was red, white, and blue but there were no stars and stripes. "What kind of flag is that?" Jessie didn't recognize the flag but he remembered the the red, peaked roof. When they were kids they called this building the Pizza Hut Bank. He wondered what the kids called it now. "You were expecting a Pride flag?" Keith deadpanned. "I wasn't expecting any damned flag." Jessie answered quick, emphasizing 'any.' Keith smiled, the steering wheel back in his hands. He considered pushing Jessie's buttons a little more but he looked at the flag. In college, Keith had carried a double major and twice as many minors, one of which had been vexillology. It would be a waste of money to not tell Jessie everything he knew about the strange, new flag that claimed this strange, old ground. "Well, that damned flag is the flag of the Episcopal Church." Keith began. "As with most flags, the white field represents purity. And the red cross is the blood of the Martyrs." Jessie burst out laughing. Keith knew that laugh. Jessie wasn't laughing at what Keith had just said, he hadn't even heard it. Jessie was laughing at something only he could see. And he would continue to laugh until Keith asked him what he was laughing about. "If you like that one, you're going to love the one about the nine crosslets." Keith groused. He knew he'd never get to the nine crosslets. He parked the car. "What's so funny?" Jessie smiled, letting the chicken take its time as it crossed the road. Then he said, "The Joe Piscopal Church." Keith smiled too, even though he didn't want to. "I'd buy that bumper sticker." "I'm thinking T-shirts." Jessie said as he unfolded himself from the car. "Man, I didn't even know this was back here." He stared at the church, looking for the label scar of the old savings and loan. But the church had covered it up. Above the open front doors was a giant plastic board sign bearing the church's name and the flag in the form of a shield. He couldn't remember the name of the old savings and loan but he remembered the colors and the shapes of the logo. "I thought the Episcopal Church was over by the library." "It is. Apparently there was a schism." Keith braced himself, waiting for Jessie to burst out laughing and say something about jism. Or, more likely, Joe Piscopal jism. "A split in the church? I love that stuff!" Jessie enthused. "Tell me all about it." He looked like he meant it. "Actually," Keith brightened, "It does have something to do with the nine crosslets." They walked towards the church, nodding hello at the people that they passed, people taking pictures with their phones and carrying in food and folding chairs. "Each one of the crosslets represents one of the nine dioceses of the Episcopal Church." "Like the stars and the states?" "Yeah, kind of I guess." It was just like that but Keith had a few other points he had hoped to make along the way. Fine. If Jessie wanted the highlights, that's what he would give him. "Tom said there was a split in the church. The church over by the library." Jessie pictured the Episcopal Church he remembered. He hadn't seen this flag there, but there was a giant stained glass window of a knight slaying a dragon. When they were kids they called it the Conan Church. Other than that, it was exactly the small white church with a steeple that anybody would expect to find in any small town. It looked good next to the library. It was hard to imagine anybody nailing anything to the front door of that place. "Yeah, I got that. But what was the split about?" Before Keith could answer, Jessie put his hand on his chest, stopping them both. "Is that Dion?" Jessie asked, pointing at a pale and blinking man who had just stumbled out of the church. "Yeah, that's him." Jessie answered himself. "Fucking Dion." He said with affection. "Look at him all cleaned up." Dion's head was freshly shaved, doubling his pallor. His office casual polo and chinos, big and brand new, looked like they had been bought while he waited in the car. Dion held a stack of programs in his hands. He didn't stop blinking. Jessie removed his hand and they continued to the church. Keith was surprised to see Jessie walk by Dion with barely a perceptible nod. Keith looked at Dion. Dion's were eyes racing and unresponsive, each one magnified to a different degree by the opposing prescriptions of his glasses. Jessie kept walking into the foyer of the building. He seemed to be looking for something. Keith stood still in front of Dion and said hello. "Hey Keith," Dion smiled and handed him a program. At some point in this exchange one of them, neither was certain who, tried to turn it into a handshake and they both laughed. "So today's the big day, huh?" Keith asked, reaching to help Dion straighten out the stack of programs and then just as quickly changing his mind. "I guess so." Dion shrugged. "Is Jessie here with you?" He tilted his head back. "I thought I heard his laugh." He said with affection. "I'm sure he's here somewhere." Keith glared at Jessie. But Jessie didn't see him. Jessie was tugging at the corner of another one of the church's plasticboard signs. He looked at the sign on the wall like a dog staring at a screen door. "In fact, I think I'm gonna go find him now." "Yeah. You do that." Dion snorted. He turned to the next group of people entering the church, looking around and behind them and offering a handshake that had as little to do with either word as possible. Keith wanted to apologize but he didn't know what for or how to do it. Best to just keep moving. Bobbing and weaving around people and smiling and nodding, Keith cut across the foyer heading towards Jessie. Jessie was pulling at the handle of the old night deposit box but the slot door didn't budge. "I can't believe you just did that." Keith looked back at Dion, still greeting guests and passing out programs. He lowered his voice. "Didn't you want to talk to Dion?" And then, in a mocking tough guy voice, "Fucking Dion." He put his arms out for a hug. "I fucking love that guy." He then dropped the empty embrace and flipped up two fully loaded middle fingers. "AAaawww, fuck that shit." He shrugged it off and flexed. "Fuck that guy." "Hardy har har, you got me." Jessie conceded. "But I don't sound anything like that." "You know, they've done studies on this very thing. Most people don't like, and thus refuse to recognize, the sound of their own voice. You know, when recorded and played back to them." "You don't say." "I just did." "Well I don't hate the sound of my own voice." Jessie stopped poking around the foyer and, crossing his arms over his chest, looked out the glass walls at the empty buildings outside. "I just hate to waste it on small talk." "Look at you," Keith teased. "The Man With No Name goes to a gay wedding." "At the Joe Piscopal Church." Jessie reminded him. "At the Joe Piscopal Church." Keith repeated. "Sure do have the ghost town setting for it." Jessie said. He imagined the Man With No Name, chewing on a cigarello, six shooters at the ready, standing out there in the Del Zell's lot. The cowboy was poised to shoot somebody but there wasn't anybody left. Even the bad guys had left town. Jessie looked down at the mosaic floor of the foyer and found what he was looking for. Inlaid in the floor, cast in a circle to resemble a governmental shield, was the corporate logo of the Spoon River Savings and Loan. "There it is." He smiled. pointing at the familiar colors and shapes of the logo. "There's what?" Keith asked, looking at the seal on the floor. "I told you it was a savings and loan." "I thought we were talking about the schism in the church." "You just said jism in the church." There it was. "What's that?" Jessie pointed to the paper in Keith's hand and already knew the answer. "Where did you get that?" "Its a program. Dion was handing them out. He said hi." "I'll bet." Jessie rolled his eyes. "Can I see that?" He reached for the program even as he was asking for it. "Will you look at that." Keith pointed to the cover. "There's your rainbow, Jessie." The program had been printed on a computer, the cover showed a little white church, photoshopped into the middle of nowhere. Photoshopped into the sky above the church was a rainbow, more Lucky Charms than LGBT. It looked like it had been put together by the same person who had bought Dion's clothes. A person with little money and less time, giving the only gift they could afford to give; themselves. Jessie smiled, the program felt good in his hands. Made of light and light as air, it felt like it could fall through his fingers and float away. This was something to nail to the church door. "I'll bet you that whoever made that did it at work." Keith sneered. "I hope so." Jessie said and he meant it. Jessie was rolling the program up and had just stepped from the foyer into the church when he heard a high, friendly voice call to both him and Keith. "Hey guys, long time no see." It had been years since Keith had seen Lisa and he was surprised. He didn't remember her being this tall. She was as tall as Jessie and that made her demure pose, hips forward and one eye hidden behind a well timed and shiny sheet of hair, seem disproportionate. "Oh my, did I really just say that at a Tom and Darrell party?" Lisa laughed. "I'm bad." "Hey man." Jessie smiled blankly. Lisa blinked, surprised. "Yes, you're horrible." Keith deadpanned. "I can't believe you said that either." Lisa's surprise became horror and she didn't blink at all. The shiny hair fell forgotten and Lisa looked wide eyed at both of them, guests received as ghosts. She turned from them and laughed, big and brand new, and she used that laughter to jump into the first conversation she found. Jessie looked shorter than Lisa now. "What the hell did you say that for?" He hissed at Keith. "Me?" Keith laughed. "You called her 'Man!' "So what? I call everybody 'Man.' I'm shit with names, you know that." He watched Lisa, now fully embedded in a conversation across the room. She laughed even bigger than before and Jessie wondered if she listening to what she was laughing at. "She knows that." "She knows that now." Keith emphasized 'she' and Jessie said nothing. He seemed to be looking for something again. "She is named Lisa." Keith continued, again with the emphasis on 'she.' "And she is definitely not," He put so much emphasis on the 'she' this time that there was more than enough left over for the 'definitely' and the 'not' as well. He paused, waiting for Jessie to look at him. Jessie did not. "A man." Keith finished, certain that Jessie had heard him. "I know that, Keith. Hell, I've known Lisa since she was Jason." Keith didn't look impressed. "And I was totally cool with both of them. You know I just don't remember names." Jessie continued to roll the program tight, the rainbow wrapped up inside. He remembered when they were kids, and Jason had just moved to town. It was the beginning of third grade and they only called him the new kid for a day or two before bringing out the names that they called him still. "And why didn't he just call himself Janelle or something else that sounds like Jason, anyway?" All the angry men that Jessie saw on TV, wigs messed up and mascara running, crying and demanding acceptance from a jeering studio audience, used the female alliterative of the name they were running from. Thinking that maybe this wasn't the best example to build an argument on, Jessie then said, "Besides, I was using 'Man' as the non-gender specific, more as a greeting than a designation." Jessie had only one major to Keith's two, and he had never finished it. But it was in English and he got a lot of mileage out of it. "Just as Lisa herself was doing," He said her name loud enough that he hoped she heard it, "when she called us 'guys.' "But we are guys." Keith countered. Jessie saw Bud Abbott on the base line, waving Who into second. He rolled his eyes and sighed, hoping that Keith would read it as condescending and not feel the frustration. "And so is," he started but Keith cut him off. "No, she's not." "I know that, Keith. But she used to be." "Don't talk about that." When Jessie didn't argue, Keith added, "Asshole." Jessie looked at the rolled up program in his hand. It was almost as skinny as a pencil. Embarrassed, he smoothed it out on his thigh. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He imagined the white elephant from the old video store standing in the middle of the savings and loan church. The elephant shifted nervously from one foot to the other, hoping someone would talk to him. "What about what you said? 'Yes, you're horrible. I can't believe you said that either." Jessie quoted him, more robot than deadpan. "What the hell was that all about?" "I didn't say it like that!" Keith protested. "You know they've done studies on just this very thing," Jessie smiled and scratched his chin. Whatever he was looking for, he stopped looking long enough to watch Keith squirm. "I was joking. " Keith stressed the last word. "You know that, Lisa knows that. That's just how I joke. Besides, I didn't say anything that she didn't already say. Its called sarcasm, look it up." Keith didn't want to say that, but telling Jessie to look it up always ended any argument. "I went to Jr. High, " Jessie said. He remembered vouching for both Keith and Jason when they petitioned the cool kids behind the shop building, looking for a place to smoke their stolen cigarettes and lick their hard earned wounds. "I know how sarcasm works." He knew sarcasm well enough to know that silence worked better. Without waiting for Keith, he continued his search and drifted away. Keith watched him go, waiting to see if he was heading for a chair or the door. Jessie paused at the last row of folding chairs and grabbed an aisle seat. There wasn't much room between the row of chairs and the row of tellers' windows. The marble counter running beneath the windows now full of deli trays and casseroles. There were balloons taped to the plexi-glass teller shields. There was a hymnal and a book of Common Prayer in every seat. Without looking at Keith, he picked them up and put them on top of the hymnal and prayer book that waited in the next seat. He sat down. He just got here and already the room was full of people he couldn't talk to. He looked around, careful not to smile at Keith or Lisa. He looked around the room at everybody else, small talk on the big day. Jessie had expected a bigger crowd than this. He thought of Keith, prefacing his answers with 'Tom said,' and he looked at the folding chairs. There were more books than butts in the seats. Jessie wondered if Tom had expected a bigger turn out, too. Jessie looked at the Pastor, tall and smiling. Her hair was just as white as her robes but neither was sparkling. He saw the Pastor check her watch and look at the door. Maybe she was expecting more people, too. The Pastor checked her watch and looked at the door again. Jessie followed her eyes and he knew the man that came in next but he couldn't remember how or from where. The Pastor saw the man too and, reacting much as Lisa had done when confronted with Jessie and Keith, averted her eyes and redoubled her efforts in the small talk afforded her. The man stood with one foot in the foyer and one foot in the church. Dion floated around the man, a moth uncertain of its fate. Dion couldn't see this guy, not completely, but it seemed as if the Pastor did and she was giving him as much space as she could. Dion said 'hi' and offered the man a program and a handshake, both with the same hand. Where Keith had failed, this man accepted both and made it look easy. The man laughed loud. He slipped the program into his pocket without a glance. He grabbed Dion's hand and kept pumping. "Damn." Jessie whistled, watching the man pump Dion's hand. He pumped Dion's hand like he thought oil would shoot out of his shaved head. He was shaking Dion's hand so hard that his glasses almost fell off. Jessie still couldn't remember why this loud laughing, hard hand shaking man seemed so familiar. The man laughed more, and louder. He helped Dion shuffle the stack of programs back to true. There was something familiar about this man. Jessie was trying to figure it out when he noticed Keith picking up the stack of books from the chair beside him. "Who the hell is that?" Jessie asked Keith, hoping that just by asking he would answer himself. The man in the door was short, his red hair reaching for heights his scalp would never touch. His shoes, thick-soled and fat laced, did the same except they were aimed at the floor. He was wearing a suit and it was tight and shiny on purpose. He rippled like a horse covered in shark. Jessie reviewed all the yearbooks that leaned up against the jukebox in his memory and came up blank. "I don't know." Keith said, struggling with the stack of song and prayer. "But he sure is persistent, isn't he?" He set all four books on top of the two in the next seat and sat down next to Jessie. Keith watched the spiky haired short man asking Dion some questions. Dion laughed and waved his free hand around the room. The man clutched Dion's oil hand hard and kept it moving, With his free hand, Dion pointed at Lisa and the pointy haired short man with the big shoes shook him softer, his attention already going to where it was directed. He let Dion go but he never stopped laughing. "I know I know that fucker." Jessie said. "He looks like a little action figure." Keith mused. "With a kung fu grip." Jessie added. The short, sharp man had Lisa by the hand, his other hand locked on her forearm. Lisa laughed and tried to pull away and that's when the shaking started. He shook her so hard she couldn't hide behind her hair. Her face was bouncing, her eyes horrified. "Think we should help her?" "I think it looks like Lisa's got things under control." Keith said quick and turned away. "You're kidding, right?" Jessie thought that Lisa was looking at him for a second or two. "Relax. That dude's a hot potato. Lisa will pass him off on some other sucker soon enough. She's a big girl." Lisa pointed, but it was hard to tell what she was pointing at with all the shaking. "Don't look now, " Jessie said. "But I think she just did." The short, sharp man had released her and Lisa was leaning on the organ, discreetly smoothing her hair back over her eye. The short, sharp man was looking at them, no doubt about it. His eyes skitted between Jessie and Keith like a tiny dog on a linoleum floor. He was headed straight for them. "Aaaww man." Keith whined. Within seconds he was upon them. He stood over them, fists on his hips and smiling like a superhero. Keith didn't want to look this guy in the eye and worse, he didn't want to look up to do it. As such, he was relieved to find the man's tie very distracting. It was covered with an airbrushed image of the Virgin Mary and knotted narrow. A gold cross, hanging on a gold chain, was perfectly centered below the knot. "Hey guys!" he laughed and Keith winced, expecting the kung fu grip. Instead, the short, sharp man dropped to one knee in the aisle next to Jessie. It reminded Keith of an over zealous waiter. He saw the short, sharp man telling them his name and how great the pasta was that night. Instead, the short, sharp man looked up at Jessie and humbly offered his hand. Keith almost said 'don't do it' but he didn't. "So today's the big day, huh?" The short, sharp man smiled. "I guess." Jessie mumbled. He looked him in the eye but he didn't take his hand. The short, sharp man left his hand sitting there, withdrawing neither the offer or eye contact. After a second or two of this, he laughed. A good sport accepting defeat. He turned his handshake palm down and pretended to throttle the grip of a motorcycle. He rolled his knuckles back, rings flashing, accelerating an invisible engine. "I'm the Rev." he almost sneered. "That's it!" Jessie laughed, his memory complete but his resolve was gone. Keith was sad to see it go as now he would have to strengthen his own. Jessie turned to Keith. "This is the Rev." he said. "From the Vineyard." The Rev sneered a little more. When the man introduced himself, Jessie remembered him. It was the suit that was throwing him off, and the tie wasn't helping. "You know, from the commercials?" Jessie had seen the Rev on late night television, inviting whoever was up for whatever reason to come to his church. In the commercial, his hair was down, and almost reached his shoulders. He was dressed to skate and he did, nailing a perfect McTwist on the massive, plywood skate ramp behind the shopping center fortress that housed his church. 'The Vineyard' was emblazoned across the height and width of the ramp in gangster gothic graffiti. Keith had never seen the commercial. "The Rev?" He sneered back. "Like you're revving up a moped?" The Rev laughed, again playing the good sport. "More like we're revving up a revolution!" He throttled the imaginary motorcycle again and then pointed his thumbs at himself. "Get it?" Jessie laughed. "Catchy. You should put that on a bumpersticker." "We did!" The Rev laughed louder. "T-shirts, too! Stop by next door some time and I'll hook you up." He brought the handshake back out and pointed it at Keith. Keith curled up around the steering wheel. "So do you guys mind if I sit with you?" He was already rising, the kung fu grip still waiting. Keith looked quick at Jessie. Jessie just shrugged and looked away. "Cool! thanks guys!" Before Keith could say anything, the Rev was right next to him. The Rev picked up the pile of books, now six high, and moved it one chair down. He sat right next to Keith. "My real name is Sean." He leaned in confidentially but said it loud enough for Jessie to hear. "But the kids started calling me the Rev and the guy that did our commercial heard my assistant calling me the Rev. And he thought we could use that to tie into what we're trying to say. What we're trying to do." The Rev squinted sincerely and nodded in agreement with himself. "Which is?" Keith leaned back in his folding chair, away from the Rev. "You've seen the commercial, bro." He looked at Jessie as if the answer were so simple it were written on the back of a flashcard. "What do you think the Vineyard is all about?" Jessie had seen fliers around town, very slick posters actually, advertising a Vineyard event that combined a battle of the bands, a skateboard competition, and a blood drive. "I don't know, Sean." he laughed. Keith couldn't believe that Jessie was calling this guy by name. There were so many better ones just waiting to be used. "But what I really want to know," Jessie continued, "is how the hell you pulled off that McTwist at the end of the commercial. That trick is impossible." Jessie and the Rev laughed. Keith made a promise, that should he get out of this alive, he would send help back for Jessie. "You skate, bro?" The Rev took advantage of the space Keith had cleared when he leaned back. He leaned across Keith and nodded at Jessie as if they had just exchanged a secret, non-seizure inducing handshake. Keith couldn't believe it. "Used to." When he was a kid, one of the things that attracted Jessie to skateboarding, beside the music and the clothes, was the idea, unspoken but universal, that a spectacular crash was worth just as much as a trick seen through to completion. He couldn't lose. But he couldn't win either. He tried for years and, while he probably still could olly off of anything, he had never gotten more than two of the three, mid-air twists required to nail a McTwist. The Rev made it look easy. After the third flawless 360, he looked like he was going for a fourth. But then he snapped out of his spin, arms straight out to his sides and his face in the sun. He held the skateboard loosely in his right hand and his feet were curled up behind him, his knee pads expertly aimed at the ramp beneath him. He landed on the ramp on his knees and slid painlessly down his church's logo. Tossing aside the skateboard he kept right on sliding to the bottom of the ramp. When he came to a stop, he was up on one knee, his hands folded in prayer. The Rev laughed louder still. "Well, let me tell you something, bro." He smiled until he was certain they were both listening. "I didn't nail that stunt on the first take. And I didn't do it on my own." The Rev squinted sincerely and nodded in agreement with himself. Keith snorted and stole a glance at Jessie but Jessie ignored him. He smiled and nodded at the Rev. Keith couldn't believe it. More in defense of his memory than his friend, Keith blurted out. "He was awesome. I don't know what a McLisp is," "McTwist." The Rev corrected him. If he knew that Keith had said it wrong on purpose, he kept it to himself. The smile never stopped. "Whatever it is, I'm certain Jessie can do it and did it." When Jessie's parents divorced, his dad got the house but only because his mom didn't want it. Keith remembered one night from the summer after the divorce and before seventh grade, when Jessie's mom left. Jessie's dad got drunk and drained the pool and he never filled it again. The empty cement bowl was the perfect stage for some of Jessie's most memorable crashes. This was where he tried for years to nail that McTwist. Keith had been there, recording every attempt on Jessie's dad's camcorder, also unused since the divorce. Every attempt, every time that might have been the one but never was, Keith was there for everyone. He knew what a McTwist was and he knew that Jessie had never pulled it off. "This guy totally shreds. Or rips." He looked at the Rev only long enough for the Rev to see him turn away. "Or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days." The Rev laughed, quick and polite and shaking his head as he turned away from Keith. "You've seen the commercial, bro." He repeated to Jessie, more conspiratorial rather than contemplative as before. He leaned in closer. "You know that we have a super sick set-up out back in the Refectory." "That is one bad ass ramp." Jessie agreed. From the commercial alone, he could see that the Rev's ramp was taller than Keith's pool. If he had something like that way back when, he would have mastered the McTwist in one weekend. "Like I told your partner here, you guys really should stop by. Get some free swag. Rev it up on the ramp." When he saw both Jessie and Kevin smirking, he corrected himself. "Check out the ramp." Just as quickly, he added, "For free, of course." "Gee, thanks." Keith turned up the smirk but, once again, Jessie was looking at nothing and seeing it all. Keith knew his friend was already a million miles away and spinning in space, his skateboard held tight to his feet and pulled in close, three perfect twists beneath him and reaching for just one more. Keith was going to ask the Rev why he wasn't at his own church, blessing some skateboards or something, when another high, friendly voice called from the other side of the room. This time it was Dion. "Hey you guys." He laughed and his voice cracked on 'guys.' He was trying to address the room. "Can I have your attention please? Come on, guys. Please." Jessie glanced at the people standing behind him. Some of them had already started picking at the food and showed no sign of stopping. The Pastor, who came out of hiding once the Rev sat down next to Keith and Jessie, stood beside Dion. She smiled and put her hands on Dion's shoulders. Keith couldn't help but notice how tiny Dion looked. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please." The Pastor boomed, friendly but firm. It was the most bass Keith had heard since they got here and the room responded to it. She smiled until she was certain they were all listening. "If you'll all please have a seat we can get started." She smiled, waiting for them to sit down. When they did, she rewarded them with a joke. "And the sooner we get this started, the better. I'm sure we all," she lifted her large, white hands from Dion's stooped shoulders. Icarus had fallen but the wings kept going. She waved those hands over the room. "I'm sure we all will agree that these two crazy kids have waited long enough." Everybody laughed but the Rev cheered, too. He seemed deter timed to prove to somebody that he was not just down with this wedding, he was totally into it. Keith hoped it wasn't him. He was relieved to see Jessie raise an eyebrow at the Rev's enthusiasm. He cleared his throat in agreement and another secret handshake was exchanged. "Margaret, if you would please." The Pastor lowered her voice and addressed a little old lady sitting at the organ. Seeing her tiny face barely peering over the top, Jessie thought of the thousands of little old ladies in big old sedans, slowly drifting like driven sand across the center line. With a swell of notes and what sounded like an incredibly quick check of the organ's pedals, Margaret began to play. The song sounded more somber coming out of the organ than it did the radio but Jessie recognized it immediately. Most people did and they were humming along. He saw that Keith was humming and he smiled, knowing that he would deny it later. Fucking Keith. Next to Keith, the Rev started to rev it up, humming louder and louder until he finally burst out singing. "Morning has broken, all over the place," and then he trailed off in nonsense syllables. A few people around them chuckled and giggled, embarrassed for him but the Rev didn't notice. He was already waiting for his next chance to blurt out the only words in the song he knew. A pretty young girl in the middle rows giggled at the Rev and looked away but he didn't notice her either. Keith glared at them both and hated them even more when they didn't notice. The Pastor smiled and waited for the laughter to stop. She raised one hand and turned it palm down. Margaret shook out the last few notes but the room got quiet quicker. "She's good." The Rev whispered to Keith, never taking his eyes off the Pastor. Keith ignored him and, again, the Rev didn't notice. "Friends and fellow travelers," She put the bass back in her voice and found a beat in the groove Margaret was laying down. She talked around it rather than on top of it. She let the congregation laugh again and, after a little bit, repeated the phrase 'fellow travelers' to remind them what they were laughing about. "Hey, we've all been called worse, right?" She waved her hands over the room again and everybody laughed even more. Now everybody was smiling like they were in on the secret handshake. "We've all been called worse." She repeated, more contemplative than conspiratorial. She let them think about it. "We've all been called much worse." She said it with the finality of things best left unsaid and then, without missing a beat, began rattling off those much worse words from way back when. "Four-eyes." She pointed at Dion, sitting on the inside aisle seat of the front row. Margaret played some sympathetic low notes that curled up like burnt paper in the silence. They wanted to laugh but they were afraid to. Jessie could feel it. After one uncertain second of silence, the Rev roared with laughter and the congregation followed him. Another second or two after that, Dion joined in and Jessie wondered if he knew what he was laughing about. "Sissy." She pointed at Lisa, sitting across the aisle from Dion. The Pastor looked at Lisa with a pained expression and mouthed the word 'sorry.' Lisa shook her head and waved her hand and the place erupted in laughter again, the Rev laughing the loudest. Lisa stood up and turned around, giving a curtsey to the congregation. Margaret played the Miss America theme and Lisa blew kisses. The congregation ate it up. Keith half expected the Rev to rev it up with a wolf whistle and stomp his feet. But he only cheered and smiled. The pretty girl in the middle rows smiled at the Rev and played with one of her dreadlocks. "Fatty." She smiled and waved those big white hands down her big white robes. Her robes billowed and flowed, an avalanche coming down the mountain, an avalanche triggered by just one word. Before her robes had settled back into place, Margaret was playing "the Baby Elephant Walk." The Pastor threw a perfect double take at Margaret and she caught it, hitting one of the sound effect levers on the organ. The sound of a rim shot on a snare drum came from the speakers. "I can't believe you, Margaret." She chuckled, shaking her head, and sighed "good one, Margaret." Keith almost believed that this was the first time Margaret and the Pastor did that joke. The Rev was right. The Pastor was good. "Its true. They called me Fatty." The Pastor indulged some well-intentioned nay-sayers. They mumbled their disbelief and she nodded her thanks. The congregation sat in folding chairs and the Pastor spoke from a podium instead of a pulpit. There were no stairs for the Pastor to descend when she came out from behind it. No carpet on the floor where she now stood. "But what the heck." She stood at the end of the aisle and put one hand on Dion's shoulder and the other on Lisa. "We've all been called much worse." She drifted slowly down the aisle, gently dragging her hand across the shoulder of everybody sitting on the aisle seats. Keith wondered what she was going to call him once she got to the end of the aisle. But she paused when she reached the middle of the room. "What the heck!" and Margaret leaned into it. "There are worse words than Fatty. Four-eyes, or sissy." She gave them a moment to think about those words. Margaret went deep. "One of the worst words ever," she gave them another second or two to narrow down the list they had been compiling. Margaret played the Final Jeopardy theme, the music that played as the contestants wrote down their answers. "Right up there with nigger, bitch, or jew," she looked at the pretty girl in the middle rows with a pained expression and stage whispered "Sorry, Aiesha." The girl tipped her red, gold, and green embroidered yamaka and laughed. The Rev laughed louder than he had at anything else and Keith glared at him. He knew that the Rev was trying to get Aiesha's attention, and he knew he was going to get it. A few different people looked at the Rev, hoping that laugh was for them. But the Rev and Aiesha locked eyes and Keith hated the smile they exchanged. Keith was older than the Rev but the Rev was still way too old for Aiesha. In her flowing peasant skirt and flimsy black tank top, She looked like she had started her freshman year at the university just days before. In his shiny suit and expensive running shoes, the Rev looked like the coolest teacher at the high school she had just left. The Rev winked at Aiesha. At the same time he made an imaginary gun with his kung fu grip and shot her with it. Aiesha slapped her hand over her heart and fluttered her eyelids. Keith couldn't believe it. "And that word is faggot." Aiesha and the Rev immediately stopped flirting. They each returned a guilty gaze to the Pastor. The Pastor held her hands above her head and pretended to throw the word down. She crushed it beneath her foot with all the salt that lost its flavor. Margaret slammed out some heavy stuff. People looked at the floor as if they expected to see the word shattered at her feet. The Pastor looked down, too, and she shook her head at what she saw. She laughed a little and looked up. "I am certain some of us," she waited and corrected herself. "Probably all of us if you remember hard enough," she waved her hands over the congregation, "Have been called a faggot before." The congregation mumbled sadly. The Rev looked at Keith like he wanted to apologize but he didn't know what for or how to. Keith recognized the look but he didn't know why the Rev was giving it to him. He looked at Jessie but Jessie was looking at the Pastor. Jessie looked relieved when she turned in the middle of the aisle, her white robes following her like a superhero's cape, and walked back to the podium. Gently touching shoulders all the way. There was a small Episcopal flag hanging on the front of the podium and the Pastor straightened it out before resuming her place. "I've been called a faggot before." she said sadly and Margaret played the Baby Elephant Walk again, this time in a minor key. The Pastor shot her a look and Margaret stopped quick. The Pastor nodded at the front row and, seeing his cue, a tall fat man with white hair stood up. He could have been the Pastor's brother. The big man looked embarrassed but he waved to the room. "My husband has been called a faggot before, too." A few people tried not to laugh and the Pastor's husband sat down fast. She sighed as if she was finishing the story in her head. "That paperboy sure has a mouth on him." Everybody laughed again. "Horrible word, horrible word." She mumbled, scratching her chin. The Rev looked at Keith and Jessie, shaking his head in broad strokes of sympathy and shame.