In the Name of Jesus
Originally this was going to be the first chapter for a novel I wanted to write. As it stands now, this is the only chapter ever written, and I might as well just call it a stand-alone short story. The novel was to be called The Symphony of Misinterpretation, a title based on a bit of inspiration I had while walking around one day. The basic thought was that all of our mistakes and our false interpretations blend together to make the correct result. This thought was so powerful that I took a notebook out of my backpack and scrawled “We are all dancing to the Symphony of Misinterpretation.”
Jon was terrified. Of what he wasn’t really sure and maybe he was just too scared to even care what it was that he was scared of. This was his first night alone in his very own big boy room, and there was some unspeakable something in the darkness that made him afraid to even stir.
When he had first crawled into bed, tucked in by his Mama, he was so proud. Alone! In a big boy room with a big boy bed! He hadn’t even asked Mama to read him a story because he was so happy and content to be in his very own room with his very own things to keep him company. Bedtime didn’t seem nearly as bad when you weren’t sharing your room with your older sister. He hadn’t put up a fight when it was time for his bath. He had dutifully washed himself quickly and hadn’t even played “crash the tugboat”, a bath-time game that Mama wasn’t especially fond of. He pulled the plug out of the bottom of the tub all by himself (even though it still worried him a bit to hear the loud gurgle as the water sucked down the drain). He even put on the silly rabbit-covered pajamas that Mama had laid out even though he just knew that they were girl pajamas. At bedtime, he had said his prayers, being careful to take his time and say each word even though he really wanted to get done as fast as he could. He didn’t even make Mama kiss Herman because stuffed animals were for little boys and Jon was a big boy now.
But Jon didn’t feel very much like a big boy at this moment. Oh, when Mama had shut the door he was just fine. He could see the hall light and hear the soft whine of the television in the living room. He lay there happily thinking of a cartoon he watched earlier that day. He even giggled occasionally until Mama told him to stop cutting up and go to sleep. Jon didn’t feel tired, and so he sat in bed whispering his times tables to himself. One times one is one. One times two is two. One times three is three. One times four is four. Jon was very proud of himself for knowing his times tables because he knew that he would be starting kindergarten just three months from now, and his sister had told him that he had to be smart in school so he could make her and Mama proud. Herman had listened happily to Jon and was very proud of him. Herman was always proud of Jon. It didn’t matter to him that hadn’t quite mastered the two’s. After all, Herman knew they were hard. It didn’t matter to Herman that sometimes Jon had to use his fingers to keep track of what number he was on. It was easy to forget such things. Herman was proud of Jon no matter what happened. He loved Jon.
When the television shut off, Jon felt a little nervous. He knew that it meant Mama was going to bed soon. He heard the heavy weight of Mama’s footsteps move sleepily into the kitchen. He heard the water spout on the fridge shoot water out into a cup, and he heard Mama set the glass down and head to bed. The hall light went off not long after that, and Jon had been terrified ever since. Jon tried so hard to be a big boy. He tried to keep right on with his times tables, starting from the beginning.
One times one is one. Two times two is two.
He wanted so badly to just run to his Mama and tell her to please please stay up for just a little while longer. Why did he have to go to bed so early? Why couldn’t he stay up and watch TV? Why couldn’t he just turn on the TV and read? Why couldn’t he have homework like Kara so that he could work on something and have any reason at all to be up and turn on the TV? Why couldn’t he be up instead of laying here alone in this bed with the big window with the old curtain that Mama hadn’t pulled all the way?
But Jon knew that he couldn’t get up and cry to Mama. She wouldn’t understand anything, and Jon would have to go right back to sharing a room with Kara until he was a big enough boy to sleep all by himself. Jon knew that he couldn’t get up and turn the TV on because Mama would just take the TV away for a week. So Jon did the only thing he could. He threw covers over his head and put his back against the wall, clutching Herman tight in his arms and laying as still as he could.
Jon hadn’t moved since then, and though he really wanted to cry because he was so scared that he couldn’t think, he was afraid to make any noise at all because then they would know he was here and that he was awake. Oh God, if only they would think he was asleep. Then they wouldn’t bother him. But if they knew he was awake, then they’d come after him. He knew it. Jon’s butt hurt from being pressed against the wall so hard, but he couldn’t move it. His throat hurt from holding back tears and even the slightest sound. Jon heard his own breathing in the silence and even started holding his breath.
All Jon could think to do was pray. Jon was used to praying out loud before bed, but Grammy had always said that God could hear you even when you were just thinking real quiet to yourself. God please, Jon thought to himself, getting stuck at that point and not knowing what to say next. His heart just said it over and over again even as he bit down on his lips and refused to make a noise.
God please God please God please God please God please…
He remembered Grammy singing some song about the name of Jesus and how in the name of Jesus demons had to flee so he sat there praying the word “Jesus” over and over again, hoping that he wasn’t shaking enough for them to know that he wasn’t asleep. If he could only get to sleep everything would be okay. He would get out of bed in the morning and he wouldn’t die before he waked. He would get up, turn on the TV, and eat his cereal and everything would be okay. But he just had to get to sleep. But he couldn’t, and he couldn’t let them know that he was awake.
Jesus Jesus Jesus…
It was so hot under the covers that Jon couldn’t really breathe too well. Oh, how he wished that Mama hadn’t made him wear the long-sleeve rabbit pajamas. They felt like they were stuck to him and he really wanted to peel them off his back but he couldn’t because if he moved they would know he was still awake and they would have to get him.
Jesus Jesus Jesus…
Was he saying it out loud? He bit down on his lip even tighter to make sure that he wasn’t making any noise at all. Jon knew that he was squeezing Herman too tight, but he couldn’t loosen his grip because if he did they would see him move and they would know for sure that he wasn’t really asleep.
Jesus Jesus Jesus…
He heard a creak that came from the living room, and it made him pray even faster. JesusJesusJesusJesusJesus…They were in the living room. He knew it. He couldn’t move. They would know. They would know that he wasn’t asleep, and they would come after him. A silent tear rolled down his cheek and fell onto his quivering, tooth-pinched bottom lip. More than anything Jon wanted to be asleep and away from them.
JesusJesusJesusJesusJesusJesusJesusJesus…