pg 48

May 22, 2010, 8:43 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

everyday the blinds open but not for very long. knowing this, having learned the closest it could become to being called a pattern, dudley laid in wait. not actually laying of course for the house, though it stood across from a perfectly public park that was truly one of a kind and had he laid in wait, surely would have been discovered and the routine would have to have been changed

he was almost certain the owner of this house wore a wig even though they had chosen an all white one. then they were balding. then she was balding. dudley’s grandmother muriel was balding and that’s why, according to his mother, his grandmother wore her hair in a perm. in church as a child, when he was forced, every sunday to go, would he choose to sit alone, apart from his mother, his father, his sister and his family dog, at the back of the church and watch a cavalcade of white, grey permed heads riding the dead horse faces beneath.

it was the one free choice they granted him. to sit in church by himself. of course being so close to the minister, not to mention their proximity to god, did his family sit at the very front while he took to the very back row/pew in an effort to better acquaint himself with the myriad ways those present felt about their lord jesus christ albeit via body language, a drooping head, snapped back awake by its own discomfort or worse the towering tones of minister doug.

as a result, of sitting alone, he came to be known as religiously thoughtful. initially, during the coffee hour, normally from 1030-1130 following 9 o’clock service did fellow church goers think this meant a bad seed had sprung within him. but, following their questions, all he could bring himself to say being ‘wells’ or ‘i really don’t have the moral experience to say” not having the courage to stand up and directly oppose, well then he came to exude a certain level of religious thoughtfulness, wisdom really, so that eventually came to hold a sort of court amidst cracked china and spilled coffee, welling up in the divots of folding tables older, no doubt more pious, than he.

what did he think the sermon was pointing towards. are we doomed, was that the point, asked to his ever constant replies of ‘hmmm’, ‘well i really can’t say that…’ trailing off but never leaving anyone hanging for there was always another to interpret with their own question sometimes comment. it didn’t matter his answer, for he was the only one keeping track that there never was one, rather knowing that they longed to ask questions and be heard by the ‘group’.

the autonomy he had from his family extended to getting a ride home afterward. he didn’t want one. instead he would take the dog home and walk, through the neighbourhood of the church, along streets stretched eloquently long by the large homes which stood throughout. theirs being the only dog allowed in church, not because a blind family member necessitated him but rather because no one had found the courage to challenge it that first sunday and every sunday onwards.

cheeky was/is a coon hound. black and tan in coat, cool and patient in personality. before they/their family, had welcomed her, to their homes/lives, cheeky held down a full time job at the vet school. hounds are renowned for their stillness, their chillness so that when it came time to teach, all that was needed was a hand on fur to render her still. dudley much imagined the position she chose while in church-in the sitting position on the pew-was how she could be found any given day at the clinic/school.


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