Falter Kingdom by Michael J Seidlinger Page A

door, I shove the laptop in my book bag and I leave the house without looking. I don’t get a real chance to think about what happened until I’m sitting in one of the back pews of the church, waiting to be seen.
    I put all the pieces together. And then it sort of makes sense, but not really. I was messaging myself?
    Was that you?

5
    JON-JON TELLS ME THAT THE EXORCISM IS THE REAL payoff. At first I don’t really follow. Sure enough he explains that first there are a series of meetings.
    â€œOnly, like, three,” Becca corrects him.
    Jon-Jon brushes the comment aside. “Yes, three, but you see, there will be time—plenty of time, in fact—to milk this for some serious money. The payoff will be the exorcism.”
    This bothers me. Jon-Jon isn’t a friend. He’s a businessman. He lives well as long as he makes money off others. He sells, sure, but he’s also got the betting thing going on. And I’m becoming, I think, his main prize.
    â€œWhy are you here?” I ask him, just because.
    Jon-Jon with another one of his questions: “How confused are you, on a scale of one to ten, ten being amnesiac?”
    I don’t answer.
    Becca doesn’t like Jon-Jon either and tells him to leave the church. “This is a spiritual place, like, take it outside!”
    Jon-Jon raises his arms in defeat. “Fair enough. I’ll be in the car.” To me he says, “Big money, think ‘big money.’”
    When he’s gone, I ask Becca, “Why did you bring him? Of, you know, everyone you could have asked for a ride, you chose that guy...”
    Becca’s embarrassed. She’s staring at her phone, compulsively refreshing her social media feed. “He asked me, okay? And I thought, ‘Emergency,’ so I just said okay instead of looking for someone else.”
    I don’t want to even look at my phone. Forget that it’s there.
    Everything’s exhausting. Everything’s also very, very good... but I won’t mention that. Not now. Not here.
    We wait in the last pew for, like, an hour, but not really, it just felt like that long, before a priest who isn’t Father James introduces himself as Father Albert, greets us and apologizes for the wait.
    â€œOkay,” I say.
    Becca leads the way. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice!”
    Father Albert sort of bows. “My pleasure, my pleasure.”
    On the path to becoming a priest or a deacon or a nun or a monk—spiritual people—I guess you learn how to have a crap-ton of manners. Like, this Father Albert is incredibly nice. Like, too nice. So nice it makes something deep inside me angry. It feels insincere. No way Father Albert is really this glad to see us. I’ve got a demon attached to me; why would he be “delighted to see us”? Wait, did he even say that? Maybe I made it up.
    He’s excruciating though.
    Look at the way he walks. All pious and calm, like every day lasts forever and there’s nothing more important than seeing and speaking to Becca and me.
    Father Albert’s office is really neat and tidy. Of course it’s neat and tidy. Why wouldn’t it be? Look at the guy.
    Becca does all the explaining.
    Father Albert folds his hands and listens all calm and contently.
    He’s really bothering me. I mean, yeah...
    Ugh. I just can’t stand it. People like this.
    He can’t be serious.
    Father Albert apologizes for a second time. “Unfortunately, Father James will be unable to perform the exorcism. Yet I am able to accommodate you and happy to complete the task.”
    Becca smiles. “That’s great. I understand.”
    Father Albert asks me a series of questions, starting with “How do you feel right at this moment?”
    I should be honest, right? I should just say what’s on my mind. Yeah.
    Well, here it goes: “I’m kind of annoyed. Annoyed at you, at this whole thing.”
    Becca’s