Acts of Faith Ch. 01

"Okay okay!" Tryss shuddered, "I'll do it, and I'll do it!"

She shucked her jeans down, then desperately stumbled out of them as if they were infested with stinging fleas. In a frenzy too, she ripped off her socks and flung them away. Then, steadying herself, wide eyed, she reached toward the top of her head, but chose instead to cover her mouth before looking back into the microwave door.

"Oh God thank you!" she exclaimed in relief.

"God says not to mention it. Nice legs beautiful. Boy, is she gonna' be tickled when she sees those, and your feet, those are her favorite."

"My feet?"

"Oh yeah, Temperance loves your feet! There the provocative tease, the socially acceptable, publicly visible, sexy aspect of you she can steal glances at and try not to think about while she gobbles a ganache or consumes a cannoli."

"She does?"

"Totally, but she won't admit it. No biggie though. Just the way you are will be enough to open up the flood gates. Now put those clothes upstairs, come back down here and get back to exactly what you were doing before little old me showed up. Thanks a bunch Tryss. I'll see you around."

"Wait!"

"What honey, before I get caught!"

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Holy shit you're so dumb. Because I don't like fly's buzzing around my hoochie all the time."

Then, in the split second it took for Trystessa to grab up her jeans, the angel was gone. Still, she stepped back into the nook to double check and saw that she was in deed gone, out of sight or at least no longer visible.

"And for the record," Tryss shouted, her eyes darting around the room, "I threw that toothbrush out."

3

It was an oasis sort of habit among Temperance's other obligatory habituations to pass her Sundays after church with Trystessa, either talking over a lunch they had prepared together or go out running errands or shopping. It was twenty-six minutes past eleven when Temperance rolled into the driveway and parked. She opened the box of doughnuts a second time, considered consuming a forth confection, peered up into the rear view and realize that she still wore a thin mustache of powdered sugar. Temperance felt a sickening twinge of guilt begin to churn in her gut as she wiped her mouth. Then, resealing the box, she carried it out of the car and locked the door behind her.

A minute later, she was at Tryss's door, ringing the bell in spite of the fact that the door would surely be unlocked. As much as she disagreed with it, it was Trystessa's routine to leave herself a target in such a way, even if it was only for a fifteen to twenty minute window. Temperance waited. Seconds turned into minutes. Tryss didn't come. Concerned, Temperance tried to peer between the blinds that were lowered on the inside of the door's window, but couldn't make out anything. Hesitantly, she tried the knob, turned it and let herself in.

It was the living room, where Temperance had not yet moved from, that one came into when first entering the house. There, beside the door, to its right, was the sofa, from which one could look directly into the kitchen or to the right, into the dining room.

Trystessa was in plain view, leaning on the kitchen counter reading the newspaper, seeming quite unaware that she was half naked. In that instant , though quite set and transfixed by what she beheld, Temperance felt unraveled inside, as if, in the seething animal's frustration, it had sunk its teeth into her soul and wrenched it loose, as if it had been some vining plant, deracinating it from the soil around its roots. Then, floating, suspended, she finally found the words:

"Good, morning?"

Trystessa turned, bringing her face into view as her ass moved into three quarter profile.

"Oh hi!" she sang, smiling, "I didn't hear you come in! How was, church?"

Trystessa, having her own direct line of sight to the front door and the leftmost end of the sofa, observed as Temperance finally, unsteadily shuffled to it, plopped herself down, and then open the box on her lap. Next, her eyes still flitting nervously about the living room, Temperance withdrew a cruller, and then proceeded to take a bite. Tryss watched as her friend swallowed a few seconds later, and then remarked:

"You don't have any pants on."

Wearing only her favorite burgundy sweater and a pair of pink cotton panties, Trystessa continued to study her friend.

"This is true." Trystessa answered, as if having been instructed by Temperance's little vagabond Vegas show girl guardian angel to be as such was the most natural thing in the world, which it was, but not in Temperance's world, "I am not wearing pants, this morning. I decided to, briefly postpone the putting on of my pants because I just happened to have a, luxuriating shower, where I shaved my legs, and then gave myself a nice pedicure after, so I thought there wasn't any reason for me to get, totally, dressed just yet, so I didn't and, ta da, here I am and, here you are. So, tell me, how was church?"

Though it was masking some degree of pretense at the moment, Trystessa's smile normally came easily, as it always had for her Temps. It was a radiant smile, straight white teeth and full rosy lips. If Temperance wasn't so freaked out, she thought, she'd realize something was up. Trystessa admired her friend's sharpness, her own lack of pretense and yes, and the obsessive clock work of her too. The qualities made to solidify their relationship among a community of other relationships that were either out of professional or familial necessity or otherwise tenuous at best.

Tryss looked on as Temperance made short work of her doughnut and tried to gauge whether her friend was truly struggling with the turmoil the angel described or whether her behavior was just another manifestation of her OCD. Not since middle school had Tryss appeared before Temperance in a way she couldn't anticipate. And the truth was, Tryss was already aware that she was becoming more obsessed with her compulsions, how Temperance's hands were getting dryer and more cracked, how she'd begun to seem more like an aloof bystander in her life rather than an engaged participant and how her belly and ass was getting just a little bigger, and bigger still.

"Church was fine." Temperance said finally, "Aren't you cold?"

Meeting her friend's awkward gaze, Trystessa's smile faded. She had clearly caused some harm to occur where she hadn't intended any. Rising to her full height and turning around, Tryss thought she ought to just run back upstairs and get her jeans and socks back on. Maybe that hadn't been Temperance's guardian angel. Maybe she was a runaway stripper with a magic fetish or an escapee from a psych ward who couldn't be bound by any prison because she could perform miraculous things or, maybe, she was a minion of the devil, one of his more charmingly uncouth succubae, sent to see to the corruption of Temperance. .

"Uh, well," Trystessa uttered her answer, playfully meandering her tone, her eyes flitting in a variety of directions, "no. Spring having, sprung has made it kind of, warm."

Trystessa trailed off. This is fucking crazy, she thought. Then she thought of wigs, bad wigs, cheap ones that looked stiff as mop heads. A look of concern colored her expression as she settled her gaze on Temperance's face. It had grown pallid and her troubled eyes darted in every possible direction but back at hers.

"And you left the door unlocked." Indicated Temperance as she rhythmically drummed her fingers upon the doughnut box.

Trystessa folded her arms and scowled at her friend. She began to simmer with annoyance, frustrated with having been caught between the rock and the hard place of a supernatural psycho's demands and a perfectly normal fellow human being who refused to face up to her sexuality and experience life beyond religious devotion and obsessive compulsion. What the fuck, she thought. I really really really don't want to be bald. Then, glaring at Temperance, she said:

"Hello. I always leave the door unlocked for you. What's your deal Ms. Hjustufson? Is it a crime to hang around half dressed in my own house?"

Temperance looked down at the box under her no longer tapping fingers. Woeful, shame faced, she imagined the eight doughnuts that remained in the box. Her embarrassment, now that Trystessa had reproached her in that way of hers, addressing her by last name, in that gently punitive tone she reserved for those times when Temperance was being dim, pig headed, obstinate or myopic, had made that shame so focused that it began to burn inside her eyes. Oh where to let her eyes settle.

Look at her feet. No, please, no. If only to simply shut her eyes and disappear. Temperance closed her eyes from the sight of the box that lay between her gaze and the source of her renewed yet sorrow tempered ache. How to bring resolution to a problem that just dropped itself on your lap. Her legs are so long. Oh my- No, you foolish woman. The problem had been there all along. That's what God wants you to see. This, was what you were praying for.

Her eyes still closed, Temperance listened to Trystessa's bare feet slowly padding into the living room. I wonder, Temperance wondered, if she's thinking what she always thinks, like I'm trying to control what she does. That's not it Tryss. I can't say what it is. I'm afraid to put a name to what it is. Temperance was suspended, spiritually out of sync, the seething animal chewing her soul, its bite burning, the wounds ripped open and flowing hot.

She wanted to pray herself away or to consume herself into inevitable waste, discarded, flushed away and buried. Temperance finally opened her eyes again to glance at Trystessa, who was poised at the foot of the stairs that led up to the second floor, and then looked back down at her box of doughnuts. Then, fighting back tears, she pitifully set the box on the coffee table. Watching, saddened and confounded by the sight, Trystessa mounted the first step and announced:

"I'll, just go get dressed. I'll be right back."

"No no no no. You're right." Temperance conceded, checking for tears to wipe away, a suddenly bit of animation in her demeanor, you're right. It is your house, your pants, on or not. We've got time before we have to go. It's okay. I'm, sorry. It's just, I'm sorry."

Temperance turned to regard the box on the coffee table, took it, and then extended it to Tryss.

"And, if we are not the best of friends, "she continued, "then what are we? Here Tryss, have a doughnut."

Then what are we? Here, have a doughnut? What am I doing? That's not me talking. Yes, confessions, confections, it is you talking. Oh stop. She just thinks you're being weird, I hope. I hope, oh no, it's not going away at all, face it, I know now. Oh God, help me, show me. The ache is so bad, so good, and so bad.

Temperance watched Trystessa pause and glance at the stairs, as if contemplating that she should get some pants on anyway. In reality, Tryss was musing over whether she'd find Temps's Egyptian Rose up there, wearing that threatening smirk, her breasts staring at her like, two big bald heads with nipples on top.

Then, turning to regard Temperance for a few more seconds, she finally dropped her foot back down and took a few steps forward before accepting the box. Opening it, Trystessa seemed only to review its lack of content as she might have viewed a full assortment. Presently, she withdrew a chocolate glazed, carried it, and the box, to a spot one cushion over from her friend. Then, after taking a seat and swallowing her first bite of doughnut, Trystessa asked:

"Out with it Temps. What's the matter?"

Where does one begin? Is it possible for one person's curse to be another's miracle? How long should a life altering transition have to take? Have you ever found yourself caught in the middle of yourself?

"What? Temps, sweetie, you're crying so bad I can't understand you."

Have you ever imagined yourself standing naked in the transept of your church, in the heart of the nave, with all eyes upon you, except God's, because God turned His away?? Have you ever felt tossed like a raft on the ocean, lost in the middle of nowhere while surrounded by everything that ever was?

"Temps honey! It's okay! It's okay. Let it out. Let it all out, and then you can tell me. Can it be that bad? It can't be that bad, can it?"

Does your animal lurk inside of you with her glowing yellow eyes, rise up on two feet and stare back at you until the fire in her eyes bleeds down into and turns her black form into gleaming crystal? Does the crystal melt like ice so that what remains is the image of you, now, dressed in that pretty burgundy sweater you love, waring those pink cotton panties that barely clothe your pretty little round butt and the other, deeper, mystery inside them, the secret I myself have? Does your heart ache to touch you, to feel the smooth skin of your beautifully long legs or to kiss your astonishingly beautiful feet?

"That's right. Let it out. Oh Temperance, it hurts to see you like this. It'll be okay. I promise. It'll all be okay."

"Tryss?"

"Yes Temps, what?"

"Is there, is there ever really anything that comes out of nowhere?"

Trystessa still had Temperance in a consoling embrace. Temperance's own arms and hands were busy with the box of tissues her friend had run to get sometime near the beginning of her sobbing fit. Trystessa reached for one of the tissues then and began to gently dab the soft paper around Temperance's eyes. Brow furrowed, she took the moment to consider the question. Then, as if to transmit the answer by thought, she gently pressed the side of her head against Temperance's and answered:

"No Temps, even nothing has a source."

"Okay. So then, how do you reconcile your spiritual heart and your, animal heart?"

"My animal heart?"

"Well, yes, your sexuality."

Trystessa uttered a mewing sort of snicker and said:

"Oh, that. Hmm, did you meet someone at church?"

"Well, actually, as of this very moment, I'm no longer sure which of the world is church and which isn't."

Trystessa sat back to regard her friend. Red eyed and puffy cheeked, somehow handsomely pathetic, Temperance gazed back. I can do this, Tryss believed. I can't do this, Temperance imagined. Then, whispering, making a game of her supposedly divinely ordained subterfuge, Tryss said:

"Temps, I don't understand."

"What can you tell me about, sex?"

Trystessa raised an eye brow. It was true. Temperance likely knew next to nothing about any physical delight beyond stuffing her face full of sweets. She exuded so much innocent indifference, behaved and dressed so conservatively, that it made her virtually invisible. As for Tryss's conquests or conquerors, Temperance was only distantly aware of her as a sexual being, at least that had been the impression, when she wasn't praying for her friend to see the error of her ways.

"Uh, what about it?" encouraged Tryss.

"I don't know, like, how much can you give before you don't have anything left of yourself to save for that, special someone?"

Woah, Trystessa thought, like we're all pieces of cake we parcel out to each other. Again, Trystessa's brow furrowed. Looking past Temperance, she studied the slow undulation of a dust moat floating in one of the shafts of sun light that crossed the living room. A moment later, she shrugged and said:

"Temps, I don't care what anyone says, without base animal desire, no real love can be born. Even a mother's love originates from the desire to have physical union with a counterpart and then, once all is said and done, that mother's love, to me, is the only love that is the closest any of us can come to God's love. Maybe, maybe that's why some call it original sin, being born. It's a sin, not because of being born into the world, but because it came from the kind of love that maybe threatens God."

Trystessa turned to gauge Temperance's expression. Seeing that it was not guarded or suspicious, she went on.

"But it's not like I see God as being susceptible to threat, because I don't. I just don't see God as an entity that is threatened by anything, you know? You know how I feel about institutions. I know your church works for you and all, but I just can't abide the exclusionist stuff, the anti-gay stuff. I mean, people have changed. The world has changed. People need to be free to be the people they want to be before they, well, have to die and meet a God that loved them the whole time they were alive anyway."

"Well, maybe that's the thing," said Temperance, her voice tentative, "What if I realized I was gay?"

Oh boy. Pay dirt. Nefertiti has to be upstairs right now. If I were a guardian angel, I wouldn't be missing this.

"Wait, hello, what? You went to church today and you discovered that you're gay?"

"No?" Temperance gave a small laugh as her tears dried, "Yes? I don't know. That's what I mean about not understanding anymore where God's house ends and the world begins. That's not what I want to say. What I want to say is, what I want to ask is, what if I've spent so much of my life avoiding my sexuality without defining it, that, that I believe that God has told me today that I need to-"

"Define it." Tryss finished.

Temperance nodded, turned her gaze toward the box of doughnuts and added:

"And maybe, because for all I know my compulsive cleaning habits and my carb binging might be the mask for something God can't change about me or I can't change about myself. And, if I, uh, explore or investigate and reveal myself to me, I will be, okay?"

You know, Tryss mused, it's amazing how neat and tidy this is getting to be. Well that's nice to know, that God likes gay folks. Now I just have to get over my, performance anxiety. Maybe I should have another doughnut. Temperance listened to the prolonged silence of Trystessa's lack of comment. She did not look in Tryss's direction, but was certain that she was watching her and waiting. As the moments wore on, Temperance began to feel a new escalation of her uneasiness. I can't assume, she thought, that she's comfortable with me now. This is a mistake.

"You know what?" Temperance announced, "This isn't fair to you. I should go. I'm going to go."

Then, as she was about to stand, Trystessa crossed in front of her, went to the front door and locked it. Temperance could not utter a word. She tried, stuttered, wagged her head in protest until Trystessa raised her left hand and said:

"Wait right here. I have an idea. Be back in two shakes. Meanwhile, you, rethink the possibilities."

"Rethink the possibilities? But Tryss, I don't understand. What idea?"

"Shut it Temps. Leave you're what ifs in that box of doughnuts right there. You said it yourself: we are the best of friends. The only conditions between us is that we forgive and forget. Now, like I said, rethink the possibilities."

"Oh Trystessa! You don't mean-"

•But Tryss had sped off into the kitchen. Temperance remained still, only turning her head again to study the doughnut box on the coffee table. She could take them back, let herself out, run back to her car, and devour the remaining seven -a very good number- doughnuts on the way back to The Church of Covenant Fellowship, see if Pastor Tuddle was in his office and accept his guidance.

No, she thought. God is always here, watching in the world. He is guiding me right now. Temperance sat and listened to the sounds of the world around her, the distant white noise of highway traffic, the calls of blue jays among the trees around the house, the whistle of the spring breeze as it pushed and pulled the window blinds forward and back into place, the whine of the refrigerator and the rapid rush of water falling from the tap of the kitchen sink. I can hear Him, Temperance now believed. I can hear Him.