Cult

By Sonia Rogers

The ad read: 

ISO like-minded people. Do you like spirited debates? Maybe a debate about spirits- both the liquid type and the invisible sort? Nothing is off the table at the weekly meetings of The Church of Questions.

The Church of Questions is not affiliated with any organized religion. We do not sermonize or proselytize or baptize. There are no entrance fees or donations required. Simply attend a meeting- you will find lively discussion, and perhaps a friend or two.

Eddie Earl Brown is in a rut and she knows it, so when she spots the ad in the personals, she's intrigued.

After all, who couldn't use more friends? Especially since she's only got two, and that includes her dog Brantley, who isn't much of a conversationalist.

Eddie Earl and Brantley attend a meeting of the Church of Questions. To her surprise, the leader of the group is none other than her best friend since childhood.

Antonio Burnes, or Ant, as he likes to be called, immediately brings her into the fold, so to speak, and as the (non)church becomes wildly popular, Eddie Earl discovers the life - and the friendships - she's always wanted.

But when things seem too good to be true, they usually are.

The bigger the church gets, the more Ant seems to change.

And when Ant announces he is the Messiah, cracks quickly appear in the thin veneer of her perfect world.

On top of that, she's been having crazy dreams about a bug. The white ant invading her sleep keeps demanding two things of her: believe in him, and put an end to the Church of Questions.

Either she's losing her mind, or she's involved in something of biblical proportions.

 

 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Beagle Publishing
• Release date: Aug 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201633363

Sonia Rogers

Sonia Rogers is the author of a lot of books. Some are good, some are so-so, and a few are pretty terrible. Regardless, she continues to put her work out into the world, hoping to connect with the same sort of twisted minds as her own. She lives in Missouri with her husband and a pack of annoying (yet loveable and funny) beagles.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In The Beginning

The conversation didn’t mean much at the time, but when she thought back on it later, Eddie Earl saw the red flags - thousands of them - all frantically waving to get her attention.

She hadn’t noticed them, of course, because she hadn’t been looking for them.

She’d been on a lunch date with her friend Antonio, who went by Ant to everyone except bill collectors.

Eddie Earl and Ant had been friends for twenty years, ever since their first day of kindergarten in Mrs. Baumgartner’s class, when the alphabet dictated the seating arrangement.

Eddie Earl Brown and Antonio Burnes spent most of their scholastic careers sitting near each other, at least until they left for college.

These days, they were crawling up corporate ladders instead of playground ladders, but their friendship had stayed as solid as the old metal slides on those playground ladders.

They’d finished their salads and were waiting for the server to bring their entrees, that awkward part of the meal where you never know what to do with your hands, when the topic of spirituality came up.

The subject surprised Eddie Earl, because in all their years of friendship, Ant had never mentioned religion, or going to church, so she had assumed he was an atheist like her.

Do you believe in God? he’d asked, fidgeting with his silverware until the handles of the fork and knife clanked together with a metallic ring.

Eddie Earl laughed. She figured he was joking, because, come on, it was Ant. He made jokes about everything.

He stopped playing with the silverware and met her eyes. It wasn’t a setup for a punchline, she realized.

Oh! You’re serious! she’d said, a little flustered, but more confused than anything.

Ant nodded, his face as serious as a judge at a murder trial.

She tried to be diplomatic. "Well, I’m not saying there’s not a higher power..."

So, that’s a no, he finished, while she was still trying to figure out the politically correct way of saying no- just in case he’d joined one of the billions of religions out there since their last lunch.

No, she finally admitted. Curiosity got the better of her and she asked, Why do you ask?

Ant continued playing with the knife and fork, clanking the handles together until she gritted her teeth at the noise. She wondered again if he’d discovered Christianity and was trying to find the best way to tell her.

She hoped not. In her limited experience, religion, politics, and sex were the best ways of destroying perfectly good relationships.

No reason, really, he said, and the unusual conversation ended when the waitress set two steaming plates of pasta on the table.

As they ate, they resumed chatting normally. They talked about their jobs, made catty remarks about the weight of old high school flames, and debated the merits of buying a home versus renting.

They were waiting for the check when Ant brought up the subject of faith again.

I was watching this documentary on television the other night and it got me thinking about religion, and how a lot of people who call themselves Christians don’t really practice what they preach.

What was the documentary? she asked, always on the lookout for good television.

It doesn’t matter, he said, shaking his head. "The point is, it made me wonder what your average person really believes in, and whether they go to church because they’re a good person who wants to do the right thing, or if it’s because they’re a bad person who wants to be a better person."

Eddie Earl shrugged. Church seems like more of a social gathering or networking opportunity these days. I mean, I’m sure the founders of organized religion started out with good intentions, but these days, the rituals and sermons seem more like a boring tradition people tolerate until they can visit with their friends.

Ant fumbled with the fork in his hands, and it landed on the floor below their table. He picked it up, his face red, although Eddie Earl didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or the effort of bending over.

I hadn’t thought of it like that, he said. Maybe you’re right.

Eddie Earl shrugged again, smiling. "Maybe, maybe not. All I know is there are as many crazy cults out there that call themselves a religion as there are actual religions, so who knows which one is right?"

The waitress brought the check, and after a few minutes of arguing over who would pay (Ant won), they rose to leave, promising they wouldn’t wait as long between lunch dates this time, a promise they made each time they ate together.

Eddie Earl walked home, eager to spend some time with her dog, a mutt named Brantley she’d brought home from an adoption event six months before.

By the time she reached her small apartment, she’d forgotten about the conversation.

Chapter 2

Eddie Earl Tries- It’s Dale Carnegie Gone Wild

Eddie Earl was at work , browsing the local ads on her computer and daydreaming of finding the perfect home for the low, low price of little or nothing, when an ad in the personal section caught her attention.

She hadn’t intentionally been looking in the personal section and she definitely hadn’t been checking to see if there were any single, hot men in her area looking for dates, but the little blurb made her look twice.

The paper had sandwiched the ad between ‘ISO dominatrix, willing to treat me like the bad, bad boy I’ve been’ and ‘ISO matronly woman to act as my mother. Must be willing to change diapers on an adult man.’

Both ads had the same phone number listed.

The meat between the cringeworthy bread read:

‘ISO like-minded people. Do you like spirited debates? Maybe a debate about spirits- both the liquid type and the invisible sort? Nothing is off the table at the weekly meetings of The Church of Questions.

The Church of Questions is not affiliated with any organized religion. We do not sermonize or proselytize or baptize. There are no entrance fees or donations required. Simply attend a meeting- you will find lively discussion, and perhaps a friend or two.

You can find us every Wednesday evening at 6 in the back room of Bean Me Up, Scottie, located at 212 South Street.’

Eddie Earl sat back in her chair, thinking.

She didn’t have many friends in her life, as she spent most of her time working, and an enormous chunk of her time off thinking about working.

The ad promised an opportunity to connect with other people who were searching for the same things she craved. Friendship, conversations, and drinks. Things that every – ahem – mid-twenties person enjoyed.

Eddie Earl glanced at the bottom corner of the computer screen to see what day it was.

Dammit, she muttered, remembering it only showed the time and date, which made her remember she’d been meaning to buy a calendar to hang on the wall of her cubicle

What did you say, dear?

The voice came from the next cubicle over. The owner of the voice was a woman in her mid-fifties named Madge. Madge was the sort of person who fancied herself a Mother Teresa type, but in reality, was closer to Ariana Grande- without the looks. Or the talent. Or the youth.

Eddie Earl minimized the computer screen, knowing from experience what was coming next. Nothing, Madge. I thought I deleted my report, but I didn’t.

As expected, Madge’s blonde (bottle dyed), 80s hair-out-to-there-style, perfected with a daily can of hairspray head, popped over the cubicle wall. Eddie Earl closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then popped them open wide while planting a fake smile on her face.

She looked up at the person she interacted with more than anyone in the world- unless you counted Brantley. And since he was a dog, she wasn’t certain she could include him.

I can show you how I make backups, hon. Easy peasy lemon breezy.

Eddie Earl forced herself to stay focused on Madge, using every bit of willpower she had to keep from rolling her eyes up so far she could spot her brain.

Madge’s decades-old hairstyle matched her decades-old computer training. The woman refused to use any shortcuts on the keyboard and made her work twice as hard as it needed to be.

One example that came to mind was Madge’s strange habit of printing emails. Instead of reading the electronic mail on her computer screen, she printed each and every correspondence sent to her. She would walk to the shared printer at the far end of the room, then bring back the papers to read at her desk. She would then compose her reply with pen and paper. Once the reply was to her liking, she typed in what she’d written and sent it to the printer again. If there were no mistakes, then, and only then, would she press the reply button.

Eddie Earl had seen the emails from their boss complaining about the overuse of printing supplies, suggesting they attempt to keep the usage down, but Madge didn’t seem to understand that the email – which she’d printed out and filed – was about her in particular.

Eddie Earl’s eyes wandered to the massively teased, badly dyed blonde hair, cemented into place with enough hairspray to make Madge partially responsible for global warming. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her eyes back to Madge’s and said, That’s okay, Madge. Thanks, though.

Madge humphed. Her bright red talons curled around the top of the divider, and with a hint of cattiness, she said, I offered. Don’t blame me if you get fired someday for not having backups to protect yourself.

Eddie Earl fought her eye muscles again, barely keeping her focus away from the woman’s heavy blue eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner. The red lipstick – which was the exact same shade as the nails, she noticed - curled up into a smirk.

Not allowing Madge to showcase her expertise on the computer had pissed her off. Since Eddie Earl had to work with the woman every day, she sent an olive branch up the flagpole.

I was thinking of getting a pizza delivered for lunch today. Want to share it with me?

Immediately, she realized her mistake.

Madge’s blue-hooded eyes lit up.

That sounds amazing! Let’s see, what do I want? I’m trying to eat less meat, so veggie would be good, but I’m allergic to onions, so of course, we’ll have to leave that off. Let’s skip the green peppers, too. They have an aftertaste I can’t bring myself to like. Oh, and no olives, because I read this article the other day about the horrible working conditions of the olive industry employees and, of course, we can’t support that... What else is there?

Mushroom, but I—

Ooh! Perfect! I love mushrooms! Madge paused, then asked, "You do remember I’m lactose intolerant, don’t you, sweetie?"

Eddie Earl stifled a groan. She had forgotten, mostly because she stopped listening to Madge when she went on and on, like she always did.

Even though she had enough money to buy the pizza – barely - what her coworker was suggesting was mushrooms on bread, with some sauce for flavor.

She hated mushrooms.

If she bought two pizzas, she could get the toppings she wanted on the second one. But the cost would eat up the rest of her money, and unless she got paid a day early, which happened occasionally, the scheduled utilities payment for her small apartment would cause her checking account to go in the red.

Again.

Eddie Earl wanted to cry. She’d only suggested the pizza to placate Madge, and now she was going to end up in the red to keep a friendship she didn’t particularly want.

Once again, she stifled a groan. Sure, I remember, Madge. I’ll order two pizzas, and you can take the rest of yours home for dinner.

Inwardly, she crossed her fingers, hoping the woman would at least offer to cover part of the cost.

Thanks, hon! Let me know when they get here!

The giant petrified hairball slid down the partition and disappeared, like a lion slinking into a hunting crouch in tall grass.

Eddie Earl pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. She felt trapped, as if Madge had somehow tricked her into ordering a second pizza. No! Not trapped. She felt taken advantage of!

One of these days, I’m going to learn to stand up for myself, she thought.

She maximized the internet browser to order the pizza – pizzas - she no longer wanted, and the ad for the Church of Questions caught her eye again.

If she hurried home after work and brought Brantley with her, she could be at Bean Me Up, Scotty in time to order a coffee – no, she was spending the last of her money on pizza, she’d have to order water – before the meeting started.

Eddie Earl gave a sharp nod of her head toward the computer screen, then typed in the pizza store’s web address.

Madge was humming in her cubicle, an off-key rendition of an old song Eddie Earl vaguely recognized.

It was only after she pressed the button to pay for the food that she recalled the name of the song.

We Are the Champions.

Chapter 3

These Boots Are Made For Walkin’

Eddie Earl rushed out of work, forgetting to grab her expensive leftovers from the refrigerator in the break room.

Her apartment was a ten-minute walk from work, but in her excitement, she made it in five.

Brantley met her at the door, jumping and thumping on her, his usual greeting. He ran circles around the kitchen, barking in ecstasy when she dumped a can of wet food into his bowl instead of the usual kibble.

While the dog was occupied with his rare treat, Eddie Earl changed out of her work shirt into a sweater she’d found at a thrift shop, hiding the stain on the shoulder with a scarf.

She was brushing her teeth when Brantley came to investigate why their routine had been disrupted, resting his front paws on the counter and panting his canned-food breath all over her.

Han’ on, duggy, she mushed out around the toothbrush, hoping Brantley could mentally translate the toothbrush-speak to ‘Hang on, buddy.’

He dropped to all fours and trotted out of the room. Almost immediately, he returned, leash in mouth, broadly hinting that she should hurry up and take him outside to do his business.

Eddie Earl spat into the sink and patted his furry head.

Good job, Brant!

Brantley shoved the leash toward her hand, another tactful reminder that he really needed to pee.

I know, I know, she said. Give me a second.

When she turned toward the bedroom instead of the front door, Brantley whined loudly, tact be damned. The vocal cue told her he really, really needed to pee.

I’m trying to hurry. Hang on, she said, yanking on the leather boots she saved for special occasions. She’d purchased the boots after Darren, her boyfriend of two years, forgot her birthday for the second time in a row.

Eddie Earl had politely mentioned the occasion, hoping Darren was only faking his forgetfulness, and he actually planned on surprising her with an evening of dinner and dancing and cake.

Therefore, she was genuinely surprised when he tore his attention away from the video game he was playing long enough to say, Uh huh.

He didn’t notice when she left.

It took thirty minutes and a glass of wine for her to calm down. When she walked out of the bar an hour later, a bit buzzed from the second glass of wine the bartender gave her as a birthday present, Eddie Earl decided she wasn’t ready to go home yet, and a little retail therapy might cheer her up.

Eddie Earl walked into her favorite store. The boots she’d been drooling over for months were on sale. She snatched them up, deciding this was her birthday present from Darren, never mind that she picked out and paid for them herself. She almost ran to the cash register, worried that if she waited even a second, logic would persuade her the money would be better spent elsewhere.

She danced all the way home, picturing Darren’s face when he saw her wearing the boots and little else, imagining his heartfelt apology, and predicting the awesome makeup sex after.

But when she strolled into the living room wearing only her new boots and sexiest underwear, he hadn’t even looked up from his video game. She stepped in front of the television, nervous and excited and - okay, horny – but he’d craned his head around her so he could see the screen. When that didn’t work, he pushed her out of his sightline.

Darren spoke into his headset, sounding annoyed. Hang on one second, guys. He paused the video game, barely looking her direction as he asked, What the fuck are you doing? I’m in the middle of a massive battle!

He unpaused the screen and spoke into his microphone. I’m back. No, it’s fine. I don’t need to go.

When he finally came to bed in the early hours of the morning, Eddie Earl pretended to be asleep.

She rose as soon as she was certain he was sleeping, intending to clean up the empty potato chip bags, the half-empty cans of beer, and the dirty clothing he mysteriously took off while playing his games, but she stopped dead when she saw his phone lying on the end table.

Eddie Earl hesitated, but only for a second. She picked up the phone and pressed the button to bring it to life.

Texts. So many texts. All to the same person- a woman named Diana. Eddie Earl read them all, then took the phone to the bedroom and woke up Darren.

By the time the sun rose, her love for him had gone up in a flaming explosion of rage.

Chapter 4

Eddie Earl, The Chosen One

Eddie Earl pushed away the bad mojo of the boots’ origin, zipped them up, and rose from the edge of the mattress, almost falling when the heel of one boot caught the toe of the other. As she caught her balance, Brantley, his patience gone, barked.

The loudness of his demand startled her into sitting ungracefully where she’d started- on the mattress.

Eddie Earl rose to her feet again, steadied herself on the heels she wasn’t used to wearing, then leaned down to take the leash from Brantley’s mouth. His foul mood immediately dissipated when he realized he was finally getting to go out and relieve himself

Let’s see what this Church of Questions is all about, she said, as she clipped the leash to his collar

Brantley raced for the front door, the leash dragging behind him, and Eddie Earl laughed.

Okay, bud. Let me grab my jacket.

She took her good coat out of the closet. The temperature had been dropping steadily all day, and she needed something more than the light jacket she’d worn to work. As she fumbled in the pockets for her gloves, something poked her hand. She pulled it out, curious.

A crisp twenty-dollar bill!

Brant! Check it out! she said, waving her treasure at him. We’re getting dinner after all!

Brantley didn’t notice. He was too busy scratching at the door, desperate now to relieve himself. He barked again, reminding his mistress that if she didn’t let him out soon, the only place she would be going was to the linen closet for towels to clean up the mess.

Eddie Earl laughed. The cash appearing out of nowhere just when she needed it most had erased some of the crappiness of the day.

Okay, boy. Let’s do this.

Brantley barely made it past the building’s door before he relieved himself. He stopped again before they’d made it a block.

Brant, I’m so sorry, Eddie Earl said, as she bagged up the mess and dropped it into the nearest trash receptacle. I’ll try to come home at lunch tomorrow and let you out.

The dog’s tail wagged so fiercely she wondered if he understood what she’d said. It wasn’t the first time the dog had convinced her his vocabulary was beyond the norm.

Like the day she’d brought him home.

Eddie Earl had no intention of adopting a dog the day she’d gone in search of new work clothes. She hadn’t been thinking of dogs at all.

She’d gone to the thrift store, hoping to find business attire without paying the exorbitant prices that went along with said clothing.

When she came out of the store an hour later, disappointed she hadn’t found anything she could use, she noticed the adoption fair set up on the sidewalk in front of the pet food store.

The idea of playing with a puppy for a minute seemed like a good mood lifter, so she approached the fenced-off area where a dozen chunky pups were running and rolling and playing.

Beside the puppy corral, though, she spotted a black dog cowering in the corner of a cage, his head down as though he were trying to make himself invisible.

Eddie Earl approached the kennel, speaking softly, Hey, boy, what’s the matter?

According to an index card taped to the front of the cage, the dog’s name was Broccoli. At the sound of her voice, Broccoli shivered, and pushed himself deeper into the metal bars.

A volunteer was standing nearby, and as she approached, she spoke as though she’d given the same speech a hundred times already that day. That’s Broccoli. He’s got some issues. He’s been with us for six months now.

Eddie Earl squatted next to the cage and poked her fingers through the metal bars. She looked up at the woman and asked, What kind of issues?

Well, the woman answered. The first issue is his color. Black dogs and cats are the least likely to get adopted. Then there’s the obvious- he’s terrified of everyone and everything. He’ll have to go to a home where he’s the only pet, and his owner will need to be very patient with him.

Eddie Earl scanned the card on the cage again.

Neutered – yes.

Age – 9 months.

House-trained – yes.

She looked up at the volunteer. He’s house-trained? Does that mean someone had him before?

He was an owner surrender. We think they abused him.

That’s terrible! Eddie Earl exclaimed. She looked again at Broccoli, who was cautiously watching her, his head still low to the ground. Someone mistreated me, too, she whispered.

Broccoli’s head lifted a little, as if in sympathy. He moved his nose closer to her hand.

Maybe we could work something out, she said to the dog. I mean, I have to work during the day, but you would be the only animal in my house.

Broccoli’s tongue eased out of his mouth, and he gingerly licked the back of her fingers.

The volunteer gasped. I’ve never seen him do that before!

Do what before? Eddie Earl asked, genuinely confused.

Voluntarily touch someone! She turned away from the kennel and yelled, "Mary Ellen! Get over here! You are not going to believe this!"

Broccoli licked Eddie Earl’s fingertip again, then lowered his head quickly, before the second volunteer arrived to discover what wasn’t to be believed.

While the first volunteer excitedly told Mary Ellen what had just happened, Eddie Earl wiggled the fingers inside the cage. Broccoli licked her finger, then wiggled closer to the hand so the fingers could scratch his chin.

Mary Ellen’s mouth dropped open when she saw the scene in front of her.

Well, that’s that, then! she said, both loudly and firmly. You’ve been chosen!

Eddie Earl looked around to see who they were talking about. When she realized both volunteers were staring at her, she asked, Who, me?

Mary Ellen nodded emphatically. Why don’t you take him out for a walk? Honestly, this is incredible! In the six months we’ve had him, he’s never once responded to another human like this. It makes me want to cry a little.

Broccoli let out a tiny whimper, and Eddie Earl lowered her head. Dark, liquid eyes full of hope waited to see what she would say.

You want to go for a walk? she asked the dog, and to her amazement, he stood, tail high, and took the two steps to the door of the cage.

He understands what I’m saying, she thought in amazement, then immediately scolded herself. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a dog. At most, he’s got a vocabulary of what? Five words? Ten?

Both volunteers were crying now. The first volunteer, who wore a nametag on her chest reading Betty, fumbled a leash from the small apron she wore. As she opened the door of the kennel, Broccoli stepped out, then stopped, waiting for the leash to be clipped onto his collar.

That’s the first time he’s let me touch him! she said, the tears now flowing hard enough to melt her mascara.

Eddie Earl sniffled back a tear of her own as Betty handed over the leash and Broccoli trotted toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.

Do you want to go for a quick walk? Eddie Earl asked, and as the dog dragged her toward the temporary play yard, she glanced over her shoulder to see Mary Ellen and Betty hugging each other, their makeup ruined.

Broccoli did his business as soon as they entered the closed area, then returned to Eddie Earl. The dog stood up on his hind legs and put his front paws around her legs, as if he were hugging her.

Does this mean you want me to adopt you? she asked, as she stroked the soft fur between his ears.

Broccoli let out a single bark that she assumed meant yes.

You know we’ll have to change that silly name, right?

Another single bark.

You want to go back to that cage? Eddie Earl asked as a test.

Broccoli whined, a short, unhappy sound that could only mean no.

Do you understand me?

Another test.

Another bark.

She sank to the ground, partly from stunned amazement. Broccoli immediately crawled into her lap, nudging her hand with his nose.

How does the name Barkley sound?

Whine.

Okay, how about Bennie? she asked, trying to keep the name similar to Broccoli, but classier.

Whine.

Oh! I’ve got it! Brantley! Brantley Brown!

Broccoli stilled, as if thinking about it, then barked once.

Okay then, Brantley Brown, let’s go fill out some paperwork so you can come home with me.

Brantley barked once, then scrambled off her lap, his tail wagging so fast it blurred.

An hour later, after spending her clothing budget at the pet store, Brantley was exploring his new home. He seemed to approve, letting out a short bark when he’d finished, then jumped on the couch next to Eddie Earl. The dog rested his head on her leg and promptly fell asleep.

Eddie Earl felt her heart swell as she stroked the silky fur.

She dozed off, still petting her new dog, content in knowing she’d made the right decision.

Chapter 5

Wait For It...

Eddie Earl opened the glass door of Bean Me Up, Scotty, and poked her head through the crack she’d created. The man behind the counter gazed at her questioningly.

Something I can do for you? he asked, his tone friendly.

Can I bring my dog in here? she asked.

You here for the church thing?

Eddie Earl nodded, and the barista waved her in with a smile. Come on in! As my mother used to say, you’re letting all the heat out!

As she pushed the door open wider to let Brantley in, the man suddenly called out, Wait! Is your dog trained?

Like, house-trained, you mean? Or trained in general?

He thought for a second, then answered, Both, I guess.

Her heart sank. She’d talked herself into being excited about attending something new, and now that they were here, they were going to be forced to leave.

He’s house-trained, and even though he’s not trained, trained, he’s a smart dog. I mean, he’s not going to chew anything up, if that’s what you’re worried about.

Cool, cool, he said, smiling again. Well, like I said, come on in and close the door, then! What can I get you?

Coffee for me, please, she said, and knowing she would regret the caffeine later, she added, Decaf, if you have it.

The meeting is back there, he said, pointing at a door she hadn’t noticed. Go on in, and I’ll bring your coffee to you.

Eddie Earl thanked the man and led Brantley to the door. It squeaked loudly when she opened it, and she found herself the recipient of the room’s stares.

So much for slipping in quietly, she thought.

She waved shyly and said, Hi, her voice breaking and turning the word into two syllables instead of the normal one.

To her surprise, she got a friendly return greeting from the small group. Some waved, some said hello, and one woman even rolled her hand to show Eddie Earl the empty seat beside her.

Her cheeks warm from the greeting – and the coat that was too heavy for the room – Eddie Earl led Brantley to the empty seat.

The woman who had beckoned her to sit, leaned over and asked, Are you new here, too?

Eddie Earl nodded, then introduced herself and Brantley to the woman.

I’m so glad I’m not the only new person here! I’m Danielle, but you can call me Dani.

The barista came in with her coffee, along with a bowl of water for Brantley. You can pay me when the meeting is over, he whispered, and Eddie Earl gave him a grateful smile.

Eddie Earl glanced around the room. There were nine people besides her and Dani. Most of them appeared to be in their twenties and thirties, although there was an older couple sitting by themselves, their heads together as they discussed something.

A woman stood, holding her phone, and said, Sorry guys. Our Leader just texted and said he was running late. He’ll be here in a minute. In the meantime, why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves?

The older couple on the end started. The woman raised her hand and gave a short wave to let people know she was about to speak, then said, I’m Tawny Mason, and this is my husband, Robert.

Robert gave a quick wave of his own, and she continued, We’ve been married for twenty-five years and have three children, all grown and out of the house. We came here a few weeks ago out of curiosity and were so impressed that we kept coming. I really feel like we’re on the ground floor of something exciting.

Eddie Earl studied the couple. Tawny was tall and thin. Her clothes looked like she’d had them tailored to fit and she had her hair cut in an expensive style- the kind that needed to be touched up frequently.

Eddie Earl ran a hand down her own hair, conscious of the split ends and shaggy, outgrown layers.

Robert wore a polo shirt, the point on one side of the collar longer than the other, as though he’d tugged at it so much, the form refused to return to its normal state. His feet poked out beneath the table, and Eddie Earl noticed his shoes, in direct opposition to his wife’s shiny leather ones, were scuffed, the sole worn slick from years of use.

When she finished speaking, Tawny stood for a moment, as if waiting for applause or comments. None came, and finally she sat, looking peeved.

The young woman in the next chair waved and said, I’m Journey. I’m a nursing student at OTC- that’s Ozark Technical College, if you don’t know. Anyway, I came in here one evening for coffee and kind of stumbled into the meeting by accident. I’ve been here ever since.

The next speaker was a man in his early thirties. He wore jogging shorts despite the cold. Worn flip-flops lay on the floor beside his dirty feet, and he’d draped a peacoat over the back of his chair. He gave a half-hearted wave. Jonah. I’m in IT. I’m recently divorced, so this is my social life right now.

Beside him sat a boy who looked to be no more than fifteen. His long, dark hair hung in his eyes and spilled over his shirt and needed to be washed. He wore strategically torn jeans, making her think they probably cost a lot, and a concert T of a band she’d never heard of. He waved, his smile large and genuine, and said, I’m Evan, and I’m an alcoholic. He waved both hands and laughed. I’m kidding, but it kind of feels like that, doesn’t it?

There was a murmur of agreement, and when it was over, Evan said, Okay, I was kidding about being an alcoholic, but the truth is, I’ve felt kinda lost since I quit high school, like, who am I supposed to be, you know? Then I met Our Leader, and he convinced me to come to a meeting. This is only the third time I’ve been here, but he’s so inspiring, I think I might try to go back and graduate.

A young woman sat close to him- too close, in Eddie Earl’s opinion, but who was she to judge? Her blonde hair was cleaner than Evan’s, but while one side was long and shiny, she’d shaved the other half close and dyed it purple. She wore large hoop earrings and a shiny nose stud.

Eddie Earl thought, she’s pretty, but it’s almost like she doesn’t believe it and is using these dumb fashion trends to keep people from actually looking at her.

The girl spoke with the honeyed tone of someone from deeper in the south. Hey, ya’ll, I’m Crimson, and this is only my second meeting. Evan told me about it, and I started coming with him. I’m a cheerleader at Kickapoo and I’m going to MSU next fall to get an entrepreneur degree, so I can grow my Scentsy business and get rich. Next! she said, turning to the man beside her.

The man narrowed his eyes at Crimson, his lips pursed. He was older than everyone, except for Robert and Tawny, and wore a conservative button-up shirt and khakis. He cleared his throat, making way for his theatrical voice. Eldon Zimmerman. I’m a lawyer, specializing in semi-truck accidents. It’s, uh, true what they say- everyone hates lawyers, but you guys have accepted me for who I am and what I do. I appreciate that.

Eddie Earl was next, and her cheeks grew warm as she realized she was speaking far too loud for the small room. I’m Eddie Earl Brown and this is my dog Brantley. He’s a rescue, and I, uh, well, I saw an ad for this and thought I would see what it was all about.

She jumped at the healthy nudge in her ribs, and she turned to find Dani grinning at her. I saw the ad, too! I’m a receptionist at a car dealership, and when things are slow, well, I get on the internet a lot.

That explains the dress clothes and friendly demeanor, thought Eddie Earl.

And if I can say something else, Dani said. I love your name! It’s so original!

Thanks, Eddie Earl muttered.

What’s the origin of it? asked Eldon, leaning forward in interest.

Eddie Earl noticed the rest of the group were also leaning, as if they all wanted to know about her odd name.

It’s uh- well, I was supposed to be a boy. My dad had the name all picked out and my parents were so sure I was going to be a boy, they didn’t even bother picking out a girl’s name. So, when I was born, they went ahead with the name they’d already chosen.

Tawny sat up straight and asked, Is Eddie short for Edward?

With a shake of her head, Eddie Earl answered, Nope. Just Eddie Earl.

Eldon asked, Have you ever considered changing it? I could help you with that.

She shook her head again. "Nah, I hated it when I was younger, but I kinda like it now. People remember me as the girl with the guy’s name. Maybe not the best way to be remembered, but