My Best Friend's Exorcism(66)

“Well,” Abby said, “Gretchen’s changed a lot. She used to be nice and we were best friends. But now she’s really horrible.”

She felt a pang of disloyalty saying this kind of thing out loud about Gretchen. Brother Lemon leaned across the table, way too eager to hear what she had to say, and it made Abby self-conscious. She looked down and traced patterns on the yellow plastic.

“You’re scared because the Enemy doesn’t want us to be open with each other,” Brother Lemon said. “He wants to make us feel ashamed and alone. Will you let me help you? Will you let me ask you some questions?”

Abby nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “All you need to do is answer truthfully, okay?”

Abby nodded again. Her throat was dry and she’d lost the ability to form words. He was taking her seriously, and she felt like she’d set foot on a road that couldn’t be untraveled. Her heart was fluttering against her rib cage; she couldn’t breathe deep.

“Did your friend get sick?” Brother Lemon asked. “Real sick? Like, physically she got all grotesque and horrible?”

Abby nodded.

“And then what happened?” he continued. “Did she talk about suicide and depressing things? Maybe try to hurt herself?”

Abby thought about Gretchen in her bedroom, she thought about the gouges down Gretchen’s arms, about Gretchen grabbing the wheel, and she nodded.

“Did she get obsessed with death and violence? Maybe obsessed with talking about religious stuff, like Hell?” Brother Lemon asked.

Abby remembered Gretchen’s daybook and her obsession with Molly Ravenel. She nodded again.

“Then, all of a sudden, she got better, right?” Brother Lemon asked. “In fact, she looked better than before. She seemed alive again?”

Abby’s eyes widened. All she could do was nod.

“She’s better in body,” he continued, “but not in spirit.”

Abby didn’t understand that one.

“She looks copacetic,” he explained, then tapped his skull. “But up here she’s coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs.”

Abby took a sip of her lemonade. It coated her throat with citrus-flavored chalk.

“Yeah,” she croaked.

“Is she committing sins?” Brother Lemon asked.

Abby thought about Wallace, and Glee, and Margaret and the German milkshakes, and she wondered how many of the Ten Commandments Gretchen had broken by now.

“Yeah,” she said again.

“Is she grouchy? PMS-ing all the time?” Brother Lemon asked. “You know what that means?”

“I know,” Abby said, nodding.

“Has she committed desecrations of holy ground?” Brother Lemon asked. “Vandalism of churches and graveyards? Burning the American flag?”

Abby paused.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

“Is she leading others into sin?” Brother Lemon asked. “Tempting them? Causing them to do bad things?”

“Yes,” Abby said, and she thought about Glee screaming, stinking of vodka. “A lot.”

“And did her eyes turn black, so there’s no more pupil?” he asked. “Like a shark or an alien?”

Abby caught herself and shook her head.

“No,” she said, confused. “Her eyes are fine.”

“Oh,” Brother Lemon said, disappointed. Then he brightened. “Even without the eyes, it sounds like demonic possession to me.”

Abby was embarrassed to be talking about something so crazy at Hot Dog on a Stick. She looked around again to see if anyone was listening to Brother Lemon’s booming voice. He saw what she was doing.

“Don’t stress,” he said. “Demonic possession is a lot more common than people think.”

“It is?” Abby asked.

“If I’m lying, I’m dying,” Brother Lemon said. “My brothers and my daddy have been doing deliverance ministry for years, and there’s more of them all the time. You won’t read about it in the paper, but at Columbia Hospital, where they keep the crazies, they’ll sometimes clear the rooms, close off a floor, and my daddy’ll perform a deliverance after-hours. The Health Department just puts ‘irregular procedures’ on the medical chart. Right there in black and white. Everyone knows it’s a code word.”

“How many have you done?” Abby asked.

Brother Lemon leaned back and looked out the window onto the mall concourse for a moment.

“Well,” he said, “I’ve assisted on a few, you know, with my brothers and my daddy.”

“You’ve seen it?” Abby asked. “For real?”

“Oh, sure,” Brother Lemon said. “I’ve seen some real blast-’em-out deliverance ministers do their thing, and I tell you, it is a privilege to see those fellas work. These are real hour-of-power-

type deliverances, you know, with screaming and fighting and howling and vomiting all over the place.”

“So you’ve fought a demon?” Abby asked.

Brother Lemon stretched his arms wide, then scratched the back of his neck and tried very hard to look casual.

“As an assistant,” he said. “You know, helping out. I’ve seen demonic influences, and I’ve met plenty of people who have.”