Chapter Text
Kelvin took in a deep breath as he sat on the small set of steps that connected the parking lot to the Salvation Center. He stared at the entrance, looking at an image of his Daddy next to a space where he and Jesse would soon replace Momma’s now-erased image. It wasn’t right. Momma had been gone for a month, and they were already removing her presence from the tangible places her soul still lingered.
A tear trickled down Kelvin’s cheek, as his face scrunched and his throat grew hot while trying to keep himself from sobbing. Today was his Momma’s funeral — the big, public one. Tens of thousands of people came from all over. People, strangers, who knew Aimee-Leigh Gemstone from the sound of her records or the comfort of her presence on TV. Her life positively touched so many people. Kelvin wished he could do the same with his life, but at 27, it wasn’t shaping up to turn out that way. He would be stuck as a youth pastor forever, growing old alone with his video games.
He knew exactly why, too— why he would never make the same impact his Momma did. He was a coward. The present proof being that he can’t even step into his Momma’s funeral, opting to sit in the now-empty parking lot.
It’s not like anyone was counting on him. He doubted anyone noticed his absence. Everyone was too caught up in their own grieving. Daddy had asked a friend to preach during the funeral. Kelvin didn’t fault him for doing that— no one did. Jesse and Amber were still reeling, not only from the death but also from the sudden announcement that their oldest son was moving across the country the second this was all over. Judy was weeping because Momma couldn’t come to her wedding. But at least Momma got to meet BJ. If Kelvin met and fell in love with someone, she would never know them.
But Kelvin wouldn’t meet someone. The idea of finding a woman and settling down made him feel sick to his stomach, for lots of reasons he didn’t want to admit. He was born to be a solo rider. And a good thing, too, because if he couldn’t grow the gonads to face his Momma’s public funeral, how the heck would he be able to take care of someone in sickness and in health?
Kelvin put his palm over his mouth, staring at the entrance again. All these thoughts were just a distraction, a detour away from the one thing Kelvin would never be able to understand. Why did God have to take his Momma away? Why would He take the glue that held this family together? The only person who made Kelvin feel safe and cared for.
Kelvin can’t stop the sobs that choke him. He forces his palms down on the stone stairs he’s seated on, only to be scraped by their roughness. He doesn’t have to see himself to know his face is scrunched up in an ugly cry, and that he looks ridiculous. “Momma,” he sobs, covering his eyes with his scraped palms. “Don’t leave me here alone. I can’t do this without you.”
A few more sobs come out before Kelvin settles down a little. He wipes his eyes on his silk suit, the one Amber kept yelling at him not to get wet, like he didn’t know how to take care of sensitive fabrics. But he had already ruined the suit anyway. There’s no way the concrete and pebbled stairs didn’t start pilling and damaging the material of his pants.
“Excuse me, Sir?” Kelvin hears a quiet voice coming from behind him.
Kelvin turns toward the voice. He notices a tall, blonde man in knock-off Doc Martens, black ripped jeans, and a mesh shirt, standing awkwardly behind him. The man wears a necklace that Kelvin can’t see clearly because it’s reflecting sunlight.
The blonde doesn’t wait for a response. He continues. “Is, is this the Gemstone Salvation Center?” he asks, pointing down to the ground.
Trying not to furrow his brow out of politeness, Kelvin turns his head to look at the front of the church, where the words Gemstone Salvation Center are displayed. He wonders if the stranger is illiterate, but the sun is bright, and the building is white, so maybe it's harder to read than Kelvin realizes.
“Yeah, it is,” Kelvin eventually answers. He reaches down and pushes himself off the ground, wiping his dirty hands on his ruined suit. “But if you’re looking for the bus stop, it picks up at the end of the drive.”
Now that Kelvin stood directly in front of the man, he could get a better observation. The blonde didn’t seem like the type to stop by for a church service, but he looked like he needed to. The tattoos on his wrists matched the pentagram necklace dangling from his neck, and the mesh shirt was thin enough that Kelvin could see a 666 across the man’s chest. He hoped that was part of the shirt's design. Surely, someone wouldn’t get that tattooed on their body, especially with a body like this. The man had solid muscle definition… not that Kelvin was noticing.
“I know where the bus stop is, thank you,” the blonde answered earnestly. “I took it to come here.”
Kelvin moves his eyes from the man’s physique to his face. His shaggy blonde hair frames his face well and pairs nicely with his dark, kind brown eyes. He reminded Kelvin of some of the faceless men who appeared in his dreams. The faceless, forbidden men, who appeared only in Kelvin’s dreams, because he knew better than to think about them in daylight.
He snaps himself out of the daze, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. The other man implied he came to the church on purpose. Kelvin could do the right thing and help him out. “Unfortunately, the church is closed today from its regular activities,” Kelvin apologizes. “But if you want, I can give you a schedule of service times that coordinate with the bus routes.” Kelvin gives the man a half-smile. He doesn’t know if he can give him any more than that. Not today anyway.
The blonde man’s eyes shift back and forth. He reaches into his pocket and pulls a worn-out Gemstone service flyer. Kelvin recognizes it, but it’s not the current edition. It’s a few years old, at least.
“I’m here to pay my respects to Mrs. Aimee-Leigh Gemstone,” the man explains in a drawn-out way. “But I sort of thought it would be an outdoor event, based on what the news said about how many people would come. I didn’t realize this place would be so big, but I ain’t ever really been to a church before, so maybe this is normal.”
“Oh,” is all Kelvin can utter. He gives the man another once over. He didn’t seem like he would be into Momma’s music. He certainly wasn’t a Christian man with all the Satanic imagery cluttered on this man’s body. Momma’s influence must have reached places he never even knew existed. Kelvin starts to feel embarrassed about judging this stranger. God and Momma would want him to be more welcoming, embracing people from all walks of life at church.
Shaking his head again, feeling like a fool, Kelvin apologizes. “I’m sorry, man,” Kelvin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Today’s been rough, this week’s been rough.” Kelvin pauses to look at the man, who seems more confused than anything. “If you want, I can point you in the right direction at the entrance. I think everything has already started, but I’m sure there’s standing room.”
Kelvin adjusts his jacket and turns to guide the man in the right direction, but pauses when he realizes the blonde isn’t following him. He faces back toward the man again. “Is something the matter?” he asks.
The man shifts his eyes again and looks down. “I don’t think I would be allowed inside,” he says nervously.
Kelvin cocks his head to the side and moves back closer to the man. “Ok?” he squeaks. “Why do you think that?”
The man moves his hands to his chest and rubs them down his shirt, and Kelvin’s eyes are glued to the motion. “My clothes ain’t appropriate,” the man confesses shyly. “Like I said, I didn’t know I’d have to go into a church.”
Kelvin finishes watching the man’s hands run down the rest of his shirt, hoping he continues to go down further, but he doesn’t. He clears his throat. “I have a sweater in my car you can borrow,” Kelvin offers, meeting his eyes.
The man’s brown eyes grow wide, and he begins shaking his head like a child who feels embarrassed. “No, no,” the man answers. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”
The blonde begins to turn away, and Kelvin doesn’t know what possesses him, but he grabs the other man’s wrist before he can run off. Holding the wrist like this, Kelvin catches sight of a Hail Satan tattoo on his bicep. This man really needed God.
“Hey, bud,” Kelvin says softly, tugging him back. “God doesn’t care what you wear, I promise. If you feel self-conscious, borrow my sweater. It’s no big deal.”
The blonde man slowly begins to look back over at Kelvin again, anxiousness written all over his face. “You sure God don’t care?”
“He has more important things to worry about, I promise. In fact, His excitement for you coming will outweigh anything you’re wearing or have tattooed on your body.” Kelvin flashes another smile, and this time it feels larger, more sincere. “Let’s go get you that sweater.”
Still holding onto the stranger’s wrist, Kelvin leads him about twenty feet into the parking lot toward his VIP parking spot, afraid that if he lets go, the man will scurry off. “What’s your name anyway?” Kelvin asks as the man starts to walk next to him, keeping up with Kelvin’s pace.
“Keefe,” he answers.
“Nice,” Kelvin responds, again with a smile. “I’m Kelvin. Kelvin Ge- you know, last names don’t matter.” Kelvin worried that if Keefe knew he was a Gemstone, he would feel even more insecure about being here.
They make their way over to the Jeep, and Kelvin lifts the center console where he keeps a handful of items in case of an emergency. An old blue sweater, being one of them. “Here,” Kelvin offers, handing it over.
Keefe takes the sweater in his hands and lightly runs his fingers over the fabric. “Soft,” he murmurs. Kelvin feels himself knit his eyebrows together, watching curiously as this man observes the fabric. “It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt,” Keefe smiles. “But I don’t think I should wear this, it’s two sizes too small. I don’t wanna stretch it out.”
Kelvin shrugs dramatically and lifts his hands. “It’s totes okay. That’s why it’s in my car. It’s snug on me, too. I normally would donate it, but I kept it around for emergencies like this.”
Needing further permission, Keefe glances back up at Kelvin again. “Wear it, my dude,” Kelvin presses, reading his mind.
Keefe nods and looks down at his torso. He sets the sweater on Kelvin’s back seat, then slides out of the mesh shirt, revealing an upside-down cross and, yes, much to Kelvin’s dismay, the 666 he saw before was a tattoo. But as sinful as the tattoo was, the body it tethered to was nothing less than godly. Kelvin’s mouth gapes as he watches the sun rest its warmth on Keefe’s skin, the way Keefe’s everything flexes as he goes to put Kelvin’s sweater on. Keefe is right; he is going to stretch out the sweater because those arms, pecs, and broad shoulders are going to fill it out in a way Kelvin never could. Something new stirs inside of him.
Smoothing out the sweater the best he can, Keefe gives Kelvin a hopeful glance.
“Looks great,” Kelvin says, feeling a little lightheaded.
“It’s quite comfortable even if it is small,” Keefe flashes a smile, and Kelvin smiles back, now suddenly noticing the way Keefe’s cheek dimples.
Kelvin clears his throat. “Good, uh, good,” he fumbles, feeling a bit flustered. “Now you’re all set, you just have to walk through the main doors in front of the steps where we just were. And I can point you in the right direction.”
Nodding, Keefe looks at his mesh shirt, still draped across the side of the Jeep, and then looks back at the Salvation Center.
“I’ll wait for you here,” Kelvin says quickly, as if to read Keefe’s mind. “We’ll swap our shirts back once the service is over, and it will be all good.”
Keefe continues to stare at the Salvation Center. “Are you sure they won’t think I don’t belong?”
Kelvin nods haphazardly. “There are lots of people from all over who have never attended church in there,” he answers. “The only thing bringing them together is Mo- Aimee Leigh. You definitely won’t be the only nonbeliever in there. In fact, my sister's fiancé is in there, and he’s an atheist.”
Pursing his lips, Keefe nods. “I need to be honest about something, Kelvin.”
“What's up?” Kelvin raises his eyebrows.
“I’m a Satan Worshipper,” Keefe admits, looking down at his shoes.
Kelvin blinks once, then flicks his eyes to the side before settling back on Keefe. “I know,” he chuckles.
“You do?”
Motioning to his left bicep, Kelvin responds. “Your tattoo kind of gave it away.”
Stretching his neck to look at his arm, Keefe seems startled. “Right,” he confirms, with an almost laugh. He pauses, looking back over to Kelvin. “So are you coming in?”
Kelvin licks his top lip, moving his hands to his hip as he chooses his words. “No, I don’t think I am.”
“Why?”
“It’s not important. Better I stay behind and keep an eye on the parking lot in case more folks need help finding their way in.”
“Oh, you work for the Gemstones?” In Keefe’s innocence, he cocks his head to the side as if he should have already figured that out. His eyes begin to move around Kelvin like he’s studying him.
Biting his lower lip, Kelvin can’t tell a lie. He nods.
“Well then, you should come with me. Mrs. Gemstone seemed like the type who would want you to be there if she knew you,” Keefe says, as he reaches out his hand. Kelvin looks at the bracelet dangling on the other man's wrist, next to the pentagram tattoos. The irony of a Satan Worshipper trying to convince Kelvin to walk into his own church hits him like a brick. If this wayward soul was brave enough to push forward, maybe Kelvin could be too.
Nodding, Kelvin grabs Keefe’s mesh shirt from the back seat and tucks it neatly in his center console for safekeeping. When he turns back, Keefe extends his hand back out again, and Kelvin accepts it. “We’ll do this together,” Kelvin confirms, squeezing the blonde man's hand.
They walk through the main entrance, and Kelvin braces himself as he prepares for Keefe to catch on to the fact that he is a Gemstone. His face isn’t the most prominent one featured on the church walls, but it’s certainly there. Instead, Keefe stops when he first notices Momma’s cutout at the front entrance.
“She looks so happy,” Keefe comments, moving his attention to the quick biography plastered to the wall. Kelvin made a note that would need to be updated soon. Maybe he could offer to rewrite it for his Daddy and gain some recognition.
“How did you know her?” Kelvin asks. He lets go of Keefe’s hands and starts looking at the quickest entrance to the worship hall without passing his own cutout, but then remembers that it’s not like he needs to keep his identity a secret. He didn’t tell Keefe who he was to help him feel comfortable, andKelvin had already managed to get him into the front door.
“I ran into her at the grocery store a few years ago,” Keefe answers, still looking at Momma’s cutout. “She was very kind to me, paid for my groceries just for helping her load her car. She invited me to come to church, and I never did, although I still feel guilty about it. When I saw she passed, I became riddled with shame and figured the least I could do was pay my respects.”
Keefe turns his head back to face Kelvin again. His eyes began to show the early signs of tears. “You knew Mrs. Gemstone,” he says. “Do you think she was mad at me for never coming ?”
Kelvin swallows, feeling a sense of nervousness from Keefe’s sadness, mixed with his own sadness over his Momma’s memory. He knows Momma wasn’t mad at Keefe. Kelvin himself had witnessed hundreds, possibly thousands, of times when Momma invited people to church, and they never showed up. Hairdressers, cashiers, people she would run into every day. And all those people ever did was give a side eye and never gave it another thought. None of those people would be here at her funeral, none of them ever cared as much as Keefe seemed to. Kelvin could tell there was something different about Keefe. Something more righteous, perhaps, than the Satanic imagery let on.
He decides he needs to lead this wayward soul down the path of salvation. But they have to get through Momma's funeral first.
“No,” Kelvin finally answers, firmly. “She was never one to hold a grudge.”
Wiping his tears, Keefe looks down and turns to walk further inside the church. Kelvin extends his arm and places his hand at the top of Keefe’s back, guiding him along. With his hand anchored on Keefe like this, he feels strong enough to do anything. Eventually, they reach the double doors, where Pastor Butterfield’s voice echoes in the hall.
“Kelvin!” a hushed voice yells across the way. Kelvin turns and sees Jesse, cowering off to the side. He assumes Jesse is hiding away from his family.
Lifting a finger to signal Jesse to wait, Kelvin turns back to Keefe. “That’s my brother,” Kelvin explains. “I need to go talk to him real quick.” He glances at the map on the wall that lays out the seating chart for the chapel, and points to the high seats. “See this section, here? You head up that way, and I’ll catch up to you.”
“Ok, amigo,” Keefe nods. “I will see you in section U30.”
Kelvin smiles, and it’s a bigger smile than he’s given anyone in a long time. Keefe returns the gesture, his dimples indenting his cheeks as he brushes his blonde hair behind his ears and turns to glide up the stairs.
As hard as it is for him to admit, Kelvin can’t turn his head away as he watches Keefe disappear. His breath hitches as Keefe’s blonde hair sways, and he feels a big lump of guilt in his chest as he watches the way Keefe’s jeans seem to get tighter with each step. (He’ll have to pray about that later.)
“Pssssst,” Jesse's incessant whisper persists, interrupting Kelvin’s thoughts. “Kelvin, what is your goddamn problem?” he says, now walking closer. “Everyone has been looking for you. Daddy is in pieces. He’s already writing Baby Billy out of Momma’s will for not show’n, you’re probably next.”
Kelvin looks to his older brother, who is dressed in white like his wife, as if it’s their second wedding and not a funeral. “Daddy doesn’t give two shits about me, Jesse, you’re just being a blowhard.”
“Who was that guy?” Jesse asks, now using his usual tone of voice, ignoring everything Kelvin had just said. He walks over to the map, looking at it as if he were seeing it for the first time.
Trying to keep casual about the remarkable bond he just cultivated with a stranger, Kelvin shrugs. “Just some dude who came to honor Momma, had never been in a church before, and was scared to come inside.”
“He ain’t never been to a church before?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow. “Not even when he was getting fake baby baptized?”
“I don’t really know all that much about him, but I doubt it. He’s a Satan Worshipper,” Kelvin answers, hoping that will be enough to get Jesse to move on.
Jesse chuckles. “Wait till Deddy hears you brought a Satan Worshipper to Momma’s funeral. He’s gonna flip,” he taunts.
“Doubt it,” Kelvin rolls his eyes. “What do you actually want? I was gonna go stand with him in the high seats.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It’s the Christian thing to do.”
Jesse shakes his head. “The Christian thing to do would be to sit with your family, which is why I came out here looking for you.” Kelvin rolls his eyes again, getting ready to speak up, but Jesse stops him. “And before you protest, your new friend will be ok. He’ll figure out that you’re with your family. They keep flashing the cameras our way like we’re the focus and not Momma.”
“I’m not sitting with you. I promised I would go in with him.”
“Promised who?” Kelvin hears his Daddy's booming voice in the hall.
Jesse and Kelvin exchange a knowing glance. “Gideon, Daddy,” Jesse lies on Kelvin’s behalf. “Kelvin here has been all emotional with Momma’s death and Gideon leaving, I’m trying to get my dear brother to come sit with us.”
“For once, your brother is right,” Eli chides to Kelvin. “Now, both of you get inside; it’s embarrassing if we’re not all together.”
Reluctantly following his brother and father into the main hall, Kelvin takes a deep breath, staring up into the darkness of the high seats. He offers a quick prayer to God, hoping Keefe will figure out what happened and understand. He takes comfort knowing that Keefe will inevitably meet him back at the Jeep to get his shirt, and Kelvin will have the chance to apologize and explain everything. Hopefully, he’ll be able to finish Momma’s job and get Keefe to come to church. Keefe seemed to have so much good in him.
Kelvin sits next to his father and watches as Pastor Butterfield continues the sermon, but his mind keeps lingering elsewhere. Kelvin was putting too much thought into this person he had just met. It felt strange.
When the funeral was over, Kelvin found himself caught in a mess as people from all over came to offer their condolences in person. He kept trying to run to his car, but Jesse, Judy, or his Daddy would stop him. By the time he reached the Jeep, the parking lot was empty, just as it had been when he met Keefe, except there were no cars.
He feels a pang of disappointment low in his chest, but he shakes it off. So what if a Satan worshipper kept his old blue sweater? So what if he never saw Keefe again? It’s not like they were friends. Not like Kelvin would ever have been able to get him to convert – that was a pipe dream, a fantasy that wouldn't come to fruition.
Huffing again, Kelvin gets into the Jeep and drives home. He parks in his driveway, listening to the sounds of crickets and toads around the compound. Without much thought, he reaches for Keefe’s mesh shirt in the center console. It could serve as a keepsake, he reasons. He’ll need to find another old sweater to pack away for emergencies. Who knows what other folks Kelvin’s old garments could help?
But when he reaches into the console, he doesn’t feel a meshy fabric; he feels the softness of his blue sweater. Startled, Kelvin looks down, and there it is, neatly folded, as if he had never taken it out in the first place. He grabs the sweater and holds it in front of him in disbelief. Had he dreamed all of this? He was talking to his Momma when Keefe came up to him. Had Momma sent Keefe as some sort of test?
Kelvin’s outlandish theories are put to rest when a folded piece of paper falls out of the sweater and onto the passenger seat. Kelvin picks it up and reads it:
Mr. Pastor Kelvin Gemstone, Sir – Thank you for loaning me your sweater today. If I had realized that Mrs. Gemstone’s own son was the one offering it to me, I would have been more cordial with my acceptance. Your kindness toward me today reminded me of the kindness your Mom showed me a few years ago. You are a good man. I hope it’s okay that I hopped in your car to swap the shirts back. You seemed busy, and I had to catch the bus.
Thanks again. I will have my friends refrain from putting graffiti on the Gemstone advertisements downtown.
Kelvin laughs, reading the note. He feels a small tear trickle down as he suddenly misses the presence of a person he had only known for thirty minutes. He grips the blue sweater and takes it with him inside the house.
Later that night, as he prepared himself for sleep, Kelvin held the stretched-out sweater against his chest, admiring the warped pattern of its threads and the unique smell it carried from the last person who wore it. He rereads the note again and again, praying to God that he will see Keefe again.