The Long Way Home by Phillip Overton

  ****

  Simon watched his mother for a short while as she sat around the table with her friends. Apart from all the candles burning in the centre of the table, whatever they were doing looked pretty boring. He turned to open the refrigerator and quietly took a carton of milk from inside. Then opening one of the cupboards doors under the bench, he carefully picked up one of the plastic tumblers and poured himself a glass of milk. He spilt some of the milk on the kitchen bench before quietly putting the milk carton back in the fridge.

  “Here, let me clean that up for you.” A voice startled him as he closed the fridge door. Simon looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. He had his back facing the others in the dining room.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” Simon asked softly as the man walked toward the kitchen sink and proceeded to grab a dish cloth to wipe up the mess. The others in the dining room didn’t look up at all as they continued to concentrate on whatever it was they were doing.

  “You’re Simon right?” The man asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve seen you around at church.” He said as he rinsed the dish cloth under the kitchen tap. It was hard to see his face in the dim light that shone into the kitchen from the candles in the next room, but Simon could see he had dark hair and an unshaven face. He wore a pair of blue denim jeans and a nice green shirt. “How do you like Sunday school Simon?”

  “Yeah, it’s great I guess.” Simon replied, trying to figure out when he may have seen the man before at church. “But Mum doesn’t know that I go.” He said as he pointed towards the dining room table. He drank his glass of milk and tried not to giggle as the man comically put his hand over his mouth before gesturing with a finger over his lips for them both to shush.

  “I guess she’ll find out in time then won’t she.”

  Simon just nodded slowly as he finished drinking his milk and quietly put the empty plastic tumbler into the kitchen sink.

  “Say, what’s that song I always hear the kids singing at Sunday school?” The man asked him. “You know, the one with all the stomping actions.”

  “You mean Father Abraham?” Simon said proudly.

  “Yeah that’s the one, I love that song.” The man replied smiling warmly. “You know I can never remember all the actions though. Maybe you could teach me, it’s getting boring standing around here waiting for them to finish in the next room. So we don’t disturb everyone though, how about we go and sing it together in your bedroom?”

  “As long as we’re not too loud,” Simon whispered. “Mum thinks I’m asleep.”

  The man just smiled warmly and again made a comical attempt to shush himself with a finger over his lip. Simon led him back towards his bedroom, unaware that for the entire conversation the man was blocking his view of what was happening through the doorway.

  Simon never saw what occurred in the next room. It was as though there was an invisible wall between the kitchen and the dining room, and whatever took place on the other side happened in a completely different parallel. He reached his bedroom, turned on the light and stepped inside. Outside the storm had stopped, the spiny branches of the willow tree no longer scratched against his glass window and when the man closed his bedroom door it shut tight, sealed by God himself.

  The man saw Rowena appear in the hallway as if running in slow motion. Behind her were the other five remaining women, one had already fled from the house. The boy’s mother looked up and he allowed her to see him slip into her son’s bedroom and close the door behind him.

  “Simon!” Rowena banged on his bedroom door. “Simon, get out of there now. Open the door.” She tried with all her might to turn the door handle but the door simply would not open.

  The other ladies all took turns at trying to force the door open. They resorted to pounding on the door with their fists and trying to kick the door down without any success. Rowena fell to a heap on floor in the hallway, sobbing frantically. The whole evening had gone horribly wrong. Colleen stood back from the door, trying to conjure Simon’s aura to open the door and let them in. One of the other ladies was asking if she should call the police. In between hysterical shouting and uncontrollable crying, all that could be heard was the sound of Simon singing happily inside his bedroom, unaware of anything happening on the other side of the door.

  “Father Abraham, had many sons. Many sons had father Abraham, and if you’re one of them, like all of us, then let’s give praise to the Lord!”