CLAY

"What the hell was all that?"

Clay — a young man of refrigerated friendship from Ethen's high school days, equipped with functional autism, poor natural eyesight, drab clothing, and quick laughter — peers the question into Ethen's profile as they walk away from the building.

"That…" Ethen lets out, half-word, half-exhale. "… was The Church of Oedipus."

"You're telling me that people really worship a mother goddess and practice mother-son incest?"

"I told you that you have to see it to believe it."

"So how long have you been a member?"

"I'm not a member. My mom brought me to their church services throughout my childhood, but I never liked it."

"Hold on… your mom brought you to the Church of Oedipus?"

"Yeah." Ethen flicks a solid clump of the service's picked-apart hymnal sheet, and it skips along the ground ahead like a rock across a lake.

"Your mom took you to a church where mother-son incest is performed to keep the matriarchy alive? Your own mother did this?"

"Yes, Clay."

The two walk in a casual silence for the next minute. They are out of the vicinity of the church— dilapidated in its apparent state of disrepair — and into an adjacent park. Above them, birds produce mellifluous songs in the trees, and their pattering steps on well-trod stone provide rhythmic accompaniment.

"Do you have brothers?" Clay finally breaks the spell.

"No just me. And my mom."

"And your father left when you were young, right?"

"My mom told me that he couldn't see things the way the church does, so he left. I never really talked to him again. I didn't have a father growing up."

Clay continues his interrogation almost obtunded, the shock of the service splintering his mind into abrasive, fractional questions. "So you must have attended these services every week?"

"Yeah most every week."

"And you still didn't like it after all those years?"

Ethen lets out the first laugh he's had in too long. "You're funny."

Clay smiles, but his muscles relax quick, having discovered a new concern. "Did your mother ever force you to do anything you didn't want to do while at these services?"

"That seems to be the first question in everybody's mind when I tell them about my mother and my past. No. My mother is a good person. She has twisted beliefs, but she never pressured me, always respected my doubt and hesitancy. There's a large space between thinking something and doing it."

"That doesn't explain why she kept taking you to church services year after year, though. What was her logic?"

A turn in the path sends the evening sun rays into their eyes. Clay visors his with the back of his hand. Ethen lets the golden light ignite his iris.

"I think she really believes in the teachings." Despite no one else around, Ethen suppresses his voice for the next words. "The …incest… factor is the most noticeable part of it, but they have some theological points."

"And those points being? Please be specific."

"They say as children, our first and longest-reaching relationship is with our mother. To their way of thinking, the relationship with our mother is where we develop our sense of belonging, safety, and love. They feel this connection so deeply that they cannot imagine a being that is more powerful, more worthy of adoration. They say we have a basic need and desire to worship the mother archetype. And so, it makes sense for them that the Mother-Goddess is the most correct and natural gender of devotion."

"Uh huh, and how do you justify all the other stuff about mother-son unions, like, from a theological stand point?"

Ethen laughs shallow. "I don't."

"Your mom does, then?"

"I guess she did somewhere inside herself. We didn't talk much about it."

Two women, middle aged, appear a few hundred feet in front of them on the trail, jogging. They both wear black spandex leggings and tops contoured with neon stitching, and their ponytails whip ferociously as they approach. The path Ethen and Clay are walking down is two-persons wide, and the jogging women do not seem to be slowing down or giving any berth to the two young men. The women's faces are worried… or stressed from the jog. Ethen and Clay part at the last available seconds, passing the joggers parenthetically without incident. The women's wakes press waves of floral aromas and powder deodorant into the men's faces.

"Let me get this straight. Your mother is a fully grown adult who was able to come to the conclusion that mother-son incest is perfectly acceptable and, in fact, a divine good?"

"Hey, keep it down man. Yes; one adult among many, it would seem."

"Do you think your mom ever practiced what she preached with... others?"

"…the church is very strict about these relationships being only between blood. It is obsessed with the maternal… they at least have the moral restraint to not make it just a pedophilic orgy."

"Did you ever meet the Mother-Goddess, or was it just worshipped as a concept?"

"Clay…"

"… what?"

"… seriously?"

"… what?"

"Are you seriously asking me if I've ever met a deity? If I had, do you think I would just be like 'nope, not interested at all in this alien-goddess-deity here'??"

Clay remains silent. Ethen continues.

"The First Priestess, the woman giving the sermon, she's supposed to be the closest thing to the Mother-Goddess… sort of like her Oracle."

"Oh? Does she have any supernatural powers?"

"No superpowers, Clay."

Clay snaps his tongue in disappointment. "So all the priests are women... that sounds kinda nice!"

"Males in positions of power are deemed suspicious."

"How could a guy be in any position of a church where mother-son sex is encouraged and not be totally put off by it? If I had attended such a church in my youth and my ma' was there, I'd be totally disturbed. I bet a lot of people wouldn't even be able to walk into a church like that, let alone sit through a service and listen to a preacher say such things. Were you just totally numb to the whole thing?"

"Yeah… as a kid, being around this stuff just makes you numb to it. It's like your parents watching cable news in the living room all the time. You just learn to ignore it."

The two stroll aimlessly in the park, moving for its own sake, as if walking off an injury. There are long stalls where no dialogue takes place; the depth of the processing too demanding for both talk and movement for Clay. He asks his next question, still trying to comprehend what he was learning. "You never told your friends what you were attending on a weekly basis?"

"I learned pretty quickly to be ashamed of it. There were a few others who I saw as kids at the church with me, but we all kept our mouths shut."

The openness of the evening slowly became compromised by herds of dark clouds flanking the sky. Soft, distant, but convincing thunder drew their attention skyward. A whispering breeze swirled in eddies around them, tracing invisible impressions of their bodies and sending them downwind as testimony to their continued presence in the park, the only ones remaining after the signs of oncoming weather.

"Are you still in contact with your mother?" Clay asked, unfazed.

"She's been gone for the past three years. I haven't talked to her since she left."

"She left? As in, she left the Church of Oedipus?"

"No, she left the country. It was on a mission trip for the church."

"And you haven't even attempted to get in contact with her?"

"I don't have the option to call her. She called me once, about a month after she left… but… I… I didn't answer the call."

"She called you, and you didn't answer?"

The clouds unleashed a full-throated roll of thunder. It reverberated in Ethen's gut. "… Yeah. I really regret it. It was the first time in my life she wasn't right there… I didn't want to be under her surveillance anymore… I didn't want to go back to the awkwardness. That's eaten at me. She hasn't tried to contact me since; I still feel horrible."

"Do you have any idea where she might be, or if she might be okay?"

"… No. She's supposed to come back this week."

"How do you know she's supposed to come back this week?"

"Three years. It's a holy number and significant number in the church. All 'emissaries' spend three years out, if called."

"Three years… so she could have been anywhere during this time, doing anything… and she's just going to show up one day like nothing happened. Has she been in touch with anyone at the church?"

"I don't know. I've been… too disturbed to go back there before today. Maybe that's what the First Priestess was trying to tell me."

"You mean you didn't go to the Church of Oedipus at all during that entire three-year period?"

"No man. And longer than that. It's been over a decade. Should I have? Would you have?"

"No way, I can't think of many worse places to be."

The wind tickles the leaves on the trees. The rustling provides a seamless auditory transition into the slight and percussive pitter of onset rain around them. Their walkway is secured above by a thick canopy of trees and leaf coverage. What had kept them slightly cooler in the sun now betrays them, the shadows now an even thicker shade of darkness, several hours ahead of the time of day.

"But what made you go this time? Why break your three-plus year streak of not attending the sermons?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Clay."

" You give a lot of answers."

"I'm 33 tomorrow. Again, three is a holy number to the church… maybe it's because my mom is coming back this week, maybe it's because… I don't know. Maybe a mid-life crisis. But I also wanted to show you how messed up this church is. I appreciate you being open to going with me. Don't think I would have gone by myself."

"Yeah, I can't imagine how much courage it took to walk in there after all this time. I'm guessing the First Priestess knew it was you in the congregation."

"Yeah at one point during the sermon, she looked right my way and smiled at me. She recognized me from our childhood in the church together."

"She is a really beautiful woman. Like a movie star."

"Oh my God. She's gorgeous."

"Like a goddess?"

Ethen chuckles. "Yeah like that."

"Did seeing her again stir up any old feelings? Any childhood crushes?"

"Yeah… you know what, I'm not going to lie. It did."

Clay squints his eyes and raises one of his brows. "Like what? Do you think it was just a feeling of nostalgia, or have you always had a thing for her, or…?"

"Yeah she was always pretty and smart and at the top of the class."

"And now that you've seen her again after all these years, those childhood feelings have come back. And you still find her attractive as a grown man."

The wind intensifies, some rain spilling through the trees as mist.

"More so."

"Even as a High Priestess at a Church of Oedipus that advocates for mother-son sex?"

Ethen is picked up out of the stupor that Clay's droning questions had lulled him into. He shares a few steps with his answer before letting it go. "I mean… how would we possibly have a family? Can she date anyone within the church? How would dating someone outside the church be any better? Is she allowed to have a romantic life at all? I'm not even sure she's interested in me. That minute of interaction with her is the only thing I have to go on in the last decade." The rain mitigates by the time they come out into a partial clearing, a few dollops of water smacking the stones before them. "Oh, it's raining." The darkening clouds continue to stampede above.

"Uh huh. So it is." Clay handwaves the observation. "You've got me curious now. What did she say, and how did she look at you?"

"Well, she said hello like it was nothing. Then she told me she had a message for me, from 'her'…"

"From the Mother-Goddess herself?"

"I'm not sure."

"And what was the message?"

"It wasn't English, I can tell you that."

"She spoke to you in some sort of ancient dialect?"

Ethen stops walking, slinging his hands outward from his sides a way to let them thump back down on his thighs. "How am I supposed to know if it was an ancient language, Clay?"

"Well, can you describe what it sounded like?"

"What?! No!"

"No way for you to do a little impression for me? Ok, I can understand that. But can you at least tell me what the overall tone of her message was? Was she stern, or welcoming?"

"It was like… tender. Loving. The most… heartbreaking thing I've ever heard. Like it was… I dunno… "

"Was it like a mother talking to a son?"

"… what, are you buying into this all now?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you found it so profound."

"I don't know, but my heart rate skyrocketed. I teared up. She was trying very hard to get it to me. I've never felt that… important before. Well, anyway. It didn't last long. Has to only have been a few seconds or so. But it feels like it was so long ago already."

"And you really don't know what it was she said?"

"Clay, why would I lie about that?"

The rain picks up again quickly, catching them exposed in the clearing. Clay's glasses start to bubble with droplets and fog over. "Hell I need some windshield wipers!" They hurry towards the next canopied portion of the pathway and find cover. The wind howls overhead, sifting through the treetops, pouring into their gaps, becoming horrible instruments.

After a moment of assessing the weather, Clay returns to his mind's current fascination. "Was the First Priestess smiling when she whispered the message to you?" Clay asked as they huddled under a tree with broad leaves.

"She was. Very peaceful."

"Like a mother."

Ethen crumpled. "… what the hell man? Bad joke."

"Just humor me for a second; if you had to define the First Priestess in one word, what would it be?"

"Not 'motherly'. I'd say 'holy'."

"Okay, so she is attractive, she is peaceful, she is holy..." Clay glances at Ethen. "... she is not motherly..." He returns looking at his shoes as they step one in front of the other. "... she was whispering a message to you in what amounted to a love language, and she was smiling. Am I getting this right?"

"I guess you could say all that, yeah."

"Yeah, you have a total crush on this woman."

"Man… " He sighs. "… so what? What does it matter? I can't see her again and we could never be together. She's like the Pope. She's busy. She's protected at all times. You can't just see her. I'd have to… go back to the church, sit through another sermon..." Ethen's thoughts fibrillate into silence.

"And what if that's exactly what you need to do?" Clay nudges him, as if to push him awake.

"But if I'm sucked into tolerating the church for her beauty and charms… isn't that exactly what the church preaches is the correct order of things? That men are meant to be led and leashed by their desires? It's not a lot different from a son being wooed by his mother into those teachings, is it?"

"You think you might fall back into the church just because you like the First Priestess."

Ethen recites the teaching with sarcasm. "It's our weakness. And our rightful place. Apparently."

"And you think you can't overcome that and stay true to your beliefs?"

"I know I can. I just… can't see how it would end well. I've resisted the church for this long. One pretty girl is not going to change all that."

"Do you think she might be willing to go against her church for you?"

"No way in hell."

"I'll grant you that, but just try to separate the individual from the institution for a second. What do you really think of this woman? Do you just see her as a symbol of the Church of Oedipus, or do you see her as a beautiful, desirable woman who you might be able to have a relationship with?"

"Clay… you have a knack for asking a brilliant question for every 99 dumb ones. The rain's getting worse, let's head back."

They walk with more urgency. Despite, Clay cannot let it go. "Well, don't leave me hanging here. Let's get a little self-reflecting going on. What do you think? Is she just a beautiful symbol of the Church of Oedipus? Or is she a beautiful woman who could love you back?"

"It doesn't matter; it's out of the question. She is the pinnacle of the church… that right there prevents us from being together. There's no way she would recant her beliefs."

"But it does matter! What if she felt like you do, but she is afraid to make her feelings known because of what you just said… that she's the pinnacle of the Church of Oedipus, and an admission of love from her would be a betrayal to the institution? What then? You might both feel like you can't be together because of the church, while both wanting to be together because of something deeper."

"You mean her message to me was a cry for help? I should be her knight in shining armor and rescue her from the church? Sounds like a… can't believe I'm going to say this…

Both speak in unison. "... a male fantasy."

"Right. It's possible. But you'd never know for sure if you don't go back. Maybe go back for one service. See if you can spot similar sentiments in her eyes as you did when she whispered that message to you. Do you remember the way her eyes looked at you?"

"I might never forget them."

"There you go. So go back to the church, and look into that First Priestess' eyes again. Is that something you'd be willing to do? Just one time?"

"Why are you so insistent I rejoin a sex cult?"

Clay sighs in frustration through the non-union between his thoughts and words. "I'm not saying you have to rejoin, or anything, just... go back, ask her out, see what happens. Don't be defeatist."

"Oh ok, what about you? You going to go back to attend another sermon? Maybe find you a nice gal?"

"You can't be seriously asking me that."

"You just seriously recommended it to me."

"It's a completely different situation!"

"No it isn't!"

"It absolutely is!"

"You're a real piece of work, Clay. I almost wish I could see you more than every year or so."

"I'm the weird one? You're the one contemplating joining a sex church because of a girl. Look, the sermon never said there was anything wrong with seeing your childhood crush. In fact, I think you'd be crazy not to at least try."

They pause for deepening thunder. Clay continues once it's past, and through an increasing oxygen debt from his lungs. "You like her. You think she likes you. You'll live your whole life. Wondering. What could have happened if. You asked her out. You have nothing to lose. At this point. You have to try."

Clay jumps and freezes after a lightning bolt splits the hot, humid air somewhere nearby. Its growl tremors the ground. Ethen stops as if it didn't happen.

"… you going to go back there with me?"

Clay's attention is magnetized to Ethen's stern gaze. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Ok... Ok... so when would — " Ethen is interrupted by a sudden, rising gust of the wind above. The fine hair on their napes alert them to the situation that has developed high, high above their ignorance.

This noise is new and it is not the wind.

It is a tornado siren.