Free Sarah by J.T. LeRoy Page B

humiliation.
     
     
    ‘You’re gonna walk on water today,’ Le Loup calls down matter-of-factly from high up on a ladder as he changes one of my spotlights before we open for morning worship.
    ‘I never did that before,’ I say.
    ‘Well, I’m sure Jesus had a touch of the nerves his first time too.’ He laughs his gruff humorless laugh and tosses a burnt-out red bulb next to me.
    ‘A contingent of Baptist truck drivers from up North are coming down to see you. Yankee Baptists!’ He spits and it lands near the bulb. ‘But they got cash,’ he says under his breath as he climbs down the ladder, ‘so we’re gonna give them a miracle…’
    I can’t help but stare at his oversized hands as they grip the ladder tightly, the same way I’ve seen him grip one of his girl’s wrists as he’d drag her into another room.
    ‘Go get yourself dressed. In that little pink thing I got you. We gotta get the show on the road.’ He slaps his hands together and I jump. I’ve heard those slaps followed by cries from the girls he pulls into the other room. I’ve heard them beg and apologize and swear whatever will never happen again.
    ‘Let’s go!’ He claps his hands once more and I jump again. I slide myself off the bed and head to the dressing room that he built for me.
    I’ve waited for him to use his hands on me. I’ve held out my wrist for him to grab and drag me into the other room. I even spilled cherry cola on my white pinafore on purpose. I knew he whipped Pooh for putting runs too fast into the stockings he had bought her. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched his face turn the shade of turnip tops, and his hands open and close like a caught fish gasping for air. I just sat there and waited. Just like I would do with Sarah. After she’d come home after being gone for a week or more and she’d just float in and say nothing to me, I’d go into her suitcase and take out something that meant something to her, and I’d hurt it. Lay it out for her to see, slashed and bleeding with her ketchup from one of her little packs. I’d sit and wait for her to notice. I’d also lay the belt out next to me.
    Le Loup just grunted and snorted like he was a vacuum with some blockage.
    ‘This cost a lot didn’t it?’ I said, sounding as careless as I could and holding myself back from apologizing.
    ‘Umm!’ he grunted.
    ‘Are you mad at me?’ I said, making my tone as cloying as possible.
    Le Loup stood stiffly with his back to me. His fists tightened and I felt breathless as he slowly turned to me on his heels.
    ‘Tell Pooh to get her ass in to see me as soon as she gets here.’ He smiled tightly at me, the hollows alongside his mouth looking like deep, empty canyons.
    Later that day I heard him slapping Pooh because she had shut the door too loudly.
    I never provoked him on purpose after that.
     
     
    The sun has just nearly descended when Le Loup finishes his Baptist-tailored sermon and I emerge from my hiding place behind a thick patch of hemlock, spruce, and myrtle trees. Le Loup has set up his trick lighting hid under the alder, laurel, and willow shrubs, so there is an eerie red-lit haze obscuring the murky water in front of me. Twenty or so Yankee truckers are standing on the bank opposite me, clutching Bibles with one hand and their falsified logbooks with the other.
    Stella and Petunia are at my side. They have as much contempt for Yankee truckers, Baptist wannabe’s, as any of the Three Crutches folk, plus they are well acquainted with indulging themselves in the petty sin of a paltry ruse in the interest of commerce.
    ‘Not much different than telling a john he makes me come so hard my eyes almost knock loose!’ Petunia pointed out.
    Le Loup added, ‘Supernatural occurrences never happen up North, because Yanks have no space left in their hearts, in their minds, and on their land for a miracle of the Lord to have a chance to take seed.’
    Everyone nodded furiously in agreement.
    ‘That’s why