I: Seeing the Exorcist

Chapter: Kid, Seeing the Exorcist

My father is taking us to see a movie about a girl who is possessed by
the devil. That's what he says the movie's about, anyway. We've seen a
lot of movies at the drive-in about the devil. They usually show people
singing like crazy or having pictures drawn on their foreheads. Also
they have a lot of sex, which so far has meant naked bodies where you
can't see much. These naked bodies are the only thing that keep me
awake, because I can never follow the movies.

Today we are in a real movie theater. My father makes my sister and me
sit with him. My mother is staying home. I'm glad my father doesn't
have to hook a box onto the window by his seat, the sound like trapped
people who are trying to get out. This is a real movie.

When we came in, I heard a lady say, "What on earth?" My father looked
right ahead and found us three seats, and then told us to save his seat
while he went to go get popcorn. I said I wanted Milk Duds, but my
sister forgot to ask for anything. When she told me to wait while she
went to find my father, I told her I'd start yelling. Also I promised
to share my Milk Duds, so she stayed put.

"How old are you?" a woman next to me asks. She has a purse in her lap
and glasses that make her look like a cat. Her breath smells like tuna
fish.

"Five," I say, holding up my hand with my fingers stretched out.

The woman turns to the man next to her, whispering. I have to go to the
restroom, but I can't ask my sister. I'll have to wait until my father
comes back.

The room goes dark and the screen lights up. I like the cartoons that
show singing boxes of popcorn and dancing soda pop. My father returns,
breathing hard and putting things on my sister and my laps. He's
brought something for my sister, who leans over and say, "I still get
some of your Milk Duds. You promised."

The movie starts, and the people get quiet. I need to go to the
restroom but now it's too late. If I need to, I'll run out and then
back in again. My sister can fill me in on what I missed.

The movie screen shows a desert, with men in robes hitting the dirt
with axes. An old man holds up a little statue, and then he takes some
white pills with his coffee. He watches some dogs fight.

The movie changes, and a little girl starts acting strangely. I try to
keep up. The girl's bed shakes, and a big piece of furniture moves on
its own and falls onto the girl's mother. My sister gets up and runs up
the aisle.

I watch her run but stay in my seat until the girl in the movie turns
green and yellow. The girl cusses and yells while I meet my sister in
the crying room, which is empty because no one brought a baby to this
movie. We wait until the howling and shaking stops, and then peek
around the corner of the doorway to watch the movie, hoping it's not so
nasty. I can see my father in his seat, feeding himself popcorn. He'll
probably eat my Milk Duds, too.

When the movie is over we drive home, all of us in the front seat.
"What did you think of that?" my father asks. We shrug and stare
straight ahead. My father laughs. "I'm not sure I'd tell your mama
about this one," he says.

On the way home I watch the side of the road for signs of any girls
with heads that spin around and who might want to get in the car. I
plan to search my room, under the clothes and bed and in the closet
full of hidden toys and tentacles and plain old Satan. I plan to shut
my closet door and put a chair in front of it, if I can find a chair,
and then I will lay in the exact middle of my bed so I have a better
chance of going either way away from danger.

"Remember," my father says, "Tell your mama we saw something scary but
don't tell her everything. Got it?"

My mother is already in bed when we walk in. All of the lights are on,
but the furniture looks strange. There is a bulge behind the curtain,
and I see things out of the corner of my eye. I stay close to my
father. My sister does the same.

"It's time for bed," my father says, and my stomach hurts, but for
different reasons than usual. He takes a beer out of the refrigerator,
and I want to stay up with him.

"Go to bed. Now," my father says.

I walk into my bedroom, keeping a safe distance from the bed as I look
under it.

I don't want this.

I have never wanted it.

But who am I to argue?

"You are," says something under my pillow. It laughs. I don't.