God's Children
Erin Holden
Content Warning: death, mentions of religion
There was a boy who lived across the street from us named Dustin. He rode around the neighborhood without a shirt on, and he was always telling me that I couldn’t do the things that he could do.
“See here,” he’d say. “I’m going to climb into your shed through that window, and you’ve got to follow me in there or else I won’t give you one of these Blue Nehis.” I never could get myself through that window because it was too high up, and he knew it. I really wanted one of those cold Blue Nehis, it was so hot out sometimes.
“Why you don’t have no clothes on?” Lou said, and me and Dustin laughed, but then he laughed too hard and she looked too serious, so I pushed him off his bike when he wasn’t looking. His face was up in the air like a big white moon. I guess I pushed him because he laughed a little too hard. I know she’s stupid, but she’s my sister.
“You always thought you could do anything anyone else did, didn’t matter if they were older, stronger… none of that mattered. You were just going to do it!” That’s what Mee Maw has said to me. She still says that because she’s already decided who we are. I suppose if that’s who she thinks I am, it’s not the worst thing.
Me and Lou—I’m smart, but I think more of myself than I should, and I push too hard. Lou is lazy but good with babies. I’m not good with babies. My cousin Christine always comes over and wants to play house with baby dolls, and I always want to play with stuffed animals. She gets mad about it.
Steven and Laura are God’s children and get more presents from Mee Maw on their birthdays than we do.
But about Dustin—he would ride around our trailer on his bike with no shirt on and this rope tied to the end of the bike. He’d do circles round and round our little house. I think our place looks like a tin can from the highway if you can make it out through the trees. Dustin said I could never get ahold of that rope, but I kept chasing it until Dad came out.
“Get away from here! Get on!” he said, and Dustin rode away.
I got mad at Dad for that, but he said every time Dustin comes over I always get all worked up.
Dad’s the one who taught me about the circle of life. He drew it for me on a napkin while I was trying to watch Mr. Rogers. He said this was more important.
It was grass, then a deer eating the grass, then a lion eating the deer, then the lion dying, and the deer eating that grass that the lion would become after it rotted on the ground.
But not everything dies that way, and I told him so. Molly Jo didn’t die that way—she got hit by a car again and wandered off into the woods by herself because she knew she was going to die. Animals always know when they’re about to die.
Sometimes, when we know Dustin isn’t around, and all the leaves are a blanket on the yard so deep that Lou would sink into them so you could only see her big black eyes staring up at you, we would strip down to our drawers and swim around in the leaves and pine straw. There were so many trees all around our house so the leaves would be all over.
“Skin the rabbit!” Mom would say to help us out of our clothes so they wouldn’t get dirty. She let us do this sometimes before Dad raked the leaves all up. She knew we wouldn’t be able to run around like that soon because it would get cold out.
We would stay out there all day, trying to make tunnels to hide from each other. and enjoying the crunch all of it made when we were squirming around out there. Sometimes me and Lou liked to lose each other on purpose because that made things exciting. Like when we hide in the aisles at the store and pretend like we’re lost. It’s an adventure.
I wanted to know from Dad why Mee Maw thinks we aren’t God’s children. He told me she didn’t mean that. It’s complicated, and we’ll get more presents next year. But I heard Mee Maw talking to Mom.
“It’s just that, when I spend my money on them I feel like I’m giving it to God.” Their Dad is a missionary, so that’s why. Mom’s face got the way it gets when we do something real bad—her lips press together so tight that you can’t see them anymore, and somehow she can still talk that way, and her voice completely changes. I couldn’t hear what she told Mee Maw, but Mee Maw didn’t come around for a while after.
I think it’s because she’s mad that Dad doesn’t play the drums at church anymore. Mee Maw, I mean. He stopped watching TV because the preacher said it was bad, but then he came by the preacher’s house and saw he had the TV on in his camper trailer. Dad was mad about it so he stopped coming with us to church.
But Mom always took me and Lou to church anyway.
When I’m there, I lay on the pew and look up at the fluorescent lights. I can hear the music and feel it making my chest vibrate.
I don’t listen as much to the preacher as I used to. One time he said that Jesus was coming soon and I asked my Mom how soon. She said no one really knows God’s version of soon. Once I heard that, I didn’t pay as much attention to him anymore.
But I like the way the music feels when Sister Lottie starts singing and I feel like something is kind of unlocking in my chest. It’s the way I feel when Mom lets us stay out in the leaves until the stars come out. Even though I’m under those fake lights and not stars, the music makes me cry sometimes in a way that’s real nice.
I was careful to cry by myself at church because I didn’t always want to go up to the front. They wanted me to be saved and I would get scared of that. Because I see how they gather around you and wait for something to happen. And it seems like to me, when people are watching you like that, in that way that makes you not want to disappoint them, you end up doing something for their sake. I sometimes have to just be alone and feel that feeling in my chest. Because when you start doing something to prove that you have it, that’s when you lose it. I get scared that it might not come back ever.
And that’s why I’m not mad at Mee Maw the way that Mom is. People started watching her a long time ago, so she’s forgotten how to get that part of her unlocked. So now she’s one of the watchers.
I told this to Dad the other day and he said I need to not think about this so hard — just go to church and listen to what I’m told. But I saw in his eyes that he knew what it meant, being watched like that and getting all locked up inside.
“See here,” he’d say. “I’m going to climb into your shed through that window, and you’ve got to follow me in there or else I won’t give you one of these Blue Nehis.” I never could get myself through that window because it was too high up, and he knew it. I really wanted one of those cold Blue Nehis, it was so hot out sometimes.
“Why you don’t have no clothes on?” Lou said, and me and Dustin laughed, but then he laughed too hard and she looked too serious, so I pushed him off his bike when he wasn’t looking. His face was up in the air like a big white moon. I guess I pushed him because he laughed a little too hard. I know she’s stupid, but she’s my sister.
“You always thought you could do anything anyone else did, didn’t matter if they were older, stronger… none of that mattered. You were just going to do it!” That’s what Mee Maw has said to me. She still says that because she’s already decided who we are. I suppose if that’s who she thinks I am, it’s not the worst thing.
Me and Lou—I’m smart, but I think more of myself than I should, and I push too hard. Lou is lazy but good with babies. I’m not good with babies. My cousin Christine always comes over and wants to play house with baby dolls, and I always want to play with stuffed animals. She gets mad about it.
Steven and Laura are God’s children and get more presents from Mee Maw on their birthdays than we do.
But about Dustin—he would ride around our trailer on his bike with no shirt on and this rope tied to the end of the bike. He’d do circles round and round our little house. I think our place looks like a tin can from the highway if you can make it out through the trees. Dustin said I could never get ahold of that rope, but I kept chasing it until Dad came out.
“Get away from here! Get on!” he said, and Dustin rode away.
I got mad at Dad for that, but he said every time Dustin comes over I always get all worked up.
Dad’s the one who taught me about the circle of life. He drew it for me on a napkin while I was trying to watch Mr. Rogers. He said this was more important.
It was grass, then a deer eating the grass, then a lion eating the deer, then the lion dying, and the deer eating that grass that the lion would become after it rotted on the ground.
But not everything dies that way, and I told him so. Molly Jo didn’t die that way—she got hit by a car again and wandered off into the woods by herself because she knew she was going to die. Animals always know when they’re about to die.
Sometimes, when we know Dustin isn’t around, and all the leaves are a blanket on the yard so deep that Lou would sink into them so you could only see her big black eyes staring up at you, we would strip down to our drawers and swim around in the leaves and pine straw. There were so many trees all around our house so the leaves would be all over.
“Skin the rabbit!” Mom would say to help us out of our clothes so they wouldn’t get dirty. She let us do this sometimes before Dad raked the leaves all up. She knew we wouldn’t be able to run around like that soon because it would get cold out.
We would stay out there all day, trying to make tunnels to hide from each other. and enjoying the crunch all of it made when we were squirming around out there. Sometimes me and Lou liked to lose each other on purpose because that made things exciting. Like when we hide in the aisles at the store and pretend like we’re lost. It’s an adventure.
I wanted to know from Dad why Mee Maw thinks we aren’t God’s children. He told me she didn’t mean that. It’s complicated, and we’ll get more presents next year. But I heard Mee Maw talking to Mom.
“It’s just that, when I spend my money on them I feel like I’m giving it to God.” Their Dad is a missionary, so that’s why. Mom’s face got the way it gets when we do something real bad—her lips press together so tight that you can’t see them anymore, and somehow she can still talk that way, and her voice completely changes. I couldn’t hear what she told Mee Maw, but Mee Maw didn’t come around for a while after.
I think it’s because she’s mad that Dad doesn’t play the drums at church anymore. Mee Maw, I mean. He stopped watching TV because the preacher said it was bad, but then he came by the preacher’s house and saw he had the TV on in his camper trailer. Dad was mad about it so he stopped coming with us to church.
But Mom always took me and Lou to church anyway.
When I’m there, I lay on the pew and look up at the fluorescent lights. I can hear the music and feel it making my chest vibrate.
I don’t listen as much to the preacher as I used to. One time he said that Jesus was coming soon and I asked my Mom how soon. She said no one really knows God’s version of soon. Once I heard that, I didn’t pay as much attention to him anymore.
But I like the way the music feels when Sister Lottie starts singing and I feel like something is kind of unlocking in my chest. It’s the way I feel when Mom lets us stay out in the leaves until the stars come out. Even though I’m under those fake lights and not stars, the music makes me cry sometimes in a way that’s real nice.
I was careful to cry by myself at church because I didn’t always want to go up to the front. They wanted me to be saved and I would get scared of that. Because I see how they gather around you and wait for something to happen. And it seems like to me, when people are watching you like that, in that way that makes you not want to disappoint them, you end up doing something for their sake. I sometimes have to just be alone and feel that feeling in my chest. Because when you start doing something to prove that you have it, that’s when you lose it. I get scared that it might not come back ever.
And that’s why I’m not mad at Mee Maw the way that Mom is. People started watching her a long time ago, so she’s forgotten how to get that part of her unlocked. So now she’s one of the watchers.
I told this to Dad the other day and he said I need to not think about this so hard — just go to church and listen to what I’m told. But I saw in his eyes that he knew what it meant, being watched like that and getting all locked up inside.
Erin Holden grew up in rural Central Louisiana, a setting that is the pulse of everything she writes, along with the United Pentecostal Church upbringing that was equally formative. She studied creative writing at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, where she received an MA for her creative thesis, Willie Nelson Lives at the Old Folks Home. “God’s Children” is the introductory story within that short story cycle.