Secrets from a Church Basement: The Desperate Diary of Fresco Ayers

Confusion, Catharsis, and Emotional Cannibalism

Confusion, Catharsis, and Emotional Cannibalism

I wish I could accurately describe what I've been feeling since last week, but the right words are hard to come by. Adam is missing. I think he's probably run away. It's what I would do; it's what I have done.

Why does life do this? It comes out of nowhere. Your days can be passing with joy and comfort until, boom, you suddenly have a choice between sure death and running from everything and everyone you love.

My daughter, Jo, never understood why I had to keep secrets from her. After her mother died, we formed a pact, an agreement that we would always be open with each other and share everything. She was only six when it happened. I never thought she'd remember.

With her life threatened so many years later, I couldn't keep my promise. I just couldn't. I know it confused her. She was hurt. She was saddened. She withdrew.

I wanted so badly to tell her why. I tried to let her know, at every opportunity, how much I loved her. But that didn't seem to matter. Depression gripped her and wouldn't let go. She cut me off, refusing to acknowledge me as her father.

Desperate for her love, I almost let the secrets slip. Almost. Instead, I ran.

Of all the places to hide, I can't believe I picked a Catholic church. These are the people I blame. These are the people who took my wife from me, Jo's mother.

Yet here I am. Every day, as I clean up after these true believers, I watch. I stand in awe of the spectacle.

I've come to think that "sinners" require marble altars, golden chalices, grand archways, and windows of stained glass in order to try and feel better about themselves, to conceal their deepest insecurities, to make their cages feel less like cages. It doesn't work, of course.

They are desperate for God's approval as they live every day with guilt over being human. The pomp and pageantry is a facade and a trap.

The priest denies such notions. "We celebrate the love that Jesus has for all of us," he will say. "God allows us to repent for our sins as we strive to be closer to Him. There is no trap here."

I like the guy, and I'm thankful for his help, but his blind faith can be hard to take. I'd sooner cut my eyes out than believe in a mythology created by men to control and oppress the natural wonder, potential, and curiosities of humanity.

Why so many people have faith in a system that feeds on their insecurities and encourages them to repeat that "spiritual" favor on others is beyond my comprehension. 

If Holy Communion isn't a ritual display of this emotional cannibalism, I'm at a loss to know what else it's about. "Body of Christ, body of Christ, body of Christ…." They pretend to eat the flesh of Jesus and sip on his blood. This is the territory of werewolves and vampires, is it not? How can they be so sure they're on the right side of good and evil?

I don't mean to rant. Despite my anger, I don't hate these people. I'm just confused as hell. 

I miss my wife. I miss my daughter. I miss knowing who I am. And, now, I miss Adam.

Yesterday, I thought I was going to explode. My emotions were combusting inside, but I had no good outlet to deal with them. No matter what activity I tried, nothing got rid of them. I couldn't cry. And I couldn't identify what I was feeling. I still can't, mostly.

But something remarkable happened the other night. Three blood drifters stepped out of the shadows and stood by my bed as I was struggling to sleep. At first, I panicked. But then a calm came over me. 

I heard soft voices and distant melodies and the background noises of another place. It was eerie but also kind of beautiful. 

I cried and cried. It felt good. I was finally able to sleep.

If I ever find Adam, I'll learn how to record the sounds for you. I just hope he hasn't been completely devoured.

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