The Wrong Type: A Short Story Collection

6. The Ex-Con

Contains: religious undertones

When Annie said her brother was coming out of prison, Lyla's mind filled with images of bulky, bald men with tattoos up and down their ham like arms... and that's exactly what Ray Moran was, except he wasn't completely bald, he sported a buzz cut, cut so short she could see the tattoo on the back of his head.

"PEACE," it said, in thick, black letters.

On anybody else that one word would've made her giggle, but on Ray Moran it just made her blush even deeper. It was worse when he looked at her. She didn't know where to hide.

"I'm not in the way am I?" He asked, craning his neck to look back at her.

She shook her head, though his back and head covered the tv screen. They sat like that a while, in silence. Marie, his mother, moving in and out of the living room.

When the programme ended he switched the channel, then after a couple minutes he turned to glance back again. "Why don't you come around here. Beats sitting on a chair, don't it?"

Don't it?

Talking like that would give Mama a brain aneurysm.

"Okay." Pushing the chair back she made way to the recliner.

"So, you've known Annie a long time?" He asked, tapping his knee with the remote. Even his knuckles were tattooed, in swirly, bold letters she couldn't quite read.

"Since first grade."

"First grade..." he whistled. "Long ass time."

"Mind your language, Raymond," came Marie's voice from the back.

"Sorry," said Ray, leaning back on the couch. Manspreading, as Annie called it. He caught her eye and smiled. "Ain't my fault if you ask me, you just got the kinda face."

What kind of face? She tried hard not to cringe. Was it the glasses? Maybe the freckles? She always hated her freckles though Mama said that was God's way of blessing her twice.

"Honest," he said.

Lyla swallowed, unable to look away from him. "You can be honest," she replied. He looked at her for a long time after that and she almost wished she could take the words back.

Almost.

...

Next time she saw Ray Moran was a month later. Sitting in the empty aisle of the Green Valley Church.

Looking ahead in the front row, Mama's conversation with Reverend Michaels ran through her mind.

"God does not forgive murderers."

"If he repents and shows me he regrets his actions, Patty, then God will forgive."

Murderer.

He killed someone.

She'd known that in an offhand way but hearing it had still been a shock. Even so, she put her bag aside and walked to the far aisle, telling herself Reverend Michaels would want her to talk to a fellow church goer. And wasn't his coming here a show of repentance?

It wasn't until she got a good look at him that her confidence faltered. He looked as approachable as a wild animal, sitting stony faced, his lip curled like he was about to start an argument.

Right away his eyes dropped to the cross at her neck, to her plain, cotton dress Mama had her wear and he got that look in his eye she'd seen a thousand times.

"Religious, huh?"

She nodded, standing a little taller. If he was like one of them boys from school she'd rather know now, because she was done being laughed at!