Dog on the Cross by Aaron Gwyn Page B

backslider.”
    He went on like that, his voice becoming louder and more commanding as he went. After he’d been at it for fifteen minutes, preaching about falling away from the Spirit and the special punishments reserved for those who’d blasphemed, people began growing excited. Gabriel could see it moving among them like a wave, folks becoming agitated, shifting in their seats. And the longer Snodgrass spoke, the louder the elders shouted, the more Gabriel felt a pain growing deep in his stomach. His eyes started to ache, and by the end of the sermon he wanted to crawl between the pew cushions.
    When Snodgrass gave the altar call, asking all of them to come in and rededicate their lives, Gabrielwent up and knelt beside Thomas Campbell. He told God he was sorry for his sin and reprobation. He asked him to rebaptize him in the Spirit, to give him the strength to withstand the trial he was under. He prayed so fiercely that sweat beaded his forehead and neck; so long that when he looked up he and Hassler were the only ones left.
    Directly, the pastor rose, went to the podium, and dismissed service. People stood, walked over, and began crowding around the evangelist, telling him how much they’d enjoyed his preaching, how strongly they could feel the anointing. Gabriel saw that his mother was waiting in line to talk with Snodgrass too, so he threaded his way down the aisle, went back to the foyer. He wanted to keep the burning of God’s Spirit inside him.
    He walked outside and sat at the bottom of the handicapped ramp. The night was warm and the noise of cicadas swelled in the field across the fence. He sat listening to them, hugging his knees to his chest.
    In a few minutes they stopped, and he heard gravel crunch. Turning, he saw Amy coming toward him across the parking lot. She walked up, stood beside him.
    â€œIsn’t he good?” she said.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe preacher.”
    â€œYes,” Gabriel said, “he is good.”
    She stood for a while on one foot. Then the other.
    â€œDo you mind if I sit?” she asked.
    Gabriel looked at the ground, hoping she’d go away, but she did not. She squatted and sat next to him.
    He didn’t know what else to say, so they sat in silence. A few people came out, got in their cars, and left, but most were still inside. Gabriel was debating going back in, finding an empty room, when he felt Amy’s hip brush up against his.
    It was the first time a girl had sat so close, and it felt like electricity moving down his throat, into his stomach and hips. Part of him wanted to get away, save himself for the Lord and His Spirit, but the other part was on fire.
    Gabriel was unsure how long he stayed like that, hip to hip with Amy on the ramp, never even glancing to his side. He sat thinking about how if they were man and wife, he’d undress her slowly at night, brush her hair like a china doll. He thought how they could lie in bed, reading aloud the Scriptures, that when they coupled it would be an act of worship.
    The door opened. He turned and saw that Snodgrass had come out onto the porch. He looked over, noticed the two of them, turned and walked back inside.
    â€œHe’s so good,” Amy whispered. “I hope he stays longer than a week.”
    Later that night, Gabriel stood in the center of his room with dress pants shucked around his ankles, her voice going through his head like something hot and sharp.
    T HE NEXT WEEK, service for Gabriel was excruciating. Night after night, he’d sit listening to Snodgrass preach, watching folk crowd the altars to receive their blessing. The Spirit continued dealing with him, beckoning him to repentance, and he’d often kneel at his seat, asking God to spare his life and soul, the smell of his own sweat rising from the pew.
    There was a darkness, he said, that covered you in the midst of sin. The deeper one goes, the cloudier it becomes, like walking through a world of ash. You