SIN AND DEATH IN SAINT'S CITY

en, my father decid

perhaps because I started growing facial hair, had a massive hard-on while at a family diner in a restaurant after seeing the exposed boobs

way too much, way too early in life. (Bad genes are also caused by the same thing. Almost every form of accelerated growth is, really). But my dad believed I needed to be taught how to be a man, so he took me to see Pastor Rod, who agreed that I was b

a superior knack for hiding their issues. What was the caus

ed in Pastor Rod’s dining roo

other) white person in the room, always discussed God’s omniprese

er-length blonde hair into place with a see-thro

ow we were going to have so many responsibilities, we’ll think we’d die from the pressure but we wouldn’t die and how we’ll have to work hard to cater for our dependents, marry because society expects it, rarely have time to do the things we liked because if we weren’t working, we’ll be resting, not be able to

the

s, goals, and outline our strateg

become a lawyer originally but decided I’d rather be a businessman

cuss. That’s how we’d kick-start the day’s session: everyone talking about the challenges they faced that week and how the path to their go

re—admissions of theft, smoking pot, and occasionally, sex. Then we’d talk about jail. A r

present. Like, I realize that this is a tad unkind, but when they tell you there’s, say, a 10% chance of living a full life without incarceration as a blac

lly, a doe-eyed, 6’3 white boy who was all brawn with

w perfect his life was. This had, unfortunately, thrust those of us around him into a hell hole where we became the perpetual audience of a bad TV show (watching him talk) which we wished could stop but knew would never end. It was l

undred different ways: I wanted to do my old man proud. And, now, here I was, stuck hearing some white kid talk about his perfect l

y at 4:18 pm, Dad in the seat next to mine. He let me drive because I was now a man. I

t me to wai

s for some drinks at the bar three blocks from our house. Two hours alone in t

ou, boy,” he sa

d man. See y

said through the

ee Pastor Rod, so

flected everyone’s image with mirror-like precision. My attention was drawn to a gracefully

oday I poured myself a cup because I neede

me. A white girl.

urn locks were tied with a loose strap. It was slightly lopsided with the weight of her hair, the strap barely holding back the shorter strand

r parents. A girl you’re only seeing for the first time winks at you and it is, at best,

e door, breaking our spell. Out of breath, eyes sparkling, he said throu