Stay in your Lane (On Hold)

Chapter Two ~ Donkey Stealer

A little early because I'm sick and worried it'll be worse tomorrow. Hope you enjoy! Next upload next Sunday!

Chapter Two

Pastor Paul stood at the podium, droning on about damnation. Working a close-open-close was not conducive to worship—unless maybe you worshipped the devil and coveted suffering. The bowling alley had been packed ever since Travis won the Pro Tour. Everyone and their brother suddenly wanted to either learn or practice. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes open.

"Ashley!" Mama hissed, nudging my side.

I straightened in my seat and wiped drool from the corner of my mouth. Everyone was standing, hymnals in hand. The band sat poised to play. Paul was giving Mama the look.

Austin's daughter was on the wrong path. Austin's daughter was headed straight for Hell. That's what he was thinking, and if there wasn't a church full of people watching, he would say so.

Everyone was looking at me, but I didn't stand. I just sat, muscles aching, so exhausted it was hard to care what anyone had to say. For three days I'd been killing myself, and every second of it, I'd been forced to hear people praising the great Travis Baker.

"Ashley!" Mama hissed.

I looked down at the blue dress she'd forced me to wear today. As if I were still a child. And like I always did, I'd complied.

Everyone was gawking at me like I was in the middle of summoning Satan. I was sitting down. I was tired. I was pretty sure Jesus wouldn't lose his shit over it. Hell, he was probably too busy bestowing more blessings onto Travis Baker.

"I'm gonna sit this one out," I said. The words came out as if I were drunk, loud and brash. "I'm not feeling well today."

"Let's all have a seat then," Paul said. "I feel God leading me toward more sermon today."

A collective shuffle filled the room as everyone sat back down, and I stared at the Pastor, waiting for what would happen next. Ever since he and Mama got together, he'd been trying to "save" me. But I knew what saving me really meant. He wanted to change me. To make me less like the man he wanted to forget. Then they had their own daughters, the twins, Chelsea and Hannah, and I'd looked even more out of place. They loved the dresses. Neither of them ever got too dirty or wanted to play with the boys. Cookie cutter replicas of Mama, and she made a point of reminding me often what a disappointment I was.

He opened his Bible and flipped through the pages. "Ephesians five-fifteen through twenty." He landed where he wanted, then began to read aloud.

"Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart—"

He thought I was drunk. Why? Because Daddy was a drunk? Well, Daddy may have been a drunk, but at least he wasn't an asshole. Something snapped inside me. Crumbled. Disintegrated. All the fucks I'd been clinging to for years suddenly vanished. 

I laughed.

Pastor Paul stopped talking. His jaw flexed. "Is something funny about that Miss Ashley?"

"Kinda."

Gasps erupted through the church. Mama gripped my arm. "What has gotten into you?"

I shook her off and stood. "Deuteronomy five twenty-one! And you shall not covet your neighbor's wife. And you shall not desire your neighbor's house, his field, or his male servant, or his female servant, his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor's!" It was a verse I'd read often. A verse I'd wanted to recite for years. A verse conveniently left out of sermon Sunday after Sunday.