A Shrine to an Unknown God

TEMPORARILY

DAHLIA'S MOMS COME HOME the next day. Ezra and I are out of their home before their plane lands.

Early that morning, the three of us pile into Bertha, Dahlia's mini bus. Ezra navigates us to his house. It's this yellowed one-story building about fifteen minutes inland. Dahlia drops us off and we head to the front door. Given how early it is, it isn't so oppressively hot, but the heat still drips down my spine.

We just stand there waving at Dahlia until she drives off.

"So, here's the thing. I don't actually like, live here," Ezra admits to me.

"So you lied?" I ask.

"Well. I just didn't tell her the truth."

"That's what lying is. Why didn't you tell her the truth?"

"I just—I didn't want Dahlia to see where I've actually been staying. Her house is... her house is so nice, it's so perfect, everything in her life is so perfect. I didn't wanna... ruin her image of me. Can we just forget about the whole lying thing?" Ezra flails his arms around. "C'mon. My actual place is down this way."

He leads me down the block and across the street to this string of multi-level businesses. Mini buses zoom down the roadway. People mill about on the sidewalks. We go around the back of this two-story red-brick building, to this side alley. The pavement is cracked and uneven. All the while he's whipping his head about, peeking around corners before we turn, jumping at the slightest sound.

"We have to be really quiet," he tells me. "You've gotta whisper once we get inside."

"Why?"

"Because... we're not really supposed to be here, okay?"

"But it's your house."

"Well, not really."

"What do you mean?"

In front of us there's this big, dark-green box. It reeks of garbage rotting under the hot sun. With a lot of grunting and wiggling awkwardly around, Ezra pulls himself on top of it.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Come on. It's how we get in."

Instinctively, I reach for a weapon that isn't there. I barely know the first thing about Ezra. Do I trust him? How could I?

Nevertheless, I hoist myself up onto the green thing. It takes me much less grunts and wiggles.

Our heads are now just about level with the second-story windows. Ezra pulls back this baby-blue sheet hanging in front of one of them, revealing a broken window behind it, and a large brown box on the other end.

He shoves the box inside. Grabbing onto the windowsill, and with more grunts and wiggling around, he lifts himself up inside the building. Then, he turns and extends his hand to me.

"Careful. There's glass."

I let him help me inside. The sheet falls shut behind us. Ezra pushes the box back in front of the window. I blink at the sudden darkness, my nose wrinkling at the stale, musty air.

"Where are we?" I whisper.

"The storeroom of some law firm. Don't worry. Nobody ever comes up here, and there aren't any cameras. I checked."

"You live here?"

"Temporarily."

In the dark, all I can see are the vaguest of outlines, these tall, looming shapes all around me. I fumble for Ezra and grab hold of his shoulders. He walks into the room, me blindly following behind him. A couple steps in, he stops and kneels down, rifling through something. Then a flimsy yellow light switches on. He holds it close to his face.