The Dove Keeper

Sacré Bleu

The sky was a gray shade matching that of an unwashed pearl still blanketed within the mouth of an oyster sunk at the bottom of the sea. The small Jersey town seemed to sink as well, in this ocean of freedom and the land of opportunities. The skyline was almost always gray and dreary, except for those few days in the summer where the sun would peak at the top of the sky, ruler for the few hours without shadows. But this reign was cruel, and would pummel heat down onto the bodies beneath without lament or signs of stopping. So, perhaps the dull ache of gray that oozed in the new afternoon sky was a good thing, because it did not bring such dry yet sticky heat. 

It was the end of winter; not close enough to that beautiful spring breeze and budding flowers that brought on new life and love, but too close to that frigid cold that sunk deep within bones and would not warm up. The snow had now since dispersed in the sky and instead Jersey, at least in this part, was greeted with chilly rain and ice pelts nightly. In the darkness, the earth would freeze over and act as if nothing existed, until the daytime rolled around and sub freezing temperatures essentially vanished, the frost turning into deep mud puddles that school children would play in while waiting for the bus. But there was still that air, that nothing, non-living air that seeped into the seams of the town, folding over into the hills. 

Today was no exception, but the school children were no longer playing in puddles. They were still in Sunday School, forced to wear itchy clothing while their mothers’ lips were pursed uneasily, casting a dark light on the gleam of hope that surrounded the children, trapping them until they were let loose at noon, free to be hellions once again. It seemed that it was only on Sundays that Jersey lost its bleak edge. People were fairly religious in this area, and if they weren’t, they at least pretended to be. Inside any of the matching small houses that lined the streets the insides were predictable. It was like dissecting a cadaver; you always knew where the heart and stomach and lungs were. Going inside one of these small abodes, you knew you would find a velvety painting of Jesus, followed by a cross with the man’s limp body hanging off of it. And, if the house was particularly adamant about their faith, a bible would be present, the cover gleaming, gold pages lining the edge, just begging to be read. 

For the most part, Jersey was a pretty dangerous state. Of course not all parts where bad, but Newark was by far the worst. Over the past few years, bodies have been found in the local river, situated near the neighboring park. Kids were never usually allowed to go out to play, even in daylight hours. And when they were allowed, their older sibling had to cling to their side at all times, checking to make sure everything was okay and stayed okay. You had to look over your shoulder constantly as you walked, even if it was to the friendly convenience store. And the convenience store wasn’t always so friendly. Along with the bodies piling up in the river more than one clerk had been shot in the head while doing the graveyard shift. The place was robbed constantly too, but most of those incidents were relatively harmless, since it was almost always teenagers doing the crime. The men in the area saved their time and energy for bigger and better criminal acts, like the mob and drug trafficking. 

Despite all these precautionary measures however, if you lived in this town you never really felt fear. You’d get scared sometimes, when you’d pass by a police car carrying a murderer in the back but there was never a constant throbbing fear. You never thought you yourself were at danger; you were just aware that danger was around everywhere. And to deal, you acted how you were supposed to act. It was ingrained in your memory to not cross over onto Dunlop street because you just knew that that’s where the guy lived who had all of the ammunition in his backyard shed. You knew not to go behind the movie theatre in broad daylight because drug deals were happening. You just knew. And you accepted it. This was our home, after all, and fuck, despite the sheer and complete danger behind everything people loved where they came from. And they supported it fully. They filled the local shopping centers, schools and even churches with smiling faces and pride. And it was on Sundays where Newark maybe didn’t seem like such a bad place after all. Even the criminals that you spent your entire week hiding from had some form of faith. They were sitting a pew right next to you, redeeming themselves for all the sins they committed and were about to commit. And you would smile and nod to them, forgetting that you saw them take out money instead of put some in as the collection plate was passed around. It was Sunday; it was what you just did.