Salt Pillars

Chapter 2

Travis

Kneeled beside his neatly made bed, Travis clasped his hands together tightly and closed his eyes. He leaned his forehead into his fist and drew heavily upon his emotions, for the more heartfelt his words were, then the more likely they would be heard.

The clock next to his bed blared 5:00 am in bright flashing digital letters.

"Dear heavenly father" he began, pausing between each word for emphasis. "Bless me on this glorious day, and bless my family, and bless my country..." he paused again and imagined the lord's face as he had seen it in drawings, usually surrounded by a halo of light.

"Please God, give me the strength to be a better person and forgive my many transgressions, Amen," he made the sign of the cross and stood back up.

Travis continued to prepare his clothing for the day in a large duffle bag that had a pungent smell of stale B.O. emanating from it. He stuffed his football pads and jersey into the bottom of it.

His room was a collection of posters with famous athletes on them in various poses of active play and his dresser was covered in trophies adorned with golden figurines also posed in the motion for the sport they represented. It was well-kept and tidy, habits deeply engrained in him from his time at the junior military academy.

Travis made his way down the winding stairs of their Victorian style mansion passing large family portraits along the way. Photos of a perfect American family done up in their nicest sweaters and gelled hair. There were golden crucifixes above the entryway to each of the rooms towering and arched ceilings.

In the kitchen, Travis found his father already dressed in a fine suit and drinking his morning coffee over an open newspaper.

"Hey Dad, you're up early," he said and his father raised his cup in acknowledgement. Travis continued while gathering the components for his morning protein shake.

"You know me, I've got to be in court in an hour," his father replied. "How about you?"

"Today is freshmen tryouts, so we gotta go haze the new guys."

Unamused, his father continued to read the paper.

Travis's father paused then carefully placed the newspaper on the table and looked at him for a moment with his stern, intelligent eyes. Then he said in his commanding voice, "Now you listen and you listen well, there's more to life than just fun and games with your buddies."

"I know Dad... It's just —"

"I understand that you're young and do what you gotta do," his father interrupted him. "I'm just worried about you Trav... I worry that you'll lose sight of your true purpose in this world: to serve god, not to serve ourselves."

His stare was strong and Travis wanted to look away, but his father never would have tolerated such a timid act.

"Yes Dad, I hear you."

His father returned to his newspaper.

Travis's cell-phone rang and he looked at the screen, it said T-bone.

"Tony is here to pick me up, I gotta go," Travis grabbed his duffle bag and his protein shake and went out the door.

Tony's large yellow pickup truck was parked in the circular driveway in front of Travis's house.

"Hey man! Let's gooo!" Tony yelled through the passenger window.

"Keep your voice down," Travis warned and threw his bag in the bed of the truck.