The Summer Of The Almost Always Never . . . . .. Athena Hallberg

THE SUMMER OF THE ALMOST ALWAYS NEVER

ATHENA HALLBERG (AB'21)

Then it was the day of the apocalypse. We went to the final service in the morning. Before it started, people milled around talking about all the things they would do in Heaven. Roy was telling anyone who would listen, “I always knew I would live to see the end of the world. I’m just shocked it took so damn long!”

When the service began, our leader stood at the front of the church and gave his speech, as the collection plate went round and round. I don’t remember his name. He wasn’t from town, but he had family who was, a sister, I think. But I remember his booming voice and eyes flashing without disappointment. “Save yourself! Give up all wealth. Don’t hold back. If you are holding back, then you are holding back from God. After today it will be too late! Only true believers will be saved, honest people who speak the truth. As they say in Revelations only those will be saved who follow the lamb for ‘in their mouth no lie was found, for they are spotless.’ I follow the lamb and you must follow me.” Our leader kept reminding us, “It’s tonight. It will happen at Midnight.” Midnight, it will happen at midnight, we all seemed to think as one. I remember that evening, sitting around with other End-of-the-Worlders at someone's house. I'm sure it was chosen because the owners had a VHS player. They only had The Sound of Music, which we watched over and over again. A group of us kids crowded around the TV set close enough to touch it, while the adults moved about passing between the kitchen and the living room. We ate pizza and birthday cake, even though it wasn't anyone's birthday.

It was six o'clock. Six hours left. Then it was seven. An old man was crying. He had been trying to convince his daughter for weeks, but there was still hope she might convert before the end. His face was ugly and strained, the tears running down his wrinkles and catching in his beard. I had never seen anyone that old cry before.

Then it was eight, where was my father in all this? I can't see him. I don't remember. Roy was telling anyone who would listen that he had given up smoking and drinking. He wanted to be clean before going to Heaven, but other people were smoking and cigarette smoke clouded the air.

It was ten, the movie crooned “Edelweiss, Edelweiss, Bless my homeland forever!” It was almost time. Some people wouldn't stop talking. Others couldn't seem to say a word. One woman was talking in the high screech of the crows we sometimes saw outside our house, “First day I get to heaven I’ll give my departed Jack a big kiss in our house of marbled gold.” It was eleven o'clock, and the movie had started up again. We wouldn't have time left to finish it. Then it was almost midnight – half an hour left – Someone proposed a toast. “To the End!” A man said and champaign glasses clinked. twenty minutes – ten – a woman was singing a song about the land of milk and honey. Her voice was high and out of tune, "Nights we all will dance!" It was hard to hear the movie.

Five– Four

– THREE – TWO

– ONE!

Then it was midnight – the end of the world. We listened to hear the sounds of bombs or zombies pounding down the door or fire and earthquakes in the streets. There was no meteorite plummeting to Earth or volcanic eruptions or anything else that would make us go the way of the dinosaurs. There was nothing. We were silent. Only the movie crooned along. I looked to my father, but I couldn't read his face. He was standing next to Mrs. Carrow who was saying that maybe the clocks were running fast or maybe it would be midnight mountain time. “Heaven is the city on high after all.” He wasn’t saying much, just the occasional “Yes” and “um-hmm.”

Another hour passed. Roy started drinking and people started to leave. It wasn’t long before Roy was red in the face. He was screaming about “That Damn Thief!” Our leader wasn’t at the party he claimed he needed to prepare for the end completely alone in private prayer. A woman had tried calling his home phone multiple times, but he didn’t answer his phone. A man I didn’t know helped my father lead Roy out. A few minutes later we heard Roy’s car start, and my father came back. He didn’t say a word. The von Trapps escaped to Switzerland yet again. When the movie finished, no one turned it back on. I curled up on a sofa in a ball and waited for whatever would come next.

After two hours, most people were gone. The woman who talked about her mansion of gold, kept insisting that this was just a test of our faith, that it would happen any minute, but no one was listening. She tried to call our leader’s home phone again, but he didn’t answer. By then no one expected him too. My father told me, “Come on, Danny, we're going home.” We didn't speak during the car ride.

The next morning, he didn't go back to work. He just sat in a lawn chair in our backyard and watched the traffic go by. He sat out there for hours. By that point, everyone knew the leader of the movement had skipped town. I watched my father through the living room window, and I felt an insane urge to get my toothbrushes. I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and lay them all out before him. I wanted to explain that they were soldiers and aliens and monsters. I wanted to tell him that they could be all those things, even though I knew and would never forget that they were just toothbrushes. We could still be happy and free. I wanted to tell him that he wasn't trapped, that we could go anywhere. I wanted to tell him so much more. That we could still sing and eat strawberry ice cream. But I didn't say any of that. I didn't even go outside. He sat out there for hours, then finally he stood up and came back inside and started to make dinner. We hardly ever spoke of that summer again.