My name is Selma and I have a special relationship with G-d. I am going to be twelve years old next Christmas. Daddy told me that makes me special to be a Christmas baby and all. He always says, “from your lips to G-d’s ears.” Even when he’s choking me.
I live in the middle of nowhere. Unless you are a cow. Then you are in the middle of everything. Cows actually are not particularly interesting but Daddy always told me that since Ma had to go to heaven that milking was just my destiny. Milk just gives me the runs.
I wish I could run away. But we don’t have horses and where would I go anyway? I don’t really know too many people that wouldn’t give me back to Daddy or the foster peoples.
After Ma died the foster peoples came from Child Protective Services in a car that wasn’t rusty like Daddy’s. They said they wanted to make good and sure I would be okay after Ma went to see G-d.
We knew they were coming because they sent a letter. When it came to the mailbox Daddy made me read it out loud to him.
After I told him what it said Daddy’s eyes got real small like a ferret’s and then he got real drunk and sore. More than usual even.
But the day when the foster peoples came Daddy made sure he wasn’t drunk. Daddy made sure I was cleaned up real good. Then Daddy put me in my Sunday best. It was the blue dress Ma had sewn me for the Christmas she died on when Daddy gave her the accident.
G-d I wish I could just run away.
And now especially with the thing I think Daddy gave me growing, it might be even harder to run away. That’s why Daddy’s been keeping me in the scary room of the house. The one with no windows and the big Jesus over the bed. It used to be my sister’s room. I never met her because Ma said she died of a hole in her heart cause she loved G-d too much.
So after the foster peoples left Daddy said, “You stay in dead Baby Matilda’s room in case them nosey child protective people stop by.”
I think he meant that lady with the big eyebrow. I think her name was Paula. She kinda smelled like charred meat and Daddy kept looking at her like she was.
Anyway, the people at the G-d school I went to on Sundays with Ma started giving me extra attention after she went to heaven on Christmas. Especially Pastor Fred.
I was gonna tell Daddy that the Christmas baby might not really be a real Christmas baby. To tell you the truth I kept wondering if it was a Fred baby and I really was gonna mention it to Daddy but then G-d told me that that might not be such a good idea.
I used to think I was special talking to G-d. But G-d doesn’t talk to me since I almost told Daddy on Fred. That’s when the maybe Christmas baby, maybe not Christmas baby decided to start a conversation, It was last Sunday afternoon.
I was trying to think of a nice way to tell daddy I didn’t feel so good and didn’t want to spend quality Sunday time when a voice I never heard before said, “Selma! Do worms jump?”
The voice came from inside me but I could hear it more better if I put my ear to my belly button. I was glad I had an inny.
“Selma?!?!,” it repeated kinda angry, ‘Do worms jump?’”
“Well,” I replied. “I can’t really be sure. I never saw no worm around here jump unless you count Cousin Pud when he let Daddy put an apple on his head and play race war, but I-“
“Selma! Listen! Be quiet.”
Keeping quiet was one thing I been practicing since Daddy warned me about loose lips sinking Noah’s ark. Daddy said our plot of land with the cows and the worms and no more Ma was now like Noah’s ark. I thought about that for a moment and started to shake my head but thought better on it when Daddy looked at me mean.
“Listen kid,” the voice in me said. “Ya gotta hide me. Everybody’s looking for me. I just need to lay low another six months or so till I can bust out of this rescue mission.”
I thought for a moment. Daddy didn’t like when I thought. He said only stupid people waste time thinkin. So I had to do most of my thinking when I was alone or talking to G-d.
I asked the voice, “Are you Fred’s or Daddy’s?”
There was a rumble in my tummy. It felt… indignant. Pastor Fred taught me that word.
“You foolish child. I am the antichrist but you can call me, ‘Ace’. Nobody ever called me that before but I always kinda wanted to try it on for size.”
“Okay Ace. If I let you stay in me will you tell me if you’re Fred’s or Daddy’s?”
Ace said, “I’m Satan’s,” and then started laughing like Daddy when he was drunk and there was nothing really funny.
I grabbed the pen on my bedside table I used to send out SOS’ and was about to start stabbing Ace hard as I know how just when Daddy pulled in front of the house hard in his old pickup. Then the front door burst open. Then I heard Daddy bellow, “Greetings from the land of beatings! Where’s my little Selma?”
Daddy had gone to check on the still. That usually meant he would be real mad. Even at a winning lottery ticket.
“I can protect you Selma vessel,” Ace said. “But I need you. I am still growing. There are rules to even this madness. I need a vessel. I need time.”
I heard Daddy slip on the stairs and start cussin’ extra mad. I heard him trying to get back up and the old splintery steps creaking under his big mean body. The big mean body I tried to push off the first time but that’s when I learned about the tooth fairy. His real name is actually Roger. I was real glad to find out you get grown up teeth. Alot are starting to come in now.
Daddy yelled, “Whar the fuck is my dinner Selma!?! You know how your Daddy gets after a hard day’s night!”
Daddy was probably on the 39th step which meant I was running out of time.
Ace said, “Daddy’s making husband noises. Probably be a good time to make a decision kid.”
“Okay Ace. You can stay.”
“YES!” replied Ace and then my stomach tingled and sorta glowed maybe and the sky grew cloudless. Lightning flashed and the cows mooed like they hadn’t been milked in too long. Thunder shook the old house and I heard Daddy yell, “Whut the-“ and then I heard him have a bad fall. Kinda like Ma’s Christmas accident. When the thunder and Daddy settled I said, “Should I look Ace?”
“Go to bed Selma. Tomorrow’s the first day of the end of time. We’re both still growing. We need our rest. You leave your Daddy to me from now on. He won’t squawk,” Ace said, the least angry I had heard him.
The old creaky house was silent a moment.
Then I said, “Ace?”
“Yea, kid?”
“I’m sorry I was going to stab you to death with a pen earlier.”
“Let’s just close our eyes and sleep,” Ace responded.
So we did.