Pew

by Catherine Lacey

Mr. Kercher’s voice disappeared into the pines, the creek, the soil and stones. His hands were palm up on each knee and his face tilted up. His mouth hung slack awhile, then shut. It’s always seemed to me—and as I get older, I feel this even more intensely—that kindness to other people comes with its own reward. It can be immediately felt. And the only thing I can see that a belief in divinity makes possible in this world is a right toward cruelty—the belief in an afterlife being the real life … not here. People need a sense of righteousness to take things from others … to carry out violence. Divinity gives them that. It creates the reins for cruelty … Mr. Kercher stood up then and looked around him, as if he’d just remembered where he was. All his crying was gone then. I’m so sorry to take up all this time. He smiled and looked around as if suddenly lost. I don’t usually say so much. He put his hands in his pockets and removed them. There’s really so little to say.