Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

18

   Travis cleaned up well in a white button-down shirt and dress pants. At least, that's what the older women at church always told him. They thought church clothes made him look handsome, like an adult.

Travis just thought he looked like a fraud.

Regardless of his personal issues, Travis enjoyed church services. He liked the smell of the old, cracked walls, the plasticity of the interactions, the way the garden beds of flowers were organized, wrapped alongside the exterior of the building.

It was nice being busy. He was the minister's son and because of that, a lot of busy work fell on his shoulders. He was often the person who greeted people as they were coming into the building. He gave out fliers and papers and helped people with anything they needed, and feeling valuable was good and exciting, but anxiety-inducing all the same.

   What exactly made him qualified to be respected by the other churchgoers? He wasn't particularly charismatic or sociable, so very few of the other kids in the ministry ever showed interest in him, but the adults were different, especially those who worked for his father.

   There was not a single shred of genuine truthfulness in their eyes when they smiled at him and shook his hand. They never seemed to notice the bruises on his face or his red sclera that had been growing more inflamed every month, every year.

   "God be with you, Travis," they'd say.

    Boy, did he hope God was with him. He was going to need the lord this weekend.

Sal was very excited, that much was abundantly clear. Travis must have received at least a dozen texts from him since he'd woken up. Knowing that Sal wanted to see him made him feel special. He hadn't felt so special in an incredibly long time.

   "goodmorning trav ❤(ˆ‿ˆԅ)", He had texted at around nine a.m.

   Travis had already been awake at that time and on his way to the ministry. Church service started at 9:30, and he didn't live very far away at all.

   He had felt his phone hum in his pocket but didn't pull it out to say good morning back until he was somewhere discreetly hidden within the ministry.

   At 10:45: A picture of a big orange cat with long, feathery hair, laying in a neat ball atop a pillow with the caption, "gizmo"

   At around two p.m, Sal changed his name in his phone from "travis" to "trav" and he nearly passed out.

   At 5:25, when he had already been home alone for several hours, "do u want me and larry to pick you up?"

   An interesting question. Was it ideal? Sure. Did he want to be in a car with Larry? Not particularly.

   As he pondered the possibilities, his phone buzzed in his hands again.

   Sal Fisher: actually can i just call you??

   Travis shivered and gnawed at his lower lip, glancing up at the living room wall. This would be the second call he'd had with Sal ever. His heart immediately began to beat faster.

   He swallowed and scratched the back of his neck. At least he was prepared this time.

trav: Yeah, sure.

  Travis let out a shaking breath and sat down on the edge of the couch, hating the feeling of the thick-coiled carpet under his socks. His back was curved into a slouch, a rare privilege in the Phelps household.

   He stared daggers into his phone screen, waiting with nausea swirling about in his stomach. He focused on his own reflection in the glass and cringed, remembering who he was, what he was saying doing.