The Right and the Real (2 page)

All the bridesmaids had to stand off to one side in two straight rows, but there were chairs for the brides. Through their veils I could
see different emotions cross their faces. Joy, fear, sadness, anger. I clearly wasn’t the only one who thought this group wedding was disturbing.

The Teacher walked to the podium. “Welcome, everyone, on this joyous night of faith and celebration,” he said into the microphone. His words echoed off the concrete walls. “While each time we worship is special, tonight we are blessed with the entire Red Sea Choir.”

A rustling sound filled the auditorium as, behind him, two hundred people stood and opened their music, their scarlet robes a wash of color across the TV screens. There were so many members at the Right & the Real Church—over fifteen hundred, I think—that they had to take turns going to services on Saturdays and Sundays. Tonight was invitation only. The Teacher turned to face the choir and gestured in the air, waving his arms. “Raise up your song to God so He may hear you in Heaven and bestow His blessings upon us.”

The keyboard player sent a crashing chord through the church, and the voices of the choir joined in. A little chill ran through my body just like when I’m doing a musical and there’s a big chorus number and all the different vocal parts sound so good together. Halfway through the song, my anxiety level had risen to the point where my hands shook as if I’d had a double mocha, but I wanted them to sing forever because I knew as soon as they stopped, it would be time for the Pledge. Once Dad took that, it was all over. I’d never get him out of here single.

Eventually, it ended with a
hallelujah
and an
amen
, and the Teacher took his place at the microphone again. “Thank you, my brothers and sisters,” he said. “And now we must join together and welcome the newest members to our flock. Please come forward, pledges.”

The whole first row stood. They were all guys about my age or younger, except my dad and two other men. All the girls who were
pledging were also bridesmaids. Josh had taken the oath a while ago, but I knew he thought it was crap and did it only because his dad made him. If he’d believed it, I definitely wouldn’t have been dating him.

“The Right & the Real Church is happy to envelop you into our fold,” the Teacher said. “There are many things to remember if you wish to be a child of God, but the disciples and I are here to help you, to guide you, and yes, to be Christ here on Earth in order that we may keep you on the right path.”

My mom was never much into religion except for a brief moment when I was in second grade. I lived with her before Dad got custody, and one day she’d “found God.” That had lasted only until she’d found Hank, but the preacher there had sounded a lot like the Teacher—loud and certain.

“There are many people and organizations who claim to know the true path to God,” he continued, “but here we have been blessed because I myself am Christ.” He gestured at the men sitting together near the front. “The disciples you trust with your lives are the true servants of Jesus. No other church on Earth is as blessed as we are because, as Christ resurrected, I will lead you all to salvation.”

“Amen,” said the congregation.

I was pretty sure most religions would call that sacrilegious bullshit. I definitely did. But my dad couldn’t see this, and I knew the reason was Mira, the first woman besides me to pay attention to him in a decade. That, and he had an addictive personality. His therapist would say this was another addiction. Except he’d fired Dr. Kennedy a couple of months ago, saying he didn’t need him anymore because he had the church.

“Fellow pledges,” the Teacher said. “Please repeat after me: Our lives can be lived only if we give them over to the idea of Headship.” Around me, the pledges repeated his words. “God is the head of Christ,” he continued. “Christ is the head of Man.”

This was it. With every word spoken, the gap between me and my father, the only adult in my entire life I could count on, widened. Dizziness almost overcame me, and I thought for sure I’d faint from the stress of it all. Would that stop him? Probably not. I took deep, slow breaths to calm myself, like before I go on stage, but I still felt way more nauseated than I ever did when I performed.

“Man is the head of Woman,” the Teacher said.

“Man is the head of Woman,” they repeated.

I stared hard at Dad, willing him to look at me, but it was already too late. He couldn’t see me anymore.

“I have here on this podium a scroll with your names on it,” said the Teacher. “The choir will sing ‘Here I Am, Lord’ as you take your turn signing and receive a blessing from me.”

Each of the pledges stepped forward to sign the paper. My dad was at the end of the line, and the closer he got to the podium, the more rage and panic welled up inside me. I considered trying to drag him outside, where the cold January air might somehow miraculously clear his head, but before I could act, he signed his free will away with a flourish of the pen. He smiled brightly at Mira, a glazed look in his green eyes, his balding head shiny from the hot lights. And then he took his place beside her, ready for the wedding.

THE TEACHER TURNED TO THE BRIDESMAIDS WHO
had pledged. “And now you may sign,” he said to them. The girls stepped forward, their eyes revealing that same blank submissiveness so many of the women had here. The first girl signed her name and then she lifted up her face to the Teacher, and he laid his hands on either side of her head. I seriously thought he was going to kiss her on the lips, but instead, he murmured something and laid a wet one on her forehead. Still, totally gross. I swear I heard the juicy smack. I was still standing there, reeling in disgust, when the Teacher snapped me out of it by saying my name.

“Jamie?” He motioned me to the podium.

“What?”

“Please sign.”

“Oh, no.…”

He looked at my father, and so did I. Dad nodded at me.

“Ummm…no,” I said. “I’m not signing the Pledge. I’m just a bridesmaid.” And after those kisses he gave the others, I wasn’t going near him.

The Teacher smiled, but anger flared in his eyes. “You’re a member
of our flock and over the age of thirteen. It’s time you committed to us.”

“I can’t.” It came out weak and unconvincing, even to me.

“Jamie,” Dad said, “sign the Pledge so we can begin our new family under God’s guidance.”

I stood where I was, feet planted, growing roots through the ugly gold carpet right down into the concrete below. They couldn’t make me sign. In three months, I’d be a legal adult.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t believe. I mean, I believe in God, but not the Pledge.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. I knew the microphone had picked up what I’d said and amplified it. Josh was the only person in the whole room who wouldn’t hold it against me. I didn’t want to think about what his parents would say.

“Your father is the master of his daughter,” the Teacher said to me. “And he has spoken. Step forward and sign the Pledge or prepare to be recognized no more as a daughter of this true believer.”

This was unreal.
Prepare to be recognized no more
? It sounded like a line from a straight-to-video release. If nothing else, that one phrase should’ve broken the spell and made my dad laugh at the absurdity of it. I couldn’t be the only one who could see through this charade.

When I didn’t move, the Teacher turned again to my father. The members shifted in their seats, trying to see what would happen. Everyone wanted to know who would give in first.

“Your daughter needs your guidance,” the Teacher said to Dad.

“Jamie, look at me.” Dad met my eyes, and anger filled his voice. “You cannot expect Mira to come and live with a sinner.”

His words stabbed as deeply into my heart as if he’d used a real knife. I was his only child, and he’d rescued me from a drug-addicted mother. He
knew
how much I needed him.

Dad crossed over to me and whispered fiercely in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Jamie Lexington-Cross, do not ruin this for me.”

“But…I can’t.…”

“Sign the Pledge,” he said, moving closer to the microphone as if he wanted everyone to hear. “If you don’t sign, I will be forced to choose between you and Mira.”

“You wouldn’t choose
her,
” I said, the words barely audible.

The Teacher looked out over the congregation and said directly into the mic, “It is only fair to tell you, Jamie, a husband in the Right & the Real Church always chooses God first, and then his wife. Rebellious children before you have been excommunicated so they do not poison the flock.”

The Teacher could hardly kick me out, since I wasn’t part of his demented church. Still…I knew from the past few weeks that Dad would do whatever the church told him to do. He’d already quit his job as an ad salesman at the newspaper because the Teacher made him believe his new path lay in serving God. Now he spent his days in their office creating reading material that was, as far as I was concerned, sheer propaganda for the ministry.

I couldn’t risk losing my father. I took two steps toward the podium, telling myself it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I signed. I’d pretend it was another role in a play. I could
act
like a believer if I had to. Josh had done it, and he hadn’t changed.

The Teacher held out the gold pen to me with what looked like a real smile, but I didn’t believe it. I took it, my hand shaking. My father nodded curtly at me. I pressed the pen to the paper, and I’d already written
Jamie
when Dad’s words skittered through my mind again.
If you don’t sign, I will be forced to choose between you and Mira.
Of course
Dad wanted me to sign—it would make everything easier for him. He knew he’d choose me. He always had. If I refused, though…well, he’d have to forget Mira, and I’d get him back.

I drew a line through my name and dropped the pen. “I can’t do it, Dad,” I said.

When he didn’t step forward immediately and tell me it was okay, I didn’t know what to do except leave and hope he’d follow. All the way down the aisle, my slippery plastic shoes clacked against the linoleum floor.
Choose me, choose me, choose me
.

I heard murmurings from the congregation and tried to block them out.
Did she sign? Where’s she going? What happened?
The heat from the lights beat down, making me sweat. I wanted to get out of there fast, and it took everything I had to simply walk, but I wouldn’t give the Teacher the satisfaction of running me out of his stupid church.

In the parking lot, the cold wind hit me like a slap to the face. I stood outside, freezing in my thin cotton dress, knowing Dad would come. Goose bumps rose on my arms as I waited, and I hugged myself to stay warm. And then I heard the choir start to sing again.

It doesn’t mean anything
.
He’ll still choose you in the end
.
He’s not strong enough to walk out in front of all those people,
I reassured myself. Even if he married Mira tonight, it would be okay. By the time they got back from the beach on Monday, he’d have realized he’d made a huge mistake. We’d be fine. We had to be.

I snuck back inside and got my purse and coat from the meeting room. Dad and Mira weren’t taking a real honeymoon right now because they planned to go on a three-week church retreat in the summer. Tonight and tomorrow night, they were staying at a bed and breakfast and I was sleeping over at Krista’s house. She had my SUV,
and I’d ridden to the church with Dad and Mira. I texted her to come get me.

Shivering outside the R&R, I tried to tell myself I was just cold, but it felt more like that deep-inside-you shakiness from fear rather than from the weather. Part of me still hoped Dad would come after me, but I was also a little afraid that if he did, he might bring disciples with him to drag me back inside, so I stood in the shadows. The doors stayed firmly closed, though, and a little piece of my heart cracked. I held my breath to keep from giving in to racking sobs, but I couldn’t stop tears from running silently down my face.

The overcast night should’ve made my surroundings dark and foreboding to match my mood, but instead, the church parking lot glowed like the Main Street Electrical Parade at Disneyland. Dozens of security lights flooded the church grounds, bouncing off windshields and mud puddles.

The concrete building stood on what had once been a strawberry field between Portland and the city of Gresham. Off to the right of the parking lot, two guards protected the entrance to the trailer park and the driveway leading to the Teacher’s mansion. A six-foot fence with three rows of barbed wire encircled the residential compound.

Josh’s dad was one of the disciples, and his family lived in a double-wide trailer about three-quarters of the way down the little gravel road. Once, when his parents had gone away on a mission trip, he’d convinced the guards I’d come over for Bible study. Instead, we’d watched movies and eaten frozen pizza with Derrick.

I thought about walking out to the street to meet Krista, but I stayed put in case Josh managed to make some excuse to his parents and came to check on me. And then, like I’d conjured him up, I felt his hand on my arm. I whirled around to face him. “Oh, I’m so glad—”

“Jamie. You shouldn’t have done that in there,” he said. “You should’ve just signed. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“But I thought if I refused, Dad would choose me.”

“They’ll never let him choose you,” Josh said. “The Teacher has plans for your dad’s inheritance.”

I didn’t know for sure how much my grandpa had left Dad when he died last year, but I found it hard to believe it was more than five or six hundred thousand dollars total. And Grandpa had set it up in a trust that would only pay Dad a small allowance each month for the rest of his life, because sometimes he wasn’t the most responsible guy in the world, and Grandpa knew it.

“It’s not a lot of money, Josh.”

From the first day Dad had gone to the church, he’d flaunted his wealth, putting a hundred-dollar bill in the collection plate. I knew he’d done it so they’d notice him—and, boy, did they ever.