Page 88 of Bartholomew
“Of course, Reverend. What can I do for you?”
“It has come to my attention that you perhaps do not understand the gravity of your particular situation.” Fuck.
“Oh?” I questioned as carefully as possible.
“Your father and I have had many words since your wedding day regarding your attitude towards the church and your impending Elderhood.” Double fuck.
“I can assure you, Reverend, I take my duties to the church seriously.” I tried my best to be certain my tone held no attitude, yet still I worried.
“Here you are, Reverend,” Delilah spoke sweetly, handing the Reverend his drink before turning to hand me mine.
“Women are to serve silently and succinctly.” The Reverend’s boisterous voice boomed throughout the room, nearly making Delilah spill my drink. I snatched it quickly, giving her a look that I prayed gave her strength. She simply nodded her head, bowing it so that she was looking down. Perfect submissive posture, for all the wrong reasons.
I knew the words I needed to say, and I hated myself for the fact that I was about to say them. But we had to each play our parts here.
“She is learning, Reverend. You may be excused, Delilah,” I spoke with a firmness, a false bravado and condescending tone that sickened me.
“She has much to learn, it seems,” he spoke, disdain dripping from every word. The man was so quick to cast judgment. It was some serious bullshit for a man of God.
Delilah turned to leave, only to be stopped by the Reverend once more.
“No, I think you should stay, Mrs. Temple. It will be good for you to hear the things I have to say.” I cringed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to have her hidden, safely tucked away in our bedroom and out of earshot of all the deplorable malevolence this pseudo prophet was sure to spew. He could expatiate whatever acrimonious drivel he wanted to, so long as he aimed it at me. Aimed at my wife? Well, fit me for an orange jumpsuit because murder was the only thing on my mind. And I knew it was coming, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Delilah, sky daddy love her, stood off to the side, her hands clasped firmly in front of her. Her eyes stayed lowered, the perfect picture of a submissive, Godly wife. My stomach churned at the sight.
“But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. So sayeth the word of the Lord.” Great, now he was reciting scripture. Cherry-picking miscreant. Time for me to play up my own part. God, I hoped she knew there was no truth in anything that came from my mouth while this man was in our home.
“A woman’s learning is never done. She is learning, albeit slowly,” I sneered. My stomach rebelled at my own words, but I tamped it down, taking a swig of my drink. I needed liquid courage to continue.
“Here, here, Son.”
Don’t call me son.
“As I was saying, your father is concerned that you do not possess the right attitude to take the job as Elder seriously. What say you about this?” The Reverend took a sip of his own drink, hissing at the burn of the bourbon. It was quality bourbon, and it took all I had not to harrumph at his inability to handle good bourbon. Still, my mask stayed firmly in place.
“I have to say that, while I understand where Father is coming from, it could not be further from the truth,” I began.
“Continue,” he instructed like a goddamn teacher in a lecture hall. Fuck, I hated this man.
“I was feckless and complacent in my youth. On that account, my father is correct. But now that I am a married man, I see the error of those foolhardy ways. The Lord has blessed me with goodness and has shown me the truth of my misguidedness. It is my responsibility and my honor to serve as head of my household, second only to God. And as a son of Titus Temple, it is my duty to present myself to the Lord as an Elder of the church, to follow in the footsteps of my father. I do not take that responsibility lightly.” My words felt foreign on my tongue, and yet, they flowed from my lips like the mother-fucking Nile.
“Well said, Son,” Reverend Jacob praised.
Don’t call me son.
“The Lord has indeed been plentiful in His giving of blessings to the Temple family. Five sons of Zion, who are in line to serve the Lord through the great church of Zion. You must know, your father’s words of reluctance came only from his desire to see his sons in their rightful place in Zion.” The Reverend sipped at his drink again, still hissing at that burn. Amateur.
In my peripheral vision, I looked at Delilah. She was the perfect picture, save one thing. Her pinky finger was twitching. I silently pushed all the positive energy I could towards her. I didn’t know if I believe in energy transference in such a way, but, fuck it all, I had to try something.
“The Lord has certainly placed you in high regard, young Bartholomew.”
“How so, Reverend?” I asked, my attentions moving back towards the snake sitting across from me.
“In all honesty, I was surprised to hear that you had accepted the marriage arranged by your parents and the Christian’s.”
“Oh?” I questioned, biting the sides of my tongue in order to not tell this man exactly where he could shove his thoughts on the matter.
“Yes, indeed. Miss Delilah, here, was well on her way to serve as school marm, when you so quickly agreed to the union. But that is what sets you apart from the others here at Zion, isn’t it, Son?”
