Page 89 of Bartholomew
Don’t call me son.
I could feel the terse and bitter anger swirling around in my stomach like acrid bile rising in the sick.
“It shows me, as a true servant of the Lord our Savior, what a dedicated man of God you truly are. Delilah, here, has had more than her share of time to be matched in matrimony. Yet none came forward. No families saw fit to attach their sons to such a woman. But you, Bartholomew, you heard the Word of God, and you answered His call. You listened to the Lord Almighty when He called you to serve. Sometimes the Lord calls us to serve in the most heinous of places. For you, the Lord called you to such a place; to serve as husband to an unwanted.”
There it was, the bile rising in my throat, stinging and rancid, burning its way through my esophagus and threating to expel itself out of my mouth by way of murderous words or murder itself. One way or another, this vile hatred wanted to erupt from my body like a mass exodus and annihilate this repugnant excuse for a man.
“Such a man is worthy of a place of high ranking in Zion,” the Reverend finished his deplorable tirade. Everything inside of me wanted to push Delilah out of this room and into safety, then turn around and murder this man.
“Reverend, if you will allow me to say so, this simply isn’t about me. I am a mere man who has chosen a life of servitude to the Lord. When He calls, His servants answer. I am blessed to have been called to lead this woman towards the path of true Godliness as a woman of Zion. Her transition to such, while slow going, has been a pleasure to bestow upon her. Overcoming the burden of being her husband is only the true work of the Lord. He calls us men to lead our women in the way of His Word, and lead I will. No matter how difficult the task may be. Surely, my good deeds as husband to such a woman will only help to secure my place in the Heavenly Kingdom.” I was going to vomit. I relaxed my hands, knowing that Reverend Jacob was no ordinary man in Zion. He was sharp, quick to notice even the slightest thing. His narrowed, beady eyes scanned the room, actively searching our home for the slightest transgression. Levi had been right; things were not okay in Zion. Things were not right with this man.
“Beautifully spoken, Bartholomew. Beautifully spoken. Delilah, come forth,” the Reverend commanded. My blood boiled. Perhaps it ran ice cold. I couldn’t tell at this point. Delilah moved to the center space between our two chairs, just far enough away she could face us both.
“I would like to dismiss Delilah to her household duties for the evening, Reverend. I cannot bear to look at her a moment longer,” I sniveled, purposefully lacing my voice with distaste.
“In a moment, Son,” the Reverend pandered.
Don’t fucking call me son.
“This is good for an unwanted woman to hear. It is part of her penance to God as a woman such as herself. Part of her dedication to our Lord.” Turning towards my wife, he spoke directly to her. And I could do nothing to stop it. “Delilah, are you aware of the travesty of your looks? Are you aware of the intolerability of your very person?”
Delilah spoke not a word, keeping her eyes fixed to a space on the floor in front of her, directly between where the Reverend sat and where I sat.
“Are you aware that you are reprehensible in the eyes of the people of Zion, of your very husband? Speak, woman.”
“Yes, Reverend. I am aware.” Her voice was borderline robotic, devoid of all human emotion. She had shut down. I could see it in every part of her countenance. She had gone to some place in her mind. I prayed it was a safe place. I prayed that I would be able to bring her back from there. Back to me. Back to us.
“Are you aware of how you displease the Lord, our God, with your very existence?” he continued. I wanted to reach out to her; to protect her from this moment, but I could do nothing but sit in abject horror as this man degraded my wife.
“I am, Reverend,” her dutiful reply came.
“Good. Knowing your lack of worth is the first step to becoming a true woman of God. A loyal wife to your husband. Do you love the Lord, Delilah?” His line of questioning continued.
“I do, Reverend.”
“Good. And do you submit to your husband as commanded by the Lord?” I saw her pinky finger twitch again. I lived for that little tick, that little tell that told me she was still there, still with me.
“I do, Reverend.”
“Then tell me why it is that your husband answered the door and not yourself this very evening?” Reverend Jacob’s eyes narrowed in on her, accusing her and judging her in equal measure.
“Permission to speak, husband?” she asked me in a truly unexpected turn of events.
“Permission granted, wife.” I signaled apathetically with a dismissive wave of my hand.
“This is my husband’s home. It does not belong to me, as nothing belongs to me. I am a servant to my husband who governs this home. He is governed by God. It is not my home to welcome a person into, least of all, a person of your magnitude and repute, Reverend.” Her answer was stunning. And the Oscar for best performance in a fucked-up cinema called Zion goes to Delilah Temple. Well done, my love, well done.
“Color me impressed, Bartholomew. It seems you are leading this unwanted woman with a firm hand. She may truly be learning, after all,” he praised, with nothing but sadistic interest. That’s what he was: a sadist in the truest, most odious sense of the word.
“Thank you, Reverend. My father, along with our Lord, has taught me well,” I answered. I took a large gulp of my own bourbon, letting the sting soothe the rising bile in my throat.
“I am glad to hear that you are devoted to your husbandly duties. And from what it sounds like, you are just as devoted to your duties within the church. I look forward to watching you rise to your station within our ranks. Thank you for the drink, Bartholomew. I will bid you both good night and be on my way. I expect to see you both in church on Sunday, of course.”
“Thank you, Reverend. For both your visit here tonight and for your guidance,” I answered, standing with him, and watching him down the rest of his drink. He nearly gagged on the strong taste and fucking hell if I didn’t do an internal happy dance as his misery.
Delilah quietly moved back to her place in the corner, standing as she had for the entire conversation. I walked the Reverend out, shaking his hand before he left. His hand tightened painfully around mine as he tugged me forward.
“Let me be perfectly clear, Bartholomew. The Lord speaks to me and has told me of the great things He has in place for Zion. I will not allow you or your brothers to interfere with God’s plan. See to it that you stay on God’s path. We will be watching.” His ominous warning came from nowhere, his tone as menacing as a snake’s bite.
