Page 58 of Ezekiel
“Maybe? But it’s bigger than that,” I began.
“I’m all ears, Zeke. You know that,” she reassured me.
“The thought of leaving Talia behind, of leaving her to fend for herself against the tyrants of this place… it sickens me in a way I’ve never felt before.
“You can’t force her to leave,” Delilah spoke after a long pause.
“I know. But I can’t help but want to. I want to take her away from this place, away from these people. I guess I just thought…” I trailed off.
“You thought she’d want to go,” Delilah muttered. I could feel her commiseration.
“Yes. I thought she would see what I see and want to leave. I thought it would be easier, I guess.”
“Why does she want to stay?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I groaned, standing and pacing back and forth over the hardwood floor of my study.
“Well, what did she tell you?” she urged.
“That her family is here. Her home. Her fucking church, for Christ’s sake. She believes it all to be good. But how can she? Huh, Delilah? How could anyone believe the nonsense Reverend fucking Jacob spews from his pulpit of depravity every fucking Sunday?” I all but shouted into the phone.
“Because it’s what I was taught,” Talia’s voice muttered from the doorway. I hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Talia!” I gasped in surprise. “Um…” I trailed off.
“I think I’ll let you go now, Zeke. But remember to listen. Really listen to what she has to say. I’ll talk to you later,” Delilah quietly reminded me.
“Thanks, Lilah,”I muttered, my eyes locked on Talia’s. The line went dead as Delilah hung up and I quietly pocketed my phone. “Hi,” I muttered lamely.
“Hi,” Talia replied. She kept her arms crossed protectively in front of her, though I felt no defensiveness from her. It was more like a quiet hesitation.
“Can we talk?” I asked, hopeful that we could clear the awkward air that hung between us. She nodded, slipping into the room and sitting in the chair across from my desk. I sat down next to her, needing to be closer to her. I hated the distance between us and wanted the feeling to go away as soon as possible.
“I don’t know what —”
“Where to beg—”
We both spoke at the same time, then both paused, chuckling at each other. Seeing the smile on her face lightened my mood considerably. At least she wasn’t angry with me. Not at the moment, anyway..
“I want to understand,” I tried again.
“So do I.”
“Do you want to start? Or should I?” I asked awkwardly.
“I know you want to leave. But for the life of me, I can’t imagine a world where I don’t live here. Where I don’t have the support of my parents, my community,” she implored. I did my best, my very best, to understand where she was coming from.
“You’re close to your parents,” I remarked. It wasn’t a question, more of a fact I hadn’t fully understood until this moment. I supposed there were people here in Zion who were close to their parents. Perhaps not every family was as fucked up as my own.
“Aren’t you?” she asked, concern written on her face.
“No. Not in the least bit,” I chuckled derisively.
“I can’t imagine not being close to my parents,” she replied wonderingly.
“Tell me about them,” I urged.
“About my parents?” I nodded at her question. “Where to begin? Well, they adopted me when I was young, as I have already explained. It was the best thing. They took me in as their own and have made me feel loved every single day. I have never questioned it.”
