Page 244 of For the Fans
“Do you think that’s why he left?”
My chest grows tight, and I consider what to tell her. I know it’s not my place to share Kyran’s secret. That’s kind of what got us into this whole mess in the first place. But I’m worried about him…
Plus, my mother is married to his awful father. The guy who brushed off his sexual abuse like it was nothing.She deserves to know who she’s married to.
“Mom, did Tom ever mention anything to you about why Kyran stopped going to church?” I ask her carefully.
My mother’s eyes widen, a nervous glint in them, as if she knows I’m about to tell her something awful.
“No… In fact, he’s very secretive about a lot of things,” she breathes, her eyes flinging to the suitcase on the floor. “Aviel, I’m leaving him. We’re getting a divorce. I just can’t handle the secrecy anymore.”
Whaaat…?My jaw drops. I didn’t expect that.
“He never once kept me in the loop about his financial troubles. And a few weeks ago, I found a statement in his desk drawer, for a trust in Kyran’s name. It contains over a million dollars.”
I gulp, digging my fingers into my thighs.
“When I asked him about it, he said it was Kyran’s money, and that he knows Kyran will never use it, or let anyone else use it. The way he said it made it seem like he’s tried to get Kyran to sign it over to him, but he wouldn’t.”
My teeth grind together, disdain for this horrendous man slinking through my extremities. “He didn’t tell you where the money came from…?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “And I’m just sick of it, Avi. This man is not who he portrays himself to be.”
“No… He’s not.” I sigh. “Look, I really can’t tell you the details, but I think Kyran left because of something that happened to him… when he was twelve. Something that Tomhelped to cover up by denying it and making his own son feel worthless.”
My mother’s eyes shine with sorrow. “Was it something… bad?” I nod slowly. “Something to do with the church…?” I nod again, and she covers her face. “Dear God…”
Hearing those two words, in this moment… it just rubs me wrong. All the rage I’ve been stuffing down since finding out the truth rushes right up to the surface.
Shooting off the bed, I glare down at her. “How can you even say His name?? There is noGod, Mom, don’t you get that?! What kind of God would allow something like that to happen… by one of his anointed fucking flock?! It’s bullshit!”
I’m heaving for breath while my mom just stares up at me, allowing me to vent it all out. All my confusion, pain, and anger toward thisinfinite beingwho doesn’t give two shits about us.
“God doesn’t exist,” I seethe. “And if He does, He’s pureevil. He’s a sick, fucked-up excuse for someone who’s supposed to love the righteous and condemn the damned. Instead, it’s the other way around. Innocent children get tortured byHispeople and he just lets it happen! Forces them to live with it, alone and scared.”
My face falls into my hands to cover the tears that are filling my eyes.
And then I feel my mother stand, her arms cradling me, caressing me softly while she shushes my cries. Just like she did when my father died…
When I told her I would never worship anyGodever again.
“Mom, he’s out there… thinking he has to deal with this by himself and hedoesn’t,” I whimper. “Your asshole husband made him feel that way.Godmade him feel that way. I love him and I just want him…” I’m sputtering for air; I can barely speak through my choked sobs. “I want him to be okay. I wanthim to know he didn’t deserve that.” I shake my head. “Evil stuff happens to good people because God doesn’t care.”
“Aviel…” she whispers, brushing her fingers through my hair. “You know that there are many reasons why I left Israel when I was a girl. I’ve never believed that our religious beliefs do God any kind of justice. Why would they? We’re taught from the time we’re children to fear God, worship Him no matter what, and take these old texts written by men from thousands of years ago as gospel. It makes no sense.
“Realfaithshould be open to interpretation. But many people don’t feel that way. They’re the same people who choose sides in wars, the same people who shout about blasphemy and heresy, but then turn around and do awful, deplorable things. Religion has spread more hate in this world than love, and that is one of the saddest things I’ve ever experienced.”
My shoulders shudder as I struggle to breathe, and she just caresses my hair.
“When I was nine, your uncle Elijah left home. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was because he was gay, and was experiencing prejudice within the community. So when I was old enough, I left myself and went to live with him. And he used to say a lot of the things I’ve heard you say just now… About how God hates us, about the hypocrisy and the widespread deception. He used to call organized religion acult. He still does.”
She pauses to chuckle fondly. “But one day, when I was sixteen and your uncle was nineteen, we decided to take a boat out. In the Middle East, the weather is purely beautiful in the fall, so we thought it would be fun. Just a small boat, sailing along the coast. We’d done it before.
“Anyway, we were only about a mile out when the engine died on us. We had ores, but still, we were nervous. And then, the rain came. Now, rain is uncommon as it… and the way itwas coming down… it wasbizarre. It was flooding us, waves whipping around. We were sure we were going to capsize. And the storm… it felt like it wasmirroringyour uncle’s anger. The way the waves were crashing and sending us tumbling about. The sea was raging the way he had been for years.
“And in that moment, I looked at him. I took his hands, and he held mine. And we didn’t speak, but we just knew. We knew thatHeknew. He felt it… our anger and frustration, with our families and the state of things back home. It was shared. He wasn’t doing ittous, He was living itwithus. And as soon as that became known, it felt like the rain was washing it all away…cleansingus.”
I blink at my mother, inherently skeptical, because it’s hard not to be. But I can see in her eyes that this is something she truly believes.
