Chapter 41 #2
I watch the tray come down our row, and I lean into Elli and ask, “Am I supposed to eat the bread?”
She subtly shakes her head no, and murmurs “We aren’t allowed to.”
It must be because we aren’t “worthy,” like she was talking about earlier.
Imagine, not being worthy to eat bread.
I grab the tray when Elli passes it to me and hand it over with a smile. The kid looks at the tattoos showing on my forearms and snatches the tray up and steps away quickly.
Once everyone has had the bread, the boys sit back down, another guy disappears behind the table, and he reads another prayer that’s essentially the same, but talks about the water being the blood of Jesus.
What the hell kind of sick shit is this?
When they start the passing of the water the same way they did the bread, I lean over to Elli. “I thought his blood was supposed to be wine.”
“That’s the Catholics.”
“Seems like they’re doing it better, then.” I mutter, and Izzy must’ve overheard because I see her shoulders shaking with laughter. I look over and catch Louise’s eye and if looks could kill, I’d be dead right now.
I pass along the water tray, which honestly just looks like little shot glasses of vodka, and the kid scurries along.
Once everyone’s got the water, the boys sit back down and then Brother Casey comes back to announce the speakers. They’re sitting up on a row of seats in front of the piano.
The first speaker looks to be an eight year old child who gives a short talk about how one time she was really sick with a fever, but her daddy gave her a blessing and it broke a few hours later and she was all better.
It was cute, but from a logical standpoint, the fever broke by itself. It wasn’t because of the blessing.
The next speaker is a (shocker) blonde lady who says she was asked to talk about faith.
She gives definitions of faith and examples from their scriptures, and then gives examples from her personal life.
She tells a story about how she was pregnant with her sixth child and there were so many complications during the birth that no one was sure either of them were going to make it.
How she had “faith” in the blessing her husband gave her, and even though she couldn’t have any more kids because of how badly that birth went, she was grateful for God in saving her and her baby’s life.
This is what I don’t get. Obviously, I’m glad that she and her baby are alive. But giving credit to some invisible being rather than the doctors and nurses who probably busted their asses to save her and her baby? That’s fucked up.
Her husband is the third speaker, and he talks about how he had faith he would get his wife to say “yes” to a date with him. He asked her four times and she kept turning him down. He says he’s grateful God was able to help her see that they were obviously meant to be.
That sounds a lot like her just being tired of his persistence, but whatever.
Spencer’s the last speaker. He talks about how he’s going to need faith to get through two years in a country where he doesn’t speak the language, and he doesn’t know anyone.
He talks about how there’s been a big change happening in his family and he has faith that if he keeps doing what he’s “supposed” to be doing, his family will be together forever.
I feel Elli tense when he talks about their family.
I assume he’s talking about her leaving the church, and it breaks my heart for both of them.
My heart breaks for Elli because she shouldn’t be ridiculed for trying to find her own happiness.
My heart breaks for Spencer because he shouldn’t feel like he’s the one that has to “be good” in order to bring Elli back.
There’s yet another song when Spencer’s done, this one is about loving to see the temples.
It’s not in their green book, everyone just either has it memorized or they read it off the program given out in the beginning.
The song, if you listen to the lyrics, is creepy as hell with everyone singing it like this.
There’s another prayer after the song, but this time by another middle aged white man with thick graying hair.
When he’s done, the congregation murmurs and rises, and Elli pulls me out the door quickly and to her car, ignoring the people trying to get her attention.
As soon as we’re in the car, I see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. I cup her face and pull her into my chest as best as I can, and I let her sob.
“What can I do, baby? How can I make it better?” I ask, my thumb wiping away tears as fast as they can.
“Let’s just,” she hiccups, “get this luncheon over with so we can be alone. Okay? I just need you by my side today.”
“You’ve got me baby. I promise. I’m right here.”
We wait another beat until most of her tears are gone, then she pulls the mirror down and blots at her eyes.
“Okay. Let’s get to my mom’s house.” she sighs.
“Tell me the directions.” I say, buckling my seatbelt and pulling out of the parking lot.
“And while we drive you can explain what the hell a relief society and elders quorum is. And why do all the women look the same? And please explain why the fuck the sacrament cups look like little shot glasses?! I thought we were at a rager getting tequila shots!”
My questions do the trick in making her laugh, the sound soothing my anxious nerves.
The drive doesn’t take long, so she only gets to explain that the Mormon gene pool is pretty small because everyone marries other Mormons, so a lot of them look similar.
“Well I’m glad to see you don’t look like a carbon copy of everyone there.”
“Thanks Wes. And thank you for coming, again. Are you ready for this crazy shitshow?”
“Baby, I was born ready. Let’s do this thing.” I say getting out of the car, rounding to her side, and opening it for her.
I pull her into me for a tight hug before I give her a rated-PG kiss that will hopefully calm her nerves.
“I needed that.” She whispers.
“Me too.”