Fated

Chapter 5

I sat on the hard wooden chair with my hands folded in my lap because there weren’t any armrests. I was awaiting judgment. Counseling. Confession. Whatever they wanted to call it, I was not looking forward to it.

I felt incomplete. I could still feel my mother ripping me away from Tara’s arms to throw me into her car, and every place that Tara had touched me last ached with a cold vulnerability that longed for her. My mother had lectured me for the entire way home, and without a pause continued for two more hours after we had arrived.

My mother wished I was dead.

She never said the words, but I could see it in the way she cried. My love for Tara was a fate worse than death. It made me a sinner; a dreaded homosexual whom God hated. There was no place for me in the Celestial Kingdom now. Only righteous heterosexual couples who waited until they were married were given the honor of entering the highest degree of Heaven. Tara and I hadn’t waited, and I thanked the goddesses that my mother had no clue that we had had sex in her house the night before. She would have disowned me.

The goddesses. The thought of them filled me with warmth and strength, and I wondered if that was because they had come to support me. I wondered if Tara was praying for me. Closing my eyes, I silently sent my thanks into the oblivion.

“Chrysa.” The bishop stepped out of his office, my mother following him. He extended his hand toward me and out of habit I shook it. His palms were sweaty. Then, with one last look at my mother who was frowning at me with red eyes, I walked into the small room with the leader of our congregation.

He sat down, then pointed to a chair close to his that was also behind his desk. “Please sit down.” It was a set up that I was familiar with, one that he had used for every yearly interview I had with him. But this time I didn’t see it as a friendly gesture. I wished that I could have something buffering me from the older man. I didn’t have a choice though, so I sat down and scooted as far away as I could. The bishop stared at me for a moment, making me squirm uncomfortably, before he started, “Your mother told me that she caught you kissing another girl in the parking lot at the mall. Is this true?”

“Yes.” I looked down, clasping my hands and focusing on the small pain that came from squeezing my interlocked fingers together.

“Was that the first time you’ve kissed her?”

My cheeks flamed red. “No,” I whispered.

“How many times has it happened?”

Each moment I had spent with Tara was vividly etched into my mind, but I didn’t want to share any of our passion with this man of God. I didn’t want to taint the memory by describing each tender touch to a middle-aged stranger. “I don’t know,” I answered.

“Have you done anything other than kissing with her?”

Something inside of me snapped. This wasn’t a confession; this was an interrogation. I needed a lawyer present, or my mother, or anyone else for that matter. I was alone in a small room with a man I barely knew who was asking me questions about my sex life. This wasn’t right. I refused to say anything.

“Chrysa,” he said, putting a hand on my knee and rigidly holding it there. “I need you to tell me the extent of your sin, so that I can work with Heavenly Father to give you the help that you need. If you refuse to tell me, then I’ll have no choice but to assume the worst and punish you accordingly.”

I looked up and met his eyes, swallowing down my fear. “I have not sinned.”

“The Bible clearly says that homosexuality is . . .”

I cut him off. “Love is not a sin.”

“But you acted on it, and you broke the Law of Chastity. Did you have sex with this girl?”

Shoving his hand off of my knee, I stood up. “I am not a sinner,” I said, quickly walking over to the door and opening it. I looked out at my mother in the hallway, then back at the bishop. Loudly I announced, “I’m just a lesbian.”