Page 136 of Halo

He grumbles. “I could’ve taken you.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“So you’re gonna roll up to your father’s church, where everybody knows you … in a rideshare?”

“No.” I give him a look. “The rideshare is taking me to my apartment so I can get my car.”

“Oh.” He drops his face back into the pillow. “No walk of shame for you.”

“Well, no. I feel like there's a lot of shame in my walk. I'm like a baby giraffe this morning.”

He turns over, relaxing an arm above his head. The bedsheet barely keeps him covered. “See?” He takes my hand. “You should stay here with me.”

“And need a walker by tomorrow?” I tease, quickly stealing another kiss.

“Do you want to go?”

I pause, my eyes bouncing back and forth in his gaze. “I-I better go.”

His fingers stay tangled with mine as I step away, his arm stretching after me until distance finally pulls us apart.

***

“There's my birthday girl.” My dad catches me before I make it three steps into the church's foyer. He wraps me in one of his big hugs, kissing the top of my head

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You need to stop getting so old. It's making me old.”

“Ha ha.” I roll my eyes.

My dad is exactly what people picture when someone mentions a Southern minister. He’s a bigger guy with a large belly who wouldn’t dream of stepping behind a pulpit without a suit and tie. Every Saturday night, he still has my mom polish his shoes for Sunday worship, and there’s rarely a time when he doesn’t have a Bible within reach. His sandy-colored hair has gone almost completely silver, although we tell him they’re just highlights.

He’s warm and friendly, but he’s dedicated to saving souls from hell. He believes the Bible is the inerrant word of God, and there’s very little room in his faith for interpretation or compromise.

Including divorce.

We don't talk about that anymore.

“Well, I better get ready for service—oh! Here's your mother.”

“Happy birthday, sweetie.” My mom joins us, she reaches for me, but instead of hugging me, she starts to smooth the front of my dress. “Did you iron this?” Another parishioner walks by and she brightens. “Morning, Susan!” She turns back to me. “This is a bit too snug on you. I can see—” she mouths your belly.

My hand flies to my abdomen. “I like this dress.”

“Okay …” She raises her eyebrows, giving me a once over. “I guess this is what the younger generations find appropriate for church.”

One would think I’m still a child. My mom is very particular about how I dress for church since it’s a time of worship and we should dress accordingly—apparently God cares about that. No pants or jeans, no cleavage, no bare shoulders, and nothing fitted enough to advertise the scandalous fact that her thirty-something daughter is, indeed, a woman.

“Marsha! Good to see you!” Mom calls, waving as another family makes their way toward the sanctuary. She waits until they’re out of earshot before leaning closer to me. “So … did you enjoy your birthday weekend with that older man?”

I stare at her, uncertain what to say.

Her mouth tightens. “Don’t look at me like that. You know your sins will find you out.”

“Mom—”

“I’m only saying.” She straightens my cross necklace before smiling at another couple passing by. The second they’re gone, her voice drops again. “Rachel has enough going on right now trying to adjust to motherhood, and between you and me, she’s not doing a very good job of it. That house is a wreck, and every time I see that poor baby, she’s being passed off to somebody else.”