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“Since forever,” he grits out, and I grin wider.
“You haven’t prayed once since I’ve been back,” I say, and he blinks at the challenge.
“Well,” he sniffs, “we’re praying tonight.”
Eve throws her hand out, all too eager to please him. She hesitates before reaching toward me, but I just stare at it before flicking my eyes up to hers. I see the plea there, the hope she has that I’ll take it. Instead, I sink deeper into the chair.
It kills me to not touch her, to let him wrap his hand around hers. I want to rip it off. I want to throw her over my shoulder and take her home with me, where she can thrive.
But I don’t do any of that.
I watch as they bow their heads, Eve’s eyes open as she stares at her plate. Isaac’s flutter shut, and he straightens higher in his chair, ever the devout preacher, giving his thanks to a god who’s given him everything.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he begins, and I grind my teeth together. “We thank you for the food we are about to receive, and for the hands that have prepared it. Bless this nourishment to our bodies, and may it strengthen us for the tasks ahead.” My eyes bore into the top of his head, glaring a hole straight through his skull. “Let us also remember those who are in need and ask for your provision in their lives. In your name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” Eve murmurs, her voice a barely-there breath.
She lifts her head and looks at me as she reaches for her glass of tea. Isaac pokes at his plate of chicken and vegetables with his fork, his brows furrowed.
“Men reject their prophets and slay them, but they love their martyrs and honor those whom they have slain.” The words fall from my lips like scripture, and Eve gasps, her eyes widening. I know she recognizes it. It was a passage in The Brothers Karamazov we underlined and highlighted a million times. We talked about it for hours.
Isaac pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. Slowly, his eyes lift to mine. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry,” I laugh bitterly. “Did you not understand me?”
“Roman,” Eve hisses. Her hand tightens around the glass, but she doesn’t say anything else. What can she?
“Did you not understand since it wasn’t a quote from your special fairytale book?” Isaac’s fork clatters to the plate, his jaw working as he glares at me. “Here’s one you might get: Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves.”
“To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams,” he spits back, his face flushing.
I grin broader and lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. I know the Bible front to back. When I was a kid, I repeated scripture every Sunday like a dutiful son, then, when we got home, in the darkness of the basement, it was beaten into me.
I know it better than anyone in this room.
“The Lord detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not go unpunished.”
His face flushes a deeper red shade, and I know I’m getting to him. “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.”
A rumbling laugh slips from me, and I shake my head. “Really?” He’s fuming, his shell cracking in front of Eve. Her eyes shift between us as she sinks further into her chair, looking like she wants to disappear. “Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged."
Isaac scoots further toward me, every muscle in his body taut as he snarls, “Those who withhold the rod hate their children, but the one who loves them applies discipline.”
“I have seen a wicked, violent man. Spreading himself like a luxuriant tree in its native soil.” The words are hushed as I speak them, but they’re loud in the quiet kitchen.
Eve’s eyes widen as she looks at Isaac. Her full lips part, a question about to leave when Isaac pushes to his feet. “Do not spread false reports. Do not help a guilty person by being a malicious witness.” I can’t help it. I laugh again.
“You don’t think you’re guilty?” I sneer. “You think you were justified in—”
“Enough!” Isaac shouts, banging his hand flat on the table. Eve and I jolt at the sudden loud noise, but I force myself to stay calm. “Enough, Roman.” Hot anger spikes through me and I shove to my feet, resting my hands on the table as I glare at him.
“Why is it enough? You don’t want your dirty little secret to know the truth?” I shout, the veins in my neck straining.
"Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you." A small voice cuts through the air, and without my permission, my eyes drop to Eve. She stares at her plate, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
I stare at her as I whisper, “Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.”
“I said that’s enough,” Isaac growls, but Eve ignores him as she looks up at me.
