Samuel grabs my chin and twists my head around, eyes ablaze with a mixture of annoyance and anger. “That is exactly what I’m talking about, the attitude.” I attempt to get my face out of his hand, but that just causes him to give it a firmer grip. “What’s with the attitude, Eden?”
“I don’t have an att—”
“Bullshit. Try again, and this time, the truth.”
“I just needed to get out of the house.” My eyes burn, and I blink rapidly to keep the pain of it at bay. “I know you are trying to help me. You want to be there for me. But I am grieving, and my emotions are going crazy. It’s been a lot lately.”
“He wasmyfather. You think I don’t get that you are grieving?” He looks at me, offended. “I’m grieving, too. It might not be like you, but I am.” His lips form a flat line, his eyes looking at me more intensely. “I don’t have the luxury of actually feeling them. I have a whole community to put first. I can’t just break like you.”
My mouth opens slightly, and he tosses my face to the side before turning back in his seat.
“Asshole.”
I don’t mean for that whisper to escape from my mind, and my eyes widen as Samuel balls his fists.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t do anything or say anything, and I thank the Divine up above for that. I don’t know how many more ups and downs I can feel or go through.
* * *
The service is beautiful. Mrs. Donovan was already there when we showed up. I guess she had to be there first, as she is the wife of the Divine Vessel or something.
Samuel didn’t say a word to me the rest of the drive there or at the service. The only time he addressed me was when he called me to the stage with him and Mrs. Donovan to go over the last prayers.
The room is quiet after, too quiet.
I look back at the closed casket, trying to keep my thoughts of knowing Mr. Donovan’s body lies in it just a few feet away from me. The chiming of bells brings me back to my surroundings.
“You may go back to your seat, Mother.” Samuel kisses her on the cheek, and she makes her way back to the seat on the stage beside Mr. Donovan’s casket.
I waited for him to give me the same order, but it never came.
From the two entrances, a line of cloaked figures begins to make their way down the adjoining aisles into the prayer space. They walk up the stage, forming into one line before dropping to a single knee and bowing their head.
“Today, we honor my father’s legacy. George Donovan. Chosen by the Divine to be Their Vessel, in this mortal world. He served as the Vessel for many years. Making this community what it is today. His father, my grandfather, was also the Chosen of the Divine, as well as his father before him. The Donovan bloodline has been the Divine’s chosen family for many years.”
Samuel’s voice is steady and filled with passion.
“Praise the Divine,” the crowd chants.
“Today, it does not end with my father’s life. No. I will continue to give the Divine a vessel to live through. I will keep this community safe, strong, and blessed. I plan to make us stronger than we ever have been.” He holds his hands out. “I will not let you down, Everton. I will protect, serve, and bless you with the Divine until my last breath, just like my father and our ancestors have done throughout the years.”
One of the cloaked figures stands. He is holding a stone bowl, and he places it on the podium in front of Samuel before returning to his spot in line.
“Today, I will fully offer my body, mind, and soul as the Vessel.” He holds the bowl up, and the whole room offers an applause. “I will need your help, Eden.” He looks to me, holding the bowl up in the air.
Another cloaked figure comes to my side and holds out a thin, long, shiny, white box. They place it gently in my hands before I can even think to reach for it.
“Step forward, Eden,” Samuel commands.
I do as I’m told. A look of pride comes over his face, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
I’m still mad at him for how he talked to me in the car and his general reaction to our father’s death. He seemed unbothered. It was coming with how his conditions have been as of late, but it did nothing to prepare me for it. I am trying not to judge. I know everyone grieves in their own way. But this... this isn’t grief.
“Eden. You are chosen by the Divine to come into the Everton community when you were but a child. They knew your path and your future was here with us.” He gestures to the room. “With me.”
My gaze darts to look up at him, the box still laying in my hands.
I don’t know where he is going with this. Why does he have me up here when I should be sitting in my seat next to Mrs. Donovan? The knot in my stomach is starting to coil more and more as I stand here, listening to him talk about me in front of everyone. It is like the day I was introduced to the community when I was ten.
