Into the Blue

Chapter Nineteen

            "Mom, how come we never go to church anymore?"

            "What?"

            Heather swirled her apple juice around in her glass and chomped into her bacon. "Well, I mean, we used to go to church when I was little, right? Why did we stop?"

            "I don't know, sweetheart. Your father just got too busy, I guess."

            "Do you still believe?"

            "Believe what?"

            "You know, in God. In destiny and stuff."

            Rebecca inhaled slowly, and then exhaled quickly, which was a weird combination. "Why do you ask?"

            "Because I don't know what I believe. Nobody taught me, and...I don't know, I guess I'm just really confused. You do believe in destiny, right?"

            "Yes."

            "But how does that work? Don't you have to believe in a higher power if you believe in destiny?"          

            "I do."

            "But doesn't everyone?"

            "Maybe people just don't think about it, honey."     

            Heather shook her head. "No, I won't accept that. There's gotta be one thing that's true, right? One way that's the closest anybody can get to the truth. So who knows it? Is it the atheists who believe that something exploded out of nothing and created everything? Or is it people like Mrs. Williams, who believe that there's a good God who created everything and knows what'll happen but lets us choose how we want to live?

            "Things have to be either ordered, or disordered. There can't be a varying degree. So what do you believe?"

            "In order. In a good God. I just...I think I'm too scared of confronting your father to go back to church. He doesn't believe in any of that, and it's easier just to let him have is way."

            Heather swallowed the last of her eggs. "Well, I want to know the truth for myself. I'm going to start going to church with Oliver's family every Sunday. See if that does anything. If not, I'll look somewhere else. But I refuse to believe that I don't have a purpose."

            "Every Sunday?"

            "Yes. That's what they do. I'm going to try it."

            Mrs. Alton came around the counter and hugged her. "Do it, sweetie. Find the truth. You can, I know it."

            Heather hugged her back. "Thanks, Mom. I'm gonna tell dad."

Heather was confused. There she was, sitting there against her door, and she had no idea what was going to happen now.

            It had started out as her telling him she was going to start going to Church. But somehow it had morphed. She had just yelled at her dad, just screamed her lungs out for what he had done to her, and he had gotten just as angry. He still claimed not to remember anything. But Heather didn't believe that he didn't remember, that he'd blocked the memories or been too drunk to remember in the first place. He was just making excuses.

            Heather knew better. She knew how horrible her dad was.

            He had totally abused her, taken advantage of her, imagined a different reality in his drunken stupor. He had ruined her life that night, and he claimed not to even remember.