28. The Reverend

{Naya}

For some reason, I couldn't take my hands away from the hem of my blouse. With magic, I managed to forgo my usual cropped top and open flannel for something more modest and tailored. I paired the top with a long, navy blue cardigan.

The septum ring had to go too, so I tucked it in.

I also decided to straighten my hair, which I hadn't done in almost a year. It was nice to see the full length, but I missed the coily, crazy volume.

Uri joined me before the mirror. "What happened to your hair?"

I fiddled with the dyed ends. "I straightened it."

"Why?"

I sighed. "The reverend prefers when I'm not looking wild."

Uri glanced down at the rest of my outfit. "Well, you definitely tamed your wardrobe."

I turned away from him. "Uri, please. I'm not in the mood. You don't know how hard it is for me to sit down with my dad."

Uri came up and hugged me from behind. He balanced his chin on my shoulder and made eye contact with me in the mirror.

"I was just trying to cheer you up. I'm sorry."

I gave a weak smile.

"Besides . . ." he slipped a hand under my cardigan, heating up the skin around my navel. "I think I like your new look. It leaves more to the imagination."

For a moment I let Uri touch me. This was the first time since we showed up at Zayn's that I hadn't pulled away. I placed my hands over Uri's and soaked him up while I could. I had no idea what state I'd be in when this was all over.

Uri grew still before he whispered in my ear, "Naomi . . ."

I looked at him through the mirror and listened.

"I want you to know that I'm here for you. As your friend. And no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere, Okay? I'm here."

Uri did his best to make it seem like the lines weren't rehearsed. It was a far cry from Zayn's therapeutic advice, but I could see nothing disingenuous in his eyes. I closed mine and basked in his warmth for as long as I could.

"I know, Uri. Thank you."

Then I untangled myself from his arms and tugged my cardigan back into place. Clearing my throat, I said, "Come on. The reverend hates when I'm late."

***

On our way to the reverend's house, I distracted myself by pointing out landmarks from my childhood. Uri drove while I gave anecdote after anecdote for places like my old high school, my church, Little Vine Chapel, where my father first started his career, and an abandoned farm with a magnolia tree.

"I'd use to bring whatever guy I was talking to at the time to that tree."

Uri glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "And then what?"

"What do you mean 'and then what?' Then we would make out."

We both laughed.

Uri asked, "What did your dad say when you talked to him on the phone?"

I sighed. "Oh the usual. 'Babygirl, how have you been? My daughter's so grown, almost finished with college. You come right over. Dinner will be waiting for you.' That's how he lays down the trap. He knows just what to say to get me to show my face and let my guard down. And then before I know it, I'm the biggest disappointment in his life and I have to do better. I've been hearing that for as long as I can remember, Uri. 'Babygirl, you've got to do better. I raised you better than this. Don't let my sacrifices go to waste. I worked too hard to see you fail' . . . . So for this past year, I didn't let him see me fail."

Uri kept his eyes on the road, but I could still detect the sympathy in them. "Did you . . . did you tell him that I was coming?"

I shrugged. "I told him I was bringing a friend. I'm sorry, but that's all I could think to say."

"No, don't apologize. I was just curious."

I slumped in my seat and leaned my head against the window. "I've brought guys over before, but they were all ones that I didn't even like. I only dated them because I knew he would approve. The last boyfriend who came with me to visit the reverend was Corbin."

Uri grimaced. "Corbin from the aquarium?"

"Yeah. He was the last straw. I couldn't keep dating duds like him. So I cut him off and didn't go back to class after that."

"Hey, Naya?" Uri said. "I think we're here."

Using my elbows, I hoisted myself upright in the seat and almost couldn't believe how close we were to my house. Even though this was the house where I grew up, everything from the driveway to the line of rose bushes, and even the blue shutters on the windows felt foreign to me.

Breathe, Naya. Breathe.

Getting out of the car and walking up the front steps felt like I was stumbling through a dream. I don't even remember ringing the doorbell. There was a distant shuffling within and I almost wanted to say, Wait! I'm not ready!

But it was too late. The reverend had already opened the door.

"Babygirl!"

Long arms enveloped me. A face similar to mine grinned back at me. Familiar, happy voices rang inside my head. Despite the disorientation, I maintained the facade of the perfect daughter and hugged back. I smiled. I said, "Hey, Daddy." I told him how much I had missed him.

And then I introduced Uri.

"So this is the friend that I was talking about. His name is –"

My father's hand shot out. Somehow, I had been pushed to the sidelines.

"Reverend Xavier Isaiah Burton III," My dad recited, giving Uri a hard handshake and not bothering to ask for his name in return.

Uri shook back and looked as poised as ever. "My name is Uriel, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

With almost an accusatory tone, the reverend replied, "What, no surname?"

I wasn't prepared for this, but Uri saved himself in time. "It's Naim, sir. Uriel Naim."

"Ah," the reverend said, clearly sensing the accent in Uri's voice. The regard in his face made me cringe on the inside. I knew what was coming next.

So son, where are your folks from?

"Daddy! It smells good in there. What did you make?"

That was enough to draw the reverend's attention away from Uri. His face lit up. "I made your favorite, babygirl. Cubed steak with white gravy, garlic mashed potatoes, and green peas. And of course, I've got your cornbread baking in the oven."

I gave my sweetest smile. "Oh, boy! I'm starved."

The reverend guided us inside to the dining room table. Everything in the house was set immaculately just as it was before I left for Emory. Despite my dad being an empty nester, he must have cleaned the space from top to bottom every Sunday after church.

I willed my hands to stop shaking while the reverend set the table. Uri sat across from me and did his best to look supportive.

When it was time to eat, my father made himself comfortable, cleared his throat and looked directly at Uri. "Son, would you say the blessing for us tonight?"

Shit!

I should have known my dad would put Uri on the spot. As a matter of fact, he did this with every guy I brought over. Usually, I didn't have to worry about them making fools out of themselves, but it was fairly obvious that Uri wasn't born into the typical American Christian household. If I could kick myself under the table, I would have.

Before Uri could reply, I said, "Oh, Daddy! I'll say grace. It's fine."

The reverend furrowed his eyes at me. "Naomi, I asked our guest to do the honors."

The look he was giving me was borderline threatening, but I didn't back down. Acting as if I hadn't heard him, I said in my best preacher's daughter's voice, "Everyone bow your heads and close your eyes . . . Dear Heavenly Father, please bless this food and this household with the ever merciful blood of your only begotten son, Jesus Christ. Let your holy gospel touch the lives of those in need, Lord. In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, we pray. Amen."

When I lifted my head and opened my eyes, the reverend was beaming with pride.

"That's my baby girl," he whispered.

My shaking had stopped, but I could feel lines of sweat begin to pull down my back.

The first half of dinner went well – at least that's what it looked like on the surface. The reverend peppered me with questions pertaining to my experiences in Atlanta and my friendship with Portia. Every now and then, he would fire a question at Uri, as if to catch him off guard. Uri never missed a beat, playing the role of the respectful and attentive visitor like it was made for him.

"How are your studies coming along?" The reverend asked when we had moved onto apple pie for dessert. From across the table, Uri locked eyes with me and urged me on with a slight dip of his chin.

I put my fork and napkin down, inhaled, and tried to prepare him for the truth.

"Dad, there is a big reason why I came here tonight. I want to tell you something."

Like before, he didn't let me finish. "Now don't you dare fix your mouth to say that you've got something going on with this boy."

I gaped at him. "Dad!"

He merely gave an indifferent sniff.

My voice cracked as I defended Uri. "He has a name. It's Uriel. And in case you didn't notice, he's our guest. Not some . . . boy."

In fact he's not a boy at all, but a fire-breathing djinni who probably wants nothing more than to singe your eyebrows off right now.

Uri placed both his palms on the table. "Mr. Burton, I care for you daughter very much."

I shot him a pleading glance. "Uri, please let me handle this."

Barely able to control his tone, my father barked, "Naomi! In the kitchen. Now!"

Without waiting for me to reply, the reverend ripped himself from the table and stalked towards the other room. I shot Uri another desperate glance before getting up to follow him. Despite the fact that Uri could hear us just around the corner, my dad let me have it.

"Naya, you go six months without calling home and then have the nerve to show up with blue hair and this foreigner? Have you lost your cotton-pickin' mind, young lady?"

I suppressed the urge to scream. "Foreigner?"

The reverend went on. "Is he even a Christian? You know better than to bring infidels into this house!"

"Dad!"

"I mean look at him, Naya. Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

That was when I completely lost it.

"Uri isn't a fucking terrorist! He's my goddamn boyfriend!"

Before the words even left my mouth, I knew what would come next. Thanks to my little slip up, I earned myself two healthy slaps for having the gall to say what I said.

I didn't cry, but the entire left side of my face stung like a bitch.

". . . Naomi, how dare you raise your voice to me," the reverend hissed. But he sounded more hurt than angry. Then he choked out, "I am your father."

My face didn't hurt anymore. In fact, I was glad that he had smacked me. It was just the nudge I needed to say what I had come there to say.

"I dropped out of Emory a year ago."

The look on the reverend's face made me physically sick. I didn't want to keep doing this to him, but I said, "I was too scared to tell you. But Uri helped me. Without him, I probably would have never had the guts to be this honest."

The old man had to use the table to hold himself up. "You didn't." He begged. "Tell me you didn't throw away your future."

"No," I said. "I threw away your future, Dad."

"Naya . . ." He looked like he would break the table. "Get out."

I shrugged. "So that's it? You're just going to kick me out like you did with Mom?"

The reverend's voice was steady now. "Get out before I call the police."

I took one last look at him because I knew it would be the very last time.

Then I obeyed my father and got the hell out.