Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

by Andrea Randall

  I’m Kennedy Sawyer. Weird, unsaved daughter of televangelist Roland Abbot.

  It’s weird, hearing Mom and Roland talk in the kitchen. I’ve never woken up in the same house as Roland, let alone Roland and Mom. I don’t know what I’m listening for, but within a few seconds it becomes clear that they are strictly business, discussing press releases, how the rest of the semester would proceed, and the like.

  “Morning.” I yawn to keep up the appearance that I just woke up and wasn’t at the door eavesdropping.

  Mom nearly drops her coffee mug on the counter when she sets it down in a hurry before sweeping me into a hug. “How are you holding up, baby?”

  “Good,” I mumble into her shoulder. I haven’t been shot, but she’s treating me as such.

  Well, according to Matt I have been shot. Out of some sort of social cannon. “What are you guys talking about?”

  Mom fixes me a cup of coffee, with Roland seeming to watch carefully, and sets it in front of me. I mumble a tired thank you as she fills me in on what she and Roland have been discussing.

  She puts a hand on her hip. “The Today Show, Kennedy? Seriously? You want that?”

  “Well,” I sigh after a long sip of coffee. “I see you’ve been caught up.”

  “You could do just a few statements to some local and national papers and be done with it.”

  I envy Wendy Sawyer in this moment. Yesterday morning I was filled with the same juvenile hope. The reaction of the students in Mission Hall and the blogs Matt pointed me to, however, paint a much different tale. My eyes move casually to Roland, who seems unsure how to tell Wendy that this isn’t some pop and fizz story. He and I haven’t even directly talked about it.

  “I need to show you guys something,” I say, pushing away from the island and moving towards Roland’s office.

  For the next ten minutes, I direct them through the series of blogs Matt took me to last night. Luckily they’re both internet-savvy enough to check the traffic on the sites, see who the sponsors are, and search for other mentions of those blogs throughout the internet. They’re wide-reaching.

  Roland sits back in his office chair and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t look as stressed as Mom does, who is staring at the computer screen with her mouth hanging open.

  “I…I had no idea.” Her voice is quiet but laced with shock.

  “I had some,” I admit. “I mean, it was always easy for me to find information on Roland online. I knew he was wicked popular, but…I didn’t have a clue as to the interest surrounding me.”

  Mom puts her hand over her mouth for a moment, contemplating her next words. “Well. This changes things. Maybe The Today Show isn’t such a bad idea after all. Blast it all out for a week or two and let it die down. It won’t be a problem keeping you out of the spotlight after that. For God’s sake, the President’s daughters are rarely seen in the media.”

  I laugh at the absurdity that I’m being grouped into such an echelon of society. “Look, I just want to get back to my dorm, regroup with my friends, and go to work tonight. I’m dying to get out of here and far away from campus for a while.”

  Word isn’t particularly far in distance from CU. A couple of miles. But, in the words of my favorite movie prostitute from Pretty Woman, “that’s just geography.” The two places couldn’t be further apart in every other way.

  Mom and Roland look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “You’re not going to work,” Mom commands.

  “Yeah, that’s not a great idea. There’s no way to keep you safe,” Roland encourages her sentiment.

  It’s my turn to look at them like they’re the crazy ones. “Safe? From what? People asking questions? This is lunacy. I’ll put my head down, go to work, and come back here if I have to. Look. I haven’t talked with my friends since yesterday afternoon and I feel like a giant asshole…” I trail off and take a deep breath, not wanting to trip into a profanity-laced tirade. “Sorry. Jerk. I feel like a jerk.”

  “We can get you to your room, no problem,” Roland starts. “We’ll just have Maggie meet us at the back door and get you in the dorm quickly. There will be cameras and people shouting at you, but they’re not allowed in the dorms. I’ll send some New Life security with you, too. In case campus security gets overwhelmed.”

  I exit the office and move toward the front door. Opening it a crack, I see a hoard of story-starved reporters milling around the gate. They’re right. Work is absolutely out of the question.

  “I need a minute,” I say, going to the kitchen and retrieving my phone and coffee before moving out to the back porch.

  Sitting on the porch swing, I peer down at my phone and see far more text messages than I can handle before a full cup of coffee. Leaning back, I dial Asher first, not yet ready to get into a blow-by-blow with anyone who saw the epic events at Mission Hall yesterday.

  “Asher.” He always answers the phone this way. I can hear the buzzing sounds of Word patrons in the background. I long to be there. Invisible. Unless you need coffee, of course.

  “Heeeey, Asher,” I draw out. “It’s Kennedy. So—”

  He cuts me off. “Kennedy!” he whisper-yells. “Hold on.”

  A few seconds later, the air on the other end is significantly quieter. “You there?” Asher asks.

  “Yeah,” I reply, deflated. He so knows.

  Asher laughs softly into the phone. “You should have told me, kid.”

  “You know?”

  “Know?! I’ve had reporters calling me all night and sniffing around down here today, just waiting for you to turn up.”

  “Sorry,” I whimper slightly.

  “Don’t be sorry. But, seriously. You should have told me.”

  I huff. “What difference would something like this have made to you, huh?”

  Asher chuckles. “Remember how I asked you to keep an eye on the CU students who might try to evangelize all the live-long night to my customers?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “It’s because I’ve seen how people behave, Kennedy. I get to watch all kinds of people all day. Your little secret has set everything on fire.”

  I sigh. “I still don’t see how you knowing any of this ahead of time would have—wait. Are you saying you wouldn’t have hired me if you knew Roland was my father?”

  There’s a pause one second too long for me. “Asher?”

  “That’s not it, Kennedy.”

  “Then what is it?” I’m feeling slightly betrayed. Of all the people this “situation” involves, I never expected betrayal from my own kind.

  Asher sighs. “I can’t really explain it right now.”

  “Don’t bother,” I snap. “I…My mom and Roland don’t think it would be a good idea for me to come to work today. Probably not tomorrow, either. Maybe after The Today Show interview and stuff? I can’t not work…”

  “The Today Show?”

  I take a minute to fill Asher in on all of our media plans. I feel like I’m on a playground merry-go-round and it’s just starting to speed up.

  Asher takes a heavy breath. “Keep me posted, kid. Good luck.”

  An idea has been brewing in my brain since late last night, when viewing the blogs of lost PK’s, searching for their voice.

  “Asher?” I ask, feelings of betrayal falling by the wayside.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you come to the ten o’clock New Life service on Sunday? Please?”

  “Kenn—” His voice is laced with preemptive apology, so I cut him off.

  “Please, Asher.” I plead, not wanting to give away my plan. Since it’s not fully formed, anyway.

  “Fine,” he resigns. “If I can even get near the gate.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” I assure him. Now that I know Jahara and have a legit “in” with the pastor, I’m confident in my ability to get anyone I want into what is likely to be the largest group of people New Life has ever hosted at once.

  Hanging up with Asher, I walk back into the kitchen and find Ro
land and Mom working parallel to each other at the island, sending texts and typing away on the computer. Roland is on the phone, but when he sees me he tells whomever is on the other end that he has to go.

  I eye both of them and lift my chin. I need to regain some shred of control in my life. “I want to go back to my dorm now.”

  They share a glance with each other, and it does something awful to my insides. It’s like they’re having a silent conversation about how to grant my request. Like they’re trying to co-parent me for the first time ever. Without my permission, flashes of memories from my entire life swirl through my brain, and my stepdad, Dan, is replaced with Roland in every single one. Suddenly, I’m transported into the full life of a Preacher’s Kid, and Mom is transformed into a preacher’s wife. As if they had “done the right thing” and married when she found out she was pregnant.

  That vision cements what I know I have to do on Sunday. Somehow, I have to take a stand for all the kids who didn’t have a choice. Those thrust into a life like that of a celebrity kid. They didn’t ask for it, but they have to live with it.

  Am I asking for it? Am I asking to be a PK now, biology aside?

  I pray to God that by Sunday morning, I’ll have an answer to that question.

  Leaving Roland’s house wasn’t that overwhelming. There were a few reporters at the gate, and some flashes of cameras, but I kept looking forward and begged my face to just look bored. Pulling up to the back door of the dorm, however, seems to be another story.

  There aren’t just reporters there, but people who I recognize as CU students. Some upperclassmen that are TAs for some of my classes, too.

  Et tu?

  “Did you text Maggie?” Mom asks. I nod in response.

  Roland stayed behind at his house to deal with his New Life correspondence. It seems unlikely that either Roland or Mom will be keen on the idea of me spending the night in my own dorm, so it looks like I’ll be back at Roland’s tonight.

  I’ve restricted my texts this morning to two people only. Mollie—my best friend—and Matt, who is the only one who knows exactly what’s gone on since yesterday afternoon. I simply haven’t had the energy to fill everyone in. Honestly, that’s what I’m hoping the Today interview will cover. As I’ve mentioned, stress exhausts me. This situation is liable to put me into a coma if I think about it too much. I just need to make it through Sunday service the day after tomorrow and deal with The Today Show.

  I hope they have the smart, handsome, silver-haired guy interview me.

  Mom honks her horn a few times to get through the thick crowd of bodies milling around the parking lot. As promised, CU and New Life security staff have sectioned off the bottom part of the parking lot and no one is actually allowed close to the dorm doors without showing their ID and having it checked against the room assignment list on some computerized system.

  Exiting the car, I hear my name called a few times, but mainly turn all the words into background noise. I have no interest right now in people that have had no kind of interest toward me all semester. The weird, unsaved girl. Yes, I allow an unforgiving thought into my brain—sue me.

  Maggie is waiting at the back door, and opens it right as Mom and I approach.

  “Thanks,” Mom whispers to her.

  Walking up the stairs, I note that the halls are quiet for a Friday—a day most students don’t have classes. I wonder if everyone’s been quarantined to their rooms, as Matt suggested last night when he got back to his dorm.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask out loud.

  “At lunch or in their rooms for the next half hour,” Maggie replies, confirming my suspicions.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “We will have a floor meeting later,” she adds.

  Mom stops in the hallway. “Will that little—Joy be there?”

  Joy.

  In all of this, I’d forgotten all about her. In the midst of the truth, I forgot about the lies that cracked it all wide open.

  “Mom.” I put my hand up, and turn to Maggie once we reach my door. “Where is Joy?”

  “In her room. The administration hasn’t really decided what to do with her yet. This is kind of…unprecedented.”

  I snort and unlock my door. “Where are they?” I ask of my absent roommates.

  “Lunch,” Maggie answers. “They’ll be back soon. I wanted you to have a minute.”

  I walk to my bed and sit on it for a moment, wondering what my roommates must have faced last night. Were they questioned about their knowledge of my family tree? Does anyone even actually care? Do people still think I’ve had an affair with Roland, oblivious to the revelation of my paternity all together?

  Standing, I leave my brain-to-mouth filter somewhere on the ground. “I don’t want Joy to get in trouble,” I blurt out.

  Maggie’s lips part, but Mom’s voice fills the room. “You’ve lost your mind, Kennedy. Of course she’s going to get in trouble. Suspended, I hope.”

  My cheeks heat and my heart races. “No.” I shake my head a little too quickly, making me feel dizzy. “I just…no. Please.” I turn my gaze to Maggie. “I’ll write a letter to the administration. I’ll make a speech. Anything. Just…I don’t know. Write her up for distributing non-approved materials or something.”

  Mom walks over to me and grips my shoulders, eyeing me with her teeth clenched. “This girl could have very well ruined your life, Kennedy. And you want her off scot-free?”

  Suddenly, I can’t look at Joy as the nasty co-ed with something against me. For reasons I don’t understand, I can only see her anger and hurt at something not fully clear. I know nothing about her, yet the reasons behind her actions are somehow less about me and more about her.

  Grace, the Voice whispers.

  “Grace,” I nearly shout toward Maggie. I swallow hard, but my mouth has run dry. “I… This is really between me and her, right? I’m not ready to talk to her, but…please. Her getting kicked out of this school will ruin her life more than a few thousand people thinking I’ve slept with the pastor would ruin mine.”

  Now Mom’s mouth falls open while Maggie’s forms a small smile. “We’ll talk later, okay?” she encourages softly.

  I nod, then turn to Mom. “Can you go wait in Maggie’s room or something? I want to talk to my roommates alone when they come back.”

  Mom, seemingly still speechless about Joy, shakes her head and follows Maggie down the hall.

  Grace, Grace, Grace.

  I repeat the phrase over and over in my head while I sit in the silence of my dorm room. I’m asking God to keep my reserve filled for Joy, and praying that he offers me some when my roommates return to the room. I know enough about them to know that my withholding of this information from them has certainly caused hurt feelings and a loss of any trust they’ve had of me.

  Grace, please, I repeat again as the doorknob turns and my roommates enter to face me for the first time since I pulled them off the front steps of Planned Parenthood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I Will Praise You in this Storm

  “I’m sorry,” I say before the door has even closed all the way behind them. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you.” My voice trembles and my eyes fill with tears.

  I’m standing, but just barely, on wobbly legs, watching their faces for certain condemnation. I know they shouldn’t condemn me. But I shouldn’t have hidden my secret from them. Or myself. With my hand forced, I wish I would have had them by my side in Mission Hall yesterday. Or maybe they could have stopped Joy, somehow, before she went bananas.

  Just when I think their lack of response highlights that I’ve lost them completely, they lunge forward and hug me at the same time, knocking me to my butt on my bed. I burst into tears. Neither one of them says anything for a long time; we just sit in the silence punctuated by my sniffs. Then theirs. They seem to be crying, too.

  “I’m sorry.” Eden wipes her nose on her sleeve as she pulls away. “I should have known…”

 
“How?” I exclaim through ragged breath.

  She shrugs, and Bridgette speaks up. “I was so worried about getting you saved that it didn’t occur to me you might have bigger things you were wrestling with.”

  Bigger than my salvation? Is that a little bit of human peeking through Bridgette?

  “Did you guys know what Joy was planning?” I ask both of them. The question seeped into a dream at some point last night, and I’ve been wrestling with it ever since.

  “No!” Eden gasps, eyes wide. “Are you kidding? She doesn’t talk to us except during Bible study.”

  “Really?” I’m surprised. “I thought she was all in your clique or whatever.”

  Bridget shakes her head. “No. She’s been kind of a loner, or hanging around a few older kids. She spends a lot of time in her room reading, her roommate says.”

  “We’d have never let her hand out those flyers, Kennedy.” Eden’s chin quivers and she looks down.

  “I know,” I whisper, touching her shoulder. “I mean…I think I know. I guess everything I think and know are up in the air right now, Eden. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”

  “Anyway,” I start after a huge breath, “what happened after I left the dining hall?”

  A lot, judging by the looks on their faces. Bridgette and Eden look at each other as if to decide who should go first.

  “It was kind of a mob scene,” Eden begins. “We followed you out for a few steps, but Matt told us all to stay away. When we turned back to the cafeteria, Joy had disappeared. She’s basically been in her room since. Her roommate has been staying in another room, too.”

  “Really? That seems awfully…I don’t know…cowardly of someone who was so bold about the affair.”

  “Well,” Bridgette enters, “she did have a few choice Facebook posts trying to justify her actions. Saying that you can only take people at face value, and she had no reason to believe you were the daughter of Roland, but every reason to believe you were on shaky moral ground.”

  It stings. It’s completely valid, given all of her presuppositions coming in, but it still stings. The only thing I’ve done to her is stop her from condemning a coffee-goer to hell. And that was just once. Certainly nothing worthy of what she dished out to me in front of the entire university.