Donut Days Read Free Page A

okay? I looked down at my hands, which were a sickly white. I couldn’t feel anything. I wanted to reach out to him, to have him dunk me under again, because not one thing had happened when I was baptized. Not tongues, a vision, or even a warm-fuzzy close-to-God feeling. I wanted a do-over, but I couldn’t move. I was numb—in my limbs and in my heart.
    “You’re all set,” my dad said, turning away from me and toward Nat. “You can head back to shore. Mom has a towel for you.”
    I nodded and forced my body to start making its way back toward the beach. I could feel the eyes of the congregation burning into me. I knew they could all see it: that I was exactly the same as I’d been before the baptism. I hadn’t experienced anything in the water except cold and fear.
    What was wrong with me? Would I ever feel what everyone else at Living Word seemed to?
    My mom handed me a towel when I got close enough. She smiled, but the motion didn’t go past her mouth. She could barely meet my eyes. She knew, without having to ask, that I hadn’t started speaking in tongues. I could practically feel the disappointment radiating off her.
    Next to her, Lizzie was jumping up and down, asking me if I’d seen any fish. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
    My mom turned her back to me, and I could feel her mood lighten as she focused on Lizzie. One of the seven deadly sins—envy—stabbed at my heart. Was I really that hard to be around? And was Lizzie really so preferable?
    I wrapped the towel around me more tightly and watched Natalie go down in the water. Instead of coming back up like me, flailing and retching, she came out of the water smoothly, renewed and ready for a life committed to God. Her face glowed as she stood in the currents, her cheeks pink like she had an eternal fire inside of her, even as the cold water dripped off of her. The congregants all gave a collective “oooh” at the inspiring sight.
    Nat trekked back toward shore, smiling, despite the way her jaw was trembling with cold. My dad followed in her delicate wake. Then, just as Nat started climbing out of the water, Mr. O’Connor suddenly started climbing in . He started splashing around and crying, “Forgive us, Lord! Forgive us, Lord!”
    My dad made sure Nat was out of the river safely, then started making his way back toward Mr. O’Connor. “Gary,” he said, twisting his torso and fighting the water. “Gary, is the Lord speaking to you? Tell us what’s going on.”
    Mr. O’Connor stopped splashing for a second. His suit—which probably cost more than my dad’s annual salary—was soaked and ruined. His body had quieted, but his eyes stayed wide and wild. “I do not permit a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man!” Mr. O’Connor shouted. I’d heard that scripture before and I knew that Mr. O’Connor was quoting the Bible, though I couldn’t remember exactly where in the Bible that phrase was located. I’d find out later it was First Timothy in the New Testament.
    I looked over at my mom, who was clutching Lizzie and looked like she couldn’t quite get her mind around what was happening.
    “Mom, what’s going on?”
    “Shhh. Not now.”
    Everyone always got quiet in the church when someone “had a prophecy,” which is what you called outbursts like this. Usually they were pretty vanilla and people said things like “the Lord wants to bless you” or “you have put other things in your life before the Lord.” And usually they happened at the church. I’d certainly never seen one at a baptism before, and I’m not sure anyone else had either.
    “Women are the weaker vessel!” Mr. O’Connor shouted from the cold water.
    Another Bible scripture—this time from First Peter.
    My dad finally reached Mr. O’Connor, and before Mr. O’Connor could say anything else, my dad leaned in and whispered something in Mr. O’Connor’s ear. None of us standing on the riverbank ever heard what was said, but all of us got a great view of the