Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I rolled my eyes.
“Okay Bertha—”
“Don’t call me Bertha either,” she said in a tight voice. “We’ve changed our names, actually. I’m now Bezimba and your father is Trekko. We’d appreciate it if you used those instead.”
I swung my gaze over to my dad.
“Are you serious?”
Tom, I mean Trekko, nodded, his grey ponytail straggly and thin. His blue eyes were sympathetic, but his expression somber.
“We’re very serious, honey. Apotheosis is the golden path. We needed to shed our old skins, including our old names and identities, in order to go next level. This pilgrimage is going to be meaningful. It might even be the thing that helps us “break through” to enlightenment.”
I stare at them.
“Enlightenment? Really? Honestly, it sounds a little like hand-waving to me.”
Bertha, I mean Bezimba, put her hands on her hips and fixed me with a glare, sparks shooting from her faded blue eyes.
“It’s not woo-woo handwaving, Chloe. I’d appreciate it if you respected our belief system.”
I nod, holding both palms up in surrender.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I mean, I get that you’re totally into this new religion but what about our family? What about me, enlightenment or not?”
My parents shared a look.
“What it means,” Bezimba said in a steady voice, maintaining her calm. “Is that you’ll be finishing high school here on your own, Chloe. You know what you’re doing in school, and you get good grades. I’m sure it will be no problem. We’ll leave you the trailer, of course, and we’ll provide a monthly stipend too, so you have money for food and clothing. But your dad and I have decided that you’re old enough to take care of yourself, and that the time is ripe for us to take the next step.”
I spluttered.
“But will I see you? When are you coming back? And I don’t get it: how will you survive in Neglati? What are you going to do for money?”
My mom merely shrugged, although her expression was serious.
“We’ve decided to put that in the hands of Shaman Roku for now. He assures us that God will find a way, and that drawing from our retirement accounts to fund this journey is the right thing to do. We’ve already decided, Chloe, and nothing you say is going to change our minds. We leave for Neglati on Wednesday.”
I could only stare, speechless, as my parents turned away. After all, Bertha and Tom are adults. They aren’t the most responsible people, seeing that my dad often misses shifts at the body shop, and my mom always seems to be getting fired from whatever new position she lands. But they were able to save money by keeping a tight fist on expenses, and they even managed to raise me, their daughter.
Except now, Tom and Bertha have gone bat-shit crazy with this new religion, Apotheosis. I don’t know what it’s about, except that Shaman Roku comes off as a huckster. I went to a prayer session led by him a while back, and that guy is downright creepy. He’s a South Asian man in his late 60’s, dressed in the saffron robes of the Hari Krishna, except that he’s not a Hari Krishna. He merely started out as a Hari Krishna, and then branched out on his own to promote his own religion, Apotheosis, where allegedly he has a direct line to God. As if. God doesn’t have a phone number that people can call. I may be a skeptic, but I’m not naive. I can recognize a con man when I see one.
But Tom and Bertha are a different story. Somehow, they’ve gotten swept into this Apotheosis hullaballoo, and are fervent believers. Before they left, they were dressing like Hari Krishnas as well, to the point where my mom actually threw out her collection of tie-dye leggings.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked, watching as Bertha stuffed the brightly-colored leggings into a big trash bag. “I thought you loved those. You were into Fabletics for a while, and then Lululemon, and then that other brand. What was it called? Oh yeah, BuddhaRite.”
Bertha merely snorted, cramming the last of the leggings into the bulging trash bag before sealing it with a zip tie.
“I’m sure,” she said, her mouth in a straight line. “The leggings are a remnant of my old life, and I need to shed every sign of the past.”
“Yeah, but you spent a lot of money on those,” I argue. “At least keep one or two pairs in case you change your mind.”
Bertha swung to look at me with frigid blue eyes then, her frizzy gray hair standing on end. The curls almost crackled with energy, she was so angry.
“I won’t change my mind, Chloe, and it’s rude of you to insinuate that. Apotheosis is my religion, and I don’t appreciate you denigrating my belief system. Would you say that to a stranger on the street? Or is it only your mother that you treat that way?”