one evening at dusk—a momentary release of pent-up anguish, frustration, confusion, and fear—he stared us down as he made his way from the church to his home across the yard. Grace was “in trouble.” Everything she did was suspect—and the fact that I was comforting rather than ostracizing her made me suspect, too.
As much as I tried not to imagine the actual act of leaving, Grace seemed determined to make me face what it would mean. She would text me from work, detailing all that we would lose if we walked away from the church. What comfort would there be in a world without the prospect of eternal bliss alongside our loved ones? How could we depend on mere humans for anything? And in the event that we somehow managed to withstand the storms of life—death, illness, injury—and make it to old age, how meaningless would our lives have been? If we missed all those years watching our little brothers grow up and our parents’ hair turn gray, what would we have to look forward to at the end of our lives? “I weep,” she wrote.
Running errands for my mother, I pulled my car into the nearest parking lot and wept, too.
* * *
We decided to stay.
Ultimately, Grace and I could entertain the possibility of leaving for only a few weeks before it became too much. We were each inhabiting two minds: the one that was trying to make things work within Westboro’s framework, and the one that was preparing for the worst. It made me question my sanity, unsure of every thought that crossed my mind. A double minded man is unstable in all his ways. Grace pointed out that although leaving was unthinkable, despair awaited us no matter which option we chose. “How can we be happy?” she asked me.
MEGAN: For now, we can try to avoid situations where those problems come up. Keep a low profile. Stay close to home. That kind of thing. And for the future … we don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. I have a feeling it’s going to get worse re: Steve, et al, but maybe it won’t. We could deal with that when we come to it. We can also do what you said—organize our rooms/things. Save money. Make and keep memories. All those things are good no matter if we left or stayed. We’re just going to keep trying.
GRACE: Thank you.
MEGAN: I love you, G. I’m sorry I put this burden on you.
GRACE: I love you, double. No apology necessary.
MEGAN: Had you thought about it at all—even as a vague, remote possibility—before we talked in my room that day?
GRACE: Not really. Maybe because I thought if I ever did, I’d be alone.
MEGAN: Me, too.
“If we go, we’ll go together.”
If something happens with me and they make me go, I would understand if you wanted to stay.
GRACE: Quidem. Together.
This was the plan we came up with: Stay. Attempt to convince the rest of the church to hear our objections. Pray for the best.
And only if our best efforts failed would we again consider leaving.
I also had to stop pursuing my questions about the Bible and where it stood on the spectrum of truth. Permanently dethroning the Scriptures I had so revered was inconceivable. They contained too much good to come down definitively against them, and Hell was a looming possibility that felt far too real. Know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart and with a willing mind: for the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off for ever.
Not long after we made our decision, C.G. disappeared without warning. I hadn’t told him we were planning to stay, and he gave no explanation for his sudden withdrawal. He simply stopped answering my messages. My sister did not delight to see my despair compounded, but I knew she was glad it was over. She wanted me to be committed to our life at Westboro, and she perceived that I would be distracted so long as I had even a shadow of hope about C.G. Grace’s intuition was correct, but the ache in my chest was as deep as it had been when he and I had said goodbye the year before—and that told me all I needed to know. In spite of my hurt and anger at his sudden