Page 95 of Breaking the Sinner

“Professionalism wasn’t really the issue.”

“Your identity was,” Mr. Gingham said, in a tone that sounded a lot like he’d cracked some tough case. To his daughters, he said, “‘He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase: this is also vanity.’ Ecclesiastes.”

Cobra scooped some mac and cheese onto his plate, his heart racing. Every inch of his skin crawled.

“Vanity makes that mankind is never satisfied. Prudence wasn’t satisfied,” Mr. Gingham went on, frowning as he cut into his turkey. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, surveying each and every one in turn. “She went to the City of Demons. In search of selfish ambition.”

Gen’s mouth turned downward.

“Mankind is never satisfied,” Mr. Gingham said again, softer this time.

Cobra cleared his throat, staring at Gen. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even try to defend herself.

“It’s not that bad,” he cracked, offering up a smile to the table. “You called it a city of demons. There’s homeless people and a lot of traffic. It takes like an hour to get to the store sometimes. But it’s not full of demons.” He paused, waiting for any response at all. “Some crackheads here and there, I guess.”

Abigail pressed a finger to the spot between her eyebrows. Mrs. Gingham pursed her lips, shaking her head.

“Son, do not use that foul language at my Thanksgiving table.”

“Shit. I mean—” Cobra stopped himself before he saidfuck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“What’s a crackhead?” Mary asked quietly, tapping her mother’s arm.

“Can we talk about something that isn’t Los Angeles or my decision to move there?” Gen asked suddenly, cutting her turkey into interminably tiny pieces. Her knife scraped the plate. “Abigail, have you met your soul mate yet? Isn’t it about time? You’re twenty-six. Where are the children?”

Cobra fought a smile. Time for the good shit.

“God is going to grant me the perfect husband,” Abigail said, her nostrils flaring. “I have complete faith. I always have. More than some of us at this table can say.”

“My faith led me away,” Gen shot back.

“If you truly believed, you would have known that your sins could only be forgiven through atonement within your community,” Abigail said through gritted teeth. Cobra scooped up some mac and cheese.

“It’s not too late, Prudence,” Mr. Gingham spoke up. He looked gleeful, somehow. Sickly satisfied with the turn of the conversation. “We will welcome you back with open arms. We’ll begin the process of cleansing, to wash away your transgressions. We can begin the search for your very own sacred spouse. We can—”

“I don’t need a sacred spouse,” Gen spat, “when Cobra is my boyfriend.”

Cobra’s eyes widened. Damn near half the table dropped their forks.

“Yourboyfriend,” Mr. Gingham hissed.

Cobra had questions about the use of that term too. But now wasn’t the time. As far as Gen’s family was concerned, Cobra and Gen had eloped. They’d sure been living like it recently. The air around the table grew taut. Practically stretched to breaking.

“Prudence Jane,” Mrs. Gingham whispered, holding her hand to her cheek. “Please tell me this is a cruel joke.”

“Cobra is my boyfriend,” Gen repeated, stronger this time. Cobra gripped his fork and knife so hard his knuckles bulged.

Mr. Gingham looked like he was ready to get the shotgun. “This is unacceptable. To what lengths will you not go to shame our family?”

“This isn’t about shaming you—” Gen started.

“First your sins bring about the demise of Bethany,” Mr. Gingham said. He remembered Bethany—Gen’s cousin. The one she thought she killed.

“Her sins didn’t kill anybody,” Cobra spoke up, unable to keep it inside. “You shouldn’t act like they did. That drunk driver did.”

Mr. Gingham worked his jaw back and forth. “Excuse me, son? Did I just hear you weigh in on something that doesn’t involve you? ‘In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise.’ Proverbs, 10:19.” His rebuke was swift. Deadly, almost, in its pointedness. Cobra shut his mouth but stared the old man down. The attacks on Gen were getting to be too much.

“You don’t have to defend me to them,” Gen said quietly, picking at her green beans. “They won’t hear you. They won’t understand.”

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