Karen nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m afraid. And I’ll understand if you don’t want me to come with you.”
“Why do you want to leave?” asked Stella.
“I want to be part of the new world, and I believe that means I need to go with you.” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “It’s as simple as that.”
Stella turned to Mercury. “It’s your decision.”
Mercury sputtered mid-sip of the excellent red and almost snorted it out of her nose. She swallowed quickly and stared at her best friend, “Mine? Why mine?”
“Don’t know why. Just know it is.”
“’Kay, well, I only have one question.” Mercury turned her gaze to Karen. “Will you be proselytizing?”
“Do you mean praying for and with people?” Karen shot the question back.
“No I don’t mean that. As you know very well the definition of proselytize isn’t about praying for or with someone. It’s about converting others’ beliefs to your own. Will you be doing that?”
“I assume you won’t allow me to come with you if I say yes.”
“More than that,” Stella said. “If you lie, we will leave you wherever the hell we are—even if it’s on the side of the road. We have no space or patience for liars. Just be honest, Karen. Tell the truth. It’ll come out eventually anyway.”
“Fine. I will only share my faith with people who ask about it. That is a truth I can live with. Can you, Mercury Rhodes?”
“Yep. Easily. That’s how I live my life. How many years have you known me?” She leaned forward and spoke earnestly to Karen, willing her to understand.
“I’m not sure. Eight or so years, I guess,” said Karen.
“It’s been over a decade,” Mercury said. “In that decade have I even tried to convert you to Paganism?”
Karen jerked back like Mercury had slapped her. “No! That would be inappropriate.”
“And yet you have—over and over—made references to your religion and to the fact that I’m going to go to hell unless I believe as you do. That, Karen Gay, is actually inappropriate.”
“And rude,” said Stella, nodding.
“And disrespectful,” said Jenny.
“I agree. And I’m Christian, from a family of faith-filled, church-going, strong, blessed black women,” said Imani.
“Adults are so ridiculous about religion.” Gemma took a long drink of her wine and shuddered slightly.
“What do you mean, Gemma?” Karen asked.
“Well, your lives are usually screwed up. Um, no offense, ’cause I don’t know you guys super well yet, so I’m just talking about the adults I’ve known, but that’s what I’ve seen over and over. But instead of, like, working on themselves, adults are real quick to tell other people what they’re doing wrong instead.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s stupid.”
Mercury barked a laugh. “You know, you’re absolutely right, Gemma.” She met Stella’s gaze. “Let’s change that in our new world.”
Stella lifted her glass and clinked it against Mercury’s. “Agreed.”
“Karen,” Mercury said, “you may come with us.”
“Thank you.” Then Karen added slowly, carefully—as if she had to search to find the correct words. “And I will try to be respectful of everyone, no matter their faith.”
“That’s all we ask,” said Mercury. “And once you practice respecting other people—no matter their faith—I think you’ll realize that it’s easier and a lot less stressful than trying to make everyone fit into your mold.”
“She means what works for you doesn’t have to work for everyone. And that’s not a bad thing,” said Gemma.
“You’re a smart kid,” said Stella.