CW: There's some religious homophobia and internalized homophobia in here. Nobody's trying to hurt anyone, but the main character is a Red Evangelical speaking to a pastor she trusts who happens to be homophobic on religious grounds. He's not a foaming-at-the-mouth hate-spewing reactionary, but he does regard being gay as a sin and has a regressive and unintentionally bigoted perspective on it, so it seemed worth noting.
Dakota had put Peridot to bed, and now she found herself in the guest bedroom. She looked at the cross which hung on the wall. "Oh, Lord, please help me find my way. 'Lead me not into temptation', and all that stuff," she said. On her nightstand was a NIV Bible. She held it like a pillow, and it sat against her breast like armor.
Only her night table lamp was on, and it gave the room a soft amber glow. "I just feel lost, Lord," she said to the cross. "You get what I'm doing? It's...It's all Christian." The lesbian, premarital, polyamorous sex is Christian, she thought to herself with derision. "Lord, Jesus, I love you, and all this time I've tried to follow your example.
"I gave companionship to a sinner, I did what I could to help Kendra recover after rock bottom, I even found a way to give Peridot God." By pretending to be Satan as a kink? a voice in her head asked. "I know it ain't, you know, standard, but...It ain't Satanism. She worships me, and I worship you. I...I guess that's idol worship, isn't it?" Dakota sank into her bed. The clock said 12:12 AM. "I know what it says in Romans about girls being with each other. I know what the First and Second Commandments say. I know that my bisexual fake Satanism ain't right."
Her eyes birthed little droplets. "All I think is that I don't know what to do. I ain't someone who thinks that religion should just be whatever you wanted to do anyway. When my best friend started hanging out with the wrong people, I prayed for him, and he came back. I did bake sales, food drives, and looked forward to every Sunday school. I even became a commie, because of all the pain I saw and the early church and everything. Now, I've found a way to give the woman I love a purpose, to give her a happy life that don't hurt anybody, and I'm sinning. I'm sinning too goddamned much. I'm probably going to Hell. Please, tell me what I need to do. Tell me how to be good to you and also to be good to Kendra and Peridot." She brushed blonde hair out of her face and reached for a tissue. "The Satan-worship, at least, is an act," she said, knowing that Peridot didn't think so.
She waited for God to give her something, some flash of inspiration. It didn't come. She went to sleep.
She entered her church. It was a little place, made of brick. She entered its halls, walked over night sky-patterned carpeting, and finally found herself sitting on a little couch outside of the room with the pews. She texted Pastor Holland. The bearded man sat down across from her on another small couch. The walls were painted sky blue. On the wall was a picture of Daisy Holland, the deeply cruel "comedian" who had slurred her way to getting shot in the head by the Foxwoods Sniper.
We didn't get along often, but I pray that she's with God. She remembered him say it.
Dylan Holland gave a little smile. "Everything OKt?" he asked.
"I need your advice," Dakota said. "I'm begging you to keep it quiet."
"'Course," the pastor said. "What's up?"
"Look, I love Jesus. I love Jesus a lot," Dakota said.
"That wasn't in doubt," he said.
"I say it because I...I think I might be going to Hell." She started dumping everything. "So, aside from the whole bisexual girl-on-girl thing, my girlfriend and I have been doing this thing where I have her permanently hypnotized to think I'm the Devil and to worship me. It's what she wants, and it's been fun, but it's also idol worship and Satanism. On top of that, I was doing things with Kendra Oswald, and she's trans, and I'm pretty sure that's somewhere in the Bible too."
"This is pretty serious stuff," Pastor Holland said. "Well, I think you know what you need to do."
"What do I gotta do?" Dakota asked, her heart sinking to her hip.
"Well, it's good that you're turning to God on this one. Everyone makes mistakes, and when we mess up we have to turn to the guy who can make things right. How close are you and your girlfriend?" he asked.
"Real close, I've known her for years. She's in the wrestling scene. She's a booker."
He sighed. "Well, homosexuality is a sin. What would happen if you and her tried to make it more of a friendship?"
"II've given her everything: love, kindness, a place, a status quo, stability, compassion, and I really love her. I couldn't ever see her as anything but the woman I want to live with, and I know breaking up with her would turn her against God more than anything else—even fake Satanism."
He looked down at the floor. "...I know it ain't PC these days to talk about what the Bible says on homosexuality, but it does seem like you do care about her, and we saw what happened with the Miami camps when they tried to cure people of being gay. It didn't work. If you want my opinion, I think we all have some sins that we just don't have the power to do anything about. It seems like this might be one for you. All you can really do is try to be kind and live as Godly of a life as you can, and hope that you've done more good than bad. We're all pretty imperfect, but I do believe that God's mercy is big enough to include all of us sinners. What I will say is that the devil worship stuff is an issue though, and I really do think you can do something about that."
"...It would crush her if we stopped that," Dakota said, holding her head in her hands.
"Dakota, you can't let the Devil into your heart. Temptation starts easy and fun, but it gets darker the further you go down that road. Jesus forgives a lot, but teaching someone else to pledge her heart to Satan is beyond the pale. It just ain't right. God loves you, and you should love you, and getting someone to worship you as Satan isn't loving you or God. You get what I mean?"
Dakota nodded. "I'll talk to her. Thanks."
She prayed on it as she walked back from church, before knocking on the door. Peridot greeted her in a day collar and a too-large Spartakiad Wrestling shirt. "Mistress of Darkness!" Peridot said with a wide smile.
"Can we talk about that?"
Dakota sat at the kitchen table. "The Devil thing. It ain't right."
"But you are the Devil," Peridot said, worshipfully and ignorantly.
"Failsafe now," Dakota said, breaking the hypnotic spell with a trigger word established beforehand. "I can't do this Devil stuff. It's...God doesn't like it."
"I don't think God cares about our kink," Peridot said, looking off to the side.
"Well, he does when it's Satanism and idolatry. We need to figure out an alternative, okay?" Dakota said.
"I mean, I'm into the Satanism thing, but I get if it's a problem. Why's it such an issue now?" Peridot asked.
"I've had feelings on it, and I talked to Pastor Holland. He said it was a problem, like I thought."
"Pastor Holland's a homophobe, though," Peridot said.
"He's a good man, and he knows his stuff. Even without that, I just don't think I can keep doing it. My faith comes before my kink. Look, what else are you into?"
Peridot drew an apple from the fridge and took a bite, speaking with her mouth open. "Well, angels aren't sexy."
Dakota giggled. "They ain't."
"Could we do, like, another god?"
"I think worshipping anything but the God is idolatry," Dakota said.
"Fine, what about just you?"
"Hypnotizing you to be owned by me?" Dakota asked.
"Yeah, being owned by a hot Southern girl is about as hot as being owned by the Devil."
"Is that a thing? Please tell me you're the only person from New Jersey who has a Southerner fetish," Dakota said.
"Look, it's the accent and the religiousity and the pent-up sexual—"
"...You started dating me because of the accent, didn't you?" Dakota asked.
Peridot flushed. "It's also a forbidden fruit, thing? Like in Jersey everyone just kind of assumes Southerners are, like, another culture or something, and—"
"...Oh my god, this is a fetish, ain't it? Please tell me that you're into me for reasons other than my accent."
"I mean, I love you, duh, and I'd love you if you were also from New Jersey, but I'd be lying if I said that my first cartoon crush wasn't Applejack from My Little Pony. I promise I love you for you, though." Peridot hugged Dakota, having ceased to eat her foot.
"Love you too, you little weirdo," Dakota teased. "Now, let's re-hypnotize you."
