I Almost Worked for a Cult 19

Crisis Talks

This edition is going to be a bit dialogue heavy, lads. To make it more legible, I’m going to format it thusly:  M – is myself talking, H – is herself talking.

Clear enough?

Great!

M – Dude. What the hell have we got ourselves into?

She sighed and walked over to the window, debating whether to close the street facing blinds. These guys were freaks, but I don’t think they had a laser listening device pointed at that room at this particular moment in time.

H – Do you think they can hear us?

M – I don’t know, but if Jesus is everywhere, I hope he can keep his mouth shut!

We both laughed. It was badly needed to break the tension. It was either laughter, or a good weep.

M – This wedding dude. It can’t go ahead. It’s like some form of abuse, isn’t it?

She nodded.

H – Yeah, it’s really fucking mad. Look, it’s not happening, ok? We just don’t have to go through with it.

M – I dunno dude. This guy just doesn’t take no for an answer. Did you see the way he just pretended I wasn’t in the room when I openly challenged him? That was fucked up.

H – Well, he’ll have to take no for an answer. Otherwise he’ll have no teachers. We can always leave, you know?

M – Yeah, but what about money? What about a place to live and work? The school year starts next week!

We both let that sink in. We were caught between a rock and a crazy place. The old cliché says that beggars can’t be choosers, and the way our finances were at the time, we definitely were more in the beggar category than the chooser category. We still had our get out of dodge money. We could return to Ireland, take our “I told you so!” lashes, and try and pick up the pieces.

Even though the whole situation had gone well beyond bizarre, I didn’t want to go home. Mostly due to pride.

A sin.

I’d learned nothing since I started in Sunshine Academy. Not a fucking thing.

H – Ok. Let’s stick to our original plan. We won’t do the wedding. That’s not happening. Let Yun make suggestions and plans all he wants, but we won’t go through with it. We’ll sign our contracts, move in, and we’ll work Monday to Friday. We won’t get involved in any of this church shit.

M – But dude, do you think we’ll be left alone like that? I mean, they don’t seem like the type to respect people’s wishes. They are forcibly arranging our wedding after all. And we only met the cunts last week! They don’t even know us!

H – Yeah, you’re right. They are going to wreck our fucking heads. We just have to resist as much as possible.

M – I’ll break. I’m weak. I just want a hassle free life! You know I’ll fold.

H – No, you’ll be strong. We’re a team. If we let them get inside our heads, we’re done for. I’d say the worst that can happen is a slap on the wrists. We have the advantage here. They just don’t know it yet.

A slap on the wrists? I wasn’t sure about that. They seemed more like the “burned at the stake” kind of people.

I felt awful. I felt afraid. Most of all, I felt homesick.

The Ireland that I left wasn’t perfect. The wages were shite, the rent was high, the weather was damp, but apart from the odd over-zealous aunt – nobody was forcing us to get married against our will at home.

If the wedding went ahead, I’d pull the plug. Fuck it; I’d take the “told-you-so’s!”

We gave it a go.

After work we met Mrs Joy in the corridor.

J – There is a church gathering tonight. We want you to come.

M & H – No! We’re busy.

A united front. That’s how we’d win!

Next time: Moving on up

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