Charity beat her pen on her lips and furrowed her golden brows at Ezekiel. Ezekiel couldn’t imagine what was wrong with her and so he smiled pitifully at Charity as if she were some poor, dumb child who had never been taught the difference between a coral snake and a king snake. He fixed the collar of his white button-up shirt and ran his fingers through his raven black hair. Then he picked up an old, tattered bible and started flipping through it.

“C’mon sweetheart.” He said, “Don’ ye know the sign o’ God when ye see it? Ain’t ye been readin’ yer scripture? Look here— it says righ’ here; Mark 16:17-18. . .”

Ezekiel paused and took a deep breath. Then he began reciting the verse with his chin held high.

“‘And these signs shall follow ‘em that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.’”

Ezekiel closed the Bible with a triumphant smirk, and he looked down at Charity with his amber eyes. Charity was doodling on pieces of scrap paper that were strewn about her desk. She sighed, and her eyes flitted around her room. Her room was empty except for an old twin-sized bed with broken slats and an old desk that was falling apart. But she didn’t really mind that. If she could draw on the desk, that’s all she cared about. The sun shone through a window in her room onto her fair, freckled face and on her golden hair so that it glimmered. The air was humid; sultry. As she exhaled, small bits of dust went floating in the sunlight. She peered out the window and saw the rose of Sharon blooming in her yard next to a patch of ferns and hollies. Finally she looked up at Ezekiel with her big, emerald eyes.

“Why that’s a fine way to send yerself to kingdom come.” She said.

Ezekiel chuckled.

“Ain’t you right.” He said. “That’s why we oughta’ go.”

“No— That ain’t what I mean— I mean— thas’ jus’— thas’ jus’ not a good idea.” She murmured, gripping her pen tighter than before.

“How aint it a good idea?” Ezekiel asked, scoffing.

“You wan’ us to go to that church and get snake-bit? See, Yer sayin’ it’s faith but it don’ sound good to me. I— I really don’ think The Holy Ghost wants us to risk ourselves like that. . .”

“Well he wan’ed ‘em martyrs in Rome to risk their lives like ‘ey did.” Ezekiel stated.

Charity pursed her lips.

She had been dating Ezekiel for nine months now and she knew there was really no point in arguing with him. He had this way of always being right, especially when he wasn’t. He could sit there and tell you the sky was purple, and somehow at the end of the conversation you’d find yourself agreeing with him. And if you didn’t agree with him, you would’ve wished you had.

It took every bit of strengh Charity had to tell Ezekiel that she didn’t want to go to a sign-following church; that she didn’t think it was a good idea. She didn’t want to drink rat-poison, or get bit by a rattlesnake. She couldn’t say why—after all, she wasn’t intelligent like Ezekiel was—but she knew from the bottom of her heart that it was a bad idea. She didn’t want him going to the church either. But arguing with Ezekiel was like running after a frightened chicken in a cow pasture. There was really no point in trying. He always had some way of proving that he was right. Even when he wasn’t; especially when he wasn’t. Charity started twirling her feathered pen in her fingers and peered anxiously at Ezekiel.

“It jus’— it don’ feel right.” She said, tensing up a little and scooting further back in her chair. Ezekiel put his fingers on his lips. Charity noticed that his eyes looked yellow in the sunlight and that his olive skin seemed brighter than usual. He had sharp, Italian features that made his face look hollow when the sun was cast on one side of his face, and with shadows on the other side. He adjusted the sleeve of his shirt and bit his lip. Charity’s eyes widened and she suddenly stopped fidgeting with her pen and gripped it as if her life depended on it.

“But— but I guess we can go. . .” Charity stammered, barely loud enough to hear.

“I guess,” she added, “I— I guess if them martyrs are brave enough to be eaten, I should be brave too. . .”

Ezekiel grinned a dimpled grin with crooked teeth. He closed the worn bible and set it on the desk.

“I knew you was a smart girl, sweetheart. That’s why I love you. I always knew it; that yer so smart.”

Ezekiel cradled her golden hair and kissed her head.

“We’ll go this Sunday; an’ ye can meet some o’ my friends. They’re nice Christian folk.” He said, grinning.

Charity smiled sweetly, and she kissed him back. But as the dust flew through the air in the sunlight, and as the Robin and the Bluejay sang outside her window, she felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.