Mitch Stiles

“If only my husband had raped our producer. That was basically what Doug had said that night - what he had roared - for hours and hours. If only his stupid little son had raped our stupid little producer. If that had happened, it would've been over with and forgotten in two weeks. But a predatory woman? Unthinkable. A good Christian mother and wife who took what she wanted without asking?

Kill the witch. Burn her.”
― Caro Claire Burke

“After all: What were good Christian men if not experts at making their good Christian women vanish from the world?

How boring. How deeply and utterly unfair. I did everything I was supposed to. I had the children and married the man and created a universe for all of us to live in, and what was I going to get for it?

Murdered, apparently. Featured in some future documentary about the latest pregnant woman to break her neck in a ditch somewhere. Caleb might go to jail for a year or two. Probably not. Regardless, he would be remarried within the decade. He'd have a second round of kids.”
― Caro Claire Burke, Yesteryear

“I spoke to Ben about it-"

"Ben, like Abigail's boyfriend? Why?"

"Well, honey. He's a pastor. He has the ear of God. And do you know what he did when I told him?"

"No." It was becoming quite clear to me that I would hate Pastor Ben if I met him.

"He took my hands firmly in his, and he said God loves me anyways. And he thanked me for raising Abigail to be such a strong, loving woman. And I thought - well, I thought that was very nice of him to say."

My eyes were unseeing in the darkness. As if my life could get any worse at this moment, it was now abundantly clear to me that a consortium of liars and scammers had conspired to brainwash my sister and mother. A woman therapist, a modern pastor. Snake oil salesmen, both of them: encouraging divorce, sanewashing infidelity.

"These people are taking advantage of you, Mother," I said quietly. "They're mining your weaknesses. It's so obvious. You've always been too nice."

There was a long silence here. I expected my mother to hem and haw, to say, "Oh, it's nothing like that." But then she did something altogether different. She said slowly, and with obvious discomfort, "Do you know what, Natalie? I- I don't think I am too nice. In fact, I'm very proud of how nice I am. I think it's a good thing. And if I'm being honest, I'm very disappointed with how not nice you are."

"Mother! You have no idea how hard things are for me right now, and if you would just listen to me-"

And here is where the strangest moment of my entire life happened: my mother, that good Christian woman, snapped.

"No! You listen to me, young lady. This is your problem! This has always been your problem! You think kindness is some silly frivolous side virtue, when it is in fact the whole damn thing!"

I'd never heard her say a curse word in my life. "Mother," I sputtered again, "I just-"

She roared in return, her anger vibrating through the phone: "WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO BE KIND?”
― Caro Claire Burke

“My mother told me Abigail was seeing someone. "A pastor, actually. He's helping her study for her GED."

"A pastor," I said, and laughed. "What kind of pastor would date a single mother?"

"Well." She sipped her coffee. "We've been going to a new church, actually."

"A new church?" My mother had gone to the same church for my whole life. "What do you mean, a new church?"

"It's very... hip. This pastor, his name is Ben - he doesn't believe divorce is a sin. And he thinks - well." She leaned forward and said quietly, "He feels very strongly that the gays should feel welcome, just like anyone else."

I said nothing. Just looked at her, waiting for her to add her own opinion. Which surely was different than Pastor Ben's opinion.

Instead, she shrugged and said innocently, "His arguments are compelling.”
― Caro Claire Burke