Gemotions

The pastor’s visit was supposed to be a friendly chat. Instead, it had become a strained interrogation. His son, Michael, had declared his intention to join the Church of Scientology, and the pastor, a close family friend, had been summoned to help talk him out of it. The ensuing discussion was a disaster. I, the father, found the sweat starting to bead on my forehead. I kept running a hand through my hair, a nervous gesture I hadn’t realized I had. The look on the pastor’s face was one of barely concealed disappointment, and it felt like a physical blow.