Her husband decides to quit his job as an accountant to work at the group’s new soup kitchen full time. It’ll be fine, she tells herself. Her salary is enough to pay the bills, and he seems so much happier now. Who is she to take away his newfound sense of purpose?
Then, she starts finding the bank statements. Part of her is glad they never agreed to get joint accounts. All his savings start bleeding into the coffers of this group that calls itself “The New Era.” She knows what it is, but she can’t bring herself to say it.
Her husband says he still doesn’t believe in the religious stuff, but he starts to look at her like she’s a heretic. She calls around to see if there’s anything she can do, but everyone gives her the same response: “He’s a grown man; he can make his own decisions.” His mother tells her that she should be proud of all the good work he’s doing, dedicating his life to take care of the poor and elderly.
Before long some of the members of the group start talking about moving out to a compound in Arizona that The Father wants to build. Her husband says that he isn’t sure what that has to do with charity, but that he understands why everyone wants a place of their own. “People can be so judgmental nowadays,” he says.
Then one day, it happens: “Maybe there’s really something true about all the God stuff,” he says.
“I think you’re in a cult,” she tells him, and she can feel it crack the rift between them wide open. By the end of the month, they start signing the divorce papers.
She starts smoking again the day his mother calls, months later, begging her to stop him from moving out to the Arizona desert with a bunch of crazies. She tries to call him, but he’s blocked her number. She’s never considered herself a religious sort of person, but she prays for him. She prays for all of them.