Is Palmer going to die in the hospital, Mom?

No, Ashley.

How do you know?

I don’t.

That’s reassuring.

He’s on a ventilator because he can’t breathe by himself.

Dad’s breathing pretty easy since he’s been out on the golf course all day.

It’s a social distance business meeting your father needs to take to get the national contract to open up Pizza King parlors nation-wide. Bethany said.

Kissing some corporate billionaire’s ass isn’t going to save Palmer. I’m not going to that Godstock rally on Saturday, either. There’s something wrong with those people.

We are those people, Ashley.

You really believe in those lunatic fringe coronavirus conspiracy theories?

I believe in God.

Is God going to save Palmer?

Yes, he is.

Then why didn’t God get him an Ivy League golf scholarship?

God had something else in mind.

A ventilator.

No, a chance at a personal relationship with Jesus.

God decided that.

Yes, he did.

God’s a dude, of course.

Of course, honey.

If Palmer dies is it God’s fault?

Good Christians don’t blame God for what goes wrong in our lives, Bethany said.

What’s the difference between God and Jesus?

God’s the father.

Does he have a wife?

No, Jesus’ mother was married to Joseph.

While carrying God’s baby.

Yes.

Isn’t that, like, adultery?

No, it was an immaculate conception.

Remember you said that if I ever feed you the same story.

Ashley, please.

Do they all live together in heaven like in a commune at Coachella? Do they golf and eat pizza. Does Mary pop oxycodone? Does she need a prescription to get them? Is Jesus gay?

You need to count your blessings, darling.

So when Palmer dies, it won’t be God’s fault but if Palmer lives we thank God.

Yes, dear.

Early American colonists set women on fire as witches for thinking deeper than that.

Only our faith will help us survive this trial, Ashly.

I have faith, Mom.

Thank God.

I have faith Palmer’s going to pass and I’ll get his bigger bedroom he got unfairly just because he’s a boy, dad’s a white male chauvinist pig and you’re so high all the time you don’t even know what time American Idol is on.

Oh, my God, Ashley, how can you talk to me like that?

What do you expect from the class valedictorian?

You’re high. Ashley, I knew it. Have you been stealing my painkillers? Is that why you’re talking like you lost your mind? To torture me?

I have not been into your opioids. Palmer’s been selling them.

Bethany fell to her knees. She tightly entwined her fingers. She bowed her head.

Dear Lord, please carry us through this time of turmoil and pestilence. Please help Wynne close the pizza deal. Help me do my toenails all by myself without getting polish on the shag carpet. And you can send that little asshole Palmer to hell for stealing my pills. Let him tee off on fire balls instead of golf balls.

Bethany spun to face her daughter.

As for you, young lady, keep pushing and one day you, too, might grow up to get burned at the stake.