In your faith, heaven and hell are the same place, it depends on how your soul is judged. Your grandmother, one of the church’s great elders, wrote out a theory that to walk through the door is to have your soul measured. Hell and devastation for a soul deemed unworthy, the ability to walk between here and heaven for those deemed righteous. There were arguments to be made that it wasn’t so simple; the man who came and went the most was outwardly one of the biggest assholes in the community. He said that each time you came and went, it was a risk. You could bring things back. The one time you had tried to tell Opal a sanitized version of this while mildly stoned—that the universe’s, the creator’s, only desire was balance, so it seemed weird that heaven and hell were different places—you were awkwardly laughed off. It was strange to love someone who could believe the fundamentals of everything were so different from yours, but also exciting. Also frustrating. Also alienating.

And by twenty-nine, you are divorced. And despite being twins, the type of children that you have been taught famously always, always, want to be together, they are split on which parent they would prefer to live with. There is Ayanna, who wants to live with Antony, who loves her grandmother, who likes to go to the barn and pray for the good of the world, and who is considered a future seer in her church. She likes to hear the people say “and one day our love will walk back through the door.” And there is Olivia, who wants to live with Opal and keep going to the Catholic school. She was recently voted the most like Jesus in their second-grade class, which is a high marker of popularity and actual kindness, especially for a little Black girl. Olivia—who can tell her mother is disgusted seeing the door—hates being in the dusty church, is always uncomfortable with Grandma Owens, and would like to make their life a little easier.

You, like most overworked adults, find it easier to think of the children more like illogical employees than family members who are reacting to your behavior. And even that is another discussion that should’ve happened: Do you want your kids to respond more to love or authority? Which specific ways do you want to avoid fucking them up? There are too many homework assignments and missing socks and there’s not enough money to pay everything on time. You’ll have the conversation next month, when you have time to go out to dinner.