“I followed the word of God. It says, ‘I was a stranger and you invited me in. I was hungry and you fed me. I—’”

I put my arm on hers to interrupt her. None of her scripture ever made sense. Maybe it did to the others, but I just thought she sounded like a robot. It creeped me out, and I didn’t like it. “What was it like for you besides all the God stuff?”

She took a moment to think about her answer this time. “It was beautiful. Their purpose. The way they lived. Spoke. All of it. I’d never felt anything like it before, and it bonded us together. We felt like we belonged together, and Ray said he was responsible for us, that he’d never let anything bad happen to us.” Her eyes lit up when she said his name. They always did. “It was like falling in love. Everything else fell to the wayside.”

It hurt to be the “everything else,” but I’d asked her to tell me the truth, so I had to be open to hearing what she had to say even if I didn’t like it. “And Ray? What was he like?” I asked tentatively, not wanting to push too hard.

“He was charismatic.” She giggled nervously. “But it was more than that. He had this huge presence.” She spread her arms out wide. “It filled every space he went into. Being with him felt like a gift he bestowed upon you. Somehow he did it without being arrogant.” Her forehead crinkled in thought. “I don’t know how he did that.”

“Everyone loves the guy,” I said.

“Huh?” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

People had been fascinated with Ray since the story broke that Mom had been with Love International. They’d created Facebook and Instagram profiles in support of him. Countless of his followers had pledged their support of him, swearing there wasn’t any way he’d hurt Mom even if she’d been with them all this time, but I couldn’t tell any of that to Mom, since I wasn’t supposed to be looking at it. But I didn’t want to lie to her either. I eyed her bedroom door, which I’d made sure to shut behind me so that nobody could hear us if they happened to get up.

“I’ve seen Ray,” I whispered.

She grabbed me. “What? Where?” Her eyes skirted the room, like I might have hidden him in the closet or underneath the bed.

“On social media,” I said quickly, before she could get any more worked up.

“Social media? That’s the stuff on the internet?” she asked.

I smiled. Sometimes I forgot how little she knew about technology. “Basically.”

“And they had his picture?”

I nodded.

“Can I see?”