Chapter 46 – Sun. Dec. 11
That was a long night. I lay awake obsessing over what I would say, what would happen. When Sunday morning finally came I had to drag myself out of bed. The only light outside was a streetlamp shining on a fresh inch of snow. Dawn came late this time of year, and was still over an hour away.
On Sundays we got up, cleaned up, dressed up, and showed up at Bethany Lutheran Church. I think we mostly went to church because Dad knew it’d been important to Mom, and going to church was also a way to show everyone that even without her we were okay; he always made sure we had nice clothes that fit well.
Dad never acted particularly religious. He quoted the Bible sometimes – he quoted a lot of stuff – but he never did it to make himself look superior to anyone. Dave’s father did that – he’d basically tell you how pious he was. But Dad wasn’t devout – he just lived as if he was.
“Mornin’ Dad, g’mornin’ Sis.”
Dad was studying me intensely. I knew – so he knew, also – that I wouldn’t sleep again until I talked to Jess. I’d have to do it while he was at work tonight. It was going to be a long day.
“Daddy? Kimmy invited me over to study this afternoon. Is that okay?”
“No.”
Caught off guard, Jessie squeaked, “Why?”
“Her mom works late like I do, and won’t be home to supervise. I also know that Kimmy smokes – I’ve seen her – and I suspect she drinks, too. I don’t consider her a good influence.”
There was a time when that would’ve started a battle, but this morning Jessie just accepted his answer. There was no way she was going to prevail, and she knew it. I wondered if she’d go to Kimmy’s anyway.
When we got to Bethany, Reverend Adams greeted us. He and Dad chatted for a few minutes until someone else came in. Usually I perused the newsletter until the service started, mostly out of boredom. But today it sat untouched in the pew beside me.
My thoughts were far from church fare. They rattled and ground in my head like ball bearings in a blender, drowning out whatever spiritual message I was supposed to be absorbing about Job. I never understood that one, anyway.
After church, it was always brunch at the Honey Tree. It was the only time we ever ate out. The food was never as good as Dad’s, but again, I think he liked to show us off.
It was interesting to think he used to be Catholic.
“Dad? Why did you and Mom decide to become Lutheran?”
“Same reasons Luther did.”
“You think the Church is corrupt?”
“Cory, this’s a subject better suited to home, not a public place.”
Later in the truck I tried again.
“You pray before bed, right?”
“You know that I do.”
“So you really think there’s a God?”
“Cory, nobody can prove or disprove God, except in their own heart. I consider myself a Christian, but some might call me agnostic.”
“You believe there’s no God?”
He laughed. “No, no, Son. I’m not an atheist, just an agnostic. There’s a big difference. Atheism holds that the unprovable does not exist, or at least is irrelevant. Folks with religion believe that the unprovable does exist. Personally, I think it takes more faith to be an atheist than a believer, because I see lots of evidence of God in the world.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“I have deep doubts, but I also have some very strong suspicions. I guess you could say I have faith in spite of my doubts. I’ve learned a little bit of everything from Judaism to Zen, and found some truth in each, and the whole truth in none. Being agnostic just means I admit that I don’t know. I’m agnostic out of humility – I’m just not smart enough to know the mind of God or to grasp the unknowable.... and I strongly suspect that none of us are.”
“Daddy, that’s crazy. Of course there’s a God. I think you’re right that we can’t always know what he’s thinking, but I’m sure he’s there.”
“That’s wonderful, Bug. Mom was sure, too. I sometimes envy people of great faith; it’d make life much more secure and simple. But remember, a little humble doubt is important in these things. Being certain you’re right, that God is on your side? It justifies everything from persecution to suicide bombings. It’s dangerous if one goes too extreme in any direction.”
I decided I was agnostic. Dad was a good cop. He had good antennae, really good, but could distinguish the difference between his hunch and a fact.
After Dad dropped us off at home, I changed to sweats and a tee shirt. Walking past her room, I could hear Sis talking to Kimmy, saying she wasn’t coming over. Then they were talking about Joan, and how much better she’d look if she dyed her hair red.
“It’d make her look artsy, I guess. That and, please, just a little lip-gloss at least? Yeah, uh-huh. Oh, and did you hear that Donna got sent home again because her shirt was too short – no belly rule, you know? It’s like she does it to get noticed, and then she’s surprised when a teacher notices.”
I puttered around my room, wasting time, nerves jangling. I went down to the workshop. I made myself lunch. I did my homework. I played guitar. I procrastinated.
Finally, it was getting late. I couldn’t put this off any longer. Like a man to the gallows I trudged into the hall and stood at her doorframe. I thought of all those nights I’d stood in my doorway, wanting to say what I was about to.
It was already dark outside, and the only illumination came from the lamp on her nightstand. She was lying on her quilt, her bare feet in the air behind her, filling out a worksheet from history and occasionally looking things up in the textbook. She had on shorts and one of Dad’s old flannel shirts. It was baggy, faded, and worn thin, and in that soft light, she was totally adorable in it.
I still wasn’t sure if this was the best idea, but Dad was right, I couldn’t lie any more. I knocked softly on the doorjamb. She turned around and sat up on the bed.
“Sissy? I... I need to talk with you.”
“What’s the matter, Cory? You look terrible.” She frowned at me. I found that I couldn’t speak. “What’s wrong?”
“I need your help.” I slumped into her desk chair.
She waited, concern all over her face.
I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing... “There’s this girl.”
Jessie made a face. “Who?”
“A girl I like... who I like a lot.”
Jessie was resting on one hand gripping the quilt. “Who you like a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“Like a crush?”
“No, more serious than that.”
She held up her free hand. “Wait. Cory, are you telling me you’re, like, in love?” I could just nod. “Oh Cory, I don’t think I can help you with that. Maybe you should wait and talk to Dad.”
“I talked to Dad. He said... he said you’d have to try and help right now.”
After a long pause and a deep sigh, she said, “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Thanks.”
“What can you tell me?” I should’ve guessed that’s what she’d say, but it floored me anyway. I’d have to explain it later. Right now, I just need to survive this conversation.
“I’ve always liked her, but I want to be more than friends.”
“She doesn’t even know? Geez, Cory, why don’t you just tell her?”
“She’ll think my feelings are... inappropriate. It’ll embarrass her and wreck everything.”
“What kind of inappropriate? Is it an age thing? Is she, like, a teacher? Or a junior high kid?”
I shook my head. “Worse.”
“Special ed? Lesbian?” She paused, horrified. “It’s not Amanda, is it?”
I shook my head again.
“A guy? I give up – I don’t get it.”
“This is so hard…”
Her voice was soft and sad. “Cory, if that’s how you feel, you have to tell her.”
“I know.” The room was silent except for the blood rushing in my ears. “Jessie, I love you.”
“I love you, too, Cory.” Her voice was strained. “But you and this girl...”
“Jessie, I mean the girl, it’s you. I’m in love with you, and I always have been. Since the first day I saw you, I’ve loved you, Sis. I think about you all the time. I can’t imagine ever loving another girl like I love you. I know you’ve moved on, that you like someone else…”