Jonah and I look at Silas with identical shock.
“What?” Jonah asks.
Silas shrugs, making eye contact with both of us as he speaks. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted so far this semester, guys. I’ve been working up the courage to speak out about it at the prayer meetings, but I’ve been afraid, honestly. I’ve acted so foolishly … I’m sorry. I think I was just overwhelmed by a lot of things when I got to school and I went into hyper-protective mode, or something.”
My mouth falls open a little as I watch Silas repent for being … Silas. Or, what I thought was Silas, which, it seems, was not.
“What changed?” Jonah asks, taking over for my inability to speak.
Silas folds his long, lanky body onto a nearby bench. Jonah sits on the other end of the bench, while I keep my feet in place, facing them.
“When I went home for break, I had a long talk with my dad. He’s been through all of this before—going out on his own and dealing with temptation, new situations … everything. We prayed a lot together and, you know my sister, man, she’s so great. Such a servant’s heart in her. She prayed with me a few times, too, and helped me see that I need to repent.”
Repentance.
Such a tenuous concept in the Christian tradition. While most people, Christian or not, recognize the term to mean admitting when one has done something wrong, most people—Christian or not—miss the second part. Changing the behavior that caused the need to repent in the first place. It’s not enough to say sorry. This. This is at the crux of my rapidly disintegrating relationship with my father. His in-friggen-ability to turn away from sin. Or his unwillingness.
But, in front of me, Silas exhibits what I deem to be the face of someone shoulder-deep in repentance. Humility rather than guilt, determination rather than condescension.
“I’ve been harsh and unforgiving,” Silas continues his confession as classes begin to let out around us. “And, in doing so, I’ve been putting blocks up between me and God, and me and you guys. Matt,” Silas stands and puts a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry. Even if I don’t agree with all of your words and actions, I shouldn’t have come down so hard on you every chance I got. I’ve been missing the point, man and I’m really sorry.”
I shrug, offering a firm handshake. “Thanks, man,” I reply. “I really appreciate it.”
“Me, too,” Jonah adds, standing. “We’ve all got to help each other, but I admit I haven’t done a great job of that myself. I should have pulled you aside and talked about what was going on with you, Si. I’m sorry, too.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Kennedy making a beeline toward us. Knowing her, she’s going to want to crawl inside my head and pick out all the reasons I’ve been standoffish in the last couple of weeks. I don’t want her to see what’s in there. She’s too good for that, and if she saw what was in there, she’d flee. And she’d be right to; my moods and actions have been inconsistent. While it’s unfair to her, I don’t really have any appropriate answers. So, I need to avoid her until I get my head on straight.
“I’ve gotta get going, guys. I’ve got Statistics now. See you at lunch?” I barely await their affirmative responses before turning back down the sidewalk for my next class.
A mass of students crowds the sidewalk full within seconds, and I hope to blend into the crowd and make it safely to my stats class without much fanfare.
“Matt!” Kennedy calls over the crowd. “Wait!”
Crap.
I try to ignore her, but the honest concern in her voice is too much to ignore. She may deserve better than me as a friend, but that doesn’t mean I have to prove it every chance I get.
“Matt, stop!” she pleads again.
To avoid a pileup of annoyed students in the middle of the sidewalk, I step to the side and lean against a large tree as nonchalantly as possible.
“What’s up?” I ask casually.
Kennedy’s face tightens as she pushes my shoulder. “Don’t what’s up me. What the he—ck is wrong with you? You haven’t stopped by the coffee shop when I’m working, and you were MIA from Bible study last week. What’s wrong with you? Did I do something to ... I don’t know ... offend you? Though I find that hard to believe since you’ve been staring at me all weird for the last week.”
“Sorry,” I blurt out faster than I can think about it. “It’s just … break was … not really a break, and I just had a weird conversation with Silas …”
Her face relaxes slightly. “About his transformation?” There’s a pleasant hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“He’s talked to you about it?”
She nods. “Once. But its all Bridgette can talk about. She was legitimately freaked before Thanksgiving, but, apparently things are all Kosher—or whatever—with him now, and we’re supposed to walk around and pretend like he hasn’t been a giant fuckwad for the last—” She slaps her hand over her mouth, stopping her words. “I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few seconds.