Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

The past two weeks have been far more normal than anything I ever thought I’d get at Carter. Between classes, studying, and staying in touch with family and friends, three-times-a-week chapel services feel more like just another thing than they do an imposition. I make sure to call my mom at least every other day, because if I don’t she’s certain that I’ve run off and joined a convent. Which isn’t even something people from here are inclined to do. That I now know that distinction makes me smile. Yes, it certainly seems that the initial culture shock is wearing off. Or into me. I’m not sure which, but Parents’ Weekend is a mere two weeks away, and I can rest assured that if I’m a wildly different person than Mom dropped off, she’ll tell me.

“You’ve caught on really quickly,” Asher remarks as I tie on my apron and prepare for my fourth shift at Word.

“Thank you.” I smile as I fill in the timesheet.

“Things going okay up on the hill?” He follows me as I make my way from the back room to behind the counter.

The hill is often used by Asheville locals to refer to Carter University. It does, in fact, sit up on a hill, which opens it up to all sorts of Biblical jokes. City on a hill, and all that.

Quickly, I scan the cafe, grateful for the lull in customers so I can have a chance to converse with Asher. “It’s going well so far,” I answer, picking up a rag and looking for something to clean.

Asher’s mouth turns down in that surprised, interested sort of way as he nods and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Cool.”

I stop what I’m doing and lean my back against the counter. “Why are you being weird?” For the last two weeks, Asher’s been completely business-like, never mentioning my enrollment at Carter except when making out my schedule or in shooing me out the door if I’m running late so I don’t miss my curfew. His sudden interest seems a bit out of place.

He lets out a laugh, throwing his head back, giving me full view of his Adam’s apple. His neck is so thick it’s a wonder his shoulders can support it. “I’m not being weird.”

“Look,” I sigh, “if you want to pick on me about going to Carter, just do it. I’m used to it.” I gesture to the cafe, indicating my new resilience to the matter, thanks to the patrons of Word.

Of course, as the new girl, I’ve been subject to lots of “get to know you” questions from the rest of the staff and regulars at the coffee shop. I try to get my educational institution out of the way immediately, so they can get on with their “Hey, angel,” and “Thank you for my blessed coffee,” remarks.

Asher’s face darkens, however, and rather than spearing me with well-crafted Bible quips, he goes on the defensive. “What makes you think I’d want to tease you about where you go to school?”

I arch an eyebrow, unconvinced of his wounding at my words. “Because it’s ridiculous.”

“Then you shouldn’t go there,” he challenges. “Frankly, I haven’t figured out why you are there.”

Both eyebrows raise as I drop my mouth open. “Why? Because I don’t wear a Jesus pin or try to save your customers? There’s a lot more to being a Christian than smacking people over the head with your Bible, Asher.” While I haven’t seen a ton of evidence of this among the students of Carter, it’s there. Especially in my super gentle RA, Maggie, who constantly motivates me to do the right thing, quoting scripture to encourage, rather than condemn.

Asher’s face breaks into a smile and he smacks my shoulder. “There she is. I thought you’d gone soft on me already after three weeks on the hill. Keep that fight, girl. It looks good on you.”

My cheeks heat, though I’m certain he’s not flirting with me. Asher is far too professional to engage in anything like that. “Thanks,” I mumble.

He tilts his chin. “Customer.”

Turning, I find Jonah at the counter, All-American heartbreaking smile on his face. “Hey! I was wondering if I’d ever see any of you while I was working. Who’s with you?” I crane my neck to see if I spot any of our “group,” but don’t see anyone I recognize.

Jonah points to a far table, where two guys wave. “John and Matt. They’re on my floor, too.”

“What,” I chuckle, “Mark and Luke were busy studying?” I slap my hand over my mouth as Jonah cracks up over my very own Gospel joke. “I promise I’m not that funny,” I assure him. “You just bring it out of me, I guess.”

“Well, I like it.”

Jonah orders and moves to the end of the bar while I get busy making the drinks. Things with Eden and Jonah are in a holding pattern until Eden stops being twelve. No, really. The poor girl is awfully insecure for being such a freaking knockout, and each time we’ve discussed me moving forward with setting something up between her and Jonah, she begs me not to. “Not yet,” she says. Apparently she’s not ready.

In my high school, a girl like Eden would not only have her pick of guys—she’d take that pick of guys. While I appreciate the naiveté around the whole dating scene here at Carter, Eden seems to truly believe she’s not good enough for Jonah, and that ticks me off. Because, while Jonah may walk and talk like a perfect Son of God, I know he’s not. He can’t be. He’s just a confused kid like the rest of us. To Eden, though, Jonah is perfect. Maybe it’s best that they’re not currently dating after all. It’s an esteem neither of them would be able to live up to. An almost too-perfect couple.

“Here you go.” I hand Jonah the lattes and a smile.

He smiles back and thanks me politely.

Sigh. He and Eden really would be perfect together. If such a thing were to exist, it would be between them.