Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

I’m so certain of it, I decide to act. “Jonah,” I call after him just as he turns away.

“Yeah?” He turns, still expertly balancing three cups of hot coffee.

“Oh,” I wave my hands toward him, “go drop your drinks and come back.” In the meantime, I fill another two orders, and when they’re up, Jonah is standing patiently for me at the end of the bar.

“What’s up?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. “I, um, have something I need to ask you.” I fiddle with my fingers, suddenly feeling twelve myself, and not blaming Eden one bit. Jonah’s quite disarming, what with his confidence and smile and insanely unmoving belief in God. So, yeah, if you like that sort of thing, Jonah is aces.

He chuckles. “What is it?”

One more deep breath for courage, and I finally look up. “She’ll kill me if she knows it started with me, but Eden really wants you to ask her out on a date.” I say all of the words at once.

It seems like it takes Jonah a minute to put them in correct order in his brain. He scrunches his eyebrows and clears his throat while a mysterious look swirls through his eyes. “Eden?”

He sounds surprised and I laugh. “What is it with you people?”

“You people?” His eyes bug out in amusement.

“Yes. You people as in you and Eden. Haven’t you known each other for, like, a hundred years?”

“Yes,” he murmurs as his cheeks turn red.

“And don’t you think she’s gorgeous?”

Jonah’s eyes flick to mine for a minute before looking sideways. “Kennedy,” he whispers in full embarrassment. It’s his turn to feel twelve.

“Sorry. Just…think about it, huh? You two would be perfect for each other. She sings, you play guitar—or whatever it is you’re doing with the worship team. She wants to be a pastor’s wife, and you’re like a Roland-in-Training.” I swallow hard over the last words, always second-guessing if I’m giving something away.

Jonah looks shocked as his eyes move back to my face. “You think I want to be a pastor?”

I sigh. “Oh, Jonah, before I came here, I assumed everyone came here for the purpose of leading a church. Cut me some slack.” Behind me, the bell rings, indicating an impatient customer. Can’t they see I’m setting up true love here? “Sorry, I gotta go. Think about it, k? And don’t you dare tell her about this conversation.”

Jonah looks shaken, but maintains his pleasant demeanor as he raises his hand. “Hand to God.”

“Thanks…I think.”

Jonah goes back to his seat and I return to my post to find Roland standing at the counter, looking quite amused with himself.

“Did you ring that bell?” I offer as my greeting.

He nods. “I did.”

Chelsea pokes her head out of the storeroom, where she’s been stocking coffee for the last half hour. “You okay out here, Ken?”

I nod and she goes back to her task.

“Ken?” Roland questions with a comical look on his face.

I shrug. “She’s the only one who does it. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t catch on.”

I like Chelsea a lot, and appreciate the non-Carter kids my age I get to talk to. She’s full of all kinds of questions about student life there, many of the same ones I had before enrolling. She looks at me like she’s viewing some circus sideshow and I manage to piece together some understanding for the way Joy looks at me if that is the way I look at her. Like she’s a freak.

“Do you want a drink? I know I told you to come so we could talk, but I’ve got like an hour and a half until my break.”

Roland’s eyes scan the menu behind me. “Just a coffee.” He shrugs as if the menu behind me is overwhelming. It kind of is.

I chuckle. “Yes, of course. Regular, decaf, half-caff?”

“Half, please.”

“Meet you at the end of the counter.”

Roland and I haven’t spent any time together in the last two weeks due to quizzes and studying and me wanting to take things slowly. He sends me texts regularly to check in with how things are going. Our conversations largely stick to coursework, and while I know he’d like it to go deeper, I’m thankful for the space at the moment.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Can we still talk on your break?” He takes the cup and begins sipping it black.

I shrug. “I guess. It’s going to be an hour—”

“And a half, I know.” Roland puts up his hand and smiles. “I’ve got notes to work on, so I’ll stick around here.”

“Cramming for tomorrow’s sermon?” I tease.

He laughs and adjusts the strap of his messenger bag across his chest. “I like to polish a bit before it all tumbles out of my mouth.” He toasts the air with his cup and makes his way to a booth in the back of the cafe.