Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

My parents and Mollie left Sunday afternoon, after attending university church services with me. I opted to just take them straight to the UC for services, rather than shove more Roland in their faces. Mom and Mollie were teary as they bid their farewells to me, and I promised Mollie we’d talk every day, either voice or text. And I started a countdown on my desk for the days left until I get to visit her at Yale.

Honestly, I didn’t like the UC service. It was as dry as the communion wafers we’re given once a month. I was so thankful Mom agreed to come with me, I didn’t even ask her how she liked it. While Pastor Falls didn’t directly preach out against homosexuality in his sermon, he referenced the moral fiber of America being under attack in Congress—even as we sat in the seats, he emphatically pointed out. Mom shifted in her seat and I just ignored it, grateful the CU/Real-Life filter I’m developing has kept me unaware of such developments in “the outside world.”

Is it a filter or am I just numb to it? The latter is significantly more detrimental than the former, so I resolve it really is time to attend the Bible study group with my floormates and the guys. It will be a good way, I figure, to talk “Bible stuff” in a small group setting that doesn’t affect my grades. I can ask questions of God, myself, and those around me, and hopefully engage in good discussion.

In theory.

As I fill my lunch plate with salad the Friday before the next Bible study, I spot a potential ally mindlessly stuffing a cheeseburger and French fries in his mouth. He’s sitting by himself, so I swoop in and sit across from him.

“You’re Matt Wells,” I say with a cheeky grin.

His huge brown eyes scan my face and he grins from behind his cheeseburger while he chews. “And you’re Kennedy Sawyer.” My last name sounds more like “saw” and less like “soy” coming from his decidedly delicious accent. He doesn’t sound like the stereotypical Southerner, though I’m learning that stereotypes are more personal than communal.

“Well. Seems our reputations have preceded us.” I’m fighting to ignore the heat in my cheeks. I don’t know how he knows my name. I’m certain we’re not in any of the same classes. And, even if we were, I keep a low profile in classes, not raising my hand much.

He shrugs. “I guess so.” He sets the burger down and leans back in his chair. “What’s up?”

Eyeing him, I’m relieved to see that, up close, he looks like every guy I went to high school with. Well, every jock guy I went to high school with. I’m sure his broad shoulders serve well whatever position he plays in football, and thick forearms make him look kind of like a giant in this dining hall. His hair is cut high and tight, like a Marine’s almost. Most notably, he doesn’t have the fresh faced, tender-footed look of most of the other guys around here. He looks like the kind of guy who swears, probably drinks, and has most definitely had sex. The problem, though, is my friends all think the same thing about him. And view it as kind of a liability. As if he’s some lost cause.

“I’d like you to come to Bible study with me tomorrow night.” When the words settle in his brain, Matt lets out a bellowing laugh that turns almost every head in our direction.

“Shh!” I chuckle. “It’s not funny.”

“Yes it is,” he says through laughter, wiping under his eyes. “I heard you were kind of out there, but this seals the deal.”

“I beg your pardon? Out there?” I’m instantly offended. “Who told you I was out there?”

Matt waves his hand and dives into his burger again, making sure not to speak until his mouth is brimming with food. “Look…” he swallows and continues, “if I don’t go to the Bible study with the team, I’m certainly not going to go with anyone else.”

I pull in my eyebrows and lean forward. “Who told you I was out there?”

“Strike a nerve?” He arches a thick eyebrow and grins.

“If it was Joy, I don’t care. But if it was someone else, tell me. Come on, we’re on the same team.” I pull out a mild sports analogy.

“What team is that?” he asks smugly.

“The normal people,” I whisper, less because I believe it, but I need him to believe me.

“Why are you here?” He takes a deep breath and leans forward.

“Here?”

“Carter.”

I’ve made it this far in the school year without anyone asking me directly why I’m here. If Matt really is on Team Normal, he won’t let me gloss this over.

I offer a mischievous grin. “I was tired of expectations. Valedictorians are supposed to go to Harvard, not Bible U.” As true as this statement might be, it doesn’t apply to me, though if Matt buys it, I’ll have to start using it.”

“Silas.” Matt blurts out after a few seconds of consideration. “He said he thinks you’re kind of liberal.”

I laugh. My cheeks hurt and I’m doubled over. Of course it was Silas. Poor, sweet Silas. I’m not mad at all. I mean, come on, I tried to get his sister to get her nose pierced. It probably scarred poor Silas for life.

“I’m guessing you’re not offended,” Matt asks wryly.

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

“What’s up Joy’s ass, anyway?”

“Matt!” My laugh is replaced by a high-pitched squeal.

He waves his hand again. “Look around, we’re the only ones for miles.”