Trinity (32)

“Tomorrow? This is a little late notice, don’t you think, Trinity?” My dad sets down his coffee. It’s five in the evening and he’s still drinking coffee, as usual.

“I think it sounds nice,” says my mom from the kitchen counter. She’s opening a box of frozen fish sticks to heat for dinner, because it’s Friday so this is the only kind of meat we can have. I’ve never liked them, but according to my dad, no meal is complete without some form of meat. “I didn’t know Pearl was a part of a church group.”

“It’s not really a group, just a retreat,” I clarify, picking at the sleeves of my hoodie.

“Overnight, you said?” Dad asks.

“No, just Pearl is staying overnight. I’d just be there Saturday--tomorrow. And you’ll pick me up at eight.”

Dad sips his coffee. “Isn’t there some kind of program at Saint Paul’s you could attend? Closer to home, with kids you know?”

“Oh, stop it, David,” says Mom, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “It’d be good for her to meet some new people.” She turns to me. “I think it’s a great idea.”

I give her a little smile. “Alright. Cool. I, uh, I’ll just sign up online, then.”

Mom nods and Dad resumes reading his novel about World War II. I’m about to head up to my room when Mom says, “Trinity? I’m proud of you, by the way, for getting more involved in the church.”

I don’t look back at her, just murmur, “Thanks.”

. . .

It had taken ages to convince Pearl that I should come to YRJ. In the end, she’d admitted that it would be nice knowing I was also there, but that I had to only come for the day, no longer.

So, at eight a.m., my mom drops me off at St. Dymphna Church. The church building is tall and brick and clearly built ages ago--it has a bell tower and everything. The ministry center is more modern, an expansion so they can hold parish meetings and retreats and things, I suppose.

Once I’m checked in, the first thing they do is take me to a room full of cubbies. Chet, the guy who’s showing me around, points at an empty one. “You can leave your backpack in here, and your electronics will go in here.” He reaches up above the cubbies and pulls down a bin. It’s already got a handful of phone and watches in it.

I hesitate, and he smiles down at me. “First time here… Trinity?” He’s reading my name off the nametag I was given. I nod and slowly push my backpack into a cubby.

He smiles and puts a warm hand on my shoulder. Startled, I stare into his face. He’s got to be college-aged, so not significantly older than me, but old enough to have real stubble. He’s got muscles too, which are poorly concealed by his too-tight t-shirt printed with a big cross. If this wasn’t a church environment, I’d feel uncomfortable. But faced with his big friendly smile, I find myself smiling back. I don’t really feel like smiling, but I know that’s what he wants me to do, and he seems nice enough.

This is, as I expected, the reaction he’s looking for. He grins even wider, pulls his hand back (thank goodness), and bends down so that our eyes are level. I step back, wanting more space between us. I can see muscles flex under his shirt, and I frown. “Listen, I know it’s weird at first, not having your phone. But if you really need to check it…” He lowers his voice, leans in a little closer. “Just ask me.”

Clearly he doesn’t sense my pulse racing, my entire body taut and ready to flee. He just winks and shakes the bin, the phones inside rattling together.

As quick as I can, I extract my phone from my pocket and hand it over.

. . .

It’s a while before I see Pearl. First, I meet my other small group leader, because I’m lucky enough to have already met my first one. That’s right, it’s Chet. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he’s just a friendly guy, because how else will I get through the day? Molly, however, really does seem nice. She’s got round glasses and a soft voice. Something about her reminds me of myself, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

After all that, I’m put into a big room with tables and chairs and a piano in the corner. Currently someone is pounding away on the keys, playing a rendition of a pop song I recognize. It’s one with very un-church-like lyrics, but no one’s saying them, so I guess it’s allowed? There’s snacks, too, mostly breakfast bars and fruit.

It takes me a minute to spot Pearl. She’s sitting in the back, alone, head down as she peels an orange. Her shoulders sag, her hair hangs limply around her face. And her clothes--she’s wearing a blouse. Not a school blouse, but an off-white blouse tucked into what looks to be black dress pants.

When I sit across from her, she blinks up at me. Her expression is calm, level, empty. “I was half-hoping you wouldn’t be here,” she says. “To save yourself from the misery.”

I glance around to see if any of the group leaders could have overheard, and she chuckles. When I look back at her, she’s really smiling. “You know, I’ve really missed you.” A smile spreads across my face. “Is that dumb to say?” she adds.

I lean forward. “Of course not. I missed you, too.” She nibbles on a piece of orange peel, but I can see her grinning behind it. Grinning so big that it makes me laugh. She puts the orange peel in her mouth, across her teeth, and grins again so that her whole mouth is orange, just the peel showing.

It’s dumb, but I look around again, on instinct, and she bursts into laughter, the peel falling from her lips. And her laughing makes me laugh, and I’m sure no one else in the whole room is having a good time, but I laugh until my side is sore, and Pearl laughs along with me, and touches the toes of her shoes to mine underneath the table.

. . .

I don’t know what time it is, because there’s no clocks and they’ve taken away our time-telling devices, but breakfast ends, and the talks begin. They aren’t just any talks; they’re talks from the kids on retreat or the older (but all still young) retreat leaders. We hear three of them, and they’re all about coming to know Jesus, or doubting and re-finding their faith, or appreciating all the things in life God has given them.

We’re in a different room for this, one more like a chapel, or a stage. The speakers stand on the raised platform with a microphone, and the rest of us sit on the carpeted floor in clusters. There’s stained glass windows on the back wall depicting a flying dove and a seashell pouring water. I stare at them through all the talks, following the lines with my eyes, watching the light move as the sun grows higher in the sky.

To be honest, it’s just very dull.

And, I’m not allowed to sit with Pearl. We’re required to sit in our small groups, and Chet has sat next to me, and he’s blocking my view of Pearl and her group. I do turn around, though, after hearing someone hissing something, to find Amber and her new group a ways back. She throws her hands up and makes eyes at me that are clearly meant to ask why I’m here. I just turn back to face the front. I hadn’t really thought about her being here.

The third speaker is the only talk I really listen to. A boy stands up, and he’s lanky and probably a year older than me, and his hair stands up in messy spikes. He smooths it before speaking, but immediately ruffles it nervously as he begins his talk.

“Two years ago,” he says to the crowd, “I thought I’d fallen in love with my best friend.” He looks nervously over the crowd, then plunges on. “My name is Michael, and this is the story of how I truly discovered God’s forgiveness.”

There’s a snort from behind me, and someone whispers, “Quiet, Amber.”

Michael rubs a hand along his scalp again, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to tame his hair or not, but if he was it’s really having the opposite effect. “Two years ago, I had a best friend, Steve. I had other best friends, too, there were four of us, but I always liked hanging out with Steve the most.”

Michael glances around the room again before continuing. “I had thoughts--impure thoughts. And maybe some of you have experienced something similar. And I felt terrible for it, because I knew in my heart that I was sinning, but I felt like there was nothing I could do. At that point, I confided in one of my other friends, and through them, I found YRJ.”

“I didn’t want to go, at first. But this was the first place that I ever felt safe. Felt seen. People asked me about my feelings, and they didn’t judge me when I told them. Instead, they pushed me to do the right thing: speak to God.”

“I had felt alone, before that moment. I had felt like I was the only person on the planet going through this--this torment. But the truth is, God was listening that entire time. He was waiting for me to come back to Him, because I had been led astray. In giving into those impure thoughts, entertaining them and dwelling on them, I was making myself miserable. But when I spoke to Him…” A smile spreads across Michael’s face. “He forgave me. He showed me a different path, and He changed me.”

Michael tilts his head back, and I can’t tell if he’s basking in some kind of invisible heavenly glory or trying to combat tears. It turns out it’s the latter, because his eyes shine as he points at someone in the crowd. “Now, I’m blessed to be with Christine, my girlfriend, and I can honestly say that this is the happiest I’ve ever been. I used to live in such shame and secrecy. I had so many feelings bottled up, so much guilt. I’m finally free, now. And I’m finally the man that God made me to be.”

He wipes his eyes, and the girl, Christine, stands and hugs him. He holds her delicately, and it reminds me of Henry hugging Pearl yesterday.

Something about that talk leaves me with a bad feeling. Looking around the room, I notice a few kids wiping tears from their eyes. Others pick at their nails or stare into space. When I lean around Chet to look at Pearl, she’s sitting very still, her eyes downcast. I’m not even sure if her eyes are open at all.

I should have known from that talk that things would only get worse from there.

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(first part: https://theprose.com/post/432343/trinity)

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