Trinity (33)

Chet takes me to meet a woman named Jessica. The rest of the group goes off to pray or something, I’m not entirely sure, but since I’m new here, apparently it’s procedure to have a one-on-one talk.

I’m afraid that it’s going to be like confession, because I hate confession.

Jessica has me sit down on a weirdly squishy chair that’s kind of like a beanbag, and pushes a small bowl of candies across the coffee table towards me. She sits on the other side, her legs crossed, a pleasant smile on her face. A notebook sits in her lap, and I wonder if this is what therapy sessions are like.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trinity.” She tells me

about her role here at YRJ. Apparently she’s here to help me on my spiritual journey. “Will you tell me a little about yourself?”

I shift in the chair--why is it so uncomfortable?--and wet my lips. I hadn’t really anticipated any one-on-one sessions. I thought this would be more like religion class, but without the tests.

“I’m, um, a ninth grader at Saint Paul’s,” I tell her. What does she even want to know? What’s even interesting about me, anyway?

Her eyes light up. “I know we have a few others here that attend Saint Paul’s. Do you like school?”

I shrug. "Sure, yeah. It’s pretty good.”

“You like the classes?”

I’m not sure why this is relevant, but I say, “Yes.”

“And do you have quite a few friends there?”

I scrunch up my face for a moment. How many is ‘quite a few’? “Uh, yeah. I do.” I’m smart enough not to tell this random woman that I don’t have that many friends, because adults always think that’s a bad sign.

She seems to think my answer is a bad sign regardless, and her smile thins. “Do you find it hard to make friends?”

I’m not expecting this question, and so she tricks me into saying, “Sometimes. I mean, no. I don’t know.”

She nods, like she’s expecting this answer. She consults her notebook. “I see your parents signed you up for YRJ. Do you know why?”

I do, because I filled out the form. “I'm not sure...” I say.

“They wrote ‘to try new things’.” I’d thought that was a clever answer at the time, but she makes it sound like a prison sentence. “Do you struggle trying new things, Trinity?”

I swear this beanbag is eating my whole, and every time I shift the chair makes a loud crunching noise, and I’m trying to stay as still as possible. Jessica is waiting for me to speak. “Hm,” I hum eventually. I was supposed to say ‘no’, but I couldn’t get the word out.

She leans in a little. “It’s ok to admit when things are hard. That’s why we’re here, to acknowledge our flaws, our sins, and become better people, become closer to God. Right, Trin? Do you go by Trin?”

It’s then that I decide I don’t like Jessica very much.

I think she senses it, because she waves a hand in the air. “It’s ok if you find it hard to talk about all this stuff. This is only your first day, after all! Here, candy break?” She holds up the candy bowl. I take one, but don’t eat it. “So, I’d love to hear more about you. Saint Paul’s! Good grades, I assume? And friends, as you said, that's lovely. A boyfriend, yet?”

I think I pale, and she laughs. “No? Well, that’s alright. You’re still young! A pretty girl like you, I’m sure you’ll have a line of boys trying to marry you one day. What about your family, then? Any siblings?”

I’m not sure what this new chatty approach is, but by the end of the session, she's somehow gotten me to spill pretty much everything about my family and friends and classes. The only things I make sure to leave out are Pearl's name and absolutely everything having to do with Amber or Kelly.

When I stand to leave, I realize my right fist has been clenched this entire time. In it, I’m holding the candy I’d taken. Opening my fingers, I see now that it’s completely melted, the wrapper torn, a smear of darkness across my palm.

. . .

I’m escorted out of the ministry center and into the church next. Our Lady of Guidance isn’t much like Saint Paul’s, but it makes sense; Saint Paul’s property is mostly school, not church. Our Lady of Guidance is huge, in comparison, and more modern on the inside.

All the other YRJ kids are seated in the pews, spread out so no one’s sitting close enough together to talk. I can see a few kids making faces or hand signs at each other, though.

We're meant to silently pray, and have the option to go to confession. After a while one of the group leaders stands at the lectern and reads the bible. Then we go back to sitting and staring at the altar.

After an unknown amount of time, they tell us to stand up. I do, and put my kneeler up silently. I wonder if Pearl’s been writing in head, like she always does during chapel at school. I can see her, but she’s too far away to ask.

. . .

Small group discussions are next. They’re strange, to say the least. Chet and Molly introduce me to the group, and I say very little. They don’t really pressure me to talk, which I’m relieved about.

They go around the room, letting the other kids speak. There’s six of them. Patrick tells everyone about his extraordinarily average week, but in excruciating detail. Jaqueline tells a story about her best friend coincidentally calling her at the exact moment she needed to talk to someone about her boyfriend troubles. Jaqueline believes that this is a sign of God’s work in the world, and Molly encourages her to tell it to the whole YRJ group next week.

Ben, after some coercion, wearily tells the group about his dad’s continued alcohol problem, then tries to inconspicuously wipe tears off his face. From everyone else’s unphased reactions, I get the feeling that he talks about this often.

Katy refuses to speak, and Danielle tries to tell everyone about a coat she shoplifted, but Chet stops her by placing a hand on her arm and whispering something in her ear. In the end, she talks about how much she hates math. And physics. And history, and English, and I think she ends up listing every subject.

Then they all look at me, and Chet says, “Trinity, would you like to share a story with the group?”

And I wouldn’t like to at all, and my armpits are sweating, I think, and I croak out, “Sure.” And I’d like to bang my head on a wall–or better yet, hide–but instead, I tell them that I got the grade back on my English paper and my teacher had really liked it, and that I had been worried about it, so I'm glad I did well. I hadn’t actually been that worried about it, but I would have been if I hadn’t been worrying about a lot of other things all week.

.

After that we eat some snacks, play some games, say some prayers, and I have no idea what time it is, but eventually I’m told small group time is over. Molly takes most of the group in one direction, while Chet pulls Danielle and I aside.

Danielle tells me that it’s meal time for us, because we’re not staying the night. Everyone else eats later, according to her.

I hadn’t considered that we would be split up this way, and that I won’t get to eat with Pearl. And in this building, there’s no computer lab, and no Maggie either. Once in the eating area, I feel like a new kid again, like I’m in third grade. I don’t know who’s nice and who’s not, who would let me sit next to them and who wouldn't.

But that’s when Amber enters. I’m standing with a tray of food, and she hasn’t gotten hers yet, but she sees me and waves her arms. “Trinity! What the actual hell are you doing here?” I can tell it’s a genuine question, but something about her tone also makes it sound like a warm greeting. Only she could pull that off.

A brunette in a plain dress and a cross necklace is standing next to Amber, and she quietly chastises her. I can’t tell if it’s her group leader or just another YRJ kid. As I'd expect, Amber ignores her.

After a moment, I’m sitting next to Amber, who’s just gotten her mashed potatoes. The seats around us are vacant. I wonder who she normally eats with.

She stares at me like I have three eyes, and I duck my head and spoon potatoes into my mouth.

“Did you figure it out?”

I pause, and glance up at her. “What?”

She points at me. “Your whole deal. Ace? Lesbian? Something else?”

Her voice is loud. Way to loud. The room is filled with chatter, but someone could hear. Chet is two tables away. Danielle is walking towards our table, oh god, she’s probably heard. Is she going to say something?

“Stop looking around the room. Christ, what are you so paranoid about?” Amber flicks at her tray, and a glob of mashed potato hits my chin. Danielle walks by our table without a glance and sits down somewhere behind me.

I lock eyes with Amber and wipe the food off my face with a finger. She’s cackling. “Can we not talk about this here?” I murmur across the table.

“Well they’re not gonna let us talk about it anywhere else, so this is your chance.” She shovels a spoonful of food into her mouth and shrugs at me.

“I…” I don’t know where to start. “No, I haven’t figured anything out.”

“And are you still fighting with Pearl? What was that about?” I hesitate, and Amber shakes her head. “Never mind. Right. Not my business, probably. She still hasn’t texted me. Tell her I’m sorry again?”

I trace a pair of initials someone has carved into the tabletop. ‘S+M’, with a heart around it. “She was mad because… well, I’m not sure, but I couldn’t comfort her after… after you.”

“You’re fighting because of me?” Amber’s eyebrows have lifted to her hairline, almost.

“Not exactly,” I amend. I glance at her, then down at my food again. “What really happened?”

Amber pushes her plate away and folds her arms. “What did Pearl say?”

I shift uneasily. “That you didn’t want to, uh…” It takes everything in me not to scan the room. “Kiss her.” I whisper.

Amber scratches at her arm and looks away from me. “Alright. That’s pretty much what happened. Anyway, do you want a cookie? They just set out cookies.” She’s shifting her jaw. She looks almost nervous.

“Do you like her?” I blurt out. It’s not even quiet, I just say it.

She chuckles and rubs a hand across her face. “God, Trinity, you have no concept of ‘like’ do you? Yes, I fucking like her. Why do you think I keep begging you to talk to her for me?”

I still don’t fully understand. And Amber’s eyes are glinting in a strange way, and somehow that spurs me on. “Then why didn’t you kiss her?”

Amber inhales deeply, tipping her head back as she does so. She breathes out and looks me dead in the eyes. “You can’t tell Pearl this. I haven’t told fucking anyone, other than people online. And–!” She holds up her pointer finger and pokes it under my chin. My heartbeat quickens. “I don’t take opinions on this, so keep them to yourself.”

She pulls her finger away, and it’s not much of a weapon, but I believe that Amber could deal some damage if she tried. I nod silently.

Her jaw works again, and I’m still surprised that anything could get her so agitated. “I don’t date. I try to be upfront about that. I hang out,” Her eyes flash. “Hook up. But I don’t date. I could, but I don’t want–I don’t do romantic relationships. Hence, aromantic.”

“Oh.”

Amber shushes me more forcefully than necessary. “I’m not selfish, ok? I’m not trying to be. I just know, in the long run, it’s better that people like Pearl don’t get involved with someone who won’t…” She looks away and scratches at that same spot on her arm again.

“People like Pearl?” I repeat.

“People who want to fall in love. People who do fall in love.” She speaks bitterly.

“I thought you were…” I start. Amber says nothing. “Lesbian,” I whisper.

She folds her arms. “I’m both.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I tell her I’ll take a cookie. She stands, and, while she’s away, I test the shape of the word in my mouth, speaking so quietly that even my abandoned mashed potatoes wouldn’t hear it. “Aromantic.”

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

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(previous part: https://theprose.com/post/451408/trinity-32)

(next part: https://theprose.com/post/452983/trinity-34)