Elvis

“Mary! So good to see you.” I look into the bright blue eyes of the pretty blonde woman in front of me. “How was rehearsal? You guys started rehearsals today, right?”

“Yeah,” I say shyly. Mary Baxton is the wife of Brad, New Beginnings Baptist Church’s youth pastor. I met them a few weeks ago when I first told Jayesh I’d visit and go to Bible Study with him, Carly, and Kale. “It was good.” My dad had given me a ride, and I’m here before my three friends, meaning I’m forced to make conversation with people I don’t know very well, yet.

“How are my two favorite Mary’s?” Brad asks as he walks up to us. He puts his tattoo-clad arm around the shoulders of his wife. But it looks very awkward as she’s about a foot taller than he is.

“I’m good,” I say with a small voice. “Just waiting on my friends.”

“While you’re waiting, why don’t you come with me?” Brad says slowly. “I have something I want to talk to you about.” He takes this moment to move his arm from around his wife’s shoulders, and they lead me to his office where Mary and I sit down on the red fluffy couch on one side of his desk, and he sits in his desk chair on the other side. “I know you’ve only been coming here for a few weeks, but I think you’d be a great addition to our mission trip coming up this Christmas.” The NBBC Youth Group is going to some foreign country on a mission trip. I had been thinking about asking my dad about it, but it’s one of those countries we’ve been hearing about in the news a lot. And not for its overwhelming positivity. There’s no way he’d let me go.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I’d have to ask my dad, and isn’t it pretty expensive?”

“Well,” Mary starts. “A donor has provided enough funds for one more student to be able to go without paying anything. Carly and Kale want to stay here for the holidays, but Jayesh is going. So there’d be someone going that you know.” I can tell they, for whatever reason, really want me to go. “We’ve been praying about who to ask, and I think God has led us to you.” I take this moment to look from Mary to Brad, their eyes practically burning holes into my head.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” I say. “I don’t even know for sure where I stand on this God business. I mean, I believe in God, but I don’t know that I’m willing to go to another country.”

“Just pray about it,” Brad says. I look through the big window behind Brad and see Jayesh come in. I take this moment to make my escape.

“I will.” Even though I haven’t prayed since my mom prayed with me when I was five before I went to sleep. One of those “Now I lay me down to sleep” prayers that every kid says. “Thanks for asking.” I give a polite smile and make my way toward Jayesh.

“Davis!” he practically screams, making me jump a little. He gives me a hug, and we make our way toward the couches in the Bible Study room. “What’s up?” he asks as we sit down, him at the end of one couch, me in the middle. Some people had already started to show up, so the couches were almost full. I found myself squished between Jayesh and Miranda, a pretty blonde girl from Coffeeville High. She gives Jayesh a side eye, but I try to ignore it knowing that he doesn’t hold it personally and understands, as he says, “that’s how people are sometimes.”

Ever since I started coming to Bible Study, I’ve gotten used to being around Jayesh. The positive energy he exudes used to annoy me, but I’ve gotten more comfortable with it the more I’m around him. The only thing I can’t understand is how positive he is when people look at him like he shouldn’t be in a church. Or anywhere for that matter.

“Not much,” I say, ignoring Miranda and turning toward him. “Brad and Mary have been trying to get me to go on the mission trip again.”

“You so should!” Jayesh exclaims. The only person who’s been trying to make me go more than Brad and Mary is Jayesh. “Have you asked your dad, yet?”

“No,” I say. “But I’ll think about it.” I vaguely start to notice the sound level in the room heighten, and so does the beating of my heart. With my anxiety, sometimes loud noise can get to me. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

I make my way down the hallway that holds the bathroom for the girls, and as I make my way in, I look in the mirror. Through it, I see Miranda, whom I hadn’t noticed had gotten up after I sat down, and Jenna, another girl from Coffeeville High with a dyed black pixie cut. I make a small, polite smile as I make my way into the stall. As soon as I shut the door, I start to hear Miranda and Jenna whisper. And though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I just know it’s about me. I keep my back to the door, making it seem like enough time has elapsed while trying to hear what they’re saying, and then I flush the toilet. At the sound, they stop talking and look at me through the mirror.

“Hey, Mary,” Miranda says, smiling sweetly. It’s weird, though. Her and Jenna’s smiles seem genuine. Maybe they weren’t talking about me.

“Hey, Miranda,” I say as I turn on the water to wash my hands. “What’s up?”

“We have a question,” Jenna says. Here it comes. Whatever they were whispering about me is about to be revealed, and I’m going to be embarrassed and have to go home. My heart starts pounding, and my face turns red. “What do you think about Jayesh?” I go over the question in my head as I let my heart slow and I dry my hands.

“He’s cool,” I say. “He’s my friend. Why?” And then it hits me. I bet they think he doesn’t belong here. My heart starts up again as I go through all the answers I could possibly receive from my question. I’ve never even stood up for myself before, but I can mentally prepare myself for standing up for someone else. Maybe?

“So you don’t like him like a boyfriend, then?” I look at Jenna in awe as I try to process everything in my mind. She likes Jayesh? Like, likes him? I take this moment to look at Miranda, and I see her face turn a scarlet color. Wait. Jenna doesn’t like Jayesh. Miranda does.

“Um,” I start, not sure of what to say. I mean, I definitely never though of him like that. But at the same time, I definitely never thought of him like that. I tell them that no, I indeed do not like Jayesh as anything other than a friend. But as I make my way back down the hallway toward the couches and the noise, I see Jayesh sitting right where I left him. The other Mary has taken my place and is animatedly talking to him, her arms going every which way as she tells some story. I take a good look at Jayesh. And I mean a good look. I look at his brown skin and his dark hair. And his muscles coming through his short sleeve shirt. They’re not huge, but there’s a reason he knocked me down the day we met.

As if noticing I was looking at him, he turns his head away from Mary to look at me. My eyes widen, and my heart races. I’ve been caught. I’m going to die. Right here. Jayesh sends a smile and a small wave my way. I return it and make my way towards the group. All of the seats are taken, so I sit on the floor with my back on Jayesh’s legs. We’ve been friends for long enough that we’ve been able to sit like this before without a problem, but now that I’ve looked at him like that, it seems awkward. But I try to push it out of my mind as Brad makes his way toward the group, and we begin our lesson. I open up my small book bag and take out the obviously old Bible and set it only my lap. It’s brown and leather-y with off-white wrinkled pages that fly out of it every time I try to open it up. I look at the rough exterior, and my eyes go to the gold cursive writing on the front.

Lucinda Davis

The Bible had belonged to my mom when she was younger. She and my dad used to go to church a lot. They stopped after I was born for some reason. I tried asking my dad about it, but he doesn’t really like to talk about it.

“Alright, everyone,” Brad starts. “We’re going to be in Romans tonight. Romans 10.” Everyone starts to open their Bibles. I grab a pen out of my bag, ready to re-write everything Brad says into my old, worn out Bible. I have a King James Version, so, obviously, I can’t understand anything when I try to go back and read what we talk about.

“Let’s start in verse thirteen.

“Scripture reassures us, ‘No one who trusts God like this – heart
and soul – will ever regret it.’ It’s exactly the same no matter
what a person’s religious background may be: the same God for
all of us, acting the same incredibly generous way to everyone
who calls out for help. ‘Everyone who calls, ‘Help, God!’ gets help.’”

I look up at Brad incredulously. Everyone? Like, legit everyone? No matter their religion? I had heard from my dad all these years that God hated people who weren’t Christians. The only reason I wanted to come to church was to get answers. Because Jayesh and Carly and Kale don’t hate people who aren’t Christians. But I guess he doesn’t. I guess God loves everyone?

Brad starts talking about that particular passage, but I want more answers, so I decide to read ahead to verse fourteen. And then I remember: I can’t understand the frustrating language that is King James. So I start reading it to translate, but it’s no use.

I don’t realize how long I had been trying to figure out what it says when I hear Brad say, “Alright, everyone! That’s it for tonight. I’ll see you all next week. Don’t forget to invite a friend.”

..:::..

After Bible Study, my dad picks me up, and after I make my way through the front door, I take off my shoes and walk to the living room. “Dad,” I start. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Bud,” he says as he goes from going up the stairs to sitting next to me instead. “What’s going on?” He puts his arm on the couch behind me as I turn to face him, putting my feet underneath me.

“I think I like a boy,” I say. “Like, I think I like like a boy.”

“It’s not that Kale boy, is it?” he asks. “Isn’t he gay?”

“Dad!” I scoff. “Kale is not gay. He’s just…” I look for the word to say. “He’s eccentric.”

“Jayesh, right?” He stares at me for a while, his mouth in a half-smile, waiting for me to tell him what he apparently already knows.

“I think so.” His smile turns into an amused grin.

“You mean you don’t know?” I sigh and put my head into my hands, saying the word daaaaaad in that annoying tone that teenage girls do. “No, no,” my dad continues. “I understand. I’ve been there. I was a teenager, too. You know, hormones and everything.”

“Nevermind.” I abruptly stand up. “I’ll talk to Nancy about it. I’d rather hear about her hormones than yours.” I start to walk up the stairs and to my bedroom when I stop a few steps up. I look at my dad over the railing. He doesn’t seem to notice as he’s turned on the tv and is now channel surfing. “Hey, Dad,” I say. He looks at me.

“Yeah, Kiddo?” he asks. “Decide you wanna hear about my hormones after all?”

“No.” I begin to speak, but I stumble over my words, nervous to say what I’m thinking. “I just. Well. There’s this mission trip. Brad, Mary, and Jayesh seem to want me to go, but I’m not sure if I want to. I mean, I’d like to. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“Come here, Bud,” my dad says as he pats the seat I was sitting in moments before. “Now, why, exactly, are you nervous?”

“Well,” I said, “Jayesh would be the only person going that I’m super comfortable with. And I know I’d have to talk to people about God. But I still don’t know that much about it.”

“Mary,” my dad says. He hardly ever says my name. He usually calls me Bud or Kiddo. And in this moment, I kind of miss the familiarity that comes along with a nickname instead of the name I gave to myself. “If you’re looking for me to stop you, I won’t. I’ve heard about this mission trip around town, and while I’m not thrilled about where you’d be going, I think this would be good for you. Get out of your shell. Go live life. You’re overthinking. Don’t let some silly thing like your brain stop you.” He takes his hand and ruffles my hair. “Now, I’m going to take a shower and then we can eat, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.” One of the things that bothers me the most is that some people don’t seem to understand how my anxiety is the opposite of a “silly thing.” As many times as my dad has tried to understand, he can’t. And I don’t know how to explain it to him. And although nothing has ever worked, I’ve been trying for as along as I can remember to “get out of my shell.” I’ve joined clubs. I’ve tried to make new friends. I’ve gone on trips. I’ve even tried walking up to someone on the street and introducing myself. So far, Drama Club is the only thing I’m a part of, I spend trips in a hotel room alone, and my only friends are the same ones I’ve had since kindergarten. And Jayesh Bhadia. But when Jayesh wants to be friends with someone, there’s no not being friends with him. His attitude is infectious. Well, almost. If only I could catch it.