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Whatever.
We take the first turn we can and slow our pace. “Thank you, John,” I say.
“Where’s your next class? I’ll walk you.”
“I don’t actually have class. I just said that to get rid of the creep.”
He laughs and guides me over to a bench to sit. He stares at our hands, our fingers interwoven. “I… I really wanted to deck that guy,” he says, shaking his head.
It hadn’t occurred to me what the encounter meant to him.
“I haven’t felt that sort of rage in a long time. It’s so foreign. And kind of scary.”
Oh shit. He stuck up for me and now regrets it.
I slowly untangle our fingers. “Well. I guess I would have been fine if you hadn’t intervened. I would have figured something out.”
His gaze snaps my way. “What? You think I would have let that jerk harass you? Are you kidding?”
He’s frowning at me and now I’m confused.
“Well, it’s just that you were saying, you know, you didn’t like getting all riled up like that…”
He nestles his fingers back into mine. “I don’t like getting riled up. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.” He looks off into the distance.
“I thought maybe you were sorry you got involved.”
He shakes his head hard. “I am not sorry I got involved. I am sorry that guy disrespected you, and that his behavior forced both you and me to do something we probably would rather not have.”
“I get it. When you’re bound for the seminary, I guess you look at things differently.”
“Yeah. Something like that,” he says, looking directly at me, a shock of his blond hair hanging down on his forehead.
“John, why do you want to go?”
He sighs, rubbing his free hand over his face.
Crap. Am I being too nosy? That was such a personal question.
While he’s probably been asked this dozens of times, he answers it thoughtfully. “I have felt… drawn to serving for a long time. But lately, I’ve been... questioning things.”
Shit. I’m to blame for that. I know I am.
He stares at our intertwined fingers. “To be honest, I’ve been groomed for this for so long, I don’t even remember if it was my idea or my parents’.”
“Your parents?”
He nods. “Yeah. None of my other brothers were interested in the priesthood, so my parents really leaned on me. Each generation of my family has sent at least one son off to receive Holy Orders. I’m kind of the default. Their last chance.”
“Wow.” It’s all I can think to say.
I know how hard it is to buck familial pressure. It sucks to go against the people you love. I do it every day. But I also know it would do no one any good if I wasn’t true to myself.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
He looks at me with a mischievous grin. “I have time to think. To change my mind if I need to. Actually, I can change my mind any step of the way if I so choose. But for now, I can think of something much more fun to do than sit here on this bench and bellyache about my life.”
We start to walk and he continues to hold my hand. It’s nice, even though I keep thinking of what he might look like one day, in a long, flowing cassock and a white collar. It’s kind of hot, actually. I wonder what they wear under those things. I make a mental note to ask later, when things don’t feel so serious.
