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“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
A chorus of ‘amens’ followed by a dozen signs of the cross follows his words. As we eat, I quietly take in my surroundings. It sucks that the counselors’ cabins are in terrible condition, seeing as though the rest of this camp is actually really nice. The mess hall is huge, bright with white walls and exposed wooden beams. There’s one huge crucifix at the back of the hall over the food line, and I can count three pictures of the Virgin Mary littering the walls.
I think this is where reality sets in. I really am here. At Catholic church camp. For three months.
I become filled with bitter resentment as I stab at my bacon. I didn’t always use to be this anti-religion. I think at one point in my life, I actually liked going to church. It wasn’t until my senior year that I started having doubts.
Jacob Cooper was a scrawny kid who went to school with me. I didn’t interact with him much besides the odd hello and the times we were paired up in science, but he was a nice enough guy. Apparently, someone had caught him making out with a boy from the next town over, and the rumors had spread like wildfire. He was mercilessly bullied about his sexuality until one day he couldn’t do it anymore and killed himself.
We held a vigil for him at the school mass the next day, but when we all went to pray, I couldn’t muster up the will. There could have been other demons he was battling with, signs that we all missed, but I could only focus on one thing.
God must not be real and, if he is, he’s a fucking bitch.
Why would God do that to him? Why could He just sit idly by and allow a nice kid like Jacob Cooper to suffer so much? For something he had no choice in? How could a real god love followers who inflicted so much pain on someone so innocent?
I think that’s when I realized there was no point in believing in someone who’s so cruel, so selfish, and so apathetic to the suffering of others. I think that’s where it began—not just the dislike—but thehatredof Him.
“So, Noah,” Kendall starts. “Where are you from?”
I push aside the memory of Jacob Cooper and answer. “A town just outside of Asheville, but I go to UNC.”
“That’s so cool,” she says, green eyes wide and bright. “Are you a freshman?”
“Going into my sophomore year.”
“What made you want to join us at Camp Trinity?”
I scoff, uncaring when Kendall’s face falls just a tad. “Want? That’s a strong word. My parents made me come here before threatening to stop paying for my school.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says with a flush, ducking her head as she pushes her eggs around with a fork.
I feel bad at the look on her face. So what that I’m in this crappy situation? I shouldn’t take it out on her. I sigh and try my best to muster up a smile. “Did I hear Jarred say that this is your fourth summer here?”
This perks her up immediately. She nods eagerly as she gestures at Patrick. “Patrick and I have been coming here since we were kids, and we joined as counselors as soon as we graduated high school.”
“I know you’re being forced to be here, but you might like it,” Patrick says with a shrug. “I know I said it before, but Jarred is really cool. He always tries to make sure his counselors have a good time.”
“What’s his story?” I ask, my curiosity burning as my eyes wander to Jarred eating at the corner of the room with a group of counselors.
“I shouldn’t say,” Kendall mutters, sharing a look with Patrick. “It’s considered a sin to gossip.”
Patrick chokes on his eggs. “Since when?”
“Since forever,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip. “Mama told me, but I’m not supposed to say anything. Apparently, Mr. Walker is getting an annulment.”
“He is?” Patrick asks, his jaw dropping in shock. “What happened?”
“Mama says he caught his wife cheating on him,” Kendall explains before turning back to me. “Personally, I never really cared for Mrs. Walker. She was always just so…mean to him.”
“Really?” I question, keeping my eyes on Jarred and feeling fluttering in my chest when he laughs at something one of the girls tells him. “What would she do?”
“She’d always correct him in public,” Patrick says. “She’d drop comments about his weight every now and then. One time, she even called him an idiot in front of the congregation.”
Now that doesn’t sound very Jesus-loving. What a bitch. First of all, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Jarred’s weight. He’s not completely ripped, but who is? I know I’ve only known him for a solid two hours but—my resentment aside—he does seem nice. Nobody deserves to be treated like trash by someone they love. I should know. My parents do it enough for me.
I don’t know if my thoughts of him have somehow worked their way to his table, but it’s at this second that he looks up in my direction. We make eye contact and I have to suppress the shudder that races through me.
No man has ever affected me this way before. He’s not even fucking doing anything, just staring at me. Granted, for a very prolonged period of time.
