Confessions of an Estranged College Freshman

by Kitty Parker

  Josh Wilson, a little boy of about eight, came out of the sacristy and stood in front of the congregation, clad in long robes and a fake beard. A little girl dressed as an angel handed him a scroll.

  The narrator continued. "A thousand years before the birth of Christ, the prophet Samuel tells us:"

  "From the line of Jesse will come the King, and God will be his father, and he will be God's Son," Josh read, his words slightly muffled by the beard. He handed the scroll back to the angel and exited down the center aisle, tripping a bit on his robes.

  A tiny girl who couldn't have been more than six came out of the sacristy next, dressed in the same sort of outfit, beard and all.

  "Three hundred years later," the narrator went on. "The prophet Isaiah also tells us about Jesus:"

  The little girl took the scroll from the angel and began to read her lines at the top of her lungs. "From the house of David will come one who is to be King over all Israel,"

  The narrator visibly flinched at the loudness of "Isaiah's" voice. "Isaiah also said:"

  "A child will be born for us, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. God will give you a sign: a virgin will give birth to a son and will call his name Emanuel."

  The little prophet looked around at the congregation, seemingly confused, before the narrator gave her a nudge. Coming back to her senses, she handed the scroll back to the angel and made her exit.

  "How cute was she?" I whispered to Tully.

  He smiled and nodded in response, watching as a third "prophet" came out of the sacristy and took the scroll.

  "About four hundred years before the birth of Jesus, the prophet Micah tells us where he will be born:"

  The little boy rocked nervously back and forth on his feet as he read his line. "From the town of Bethlehem will come one who is to be ruler of all Israel."

  He all but shoved the scroll back at the angel and booked it down the aisle, evidently not a fan of the spotlight.

  "Stage fright, much?" Tully whispered.

  I chuckled softly.

  The narrator flipped a page in her script. "Many years passed before the prophecies were fulfilled."

  As the kids got in place for the next scene, the congregation sang "O Come, O Come, Emanuel."

  I loved how the Christmas pageant was like an interactive musical.

  By the end of the song, a little girl named Holly had taken a seat on the altar steps in her Mary costume. As the narrator went on, another little girl dressed in flowing white robes with tinsel wings came in as the Angel Gabriel and announced to the petrified faux-Nazarene that she was going to have a baby.

  "How can this be?" asked Holly. "I am not married."

  Tully snorted and I tried my best to keep a straight face. We could definitely think of a few ways that could happen. Ah, the tainted minds of college students…

  Gabriel explained that the baby was going to be God's Son, and with the line "with God, all things are possible," she and Mary both left.

  "Around this time," the narrator continued. "A decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled."

  Tully nudged me. "Here comes the best part."

  We both chortled like idiots as two little boys dressed as Roman soldiers came stomping down the aisle, making as much noise as they possibly could and brandishing their plastic swords at the congregation. When they got to the front, one of them opened up a scroll and read from it in the most intimidating voice he could (it was hard to be intimidating when you were only four feet tall, of course).

  "This is a decree from Caesar Augustus. Everyone is to go to the city of his ancestors so that a census can be taken. If you do not obey, you will be put in prison."

  The two "soldiers" began handing out little bits of paper to random people in the congregation, who got up and made a full circuit around the church before settling down once again in their seats.

  Once things had quieted down, the narrator went on. "Since Joseph, Mary's betrothed, was a descendant of King David, they had to travel to Bethlehem. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her baby."

  I smiled to myself as the little boy playing Joseph led his Mary up the aisle. Many years beforehand, that had been Tully and me. We had played Mary and Joseph when we were eleven. My mother had thought it was so adorable that she'd actually used up a full roll of film snapping pictures of us. This was, of course, in the stone age when we didn't have a digital camera.

  Joseph knocked on an invisible door, stomping his foot to make the appropriate noise.

  A little girl dressed as an innkeeper approached him. "Can I help you?"

  "Do you have somewhere for us to stay?" He gestured to his "betrothed." "She's about to have a baby."

  The "innkeeper" shrugged. "Sorry, we're all filled up."

  Frustrated, Joseph moved to the other side of the altar and tried again with a second innkeeper. Again, no luck. Finally, the third innkeeper took pity on them and let them use his stable. And there Jesus Christ was born. Or rather, a wooden box with a doll lying in it was brought onto the stage by Joseph and set in front of Mary. Close enough. It was an amateur production, after all.

  Once the little girl carrying the cardboard star covered in gold glitter had taken her place behind Mary and Joseph, marking the scene as the Messiah's birthplace, the congregation sang "O Little Town of Bethlehem."

  As the strains of the song died away, the narrator went on with the story. "Outside of the city, there were shepherds in the fields tending their flocks by night."

  "Here comes Jamie!" I whispered excitedly to Tully. We both turned around as the children in robes started up the aisle, carrying their crooks. Along with them came the "sheep," which in our church meant the youngest children dressed up in fuzzy white suits with ears crawling along the aisle and baaing as loud as possible. They apparently didn't have enough sheep costumes, though, because one little girl was dressed as a pig.

  Just as I suspected, my brother led the way. He had, after all, told me that he was the "lead" shepherd, whatever that meant. My guess was he was just trying to make himself feel important.

  "BAAAAAA!" shouted the "sheep" as they crawled along behind him.

  "Oink!" squealed the pig.

  The entire congregation snickered. It was an incredibly amusing part of the pageant.

  "Suddenly," the narrator began. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them…"

  Right on cue, a little girl named Maggie came out of the sacristy and stood at the front of the church, her tinsel wings flapping behind her as she moved.

  "… and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified."

  Completely overdoing the acting (as I knew he would), Jamie pointed a shaking finger at the angel. "What is that?"

  "Do not be afraid," Maggie replied. "For I bring you good tidings of great joy that will be for all people. For unto you is born this day in the town of Bethlehem a Savior, who is Christ the Lord."

  "Christ the Lord, our promised Messiah?" Jamie asked incredulously.

  "But how will we know him?" another shepherd chimed in.

  The angel spread her arms. "This will be a sign unto you: You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger."

  "And suddenly," the narrator added as about seven other little girls dressed in white robes joined Maggie at the front of the church. "There was with the angel a whole gathering of the heavenly host, praising God and saying…"

  "Glory to God in the highest," the little girls chirped in unison. "And on Earth peace, good will toward men."

  There was a collective "Awwwww!" from the congregation before we started in on the next carol: "Angels We Have Heard On High."

  When we finished the first verse, we stopped and the "shepherds" began to discuss the vision they'd seen.

  "It's a sign from God!" Jamie exclaimed, pointing upwards dramatically.

 
Another shepherd nodded. "We've been waiting for our Messiah for so long."

  "Come on, let's go worship Him," Jamie urged. "We can take our sheep with us."

  The rest of the shepherds stared at him stupidly, forgetting their collective line. Taking the initiative, my mother, who happened to be sitting at the end of our pew, leaned over and whispered something in one little girl's ear.

  Her eyes lit up. "Sure, let's go!" she happily proclaimed, proud to have her own line.

  With that, the congregation resumed the next three verses of the song while the "shepherds" led their "sheep" (and pig) in a big circle around the church before bringing them up to the altar.

  "And so," the narrator concluded when we'd finished. "On that night of nights, Jesus Christ our Savior was born in a humble stable because there was no room in the inn. As we celebrate this joyful season, let us always remember the true meaning of Christmas."

  We started in on the final hymn of the pageant: "What Child is This?". Some over-eager mothers were already leaning forward in their pews to snap pictures of all the kids up on the altar.

  When the hymn was over, we gave the little actors a round of applause. Reverend Daly allowed parents a few minutes to take photos before resuming the service with his sermon. He was just beginning when Jamie crawled into our pew. Grinning, I sat him on my lap and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

  "You were awesome," I whispered in his ear.

  Tully reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Great job, squirt."

  I was distracted for most of the sermon by Jamie's constant fidgeting with his costume. Tully noticed and failed to keep the amused smile from his lips. I scowled at him, finally pushing my brother gently off of my lap as we all stood to recite the Nicene Creed.

  The service went on as usual with the prayers, confession, and absolution before Reverend Daly once again spread his arms to address the congregation.

  "The peace of the Lord be always with you."

  "And also with you," we responded before turning to exchange the peace with our neighbors.

  I reached up to embrace my father. "Peace, Daddy."

  He gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "Peace, Evie."

  My mother reached around him to hug me. "Peace, sweetie."

  "Peace, Mom." I turned my attention to my brother. "Peace, Jamie."

  "Peace, Evie," he replied, hugging me tightly around the waist before moving on to the redhead next to me. "Peace, Tully."

  Tully grinned. "Peace, squirt." His smile softened when he turned to me and wrapped his arms around me, causing my traitorous heart to flutter in a way that really pissed me off. "Peace, Eves."

  "Peace, Tul."

  After exchanging the peace with the rest of the people around me, I sat back down. The parishioners all gradually retook their seats to listen to Reverend Daly's announcements.

  Our kindly old minister beamed out at the crowd. I had a special place for him in my heart; he'd baptized me, confirmed me, and had been a source of caring advice and spiritual guidance for me throughout my entire life.

  "Merry Christmas, everyone!" he greeted the congregation. "I want to welcome you all here tonight for our candlelit Christmas Eve service, and I want to extend a special welcome to two of our parish young folk, Evangeline Kaiser and Tully McFadden, who have just come home from their first semester at college."

  Tully and I waved awkwardly at our fellow churchgoers as they gave us a polite round of applause.

  Reverend Daly went on with his announcements, talking about the money the annual church Christmas fair had raised for local charities, sharing a random anecdote about a mission trip to Newfoundland, and letting the chairs of the Altar Guild and the men's reading group deliver their messages. Finally, the choir got up to sing as the collection plates started going around and Reverend Daly set up for Communion.

  I felt a poke in my side.

  "Evie," Tully whispered. "Can I borrow a dollar to put in? I grabbed Monopoly money by mistake when I left the house." He pulled out a handful of the fake green currency as proof.

  Smiling in spite of my rolling eyes, I handed him a crinkled bill. "Only you, Tully McFadden. Only you."

  * * *

  Six hymns, four goblets of consecrated wine, about a hundred consecrated wafers, and a whole lot of praying later, we got to my favorite part of the service.

  "You should all have small candles," Reverend Daly told the congregation, referring to the ones the ushers had given us all as we went into the church. "Can the people closest to the aisle please light theirs from the big candles on the end of each row and pass the flame along to everyone else?"

  My mother raised her candle up to light it, then touched the flaming wick to that of my father, who then passed it on to me. After a minute or so, every person present held a softly flickering flame.

  "The light is like hope," Reverend Daly explained. "Alone, it may not seem like much, but when we share it with others, the whole world becomes a brighter place."

  The overhead lights dimmed and the organist began to play.

  I closed my eyes as I softly began to sing:

  "Silent night, holy night,

  all is calm, all is bright,

  round yon virgin, mother and child,

  holy infant so tender and mild,

  sleep in heavenly peace,

  sleep in heavenly peace.

  Silent night, holy night,

  shepherds quake at the sight,

  glory streams from heaven afar,

  heavenly host sing 'alleluia,'

  Christ the Savior is born,

  Christ the Savior is born."

  As we began the final verse, I happened to glance to my right. What I saw took my breath away.

  There was Tully, softly singing along with the hymn. His face held the purest expression of bliss as his lips moved to form the words. The light from his candle cast a warm glow across his countenance, every flicker reflected perfectly in his eyes.

  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  A pang of fear shot through my heart as a realization hit me like a cement wall.

  The feelings I'd succeeded in squashing four years beforehand were back with a vengeance.

  * * *

  "Merry Christmas!" Mrs. McFadden practically suffocated me with her bone-crushing hug.

  "You too," I managed to get out.

  Tully followed his mother in through my front door carrying the large bowl of mashed potatoes that she had shoved into his arms. "Mom, you're about to kill her."

  She loosened her embrace. "Oh, sorry, dear."

  "No worries," I chuckled. "I'm fine."

  "Merry Christmas, Kaisers!" Mr. McFadden bellowed, making his entrance as loud and conspicuous as possible.

  My mother came running from the kitchen, hands still covered in flour. "Mike! Fiona! Tully!"

  Tully set the potatoes down on the nearest table to give my mother a hug. "Merry Christmas, Helen!"

  "And merry Christmas to you, too, dear!" she enthusiastically replied, squeezing him tight.

  There were white handprints on his back when she pulled away. My heart fluttered a little.

  Damn it.

  Almost as though he sensed that I was looking at him, Tully turned around to wrap me in his arms.

  "Merry Christmas, Eves!"

  "You have flour on your nose."

  He lifted a hand and wiped it away. "Better?"

  "Mhm."

  "Where's your brother?" he asked as our parents made their way into the kitchen.

  "Probably on the computer," I replied. "He got a new game as a present. Hang on, I'll get him down. JAMIE!" I shouted up the stairs. "THE MCFADDENS ARE HERE!"

  Apparently deeming our neighbors more important than Math Blaster, my little brother came charging down the stairs and tackled Tully around the waist.

  "Tully!"

  "Jamie!"

  I smiled as the two chatted before my brother enthusiastically dragged our gue
st upstairs to see the game he'd been playing. The way they interacted was so cute that I practically melted.

  I was mad at myself for that, too. I didn't want those old feelings to come back. It wasn't as though I'd loved Tully throughout our four years apart and just didn't realize it. I'd genuinely moved on. But there I was, back at square one. And worse yet, I had a boyfriend.

  Something rubbed against my leg, and I looked down to find Dizzy, my cat, trying to get my attention. I scooped her up and cuddled her against my chest.

  "Why does my life suck, Diz?"

  She just purred in response.

  * * *

  Around six, my mother called everyone into the dining room for dinner. We'd been eating for about an hour when my father decided to bring up the worst topic possible.

  "So, Evie," he began, taking a sip of his wine. "How's Mischa? You haven't been talking about him much lately."

  I swallowed nervously. "Um, he's fine."

  "Been together, what, two months now?"

  "Something like that," I replied, shifting awkwardly in my seat.

  "He's a wonderful young man," my mother chimed in.

  I snuck a glance at Tully. He had sort of deflated.

  Mr. McFadden perked up. "Oh, is that the Russian guy we met when we came up for parents weekend? Nice kid. Pretty handsome, too, Eves." He winked at me.

  I seriously wanted to go bang my head against the wall. Compared to the torture I was going through, it seemed like quite an inviting option.

  Just then, I was saved by the bell. Literally.

  Dizzy slinked up to my chair and shook the little jingle bell on her collar at me, a sure sign that she wanted something. Judging by the time of day, it was probably food.

  "I'm going to go feed Dizzy," I announced, pushing my chair back. "Excuse me."

  I followed my cat up the stairs and into the room where we kept her food. She looked up at me expectantly as I scooped some kibbles onto her plate.

  "You're a lifesaver, Diz," I told her, stroking her black fur as she began to munch on her dinner. "Things were getting pretty awkward down there."

  Milking my time away from the table for all it was worth, I went into my room and picked up my cell phone from where it had been lying on my bed. Elena was most likely already asleep (stupid time zones), so I decided to give Elizabeth a call.