Jess called her name and Kate turned and headed over. Jess took it upon herself to start the introductions, but was knocked off balance when Kate said a nice to meet you to Chris.
“Y’all haven’t met?” Jess asked.
“No,” Chris said, pleasantly. “You dumped me before I could.”
The circle went silent, but Chris, looking pleased with himself, grinned at Kate. “What’s this I hear about a sorority?”
That broke the tension for Kate, at least. “Oh, did Jessica tell you about it already?”
“Nope. Quentin did.”
Yeah, this was a terrible idea. Why did she think worlds could collide and everything wouldn’t be blown to shit? Never once had God mentioned that during all of His creation two celestial bodies ran straight into each other and just sort of became a bigger, better, super chill celestial body, no big deal.
No, there was always violence, always bits and pieces being launched off into space, out of orbit. Two worlds colliding would never be a good thing. Maybe it would make a new world eventually, or maybe it would create a big, dumb rock, entirely inhospitable to any joy whatsoever.
As Kate explained the premise of the sorority, something Jess had already told Miranda about in depth, Jessica excused herself to head to the bathroom, and Miranda, like a champ, followed.
“Sorry,” Miranda said as soon as they were in front of the long mirror and sinks. “Chris promised he’d be cool if he came along.”
Jessica sighed. “It’s okay. I just feel bad for him.”
And that was almost the truth.
Once Mason took the stage, Jessica could stop worrying about small talk, which was no small relief. She stood and watched as he introduced himself to the Friday-night crowd, most of whom seemed less like they were there for him and more like they were there because they were alcoholics and were at that bar every night. They tolerated him, even as he launched into the religious lyrics of “Christ Into Me.”
Jessica looked over at Miranda, raising her eyes like pretty good, eh? But the look Miranda returned wasn’t what Jess had expected. Her friend appeared confused, one eyebrow raised slightly, her head cocked gently to the side.
And when Mason began hitting the high notes on “Sinners Marching,” a song Jessica had never heard before but enjoyed the energy of tremendously, she glanced over at Miranda and Quentin where they stood, Quentin’s arms around Miranda’s waist, his chest pressing up against her back. She said something into his ear and he nodded his head adamantly before glancing up at Mason. He laughed and nodded his head again. Did they not like the music?
Mason paused between songs to thank the crowd again and explain that the songs they heard tonight were originals, God had inspired him to write. Then he introduced the next few as “deep cuts,” and Jessica wondered briefly what that meant if he didn’t have an album of any sort. But she liked the gentle sadness of “Grace is God,” and loved the jubilant energy of “Rise From His Grave,” and by the end of his set, she was fairly convinced that he was the best Christian song writer alive or dead.
But then she started to panic. The show was over. He would be coming to mingle, and Chris was still here.
She’d done her best to keep Miranda and Quentin between Chris and herself, but she’d still accidentally caught glimpses of his disapproving face and stiff stance as he crossed his arms and silently judged Mason, no doubt. Well, fine. If he wanted to not enjoy the music, that was his loss.
In the days leading up, after she’d invited Miranda and Quentin down for the night, the scenario had played out in Jessica’s mind as such: Mason finishes playing. He sets his guitar on the stand, thanks the audience, and says, “But now I need to spend some time with my girlfriend,” before hopping off the stage and making a beeline to her. And when he reaches her, he picks her up, maybe spins her around a little—why not?—and kisses her passionately with everyone watching.
But the scene actually went as such: Mason took a single step off the stage and those two damn church girls were back, and this time they brought another friend with them. The three created a veritable wall that Mason couldn’t pass but also didn’t look like he wanted to pass. Jessica could feel Chris’s eyes on her as she waited patiently, trying to keep a calm, self-assured smile on her face. But Mason didn’t even look over. Then a girl laughed at something he said and touched his arm, and he didn’t pull away.
Oh, screw this.
She walked over to him and shouldered the girls out of the way. “You have to come meet my friends.” She pulled him after her before he could respond, which was fine because as far as she was concerned, he didn’t have a say in the matter.
“Oh hey, Chris!” Mason said, greeting him like they were old friends. The congenial tone forced a goofy smile from Chris before he righted his face again into cool ambivalence.
Jess didn’t even have to take the lead; Mason went ahead and introduced himself to Quentin and Miranda, and they shook hands.
“Great show,” Quentin said. His nostrils flared slightly, a gesture she’d seen him do too many times when he was trying keep a straight face. She didn’t appreciate it, but she figured Mason wouldn’t recognize what the gesture really meant.
And he didn’t. “Thanks! I’m glad you liked it.”
“So are you like”—Miranda crinkled up her nose, trying to find the words—“a tribute band? Or not band but singer, I guess?”
Mason nodded adamantly. “Yeah, I guess I never thought about it that way.”
Miranda and Quentin exchanged a quick glance and a small head nod. But Jessica was confused.
Mason cleared that right up, though. “A tribute band to God and His children. I like that.” He shook his finger at Miranda. “Good call. I’m gonna remember that.”
Miranda and Quentin exchanged another glance that didn’t seem as confident.
Turning toward Jess, Mason’s body seemed to call out to her as he leaned over slightly. “Hey, I gotta tear this stuff down, but then I’ll meet up with you guys later, okay?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” She leaned toward him, shutting her eyes for a kiss. Then she felt his lips make contact with her forehead.
Are you kidding me?
She would have rather he fist-bumped her.
Avoiding eye-contact with everyone but Kate, who was fully aware of the Mason situation, Jess rounded up the troops to head back to the dorm. Show was over.
Once they entered out into the stagnant April air, it became obvious what needed to happen if Jessica stood any chance of enjoying the rest of her night. She inhaled deeply to muster the courage, then grabbed Chris by the wrist and pulled him aside. “Hey, I know it’s probably awkward for you to be around Mason, so if you want to do something else tonight instead of head back to the—”
“Nope. Not awkward at all. I’m happy for you, as long as he isn’t actually a total douchebag tool like he seems to be.”
She set her jaw. “He’s not.”
“Perfect. Then let’s go.” He strode past her to join Kate, Miranda, and Quentin, who were already heading back and chatting animatedly. She had to jog to catch up.
“Mason seems friendly,” Miranda said.
“Pretty good musician, too,” Quentin said.
“He is. Both of those,” Kate replied, saving Jessica the awkwardness. “He’s very real, too.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Miranda.
“Let’s just say he wasn’t always so religious. He’s one of those guys who’s been there, done that, and still ended up in church.”
Chris scoffed. “Is that supposed to be a good thing? He went and did all the things he wanted to and now he thinks he can just wipe the slate clean, now that he’s bored with it?”
“Damn,” Quentin said. “If that’s now it works, I’ve been doing it all wrong.”
“Yeah,” Miranda said sarcastically, “you’ve really been abstaining from so much your whole life.”
“More like abstaining bedsheets,” Chris said, and both the bo
ys laughed and high-fived before Chris seemed to remember the current arrangement and turned to Miranda. “Oh, sorry. I mean, only with you.” His face went pale. “Or not with you? I mean, it’s not my business.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kate said. “We were just talking about this the other day, actually. Who cares?”
Miranda laughed. “Right. As long as it’s consensual, respectful, and doesn’t include—”
“Non-human animals,” Quentin and Chris finished along with her.
Were they making fun of her? It sure felt like they were making fun of her. But those weren’t her words.
“So does that mean,” Quentin said, leaning close to Jessica, “you and that tribute band?” He wiggled his eyebrows and Jessica felt her cheeks catch fire.
“Quentin!” Miranda slapped him. “So not your business.”
“I thought it didn’t matter!” he protested.
“They’re not,” Chris said. “I can promise you that.”
“Chris …” Miranda warned.
“What? Did none of you see the forehead kiss? I would’ve felt bad for Jess if I didn’t think she kinda deserved it for not dumping him all together.”
“Chris.” This time it was Jessica who issued the warning. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Again?”
But she grabbed him and pulled him over behind a dumpster just off their route. “I think you should go home.”
“I’m just being as honest as I’ve ever been.”
“I get that you don’t like my new friends—”
He stuck his chin up. “Nope. I never said that. I like Kate. Did you know she has purple around her? The color—”
“Fine.” This was no time to talk about angel shit, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how to with Chris, so long as he was still oblivious to his own situation.
“It’s kind of like Quentin’s actually.”
“Wait. What?”
Chris shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you all this before. I can see the colors around Quentin, too.”
“Oh. Huh.” He had mentioned that before, come to think of it, but it’d been before the fact had held any clear significance.
“What? What is it?” Chris asked.
She waved him off. “Nothing. Now if you can’t stop being a dick about Mason, you have to leave.”
“Why do I have to leave?”
“Because you’re my ex-boyfriend, Chris! You’re not part of my life anymore.” She said the words before she could think them through. And as soon as she did think about them, though, she realized that firstly, they were way too mean, and secondly, they weren’t entirely true. Or rather, she didn’t want them to be true.
“Ah,” was all he said before turning and heading away from her. She felt like telling him to wait, but she didn’t. If he wasn’t part of her life anymore, she couldn’t tell him jack squat.
Sighing, she wondered what she would tell the others. But once she caught up with them, Miranda looked back over her shoulder, her eyes scanning for Chris. Apparently grasping the general situation, she flashed a half frown, but didn’t say anything.
“Hey, Jess,” Quentin shouted over his shoulder from a few paces ahead.
Jessica swallowed hard. Here came the questions. “Yeah?”
“Have you ever listened to Dave Matthews Band?”
Not what she was expecting, but at least it wasn’t a question about Chris. “No. Are they any good?”
Quentin chuckled. “Yeah, I think you might like them.”
Miranda did a poor job of suppressing a chuckle. What was so funny? Were they high? They were giggling like they were high. “Okay. Out of curiosity, why do you ask?”
Miranda waved her off. “No reason. Ignore him.” The happy couple turned back around.
Quentin began whistling the tune of “Christ Into Me” and before Jessica could ask him how he’d picked it up so perfectly after only hearing it once, Kate leaned toward her and said in a low voice so only Jessica would hear, “The sorority charter is all typed up. We’re basically ready to roll once you give the word. But we could tell you weren’t totally sold on the idea, so we didn’t want to move forward if you weren’t behind it.”
“Nope. I’m all in. Let’s do it.”
If worlds colliding wasn’t her thing, then she’d better pick a world and simply steer it in the right direction. And it wasn’t hard to decide which world held more promise for her.
I wonder if Jesus was stuck in this many meetings with his followers?
Jessica’s eyes were starting to cross as she nodded her head along to the various rules and procedures Kate continued to discuss with the rest of the founding members of Nu Alpha Omega. It was a Friday night in June, and she shouldn’t want to go to bed at nine o’clock, but it was taking every ounce of her energy to keep her eyes open. Part of her wished she’d gone home for the summer after all. She’d read about a new miniseries on the recently discovered mammals of the Amazon rainforest that was supposed to be incredible, but the house they’d rented as home base for NAO didn’t have cable yet, so she would have to sign up for a free trial for some streaming service or another and then remember to cancel before she was charged. God, there were so many details to remember as an adult. Why had she added more minutia by agreeing to be a part of this sorority?
I wish I’d stayed young.
YOU HATED BEING YOUNG.
True. But being older isn’t much better.
AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL SORRY FOR YOU? MY WHOLE DAY IS SPENT MANAGING MINUTIA—WARS, NATURAL DISASTERS, GLOBAL WARMING, PLANETARY ORBITS, COLLIDING BLACK HOLES. EXISTENCE IS MICROMANAGING.
I guess thanks for the perspective.
YOU ARE WELCOME.
She smiled. Her new-found trick to shoo off her Father worked like a charm. Having stumbled upon it by accident, her brain did two things almost simultaneously: it recognized that she’d just found a highly prized tool then it locked the conscious knowledge of that useful tool away in a tiny, camouflaged box that hopefully even God’s eyes would skip over.
The new-found trick was this: give thanks and God will leave you alone for a while.
She wondered if earlier holy people who were able to speak with her Father had figured this out, too, and that was why they’d established giving thanks as a central tenet of their religion. It made sense. God’s presence in one’s life was the ultimate “be careful what you wish for” as far as she was concerned.
Natalie’s voice cut through. “Jessica, where do you weigh in on the process?”
Jess bit her lip. “Hmm?”
“On the pledging. Hazing or no?”
“Like what hazing?” Jessica asked.
“We haven’t decided on that yet,” Kate said. “Just do we want it? And I don’t think we should even call it hazing. It’s more rites.”
“Rights?” Jess asked. She really should’ve followed along. If there was one thing she knew about rights, it was that they were important. Or at least many people thought so. Though often when strangers exercised their right to free speech as they passed her in the Quad, she felt admittedly less committed to protecting other people’s rights.
Judith filled her in. “Natalie thinks we shouldn’t do hazing—sorry, rites—because it sends the wrong message of exclusivity or whatever. Kate thinks a rite of passage is a necessary vetting process for people who want to be this close to you.”
“Ah.” Jessica paused. She had no immediate opinion. Would it be okay to have no opinion on this?
“Ultimately it’s your decision,” Natalie said, “because this is all about you.” There was no bitterness in her voice when she said the last part, but Jess almost wished there were.
“I mean, it’s not all about me.”
“No,” Kate said plainly, “it is. It’s all about you.”
“But I don’t want it to be!”
The table fell still and silent. She looked around at her thirteen new sisters. She should say something. “I j
ust want us to be equals in this. If we’re not, you’re all going to hate me eventually.”
“Ha!” cackled Natalie. “Not gonna happen, Jessica. Sorry, but there’s just nothing to hate about you, even if you weren’t God’s daughter.”
She laughed. No one else laughed. She stopped laughing.
Wait. What? “You say that now, but you can’t see the trail of haters I left behind in Mooretown.”
“They don’t hate you,” Kate said. “Natalie’s right. There’s nothing about you that anyone could hate.”
Well, that just couldn’t be right. So she accessed her database of hateful things that had been said to her over the course of her life. It wasn’t hard to access. In a way, it felt shamefully good. “I’m ugly.”
Judith and Natalie exchanged tired glances, but Simone was the one to speak. “You’re not ugly. And people don’t hate ugly girls. They hate gorgeous girls.”
“So you’re saying I’m not gorgeous?”
“Yeah,” Simone said flatly. “I’m saying you’re not gorgeous. Did you think you were gorgeous?”
Jessica sighed. “No.”
“Now Johanna,” Simone continued, “she’s gorgeous.”
Johanna nodded. “And everyone hates me a little for it.”
Sisters around the table nodded apologetically.
“Just a little,” Judith added.
“You’re right in the middle, though,” Pippa said. “Not ugly, not gorgeous. You can slide by without anyone hating you for your looks.”
“Okay, what about my miracles?” Jessica said, reaching.
Kate shook her head. “Not your fault. That’s on your Dad.”
“But I didn’t have to perform them. I’m a show off?” She was reaching, but the stretch felt good.
Kate held up a hand. “Just stop. Anyone who hates women because they live up to their potential can really just—”
“Suck a fat sac,” Judith finished. She grinned at Kate. “I knew you wouldn’t say it.”
Too exhausted to continue arguing the case against herself, she asked, “Okay, so why do you think there should be rites of passage, Kate?”
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