Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock(30)

If god existed and he created the whole universe, like these people believed, why would he need our help, let alone our praise?

Why would he need us to serve him?

Was god really both all powerful and emotionally needy?

It didn’t really make any sense to me at all, and I knew I was going to have a hard time conveying this idea to my superiors in the future when I—being a time-traveling anthropologist—report on ancient religions.

There was more nice singing after that, and then we all waited in line to shake Lauren’s dad’s hand, because he was the head of this church.

So many people kissed Lauren’s dad’s ass—like he was a god himself—it took forever for the line to move.

When we got to the front, Pastor Rose patted my back and said, “Are you the fish my Lauren reeled in this week?”

Fish? I thought. This was getting even more bizarre.

“I guess so,” I said, wondering why the hell he was wearing a graduation gown.

“You come to my office sometime and we’ll talk man-to-man about the finer points of Christianity, okay?”

“I prefer speaking with Lauren,” I said, and he gave me a look that let me know that was definitely the wrong answer.

“Well, when you get serious about Jesus, I’ll be here. Young men like you need mentors, and that’s a man’s job, son. Lauren’s a fine Christian young woman, no doubt. But she brought you to us for a reason. You come see me, okay?” He winked—I shit you not—and then shook the next person’s hand, so Lauren and I moved on to lunch in this basement gym where tables and chairs had been set up and everything smelled of sweaty socks and pot roast.

“So what did you think?” Lauren asked me over plastic plates and red Solo cups.

Church was okay, I guess. I liked the singing part, and the organ. But mostly the whole thing just seemed sort of silly to me. I was smart enough not to say that to Lauren. Instead I went into Bogie mode and said, “You look very pretty in that dress.” It was a deep violet number, knee-length, with spaghetti straps. She was like one of those exotic plants that lure insects into their sticky sweet traps and then eat them. When I looked at her, I wanted to be eaten.

“Thank you,” she said. “So do you think you want to give your life to Jesus?”

I was just about to lie when this muscle-y blond football-player-looking kid snuck up behind Lauren and started to massage her shoulders. “Hey, buttercup,” he said.

Buttercup? Really?

“Hey,” Lauren said in a way that let me know this wasn’t just any old church member. He looked like the Johnny kid in the pamphlet and nothing like me. “Leonard, this is my boyfriend, Jackson. Jackson, this is Leonard.”

“I hear you’re serious about making Jesus Christ your Lord and Savior,” Jackson said to me. “It’s definitely the way to go.”

“Do you enjoy parking?” I asked, although I’m not sure why. Probably because I was angry and just wanted to leave. I felt so tricked by Lauren. Being eaten by her was one thing, but introducing me to her boyfriend after she’d led me on—that was entirely unacceptable. She used her femme fatale skills to get me into her church, bait-and-switch style, when she already had a boyfriend who was much more normal-looking than me—a completely different type. “Do you guys park?”

“Leonard!” Lauren said, because she definitely got the reference, although it took her a second.

“What are you talking about?” Jackson said, and made a confused face.

I looked up at the clock on the gym wall—I remember it was protected by mesh wire so basketballs wouldn’t smash it.47

“Quarter to one already?” I asked, and then started to lie again, only these were escape lies. The Bogie-Bacall fantasy had been temporarily shattered, so I just wanted out of this church. “Holy shit! I have to roll my grandmother over in her bed. She gets bedsores if I don’t do it every four hours or so. My grandfather does it when I’m at school, but he refuses to do it on the weekends. He says, ‘The weekends are mine,’ which seems mean until you know that he has Alzheimer’s, so you really can’t hold it against him. Okay. Off I go.”

I stood up and walked out of the gym, up the stairs, and out into the afternoon.

Lauren followed me and kept saying, “Wait up. Let’s talk. What’s going on here? I thought you were serious about Jesus.”

I spun around and said, “I’m a devout atheist. I don’t believe in hell, so none of this scares me. I really just wanted to go parking with you, like the kids do in that pamphlet you gave me, because I think you’re beautiful—like Lauren Bacall—and so unlike the girls at my school. And I sort of admire your standing at the train station all alone giving out pamphlets, trying to save people. You seemed so interesting when I met you—like no one else I had ever met before. But you don’t seem the same in your church—like there’s no risk being Christian here because everyone is Christian in your church. You’re just one of many here, where at the train station you were one of a kind. And I’m a one-of-a-kind type of person, and that’s just the way it is. So we’re definitely breaking up. And I can’t believe your boyfriend looks like Johnny from the pamphlet. Jesus Christ, you could do better!”

Lauren just stood there with her mouth open.