Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(4)

“I guess we can set my stuff over here.” I gesture to the bottom bunk, which has been left unclaimed.

Mom and I make two more trips to the car. She helps me unpack some and hang my clothes in the wardrobe. Most of my clothes still have tags on them. Evidently, I didn’t own enough appropriate clothing to carry me through a year at Carter. There’s certainly a lot more fabric than I’m used to. As I stare at my new closet with new clothes, I suck in my bottom lip, running my tongue along the thin metal band.

“Shit!” I whisper yell, startling my mom as I unhook my lip ring and take it out. “Damn it, I swore!” I cry out in a more hushed tone. “Crap! I did it again!” Mom is laughing now, watching me shove my lip ring into my backpack. “How did no one notice that on our trips up and down?” I sit on the edge of the bed and catch the breath I suddenly lost. I do not need demerits before the year officially starts.

Mom sits next to me and rubs her hand up and down my back. “Maybe they thought you were someone’s heathen sister,” she coos sarcastically.

“I’m keeping it with me,” I say of the lip ring. “I’ll carry it in my backpack in case I need a reminder…of something.”

“Mmm hmm,” she replies with a big breath.

I lay my head on her shoulder and whimper-laugh. “Moooom. Ugh. Is crap a curse word?”

She laughs harder than she has since I told her I was enrolling here. “Probably.” She kisses the top of my head. “Good luck with that.”

“Maybe I’m a three-legged stool,” I half-whisper as I kiss her shoulder.

My mom cocks her head back and eyes me curiously. It takes her a moment to remember our conversation from the car about genetics and environment. “Wh—oh, Kennedy.” She pulls me to her chest and kisses the top of my head. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just…”

“No,” I pull back and eye her, “thank you. I know this is hard for you. There’s no way for me to imagine—” I start my spiel about her being a single mother for the first several years of my life.

“And there better never be,” she playfully cautions.

“Well, then you better be grateful I’m here, then, huh? No chance of accidental babies unless I become a child bride.” I smile and rise to my feet, wanting to organize my desk to keep my hands busy and my nervous thoughts from running wild.

Mom comes up behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders as she looks out the window. “How’d I get so lucky as to end up with you as my daughter?”

I shrug. “God?”

She smacks my shoulder. “Smartass.”

“Mom!” I scold as I turn to face her.

“What? I’m not a student here. No way in h—”

“Don’t! Don’t say it.”

Mom smiles as she lowers her hands. “Fine.”

She sticks out her tongue for good measure.





CHAPTER TWO


Just Say Jesus


Mom left with strict instructions for me to text her as soon as I meet my roommates. She was nervous to leave without having met them, but she has a ten-hour drive back home that she insisted on starting right away. I think she was afraid that if she stayed she’d try to drag me home tomorrow.

I take a deep breath and sit on my bed, grateful for her restraint. Sitting here, in this room, is giving me a few quiet moments of self-assessment. Why did I want to come here? What I’d told my mom about being “undecided” was true. Sure, being valedictorian of my Connecticut high school left me with my pick of the nation’s top universities, but that didn’t mean they had what I was looking for. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, either, to be honest. But, for some reason, I know it’s here.

I wasn’t sure I’d even be accepted to Carter University. I mean, for God—goodness—sake, we had to write our personal testimony in our application. I had never thought to put it on paper. Truthfully, I didn’t even know what a “testimony” was supposed to entail. I had to frigg—freak—I had to google it.

Sure, it may have been easier to just throw my birth father’s name on the application, but neither of us is ready for the kind of attention that would bring. He says he is, but I’m not. And neither is my mom. She insisted that she watch me send in the electronic application immediately after she read it over so she could rest assured that I hadn’t tossed Roland’s name into the mix. I rolled my eyes but let her do it anyway, despite feeling like an untrusted toddler. I knew it was a miracle she was allowing me to attend CU, so I kept my mouth shut. As lax as she is with everything else—birth control, curfew, and swearing—Roland is one area she’s adamant about in the other direction.

My stepdad is a doctor. Sports medicine has kept me in a spacious, comfortable house for the last fifteen years, with everything I could ever want or need at my fingertips. But orthopedic surgery has never appealed to me as a vocation.

Mom works in public policy. That’s where things get sticky between her and Carter University. The young men and women who spend their college years here are seemingly tapped through to the best internship spots and then professionally groomed to take on Washington. Focus on the Family and The Family Research Council? A quick inventory of their staff will show a strong representation of Carter University diplomas.