Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(49)

“That’s my mom.” I give Bridgette a quick squeeze and walk to the door.

Stellar. My roommates haven’t met my mom yet, and I haven’t gone out of my way to “prepare” them for anything. They know I grew up with her, and I’m sure they’ve pieced together enough theories in their heads.

“Mom!” I plaster the smile on my face before I open the door all the way, but the real thing comes into full wattage when I see her face. I’ve missed her.

“Look at you!” She slides into our room, Dan trailing behind her, and pulls me into a tight hug. “You look amazing,” she whispers into my ear.

I don’t know if this is a compliment to me or some sort of reassurance to herself.

“Dan,” I say, stepping back from Mom and walking into his embrace.

“Hey, sweet girl.” He kisses the top of my head and gives me a solid squeeze.

He’s thinner than Roland. Roland is fit, and doesn’t have a bit of extra flesh on him from what I’ve seen, but Dan is ultra-marathoner skinny. He does one every other year or so. I feel his muscles and bones against my cheek as we hug. Something I didn’t feel when I cried on Roland’s shoulder.

I shake my head to rid my brain of the unnecessary comparison.

Stepping back, I introduce my parents to my roommates, who are as enthusiastic and gracious as they were when they met me for the first time.

“Eden,” my mom says as she sits on my bed, “that is truly a beautiful name. And Bridgette, Kennedy tells me you have a twin brother?”

Bridgette nods, folding her hands. “Silas.”

“You’re from the big family, right?” Mom adds, and I begin to blush. While it’s just plain information, I’d hate for my roommates to feel like I’ve been gossiping about them.

“Silas and I are three and four of fourteen.” Bridgette smiles and picks up her phone, which has buzzed a few times. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s Silas texting that our parents are meeting us in the assembly hall for the welcome speech. They’re here. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer.” Her voice hesitates slightly over the “Mr. and Mrs.” bit, but she exits with swan-like grace.”

“I’m going to head over, too,” Eden says while gathering her things. “My parents and brother are meeting me there, too.”

“Your sister’s not coming?” I ask.

Eden shakes her head. “She’s got some project for school she’s working on, so she’s staying with a family friend this weekend. Truthfully, I think she just doesn’t want my parents to spend all weekend pointing out how great this place would be for her to attend.”

After saying goodbye to my parents, Eden leaves with a smile. It’s the first I’ve heard of her sister not wanting to attend CU, though we haven’t talked much about it. I wonder, idly, if Bridgette knows more about Eden’s family life, and vice versa, since I’ve done a heck of a job of keeping both of them at arm’s length.

“They seem nice,” Dan says as a matter of breaking the silence that follows Eden’s exit.

“Yeah,” Mom snorts, “they do seem nice.”

“Behave,” I beg with a slight irritation in my voice. “They are nice.”

Naturally, I leave out the bit about our conversation surrounding my salvation, or the difference between “real” CU guys and those farmed in for athletic purposes. That has little to do with how nice they are as people, though I don’t have the energy to enter that debate with my mother—who would undoubtedly assert that how people act all the time, and everything they say, goes into their “niceness” equation.

Mom puts up her hands, lifting her eyebrows in amused defense. “Sorry. So, tell me what’s been going on.”

Where do I start?

While I talk with her at least once a week on the phone, there’s a lot that goes unsaid in our conversations. My feelings about CU, about God, and about Roland are the top three on that list. And each one is bigger than the last, with no good starting point for discussion.

I decide that the easiest hill to climb is my contentment with Carter University. I assure Mom that while I know my upper level sociology classes will likely have huge moral roadblocks for me, the classes I have now are pretty basic. Even the Old Testament class. “Like Sunday school,” I tell her. That the students are welcoming—especially my RA—seems to settle some worried tension around mom’s eyes. Dan nods in approval when I discuss the “non-traditional” CU students. “Not your garden variety Holy Rollers,” I assure him, pulling on his terminology.

“I think it’s great you’re settling in, Kennedy.” Dan says when I’ve finished my impromptu CU plug.

Mom twists her lips. “I’m happy you’re comfortable.”

“Even if you’re not?” I challenge.

Her shoulders rise in a huge breath. “Even if I’m not. You’re no less willful than I was at your age, so I’m not sure what I was thinking trying to tamper with your desires to come here. Anyway,” she lets out a long exhale, “what’s on the schedule for today? I heard your roommates mention an assembly?”

Oh no.

I’ve assumed that her not discussing the assembly with me had to do with the keynote speaker. Roland. I haven’t brought it up, because in WASP families, you don’t bring up the uncomfortable things. You just go through them side-by-side and never talk about them again. Her question makes me a little dizzy. I look at Dan, whose serious and somewhat apologetic expression suggests he knows exactly what the next words to come out of my mouth will be.