Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(6)

“Are you dating anyone?” I ask of both of my roommates.

They both bury their faces in their hands in a fit of giggles. I haven’t heard this much giggling since “the puberty talk” in health class in fifth grade.

I bet they never took a class like that. Wait, what if they have one here? I’ll make sure to be sick that day.

“As if,” Bridgette—notably more chatty than Eden—starts. “Even if I had opportunities to meet boys in school, my brothers and dad would have been all over them for sure.”

Eden shifts so she’s lying across the bed on her stomach, her feet crossed in the air as if we’re at a slumber party. “Did you go to an all-girls school?”

Her question calms me. I’d been nervous that all the students here would have known each other for years. I mean, how many evangelical teenagers could there possibly be in the United States? That number seemed to rocket through a J-curve as I researched the culture online all summer.

Bridgette shakes her head. “Homeschool.”

“Ugh,” Eden grumbles. “Sorry. I was homeschooled until eighth grade and then begged my parents to go to an actual school.”

“Where’d they send you?” Bridgette asks, wide-eyed as if this is the most interesting conversation she’s ever had in her life.

Eden sighs. “Not a public school, which I would have preferred, but it was close. Holy Name.”

“A Catholic school?” Bridgette breaks into laughter. “How did they arrive at that decision?”

“Shush!” Eden laughs as she sits and tosses a pillow at Bridgette. “I live in the middle of nowhere…it was the closest thing to God.”

Bridgette takes deep breaths to calm her hysteria. I smile and chuckle as both girls laugh. I have some idea what they think is so funny about Catholicism, but I don’t want to open my mouth just in case.

“What made you guys decide to come here?” I ask, sitting on my hands since wringing them together will make me look as nervous as I feel.

“I was given three choices,” Bridgette answers. “My brother and I talked about it and decided this place would be best. Close to home, but still enough freedom to let us grow up a bit.”

Freedom.

My mom had referred to Carter and all other similar institutions as mental, spiritual, and social prisons.

Perspective is a funny thing.

“My parents are nervous as heck,” Bridgette continues. “Our two older siblings went to work right after they got their diplomas. Lana is a midwife and Travis works for The Family Research Council.”

You don’t say.

Bridgette sighs. “They want to make sure we set an excellent example for our younger siblings.”

“How many do you have?” Eden and I ask at the same time, causing more giggles. This time, though, I’ve joined in the laughter.

“Twelve. Two older, ten younger,” Bridgette states matter-of-factly.

Eden’s face doesn’t move, while mine morphs into a gaping crater.

“Fourteen? Your parents have fifteen kids?” I ask, my mouth taking up more space on my face than it ever has.

She nods. “Yep.”

“Eden?” I turn toward her and find her picking at her nails. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Two. An older brother who’s an associate pastor and a younger sister who’s in high school. Only she goes to a new Christian high school in another town. What about you?”

I swallow. “I have an older stepsister. She’s in medical sch—”

“Divorce?” Bridgette whispers as she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I pull my head back, confused at first by her question. “Oh…no,” I chuckle, “my mom was never married to my birth father. When she met my stepdad, he already had a daughter from his first marriage. She’s six years older. She lived with her mom most of the time while I was growing up.”

Eden winces as she offers a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. It must have been hard growing up in so much confusion.”

Confusion? Who was confused? Me, apparently.

“I was little,” I admit. “It was all I knew.”

“Do you know your real dad?” Bridgette asks.

Real. Dad.

For most of my life, Roland was barely real, and he was certainly never my dad. This conversation is bordering dangerously close to “off-limits” territory.

I nod. “My real dad is my mother’s husband,” I snap ungraciously. Clearing my throat, I try again. “I know my birth father, but…I don’t really like talking about it.” I shrug and Bridgette puts her arm around me.

Eden slides off her bed and sits next to me. “Sorry,” she says for the second time in as many minutes.

I stay silent. There’s a battle inside me. I want to tell them everything about Roland and my confusion surrounding my spiritual roots. I want to scream that I’m here to learn about him as much as I am to learn about me, away from the expectations that have been shoved in my face my whole life. But I can’t. Not yet. I don’t know if I can trust them, and yet, they’re probably the most trustworthy people I’ve been around in a while.

“You know what we should do?” Bridgette’s tone perks up slightly. “We should pray. The three of us. For our lives together this year as roommates, our school year, just…everything.”