Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(63)

“That was fun!” I say to Eden, Jonah, and Matt as we walk across campus to grab a quick coffee at the one place open after dark before returning to our dorms for curfew.

Eden and Jonah are still attached at the palms, and Matt and I are walking on either side of them, our hands in our respective pockets. I know handholding is okay, but they’re making a meal out of it. Rolling my eyes, I internally scold myself at the thought of turning into a prude.

“I had no idea you cared so much about this stuff, Kennedy,” Eden says, tucking hair behind her ear and seeming to struggle to make eye contact with me.

I wink. “I love a good mystery.”

“Seems weird that that book is so different from the others, right?” Matt offers, much to my surprise. “Like, if it were somehow discovered that he was drunk or high when he wrote it, then everyone here would need to calm down a notch, huh?” He holds his hands out, indicating the owner of the word, here. Carter University.

“How do you mean?” Jonah asks.

Matt chuckles. “Everyone drones on and on about being born again and the driving need to evangelize and it’s all, ugh,” he runs a hand over his head, seemingly aggravated, “it’s all a bit damn much.”

The group ignores his borderline curse word in favor of falling silent for a few seconds.

Jonah slows his pace as we reach the door of the cafe. “And if it were somehow proven to be one hundred percent true?”

Matt stops on a dime and turns on his heels, facing Jonah. “I don’t know, brother,” he replies. His face falls from cocky jock to brood in a second. “Guess I’d have some work to do, huh?”

Silence again.

“Look,” Matt speaks again, “I’m kinda tired. I’m just gonna head back to the dorm. See you guys next week.”

“See ya,” Jonah offers with a high five, and he and Eden walk into the cafe.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in just a sec,” I call after them, walking in the direction of Matt’s streetlight shadow on the grass.

I don’t say anything for a second when I catch up to him, instead walking next to him for a few paces, before he says, “Yeah?” as if we were mid-conversation already.

“You okay?” I stop while we’re still in the glow of the tall lights that line the walkway through campus.

“This stuff is just so stupid.” He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looks up.

“Then why are you here?” I question. “Football isn’t enough to keep someone at a place like this. I appreciate dedication to something, but, please.”

He grins and looks down at me, his eyes on fire. “Neither is wanting to go against expectations or whatever line it was you fed me.”

Here we are, at a standoff that, clearly, neither one of us want to be in. The nervous energy is palpable and we break eye contact with each other.

“Thanks for asking me to come tonight,” Matt says, placing his bear paw of a hand on my shoulder. The sensation is startling. “See you around.”

“See ya,” I reply in a near whisper as he walks away.

I stand in the wake of Matt’s energy, as intrigued by it as I was by the discussion of the Gospel a mere twenty minutes ago. Watching until he disappears down the small hill to his dorm, I’m left standing alone with a million thoughts running through my mind. Namely, what is Matt hiding? His attitude and demeanor seem to be all over the place, like he can’t decide which skin is his. That, I can appreciate, but ever since meeting Jonah’s family and watching the strained interaction between him and his dad, it occurs to me that a lot of the guys at CU seem to be struggling with something.

I know that no matter the social profile of any given eighteen-year-old male, they’re the group most unlikely of all humans to discuss how they’re feeling. But the guys here seem to actually be toiling with them rather than pushing their feelings down or aside. They’re turning issues over in their hearts and their heads. During group prayer times, they’re open about saying they need prayer “over an issue they’re struggling with,” and sometimes give no more detail than that. I wonder what comes first: the compulsion to examine themselves or a prayer life. Would the guys in my old high school be so willing to look inward if they knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that God was right there with them—expecting them to lean on him?

“You okay?” Jonah startles me away from my internal philosophical debate. “He just left you out here?” His tone waxes irritation.

“It’s fine.” I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around myself, an autumn chill settling into my bones a month later than it would have in Connecticut. “I’m capable—you know what? Never mind. It’s just okay. Okay? Where’s Eden?”

“Mixing her drink. Is Matt okay?” Jonah’s question surprises me, as if I’d have more insight to his floormate than he would.

“Maybe you should ask him.”

Jonah winces a little. “I think I irritate him.”

“I think everyone here irritates him,” I admit with a chuckle.

“You don’t seem to. You got him to come to the Bible study.” Jonah’s eyebrows lift like he’s waiting for more explanation.

I shrug. “I don’t really know what to say. I asked him if he’d come and he said yes.” I leave out details of our playful, secular-type banter that finally hooked Matt into coming. “How are things with Eden?” I ask with a smile, wanting to shift the conversation.