The second call came, which kinda surprised me. The etiquette of my polite confusion and unacknowledged lack of proper knowledge couldn’t have been that encouraging.
But, Jeff took the second call while I was on my way home from work. He said he’d had a nice chat, which I took to mean, he’d been able to talk to the church member just as easily as he could talk anybody, else.
He mentioned United Methodist was the church he had sort of grown-up in and been definitely been confirmed in. I wasn’t aware that Jeff had been through confirmation. I nodded, unaware of my limited understanding – my assumption: Jeff’s religious upbringing had been culturally similar to mine. Parents led you to do what you what they felt you were supposed to do when you were young, and then let the back-up years slide by the wayside.
After the third call (his second), Jeff said we’d been invited, again, and he’d like to go to church. “Ok,” I replied. “When did you want to go?”
“Sunday,” he answered. “I know ‘Sunday'” I replied a little sarcastically, “…but which Sunday?”
“Next Sunday.” “You mean, like, in two days ‘Sunday’?” I questioned, mostly because I’d expected him to say something vaguer, like, “Oh, sometime soon.”
Jeff misinterpreted my surprise as reluctance.
Ever accommodating, he hesitated after saying, “Well, you don’t have to go with me…” Then, breathed out earnestly, “But… I’d like you, too.”
“Of course, I’ll go with you,” I rushed. Because, in that instant, my love for him realized two things. Jeff rarely longed for anything, and I never wanted him to have to be or to feel alone, in anything.
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