“You didn’t pray yesterday morning.” She blinks.
I think back. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
“Shameful.” She chuckles.
“You aren’t religious?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders, like she hadn’t really thought about it. “Not really. I mean, I believe there’s a God. I know this world didn’t just appear one day.”
“But you don’t practice?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Does it interest you at all?”
“I see what you’re doing.” She smirks.
“What?”
“I asked you about your ex and you changed the subject.” She sits back and tries not to smile too hard.
“I didn’t necessarily mean to. I just think this conversation is more important.”
She looks down at her food and then me.
“My parents used to drag me to church regularly. Throw me in a Sunday school with other kids my age and hope for the best. I understood nothing. Still don’t. I know some basic stories, like Noah and the ark, Adam and Eve, the apple, Jesus healing a bunch of people…but that’s—”
“That’s something.”
“I guess,” she mutters.
“Everyone starts somewhere. Nobody is born just knowing. There’s stuff I don’t know. I learn something new every time I open my Bible. That’s the fun part.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t tell you the last time I read out of a Bible. When I was younger…maybe in youth group?”
Something about that statement makes me feel sick to my stomach. Not because I’m judging her. It’s not that.
It’s just…I don’t know. It’s the way she said it, like an apology. Like somewhere along the way, life got too complicated and she never found her way back.
That’s when I leaned into God the most, though. When things fell apart. When I had nothing else to hold on to.
But that’s me.
Maybe she’s not there yet. Maybe I’m supposed to be the one who helps her find the way back. Even if it’s just by living it, not preaching it.
“Yeah, well, that’s just a part of believing. It’s more about the relationship you have with God than your knowledge of him. Relationship’s more important.”
Karissa just nods and takes a bite of the noodles. I get the sense I might’ve made her uncomfortable, and that wasn’t my intention. My mind starts buzzing, scrambling for something to say. Anything. I just need to recover.
“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “Bree, my ex…she left because of me, actually.”
Karissa swallows and reaches for her drink. Her brown eyes meet mine. “How’s that?”
I glance down. “I don’t know if I want to get into it.”
Not even my family knows what really happened that day. I’ve kept it buried for seven years, and I always planned to keep it that way. It’s messy. Shameful. And if I’m honest, part of me still wishes I could rewind the clock and undo it all.
“Okay,” she says softly, pressing her fork into a piece of broccoli.
