As he butters a roll, I decide to test things since he’s in a good mood.
“So... um, your mother was a good preacher. Were you as well?”
“Fuck me, I knew it,” he says under his breath.
I tense, but stay frozen, waiting.
He muses for a moment, then his eyes flick to mine. He sets down his butter knife, and to my surprise, he isn’t upset.
“Alright, church girl. Since it’s our first real date, you get three religious questions. No more for the rest of the night. Deal?”
I nod enthusiastically.
“Good. Yes, I preached with her starting at sixteen. Next question.”
I whisper, “Wow.”
He chews his bread, then replies, “It’s not that amazing.”
“I think you’re a very talented speaker. The way you command the room.” I clutch my heart. “You—”
“Second question,” he interrupts.
I frown, but consider the next carefully, tapping my chin.
“Okay, when exactly did you lose your faith in God?”
His jaw flexes. “You really want to talk about this heavy shit?”
“Please.”
He sighs and speaks quick and flat. “At the accident. I saw my father was dead. There was no saving him. My mom couldbarely breathe. The car was on fire. I dragged her out. She was bleeding everywhere. I prayed for God to save her. He didn’t. Next question.”
My hand shoots across the table and I hold his tightly.
“Oh, Jack, that’s terrible... I am sorry. It’s a miracle you didn’t die and—”
Jack retracts his hand and leans back in the chair. “No preaching. Last question.”
I half-smile, then lightly tease, “You are very difficult.”
He softens and leans forward. “Yes.”
“Okay. My last question... hm. I got it. Would you ever try to believe again? For me?”
This time, he doesn’t flinch. “Sure, I’ll try,afteryou stop believing.”
“What?”
“See how ridiculous that sounds? Me pressuring you to be an atheist.”
“Oh.” I look at my water glass. A bead of condensation rolls down the side. The mix of emotions — confusion, disappointment, understanding — feel like a suffocating weight on my chest.
“Hey. Morgan, I don’t want religious-talk to ruin our night together.” He moves his chair closer to me and slowly strokes my back.
His touch is comforting, but I feel... deflated.
“This is too hard, isn’t it?” he says softly.
