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Chevon
Chevon still wasn’t feeling well, but she wanted to get out of the house, so she agreed to a date night. Jason had promised her it would be romantic.
And all things considered, he was doing a pretty good job. He’d driven her to Fort Wagner, but the snow prevented them from getting close to the water. He’d seemed really disappointed by this realization, which she found endearing. She also found the sparkling cider endearing. The red solo cups and the bologna sandwiches, not so much.
“I’m sorry, Jason. It’s not your fault.” She zipped the sandwich baggie back up, wishing she hadn’t forced herself to take it. “Most foods make me sick.”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it. “I should’ve asked you what you wanted.” He sighed. “But unfortunately, I was limited to what my mother had in the kitchen. And she’s not exactly Martha Stewart.”
She chuckled. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve basically given up on all food.” This wasn’t true. Ritz crackers and pickles were still her friends. But she didn’t want to eat crackers and pickles in Jason’s car. She didn’t want to smell like vinegar.
He zipped his sandwich into a bag, also unfinished. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Oh, good. They hadn’t had a real conversation in too long. “Okay. Shoot.”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything ... because I’m not.”
She tensed. She didn’t know where this was going and already she felt pressured. “Okay,” she said again, less enthusiastic this time.
“I guess I’m just wondering where you’re at with Jesus.”
She groaned. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
She didn’t want to talk about this. “Hey, you want to discuss childbirth instead? How my body’s about to be ripped open and how much that’s going to hurt?”
He looked at her. “Huh?”
“Yeah, because I’d rather talk about that than talk about religion.”
His eyes turned back to the windshield, and he looked so sad that she felt bad.
“Look, I’m sorry. I love you, Jason, but can’t we just agree to disagree on this? We don’t have to agree on every—”
“But why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?”
“Why don’t you agree with me on this? You’ve heard what the Bible says. Do you not believe it’s true?”
She leaned back against the headrest. Apparently they were going to discuss this whether she wanted to or not. “I don’t know, Jason.” Neither did she care, but she didn’t think she should say that. She didn’t want him to totally freak out. “I’ve just got a lot of other things”—more pressing things, she thought without saying—“on my mind.”
He nodded, his jaw tense. “I understand that.”
“Do you? So can you just calm down about the religion?”
He jerked, and she regretted her words.
“Not that you’re not calm. You are. You’ve been pretty patient with me. But I’m going to church with you. I went to the stupid Saturday thing. Isn’t that enough? What do you want from me?”
He took a long breath, and it sounded shaky, which alarmed her a little. Jason had seemed so strong lately. “It’s not what I want from you. It’s what I want from Jesus.”
It was her turn to say, “Huh?”
He closed his eyes. “What I’ve come to expect from Jesus. Look, when my adulterous mother became the butt of every joke, I thought my life was over. I was so embarrassed I didn’t think I could live through it. But there was Jesus. And he was a friend. No, more than a friend. I can’t explain it, but he was there, and he brought me so much comfort. And then my parents announced their divorce, of course, and then again, I thought I wouldn’t survive the shame, but he was there again. I talked to him, and often, in weird ways, he talked back. I was never alone, and I was never hopeless. I knew that whatever was coming was going to come and that I would survive it because of him.”
Part of her wished he’d stop preaching at her. Part of her was riveted. This was the most he’d talked to her in weeks.
“And then you. When I found out you were pregnant, Chevon, I was so terrified. It felt worse than anything I’d been through. I thought the guilt would literally kill me. I felt guilty for messing up your life, guilty for cheating on Alita, guilty for causing a pregnancy, guilty for judging my mom and being so mad at her when I’d done something just as stupid.” He paused. “Well, almost as stupid. Anyway, I didn’t think I’d survive it, but there was Jesus.” He looked at her. “And I know you’re struggling right now. And I get it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be struggling. I try to imagine what you’re going through, and I can’t really. I’m sure it’s awful. But I know how much he could help you.” He swallowed hard. “But only if you let him.”
This was the most enticing presentation of Jesus she’d ever heard. “That’s some good preaching,” she said, and it came out far more sarcastic than she’d meant it. She opened her mouth to try to get her foot out of it, but he didn’t give her a chance.
“Fine. You’re right. I can’t make you choose the truth. But how can you ignore everything that’s happened? How can you ignore Zoe getting sober?” She hadn’t known Zoe was ever drunk. “How can you ignore us finding Levi in the middle of nowhere? That was all because of Jesus!”
She looked down at the pathetic sandwich she still held in her hands. “I’m not ignoring that stuff, Jason. I’m just ...” She searched for the right words. “Like I said, I just can’t process it right now. You’re asking me to trade in my whole world-view, the one I’ve spent my life forming, for yours, which doesn’t even make sense to me. That’s not an easy thing to do, especially not when I’m throwing up all the time and staggering around too tired to think.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He turned to her abruptly and pulled one of her hands away from her sandwich.
His touch sent a warm jolt up her arm, and she smiled despite herself.
“I love you, Chevon. I love you more each day. Every time I look at you, you are more beautiful. And your lack of faith scares me.”
She pulled her hand away. Lack of faith? Could he be more judgy? More condescending?
He grabbed her hand again. “The Bible says we’re not supposed to be unequally yoked. I want to be yoked to you. I’m just scared what’s going to happen if we don’t get equally yoked.”
Chevon had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Yoked? As in egg yolks? But she was too tired to ask. “I think you should take me home now.”
He hesitated, staring at her.
“I’m not mad or anything. I just don’t feel good and want to go to bed. Please, just take me home.”
