“You know, he’s spending his Christmas with the inmates up in Rahway at the state prison. That’s a true man of God,” said my mother, nodding in agreement with herself. “I get the feeling he’s a little more liberal than I usually like, but what can you do…” She trailed off, oblivious to my shock.
Once in position, Mark ran his fingers through his hair, then looked up calmly at the congregation. “Good morning,” he said in his strong but soft voice. “Thank you for joining us in fellowship this morning.”
I flipped wildly to the front of the program. Under the church’s logo in small type was “Pastor Mark Oberson.” My cheeks burned instantly and I shrank back into my seat as my breath sped up unnaturally. I flipped the program over, as if to hide his name, and there on the back was a small logo for a church-run organization whose mission was alleviating poverty in the community. It was called the Need Alliance.
“Ellen, what’s the matter with you?” demanded my mother. I couldn’t answer; I could only recall the things I had said and done just two nights ago, reframing them in this shocking new context. I want to be with you, I had whispered as I undressed myself. I once had a friend in college who took a job as a dancer at a high-end strip club. A women’s studies major, she spun her lucrative employment as liberating, a sort of feminism 2.0, until one night, a few minutes into her routine, she saw her uncle in the audience, looking stunned and excruciatingly uncomfortable as the German businessman whom he was entertaining stared at her appreciatively. I instantly had greater empathy for both of them.
It was all I could do to keep from running from the building right then and there, but I knew that I had to get out with as little notice as possible. Hunching so deeply that my face was practically on my knees, I looked through the program while my mother cast me sidelong glances. I would bide my time, then slip out calmly, as if just going to the restroom. Mark would never see me, never know I had been there.
I kept my eyes down as he spoke, his words becoming just sounds, unintelligible and meaningless as I concentrated on breathing, in and out. “Ellen, for goodness’ sake, sit up,” ordered my mother. We were called to stand and the music began again. I dared to sneak a glance up at the stage. Mark was watching the band, singing with the rest of the congregation, his head nodding rhythmically.
When the music ended, he opened his Bible and turned the pages carefully. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, he began to speak: “Romans 8:28 says, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ ” It was one of my mother’s favorite scriptures, and she’d often say, “Even what seem like problems can become blessings in the Lord’s hands.” When Mark was finished, he looked up at the congregation, then closed his eyes. “Let us pray.”
It was a beautiful prayer, my mother would later tell me, but I couldn’t recall a word of it. As soon as it ended, there was another song; then Mark invited us to greet one another. As my mother quietly shook hands with our neighbors, I reached into her purse and pulled out her keys.
“Where are you going?” she hissed as I slid smoothly from the pew.
“I’ll be in the car,” I whispered, a desperate edge to my voice.
My hands were on the metal door push when I heard my name echo over the church’s PA system, drowning out the murmured exchanges of welcome among the congregants. “Ellen.” It wasn’t a question; there was no uncertainty in his voice. Frozen, I glanced back at the pulpit. He was staring at me, looking confused and pained and shocked.
Our eyes met for only a moment. Then, pushing the door open just wide enough to slip through, I escaped into the foyer and pressed the door shut again behind me. I flew through the second set of doors and outside, immune to the cold as it hit my burning face. Overwhelmed and stunned, I swatted unwelcome tears from my eyes. I didn’t know why they were coming. As I began to walk purposefully toward the car, my heart jumped as I heard the doors lurch open behind me. “Ellen!” he called. “Wait!” My pace quickened and I felt my stomach make panicked flips. His hand caught my arm and suddenly he was in front of me.
“Ellen, please,” he said, trying to catch my eyes.
For a second, when our eyes locked, I wanted to collapse against him. But that feeling was almost immediately overtaken by a deep sense of indignation and betrayal, which neither began nor ended with Mark.
“So the Need Alliance, huh?” I asked caustically.
“Just walk with me?”
I clutched the collar of my coat closed. “I don’t want to walk,” I said flatly.
“All right. I’ll say what I need to say right here.” He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it back. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Ellen. There were so many times when I wanted to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because of this.” He gestured to the space between us. “Because with every day that passed that I didn’t tell you, it became harder.”
“Why did you lie in the first place?” I asked, pretending that it was his dishonesty that caused my repulsion, forgetting my own initial omissions.
“Ellen, women either won’t date me because of my work or they only want to date me because of my work.” He laughed humorlessly. “Neither really works.” I looked to see the members of the church beginning to peer from around the side of the building, taking cautious, wary steps toward us. “I really care about you. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I hoped it wouldn’t matter, but I can tell that it does.” He looked at me, waiting for me to contradict him. I couldn’t.
My mother emerged from the church, followed by several congregants looking protectively at “Pastor Mark” and suspiciously at me. Walking gingerly toward us, Mom looked back at the group and offered a nervous, apologetic smile.
“Hi, Pastor Mark,” she said as she reached us, her sugar-sweet southern accent kicking in. “I don’t know if you remember me, Patty Carlisle; I went with y’all to the family center a few times?”
Mark forced a smile. “Hello. How are you?”
She looked back and forth between us. “Is everything all right?”
“Mom, can you give us a minute?”
“Do y’all know each other?” she asked hopefully.
“Mom…”
I pulled Mark farther away. “Listen. This is clearly not the place to discuss this. Let’s talk later.”
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up,” he said. “What time?”
“No…,” I said quickly. “Let’s just meet somewhere.”