| |
Zoe
Rachel drove Zoe to the sandwich shop, which was an old house. The smell of bread hit her like a rambunctious hug.
“Go ahead and pick out a drink.” Rachel pointed her chin at a drink cooler. “Wait, are you allowed to have soda?”
Zoe almost laughed. Gramma was far too worried about moonshine consumption to worry about sugar. “As far as I know.”
“Great. Grab whatever you want and then get me a Moxie.”
Zoe vaguely remembered having Moxie when she was little, but she couldn’t remember what it tasted like. She seemed to remember that she hadn’t liked it, but what had her younger self known about the finer things in life? If Rachel liked it, maybe it was worth trying. She grabbed two.
“Ah, Moxie. Excellent choice.” Rachel made pleasant conversation with the woman behind the counter, and Zoe wasn’t even embarrassed—until Rachel invited her to church. Then Zoe wanted to sink into the floor.
The woman politely declined. Sunday was her only day off.
“I understand. Well, if you ever need us, we’ll be there.” Rachel took the bag of sandwiches and thanked the woman. Then they returned to the car.
“Do you invite everyone you meet to church?”
Rachel laughed. “Definitely not.”
Zoe waited for her to elaborate, her mouth watering now that the smell of fresh bread had entered Rachel’s car.
“I try to wait for the prompting of the Holy Ghost. I say, ‘Do you want me to invite this person to church?’”
Zoe remembered those strong invisible arms, how they had felt around her body. “And that works?”
“Honestly?” Rachel snapped her seatbelt into place. “Buckle up, buttercup.” She put the car in reverse. “Honestly, usually nothing happens. But sometimes, I get a little nudge.”
“Nudge?”
“Yeah. It’s like a good feeling, a comfort and an excitement about the idea, and it comes with a little burst of courage.”
“And that just happened to you, in there?” This woman was nuts. Of course, how nuts was being carried home by an invisible man?
You weren’t carried home by anyone, Zoe reminded herself. You were only dreaming.
“Yes, and sometimes, I get a firm no, like a solid wall appears between me and the person.”
“A no? Like God doesn’t want someone going to church?”
“I don’t know about that. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want that person at our church. Maybe we’re not ready for him or something.”
“Were you guys ready for that homeless man who sits in the back?”
“I’m not sure, and I don’t know who invited him.”
They returned to the church, and Rachel carried the food inside. Zoe checked her phone. It was getting late. She needed to eat and then fly. She hoped this eating time was counting toward her ten hours, but she wasn’t sure how to ask without sounding like a snot.
When they’d both sat and started in on their sandwiches, Rachel said, “So, tell me about Monday night.”
Zoe stopped chewing. “What?”
Nonchalantly, Rachel said, “I like a good story. Tell me the story of Monday night.”
Instead, Zoe unscrewed the top of her Moxie and took a long drink. It was wonderfully refreshing. Like Coke with a kick. It gave her a little buzz. Her younger self had been dead wrong about the stuff. She swallowed and looked at Rachel. “I don’t know. There’s not much to tell.”
“Baloney,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “You can tell me that it’s none of my business, but don’t tell me there’s nothing to tell.”
Zoe studied her. What had she heard? And why on earth was Zoe having the urge to share with her? Maybe because she’d had the urge to share with Jason earlier and hadn’t? Maybe because an old lady in a peaceful church felt like the most trustworthy confidante in the world? She swallowed. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to tell someone the whole story? She put her sandwich down.
She was.
She was going to tell this woman her story.
And she had no idea why.
“So, I went to a party. You know Jason, right?”
Rachel nodded with no expression on her face other than polite interest.
“Well, he’s like my only friend here. And he’s not really my friend yet. Well, maybe he is. I don’t know. Anyway, I went to this party because I thought he was going to be there.” She wasn’t sure this was entirely accurate, but she didn’t really understand her other motivations. “So I walked there, and there was this total slimeball jerk, and he tricked me into drinking moonshine ...” She paused to give Rachel time to judge her and to jump on her the way her grandmother had.
But Rachel took another bite of her sandwich and then looked at Zoe, waiting for her to continue.
“So obviously, I got really drunk really fast because, moonshine. I’ve never had moonshine before.” She paused. Dare she ask the question that had just popped into her brain? “Have you?”
Rachel smiled widely and then wiped her mouth with a napkin. It almost looked as though she were wiping the smile off. “I have, but this is your story, so please, continue.”
She had! Zoe had had a feeling. “So I got really drunk, and I don’t remember much, but I remember standing by the water, and the guy who gave me the moonshine came really close to me and asked me to go into the woods.”
Any hint of joy slid off Rachel’s face. Now she looked scared.
“I didn’t go,” Zoe said quickly. “Instead, I just left. I don’t know what happened. I think I walked back to the street, and then Jason says I turned and hollered at them and swore and stuff, but that doesn’t sound like me. I mean, the swearing part does, but I don’t think I would have hollered at a whole crowd I don’t know. I think they’re lying, but ...” She shrugged. “I guess I’ll never know.” She took another bite of her sandwich. It was the best sandwich she’d ever had. The bread tasted like molasses, and there were a bunch of sprouts that gave the sandwich a good crunch and a fresh taste.
“Jason told you? Jason was there?”
Zoe shook her head. “No.” She covered her mouth as she chewed. “Someone told him that, and he told me.”
“So then what?”
“So then I walked home.” She considered stopping the story there, but part of her really wanted to continue.
