Rhys
Repentance /ree-pen-təns/ n—Trying to make up for the past so
you can move on with the future
I have one shot, and I’m not going to screw it up. Tonight has to be perfect. It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen her, and the thought of doing it again seems impossible. I have to make her understand that we can make this work.
I run my hands through my still-wet hair, sending water droplets over the room. I pull some product through my hair and then tug on my coat.
Supe looks up from the TV when I walk into the living room.
“Going somewhere?” he asks.
“Date.”
Supe’s eyebrows shoot up. “So things went well when you told her, then?”
I shrug. “As good as could be expected, I guess.”
“So tonight . . .”
“I’m taking her dancing again at Joe’s.” I’m hoping that will remind her why we’re so good together.
Supe mutes the TV. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“But?”
“Is her forgetting why she likes you really the problem?”
No. The problem is that she thinks she doesn’t know me. Taking her to Joe’s is my attempt to show her where we first connected. Where I first tried to show her what I’m really like. To remind her I’m still me. But maybe Supe’s right; maybe that isn’t what needs to be addressed. “Maybe you’re right. But I’m picking her up in ten minutes, and I don’t have a backup plan.” I sit on the arm of the couch and rack my brain to come up with a better date. “Any ideas?”
“Dinner? Walk around the mall?” His face crunches up, showing he’s as unimpressed with his suggestions as I am. “Yeah. Not my best work.”
I let out a heavy breath. This might be my one and only shot to show her that I love her and, even though I’m not a member, I support her. That’s it. She needs to know that even though I’m not a member, no matter what my beliefs are, I support her in hers. A plan forms in my mind. “Can I borrow a white shirt and tie?” I ask Supe.
“Sure, man. Borrow whatever you want. Where are you taking her?”
“The mother ship.” I go change, then hurry out to my truck. The streets to her house are familiar to me and are a blur. I leave the truck running so the heater will stay warm, and I smooth my coat as I walk to her door. I don’t remember ever being as nervous as when I knock on her door.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emmy says as soon as she opens the door.
“Okay . . .” Not what I was expecting.
“Because I’ve been retracing every conversation we’ve ever had, and the thing is, I’m upset, Rhys. And not just because you didn’t tell me—because I think I understand why you didn’t—but because I’m in love with you and I’m not sure there’s anything you can say or do that will make things work between us.”
She’s mad. Of course she is. I expected that, but she also said she loves me and that even though she isn’t sure how things can work, she’s here, so that means she wants us to work. I can’t help smiling.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, her cheeks turning the same color as her pink pastel coat.
“Like what?”
“Like you know what I’m thinking.”
“If I knew what you were thinking, I wouldn’t be so nervous right now.”
“You’re nervous?”
“Aren’t you?”
Her smile has never been so sweet. “Yes.”
“So you don’t want to talk about it. What do you want to talk about?”
She frowns. “I hadn’t gotten that far.”
“Can I take you to dinner?”
“Yes. But . . . this doesn’t mean everything is suddenly okay. It’s all still there. I just don’t know what to do about it, and instead of tiptoeing around in awkwardness all night, I’d rather hold your hand and soak up whatever time we have. Okay?”
I take a step toward her and use a piece of hair that’s fallen across her cheek as an excuse to touch her. My hands shake slightly as I tuck it behind her ear. “Okay,” I say quietly. This can’t be a good idea, but I don’t really have the right to tell her what is or is not a good idea right now. I help her into the truck, and since we’re ignoring everything, the second I sit down, I reach for her hand.
“So,” she says. “How’d you do on your midterm?”
I chance a sideways glance at her. I expected things to be weird, but pretending like nothing happened feels really weird. “Okay, I think. You?”
“Fine. Considering I got stuck with the absolute worst-case scenario for a study partner.”
Ouch. The jab is warranted but stings. “I think I held up my end of the bargain okay.”
Emmy’s nose scrunches up. “What? Oh. No. I was talking about you being a distraction. A very, very nice distraction.”
“Am I?”
She pulls her legs underneath her and leans against the center console to kiss my cheek. “Obnoxiously so.”
I squeeze her fingers, and she smiles.
“I’m not sure how I did. We might want to put in a little more study time the rest of the semester.”
The rest of the semester. She pictures us being together the rest of the semester. My whole body relaxes a little.
The drive to Salt Lake goes quickly, which is good because it isn’t awkward but bad because every second we don’t talk about me not being a member is one less second I have to convince her we can work.
“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out,” she says as we exit the freeway in Salt Lake. “I know where you’re taking me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Joe’s, right?” She bounces in her seat a little.
I consider ditching the plan B date in favor of spending the night dancing in each other’s arms, but I decide Joe’s, as enticing as it is, would make it difficult to talk and impossible to convince her that I support her. “Nope. Guess again.”
Emmy does this cute pouty thinking face. She even taps her index finger against her cheek. I turn the corner, and our destination looms in front of us. She sucks in a breath, and I glance over to see that her expression has become guarded. Almost guilty?
“Is that where we’re going?” She points at the lit spires of the Salt Lake Temple and then looks at me.
“Actually, we’re going there.” I shift her index finger slightly to the right, pointing it at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. “There’s a nice restaurant on the top floor. Is that okay?”
She lets out her breath. “Yes. Perfect.” She sounds relieved. Why does she sound relieved? The point of this night was to take her to the temple so I could prove how much I support her. That won’t work if she doesn’t want to be here.
“I thought we could walk around Temple Square after.”
Her brow knits together. “You want to walk around Temple Square?”
She doesn’t get it. She has no clue how into her I am. “Why wouldn’t I? There’s a visitors’ center, right? Like, with statues and art?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I wonder what she’s thinking. “Well. Yes, but . . . are you sure you want to go there?”
“You mean because I’m not a member?”
“Well . . .” She bites her lip. “Yeah.”
I pull to the side of the road and park in a metered stall. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Okay.”
“Try not to treat me differently tonight.”
“I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“No. You’re avoiding the subject.”
Her gaze flicks up to the temple and then lowers to her hands wringing in her lap.
“And I’m okay with that . . .” I reassure her by folding her hand into mine. “For now. But we’re going to have to talk at some point tonight.”
“I know . . . I just . . . I’m not sure how to feel, let alone act.”
“We have a lot to figure out. I get that, but you don’t have to think about how to act, okay? I’m still me.”
“I know. That’s why I’m giving us a chance.”
* * *
“Thank you for dinner,” Emmy says as soon as we exit the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. “It was delicious.”
It was delicious: prime rib, au gratin potatoes, rolls to die for. We were even seated next to the window with a perfect view of the temple. I caught her looking longingly at it more than once, but she tried to hide it when she noticed me staring. “You’re welcome. So . . . visitors’ center?”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
We walk into the temple courtyard through a tall black gate. There are several buildings, the most majestic being the temple. To our left, Emmy points out the South Visitors’ Center—apparently there are two. In front of that is a darker gray building that looks like a smaller version of the temple, though not as white and not as tall. There’s a domed building she calls a tabernacle and, next to that is the other visitors’ center—the North Visitors’ Center. It sits in front of a courtyard and is the most modern of the buildings. We walk inside, and though I can tell she’s trying to contain her excitement, it still shows.
Girl missionaries meet us at the door. They look about our age, maybe younger, and I wonder if Emmy considered going on a mission. Supe went on one, but I remember him saying girls didn’t have to. “Welcome to the North Visitors’ Center. Would you like a tour?”
Emmy looks up at me. “Do you want . . . ?”
“Why don’t you just show me?”
She nods, and the missionaries walk away. We look at several large pictures of Jesus Christ. They’re . . . large. And . . . nice, I guess, but all I can think about is that we still haven’t talked and we really, really need to. We walk to the next painting—a picture of Christ in all white surrounded by white puffy clouds and angels.
Emmy squeezes my hand, and when I look at her, her eyes are filled with tears. I can’t say I understand her reaction, and I don’t feel what she does, but that’s not important. She just needs to know I support her in this, so I rub her knuckles with my thumb and smile. A tear rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away.
“Do you want to see the other visitors’ center?” she asks hopefully.
“Okay.”
She tells me about the temple as we walk to the South Visitors’ Center. Bits of trivia I won’t remember by the time we get to the next building.
A grandma missionary, Sister Kerns, meets us at the door this time. She also asks us if we want a tour. This time Emmy says yes.
“This is my boyfriend, Rhys. It’s his first time here. He isn’t a member.”
I’m not sure why Emmy feels the need to introduce me this way or why it makes me uncomfortable, but it does. I do my best to let it go, and luckily this center is more interesting than the last, so it’s easy to distract myself. The first exhibit is about the pioneers—Emmy’s ancestors who walked across the plains and built the temple. I enjoy learning about her history because it helps me understand her better.
“It’s incredible,” I say.
“It is,” Sister Kerns agrees. “Would you like to see a model of the inside of the temple?”
Emmy bites her lip, waiting for my response.
“Sure.” It’s probably the closest I’ll ever come to going inside.
Emmy’s hand tightens around mine as we walk deeper into the room. Sister Kerns shows us a paper model of the temple surrounded by glass. It really is amazing.
“It took forty years to construct the outside but only one to complete the ornate interior.”
“Wow.”
“Do you know why they persevered despite so much opposition?”
I can guess at the answer, but I’d rather she just tell me so Emmy and I can get back to what’s important—me convincing her I support her.
“Because they understood the necessity of covenants in creating forever families.”
Emmy holds her breath.
“What if I told you you could be with your mother and father and siblings forever? Would you want to learn more about that?”
Every muscle in my body freezes. No. I do not want to learn more about that.
Sister Kerns ushers us to a video before I can answer. I catch bits and pieces about forever families and the plan of happiness. Both Emmy and Sister Kerns are so happy and so touched, but the only thing I think is that my family doesn’t look like that, and while I love Mom and Cami, I don’t want to be with my entire family forever.
The video ends. Sister Kerns smiles warmly, and her eyes are misty. “I want you to know we will all have the opportunity to accept the gospel. To be eternal families.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes.”
I roll my shoulders. “Is there something I can sign to opt out?”
Emmy’s eyes widen in shock, and I regret asking the question. Not because I don’t mean it but because whatever ground Emmy and I had advanced tonight is now lost. She deserves to know how I really feel but not like this.
The smile on Sister Kerns’ face slips. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Like if I don’t want to be sealed to my family. Can I sign something so you won’t use my name?” They have every right to believe whatever they want to believe, but I don’t believe it, and even on paper, I don’t want to be attached to him. If there’s even a chance that the man who calls himself my father can worm his way back into my family—I can’t let that happen. I have to protect Mom and Cami.
Sister Kerns looks at Emmy confused. “I’d better go check on my companion.” She excuses herself. “It looks like you two have a lot to talk about.”
We do, but now that I’m finally getting a chance, I’m not sure I want to have the conversation. Though I know we have to.
Emmy looks up at me. “I don’t understand what just happened.”
“I’m sorry. I was just caught off guard. I thought all that stuff, the temple and forever families and getting sealed, was just for members of your church, not for people who didn’t believe in it.”
Emmy bites her lip and nods but keeps her eyes down like she’s trying not to cry. “Have you tried to believe?” Her voice shakes, and she looks almost as uncomfortable asking the question as I feel answering it.
“I went to church with Supe a few times. And I’ve read the Book of Mormon.”
“D-did you pray about it?”
I’ve prayed two times in my life: once when Mom got sick and again when Dad walked out. Didn’t change anything then, and it won’t change anything now. “No. It’s a nice idea, forever families. But it isn’t for me.” A person shouldn’t have to try to believe something. You either believe it or you don’t. And I don’t.
“If you would pray, I know He’d answer.”
She’s not getting it. Tonight wasn’t my attempt to prove to her that I could become a Mormon but rather that we could be good together despite it. “I’m not going to become a Mormon, Emmy.”
She nods, but it’s more of an I-hear-you type of nod than an I-accept-you type of nod. “Is there any chance that one day maybe you might?” Her eyes are so hopeful.
Everything inside me wants to tell her there’s a chance. That I’ll learn to believe. Think deeper, pray harder, read longer, but deep down, I know none of that will make a difference. God, even if He does exist, has never been concerned about me. A god like that isn’t someone I want to put my faith in. “I’m sorry, but no.”