I glance at my watch and realize I need to be at the diner in less than twenty minutes.
As if reading my mind, Father Foster offers me absolution and penance.
“Thank you for, um, taking the time to hear me out,” I say, getting on my feet.
“Anytime, Grace.”
When I walk out of the church after saying my penance, I slide inside my car and drive to the diner.
After a slow shift, I lock up the diner at eight o’clock, put on my jacket and grab my purse, then drive home, eager to join Mom and Chris for dinner. I arrive just in time, dropping my keys on the table and slipping off my jacket. My stomach grumbles as the smell of lasagna greets me at the door.
Chris walks into the dining room with cutlery and starts setting the table for three.
Mom trails with her favorite baking dish and sets it on a placemat in the middle of the table, then looks up and sees me watching them.
“Grab the bottle of wine from the pantry and come sit down,” she tells me. I toss my purse on the coffee table and do as I’m told.
About five minutes later, the three of us settle down at the table. Mom pours wine into three glasses, then looks in my direction and mouths, “You need it.”
God, I love this woman.
She prays over the food and when she’s done, I dart my gaze to Chris to see his reaction. He doesn’t seem squirmy, and I sigh in relief. Everyone has a right to their own beliefs and practices. Mom is smitten with Chris; I wouldn’t want their relationship going south before it’s even begun.
When he catches me studying him, he smiles and grabs my mother’s plate. After serving her first, he then reaches for mine and does the same and then his last.
What a gentleman. Christopher Goldberg just earned points from me.
“Did I pass the test?” he asks.
Heat fills my cheeks. I’m about to ask, “What test?” but he grins knowingly. So I laugh, and say, “With flying colors.”
Mom sends me a horrified look. “What test?”
“It’s nothing,” I mutter, grabbing my fork and scooping lasagna into my mouth. She glares and between bites, I add, “Just getting to know Chris.” I glance at him. “So, you came to the diner every second Sunday, huh?”
He winks at my mom and says, “Like clockwork. Took a while for your mother to finally see me.”
She laughs, running her fingers through her dreadlocks. “I noticed you. I thought you were a big fan of waffles. That, or you loved hanging out there. I’m not good at reading people. But I’m glad you finally asked me out.”
During dinner, I learn that he’s forty years old, his mom is Polish and his dad is African-American, he’s never been married and has no children. He lives here in Portland and works in real estate.
My phone buzzes with a text, probably from MJ. Mom and Chris are deep in conversation, so I sneak away, dig my phone out of my handbag and answer the call. After talking for a few minutes, I tell her about my plan to go on a Eurotrip and that my mom has already agreed.
“I’m coming with you,” she says immediately. “I mean, I have to speak with my parents first and talk to my professor about my classes, but it’s so happening. What’s a trip around Europe without your favorite girl? Besides, I’ll be your tour guide. I know all these cool places we can visit.”
A while back, MJ mentioned that she and her parents vacationed in Europe when she was sixteen-years-old. She told me that it was the best vacation she’s ever had. It would be so nice to have her on this trip. Maybe my mother won’t be so worried if MJ comes with me. “What about school? And the ticket and stuff?”
She’s quiet for a few seconds before saying, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything. I’ll see if I can talk to my professors tomorrow to figure it out,” MJ says, making it sound so easy.
“Okay, babe. Call me later.”
For the first time since breaking up with Sol, I feel hopeful. Leaving Portland, even for a few months will help get my head in the right headspace.
I grab my laptop from the desk and power it on, then proceed to search for tickets to various destinations in Europe, hoping to find one with a reasonable price.
MJ calls me the following week, sounding excited.
“Any news?” I ask.
“My parents were a hard sell, but they finally agreed on the condition that I enroll for summer classes to complete the required courses I need before the fall semester.”
“Oh my gosh. So we’re going?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replies. “You doing okay?”
“Honestly, no.”
“This trip will be good for you.”
I rub my eyes and yawn, exhausted. “I hope so. I really miss him.” My throat constricts and tears burn my eyes.
“I know you do,” she says. “You did what’s best for you. He has to figure out what he wants.” I sniff and wipe my cheeks. When I don’t say anything, she continues. “I have some good news to cheer you up. We’ll be rooming together in the fall.”
“Really?” I smile, feeling slightly better. “That’s amazing. How did you do it?”
“My roommate will be moving in with her boyfriend next semester. Then Levi talked to his mom, who knows someone on the board of trustees, and the rest is history.”
For the first time in a long time, I feel like the currents have changed. Everything seems to be working in my favor, thank God. This trip will be good for me, especially with my best friend around. I just know it.
It’s been almost two weeks since my meeting with my spiritual director. My nerves are strung tight from waiting to hear from the seminary. My life may be one big mess at the moment, but one thing is clear: I can’t go back to being who I was.
On Tuesday, right after my morning run, I head to the rectory to grab a shower, then go to Luke’s home office to help him finalize a few details for the St. Peter’s monthly food drive. Twenty minutes into my visit, my phone starts ringing. I pull it out of my sweatpants pocket and check the screen. I recognize the Boston area code and telephone number right away.
A loud pounding begins in my ears as I continue staring at the number flashing on the screen.
I’ve been waiting for this phone call for what feels like ages, and now that it’s here, I’m terrified of answering.
“You going to answer that?” Luke asks, nodding at my phone.
“It’s the seminary,” I murmur under my breath. The look on his face tells me he already knows. It’s not like my phone receives a lot of action, so there’s that.
“Want me to let them know you’ll return the call later?”
I shake my head quickly and swallow the nerves tying my tongue in knots.
He pushes back his chair and stands, then rounds the desk. He pauses next to me, reaching forward and squeezing my shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
I nod and return my focus to my phone.
This is it. Whatever happens at this point, well, I’ll know what to do from there.
Who am I kidding? I have no freaking clue what I’ll do. Taking several deep breaths, I accept the call, inhale deeply and say, “Hello?”