Part 24 (1/2)

”Uh, I don't think we need to pursue this any further,” said Brother Nelson.

But Sister Dudley pursued it further. ”You did enjoy it!”

Well, she pushed me. ”Yes, ma'am, I did. I enjoy everything about Marian Chiardelli, whether I'm in the same room with her or in the same donkey.”

Sister Dudley gasped. She even put her hand over her heart. It looked like bad acting. ”Well I never!”

I had once heard Robert Mitchum use a line in an old western, and it had to have been stored in my memory for this very moment. ”No, ma'am, I don't suppose you have.”

Well, I didn't have to submit to their corrective action. I could have just left West Bethel forever. But to me, that would have been handing the administration a victory, another notch to carve in their big black Bibles. I was doing well at this school. I had good relations.h.i.+ps with most of my teachers. My grades were excellent. I'd made some wonderful friends. Ben was getting to be a pretty good guitar player. Most of all, G.o.d had called me to this school and to the ministry that would follow, and I owed it to him to see it through.

So I stayed, and went on with my studies as usual, embracing my punishment. My sentence was harsh, thanks to my temper and Sister Dudley's indignity. They put me on probation and forbade me to be near Marian for the rest of the quarter. I couldn't talk to her, call her, or write to her. They put her on probation as well, and forbade her to have any contact with me. They allowed me to keep the prayer card I'd taped to my desk as long as I was praying, but I could only keep her head. The rest of her would have to go.

Now her image only measured an eighth of an inch.

This was to be a cooling off period, they said, a time to get focused on the Lord instead of each other. That was the most maddening thing about it. Marian was Loren's girl and they were picking on me! I heard no accusations of immorality over Loren's bare Samson chest. How many of the girls had enjoyed that?

I discovered a lot about myself the first few weeks of my probation. I discovered how much anger I was capable of, and how many different ways I could vent it without breaking anything. I discovered how close I could come to swearing without really doing it, and how limber my middle finger could be when separated from the others. I allowed myself to ponder whether Sister Dudley truly ever had, and wonder how holy and spiritual I had to be before I could reduce my first two names to initials.

All of which brought to mind the wild donkey needing to be bridled. It took at least two weeks for that question to work its way through, but I finally dealt with it: Was that really me? Was G.o.d trying to show me the waywardness that still remained in my heart? Was I really that rebellious and l.u.s.tful?

My anger cooled. I adapted to the bridle. I prayed it through and repented of my rebellious att.i.tude. I read my chapters and turned in my papers, I pa.s.sed my quizzes and midterms. I plunked on my banjo, sitting alone on my bed.

I got over it. I even forgave Sister Dudley. After all, what was I losing anyway? Marian and I were just friends, just a brother and sister in the Lord making a donkey of ourselves. We would always be friends, and someday the whole incident would be funny.

A WEEK BEFORE THANKSGIVING, I heard what sounded like a mob outside my dorm window. My stomach turned. I ran to the window and looked, and sure enough, an old college ritual was underway. Some poor guy had gotten engaged and now his buddies and their buddies were carrying him up to the pond beside the chapel. I didn't even grab my coat, but ran down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. By the time I got to the pond, they'd already thrown him in. He'd climbed out, someone had thrown a robe over him, and now he was wiping his head with a towel.

I waited as he bent and dried his scalp. Then he straightened up, laughing and waving at his well-wis.h.i.+ng and mischievous friends.

I would live another day. It wasn't Loren Bullard.

BROTHER SMITH AND I had many conversations over that long fall quarter, and we got close. He was an honorable man and never violated the conditions of my probation. Nevertheless, he did pa.s.s information along as he acquired it.

”I heard today that Marian and the girls have named that donkey Travis. As I understand it, they feel they couldn't have won the contest without your help-inappropriate as it was.”

”Yes sir.”

”You appear to be doing all right.”

”Oh, keeping busy.”

”How did midterms go?”

”Better than I'd hoped.”

”I understand Marian did well on her midterms, and it's also my understanding that she prays for you daily. What are you smiling about?”

”Oh, nothing, sir.”

”But your smile does mean you're pleased at this moment.”

I nodded.

”Just wanted to deepen my own understanding, of course, in case someone should ask me what I'm understanding these days.” ”Of course.”

Such conversations didn't happen every day, and they never seemed planned, at least by me. Brother Smith and I would pa.s.s each other on campus, a perfectly normal thing to do, and sometimes he just happened to be a trifle more chatty. Once we pa.s.sed each other in the chapel foyer and he asked me my opinion of the shrubs by the front steps. ”Think they ought to be pruned back?”

I looked through the window and saw shrubs, most of them bare this time of year. ”Well, pruning never hurts.”

”That reminds me: Loren Bullard has a friend thinking of getting a haircut. Loren thinks it would be a great idea, but the friend thought a second opinion might be helpful. Did I say something funny?”

I wiped the smile off my face, but it came right back. ”They want my opinion?”

He shrugged and looked away as if totally uninterested. ”The friend wants your opinion-but that's just my understanding.”

I thought it over. ”I think Loren should get used to his friend having longer hair.”

He nodded. ”I think the shrubs could be pruned back, though.”

I looked at them again. ”Sure. The shrubs could be.”

ONE SAt.u.r.dAY NIGHT in December, I came so close. Chapel had ended, and I was sitting near the back because Marian and her friends usually sat near the front. The altars were filled that night, but as the hour grew late, the crowd dwindled to two guys and one girl praying separately, and the trio praying in their usual spot on the right side. I watched and listened as Chris and Julie just kept hammering away in tongues, their hands on Marian's shoulders. It could have been an exact repeat of so many other occasions, except that this time, sooner than I expected, Julie and Chris called it quits, gave Marian a little hug, and left her there alone.

Then it was just two guys praying, me sitting near the back, and Marian weeping at the altar. Alone.

Sister Dudley had to be watching. I looked around the chapel and saw no one else, but those grim, narrow eyes had to be somewhere. If G.o.d wasn't watching, she was.

I sat glued to the pew as Marian wiped her eyes, stood up, and started for the door. I didn't wave to her or make a sound. I even slouched a little as if trying to hide.

Obedience. The word pounded in my mind. To obey is better than sacrifice.

Rebellion. I could feel the pang of guilt turning my insides. Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft.

Submission.

Authority.

Sister Dudley.

I sat there until Marian was gone. Now it was just one guy praying and me sitting near the back, and Sister Dudley watching even if G.o.d wasn't.

And I bawled like a baby, my forehead resting on the back of the pew in front of me.

ON DECEMBER 22, at three forty-five in the afternoon, I held my pen high above my paper, began to hum the Hallelujah Chorus, and brought the pen down in slow-motion to place a period on the last sentence of my last final exam for the fall quarter. For me, the quarter was over. I had mail to pick up and some packing to do before going home for Christmas, but somewhere, sometime in the middle of all that, I absolutely had to see Brother Smith.

I hurried to the front of the cla.s.sroom, set my exam on the prof's desk, told her Merry Christmas, and got out of there.

Brother Smith was waiting in the hall outside, still in his coat and scarf.

I hesitated. Was he really waiting there for me? I smiled, said hi, got into my coat, and just about walked on.