Page 114 of The Confidant
But I understood why people did it, because sometimes, part of the grieving process involved making light of the things that were painful and caused you trauma. Finding out you’d been lied to your whole life about something you’d held so dear was extremely painful, and everyone coped with their pain a little differently.
Scarlett sighed. “I’m guessing that having you come here wasn’t the best idea then.”
“I’m sorry. I just…” I slipped my phone back into my jacket. “I guess I’m a lot different now. And…your dad’s sermon… It’s just kind of triggering.”
“Triggering?” She furrowed her brow like she was so confused about how any of this could be difficult for me to hear. “My dad is just talking about how beautiful it is that we can be saved and live with our families forever if we follow the teachings Samuel Williams revealed.”
“I know.” But then I shrugged and added, “I guess it’s just the whole idea that I need saving in the first place that’s the problem.”
“What?” She pulled her head back, like it was a foreign concept.
The organist started playing the intermediate hymn then, so Scarlett pulled out a gray hymn book from the pew and turned the page to hymn 301.
As everyone started singing, I leaned closer to Scarlett’s ear and whispered, “I just…” I stopped, trying to think of how to word it in a way that she’d understand. “I only ever believed I was broken and in need of saving because of what the church told me.”
Her eyes narrowed, but I continued, “I only ever thought I needed forgiveness for being a normal human who makes normal human mistakes because I’d been taught that.” She glanced sideways at me, and from the look in her eyes, I knew what I was saying was making her upset. So to try and finish up quickly, I said, “I just don’t believe this life is a test to see if you can follow a set of rules that some man wrote down a couple of centuries ago.”
“He was a High Priest of God. Not just ‘some man,’” Scarlett said curtly, correcting me.
Yes, that’s what he called himself and got other people to believe about him.
“To me, I just—” I put my arm behind her shoulders and leaned closer so no one around us could hear over the singing. “I guess I like what Mack told me his mom said to him before she died. That the purpose of life is simply to live. To experience it, learn from our experiences and from those around us, and just do our best with the knowledge and understanding that we have. And if we make some not-so-great choices, we’ll suffer enough here in this life already that the suffering doesn’t need to continue in some eternal afterlife once I’m gone. Like, I don’t think me buying a chai latte or breakfast sandwich on Sunday mornings is going to keep me out of heaven…if it even exists.”
“You don’t believe in heaven anymore?” She stared at me like I was speaking blasphemy.
“I don’t know what I believe in right now,” I said. “Sure, I hope there’s something after this life. Something good. But…I can’t say that Iknowit exists like I used to.” I glanced behind me and noticed we were drawing the attention of the people behind us. So I hurried to finish with, “And I don’t think I necessarilyneedto know or understand that in order to lead a good, fulfilling life.”
Scarlett just sat there completely frozen for a moment with her mouth hanging open in shock. Meanwhile, Pastor Caldwell glared at me, as if to warn me that I needed to stop making a scene.
I cleared my throat and turned back to Scarlett. “I should probably just leave now. Sorry if I ruined this special day for you.”
“Okay.” She sounded distant, like she was still in shock over everything I’d said.
I stood and buttoned my suit coat and walked out of the room, feeling so disheartened and disappointed.
Would Scarlett be done with me now? Did the differences in our beliefs actually make a relationship with her doomed?
I was just about to exit the building and walk into the courtyard when Scarlett’s voice called, “Hunter, wait.”
I turned around to see her walking toward me. Before I could do anything, she was wrapping her arms around me and saying, “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was judging you. I just…” She pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “It’s just hard for me to understand how things could change so much so quickly.”
“I know.” I looked down at my feet, the turmoil I felt inside threatening to knock me to the ground.
She put a hand to my cheek, and in a gentle voice, she said, “But I want to try to understand.”
“You do?” I lifted my gaze, not daring to hope.
She nodded. “You’re still an amazing person even if you don’t believe the same as me or want to go to church anymore.”
I took her hands in mine and fought a smile. I wondered what she would think if I said the same but opposite to her. That she was an amazing person…even if she went to church.
Would having that caveat placed on her make her see how the two sides had been pitted against each other for so long? That the division of what we did or didn’t believe kept us from being able to just see the person in front of us for who they really were—a human who was just doing their best with the experience and information that they had.
Until you’ve actually been on both sides, it’s hard to understand the other perspective.
Not to say I was perfect at it. I still had my obvious bias and had chosen the side that made the most sense to me.
But I wasn’t completely anti-religion or anything like that. If people found happiness in their beliefs and they didn’t cause anyone else any harm or didn’t feel the need to force their beliefs on someone else—that was great.
