God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.
The first week of school had finally ended last night a little before midnight when Ellen and I uploaded our Biology paper to Blackboard. We had worked separately throughout the week, doing our own readings and making our own notes and rudimentary outlines. We came together at her house right after school yesterday afternoon. Between a long afternoon and early evening of making chocolate chip cookies, watching Ellen on TV—my Ellen’s hero of a sort—and a nap on my Ellen’s bed, we finally settled down to serious and diligent attention to our team project. Our essay wound up being 1997 words and many of them were difficult to write because they made me acknowledge head-on, for the first time in quite a while, that I was at a crossroads in my life. I was now solidly on a journey, on a pathway with Ellen’s hand in mine—I hoped— and this path was far down the hill from the path I had been on, or at least I thought I had been on all my life. After completing our paper, I realized the only thing that had truly kept me on the upper pathway was my Dad’s strong and relentless hand of faith.
After pressing the SUBMIT button, Ellen and I realized we were exhausted. We fell across her bed and were both in our dreams before we could exchange a verse of poetry or ponder the progress we both believed the week’s walk had produced.
Mom picked me up at 8:30 Saturday morning. My first night at Ellen’s was now just a memory.
After helping Mom dust and vacuum half the house including the den, the kitchen, and my room, I felt like a bike ride. I rode to my secret spot at the City Park, beneath the big oak trees and huddled up against my protective rock. I could now, confidently and securely, open my mind and heart to God if He wanted to hear. I believed He could because I believed He existed, and borrowing a little faith from my Dad, I believed He cared for me.
How had I arrived at this point in my life? And where, exactly was that? Right now, it sure felt like I was in full rebellion against my family and my faith, that I was chasing after Satan, after a most vile and putrid way of life, one that most American people found abhorrent.
Mom had always said to be rational. So, what am I missing here, if anything? The debater herself, she had always used that method to help me learn, and my siblings, especially Jacob. When we were younger, not even that long ago, when we were arguing, she would set us down and set up a mock debate. She made us take the other’s position and argue for it. She would make us stand up at a make-shift podium and she would moderate. Many, many times this process helped. It didn’t always change my mind or Jacob’s, but it seemed to at least put each of us in an enlightenment zone where we were seeing farther, understanding the other’s position just a little more. Mom’s debates seemed to bring a sort of wisdom.
What is the opposite side of where my life is? I have been living a lie. I have had no choice in my life so far. I have been living in a Bible believing, some would say Bible-thumping, home and church where I have had to play a role, act a part. I have in a sense been brainwashed. And now, since I am older and have a lot more freedom to think and ponder and explore my feelings, I am being drawn by a different ‘gospel.’ It is one that feels more like swimming downstream instead of swimming as Christianity has felt for quite some time.
But, I must admit this downstream swimming is a little scary. Things are passing by much faster. Rules, principles, methods, structures seem to pass through my sight quickly or they don’t exist. Growing up in church, especially one where your dad is the pastor, is in a sense, safe. It is a protected place. It is kind of like a place where you don’t have to think too much, especially after you have heard the more popular Bible stories—Noah’s flood, Moses’ parting the Red Sea, Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead—you can virtually coast through. Maybe it isn’t like this for Dad, because he is our leader, and probably must keep revisiting the stories to learn little nuances that can be used to spur members to more generosity or more evangelizing the world. No doubt, at least until one grows up and has her own family, the church cups you gently in its hands and sings sweet songs to you easily allowing you to fall into a satisfying trance far removed from the world’s battlefield where decision making can cost you your life.
Maybe it boils down to the meaning of love. That one phrase, ‘I love you Lord Jesus,’ I have said and sung in youth group meetings, with hands held up, each equally positioned beside and in front of my head. And, I meant it. Or, I thought I did. Or, maybe I never thought, truly thought, about whether I meant it or not.
‘I love you Ellen.’ I had not actually, verbally, told Ellen–well, these words are written in a poem I shared with her. Either way, I do love Ellen and I don’t have to think about it. I know how I feel in my heart. I see her, I feel her, and when I am close to her, I smell her–oh, the many scents of Ellen, the clean and simple smell of her hair, skin, and cheeks, to the elegant and complex smell of Juicy Couture on her wrists. These smells dance their way to my nose, my mind, my heart, and I’m transported with her to a mountain valley filled with wild berries, caramel woods, honeysuckle, and jasmine, the both of us, together, running, laughing, singing, and dancing.
Poetry has provided me a crash course in Ellen, in how she thinks, in what she thinks. She is a beautiful soul, a complex soul indeed, but one who loves simplicity and truth, one unafraid of life and what it may send her way. She is open and honest and willing to share her thoughts about life and how it started and how we got here, even if these thoughts exclude a supernatural God.
I lay my head back against my rock and look up to the bright sun. I close my eyes but still see the sun. It remains bright for as long as I keep my mind focused. I see God standing on the left side of the sun, and Ellen standing on the right side. They seem to be looking directly at me for a while and then they turn and look at each other. I lose my focus and fall asleep.
I am suddenly awakened by two crows fighting right above me, well, right above the trees over me. I see them circling and speculate they were arguing over whether I was dead or not. I look at my iPhone and note that I had been sort of dead for over an hour. I get up, hike back to my bike, and return home.
“How was your ride?” Mom asked as I walked in the door.
“Short for miles driven, but light years for thoughts pursued.”
“I myself decided to nap instead of doing either. With your dad playing golf with Phillip, and Rachel and Jacob at the movies, I decided the couch needed my attention.” Mom said.
“Could we talk, since we have this time to ourselves?” I said.
“Honey, you know I am always here for you and always open to talking. What’s on your mind?”
“Mom, thanks for always being such a good friend and being easy to talk to. But, I’m scared that you will be shocked at what I’m going to tell you, and I’m scared you will tell Dad.” I said.
“Baby, you know I can’t promise you up front whether I will tell your father. I must wait until after I hear you. You know that has always been our deal. I want you to continue to know that you can trust my judgment.”
“Okay, I do. Mom, I am in love with someone. And, I feel I am falling out of love with someone else.”
“Maybe that is natural. That probably happens to everyone growing up honey. I guess I didn’t realize that you were already in love.” Mom said.
“Well, here is the scary part. I feel I’m sliding away from God, I called it falling out of love. And, at least in part, this falling is being caused by another falling–that other one I spoke of, falling in love with someone else.”
“So, let me see if I follow. You believe your new love is affecting how you feel about your relationship with God. Correct?” Mom said.
“Yes.”
“It seems there is more to this new love than just a crush on a boy in Poetry class.” Mom said.
“That would be true.”
“Oh honey, does this mean that you are doing things with this new boyfriend that you shouldn’t be doing?” Mom said.
“Kind of, but it’s not exactly what you are thinking. I am not having sexual intercourse.”
“Baby, let me tell you a little story. I ask that you not tell your dad.” Mom said.
“Funny. And sorry, I cannot promise you that until I hear what you have to say. You will just have to trust my judgment.” I said.
“I guess I deserved that. I do trust your judgment so here goes. When I was in the ninth grade I met this older boy. He was two or three years older than me. He was my first real boyfriend. Oh yes, I had middle school boyfriends, just crushes. This boy, I’ll call him John, was kind, gentle, and funny. I fell deeply in love with him. I truly believed then, and still believe today, that it was the real deal. We spent a lot of time together. My mom and dad were good parents in a way, but they were rather dumb about flexibility and freedom they had allowed in my young life. They did impose a curfew, but they allowed me unsupervised freedom with John. John, as I said was older, and he had a car. I’m ashamed to tell you that our relationship evolved, or I guess you could say, devolved, into a sexual relationship. Unfortunately for me, this further anchored my love to John. I believed him when he said he loved me. I believed him when he said he wanted us together forever. At no time in my life have I ever been happier. But, please hear this, it was a false happiness. I soon found out how false. After a year or so with John and a deeply satisfying sexual relationship, my real happiness ended. One day I was walking home from school and I saw John in his car, with Laura sitting right up against him. That night John called me and told me he thought we needed to date other people ‘to make sure that we are right for each other for the rest of our lives.’ I was absolutely devastated.” Mom said.
“And you have never told Dad this?” I said.
“No, I thought it was best he didn’t know. I thought it was best for me. I believed that if I told him that he might leave me. So, I’ve kept this a secret from him all these years.” Mom said.
“Please know Mom that I will never tell Dad.”
“I kind of felt you would say that. I am so glad we have such a beautiful relationship. Let me tell you something else. I know now, and have known for a very long time, that my relationship with John was wrong. But, it also taught me a lesson as to how easy we can be deceived. Recall I spoke of happiness. Yes, I was happy. If I had the right relationship with my mom I could have talked to her, but I would have been totally truthful by telling her I was happy. I probably would have been so bold and confident to tell her that John and I would be married someday. My feelings had gotten the best of me. And, unlike you, I didn’t have God in my life. I didn’t have church in my life.
Baby, I can tell you all day that what you think you have with this young man is not true love, that it is passing, and that someday you are going to regret what you are doing, but you won’t hear me. Because you can’t.” Mom said.
“You are probably right, but there is more to my story than what I’ve said so far. And, this is the really hard thing to tell you. Oh, for my story to be as simple as yours.”
“Now, I’m really confused.” Mom said.
“Mom, my boyfriend is not a boy. I have a girlfriend like you had a boyfriend.”
“I’m afraid I’m still confused. I’m hoping my hearing is off today.
Did you say you are in love with a girl?” Mom said.
“Yes, I am in love with Ellen Ayers.”
“Mom, Rachel sat with Luke Ragsdale at the movies.” Jacob said as he and Rachel burst into the kitchen from the garage with Rachel trying to slap him or cover his mouth.”
“We will talk more later. For now, I won’t tell your Dad any of this.” Mom said softly as we walked toward the kitchen with Mom reaching out for support as we passed couches, chairs, and small and large cabinets.
Richard L. Fricks 