48
Finally, Erica comes out. She takes off that little thin sweater she was wearing, and now I can see that her dress is sleeveless.
She’s beautiful. Instantly there’s a throb growing just at the sight of her.
As she looks at her phone and steps toward her car, she does a double take, seeing that I’m still here.
Then she ignores me and just goes to her car.
I wind down my driver’s side window. My truck is parked beside her car, facing the opposite direction, close enough that our windows line up.
“You’re not gonna talk to me?” I ask her.
“Nothing to talk about,” she replies, getting into her car.
“Erica,” I say softly. “Please.”
She pauses with her hand on the door, then slowly turns her head and looks over at me through the open window.
“What is there to talk about, King?” she asks.
I hold her gaze, my chest tight. “I’m sorry. I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere… I don’t know… get lunch with me.”
Erica just stares at me.
For a second, I think she might actually consider it. Her tongue brushes over her lips, and then she looks forward again, her expression closing off.
“King, I…” she starts, her voice catching slightly. She hesitates, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”
It hits me like someone just put a bullet straight through my chest.
“Don’t say that,” I say quickly. “We’re friends, and I know that I almost made a mistake, and I’m sorry.” The words come out fast, like I’m trying to grab hold of something before it slips away.
She swallows, her eyes fixed ahead, not even looking at me at first. Both of her arms rest on the steering wheel, her fingers tightening slightly around it.
Then she turns her head and looks back at me.
“You were right, King. I… I’m bad for you. You keep saying that I'm a bad influence, and your spirituality is important. And I don’t want to ruin that for you.”
There’s a pit forming in my stomach that just grows deeper, stretching into something hollow and endless with each word she says. My body shakes at the thought of not seeing her anymore or her never talking to me again. She’s right, though.
But no… this doesn’t feel right.
“Look, Erica, I understand what you’re saying, and I know I said those things, and I’m sorry. It’s the truth, it’s…” My words start tripping over each other.
I shut my eyes for a second, drawing in a breath, forcing myself to slow down. Then I look back at her.
“I did not exercise my discipline. And I let the flesh take over me.
And if I can't exist with you, like, if we can't be in each other’s vicinity, how am I gonna help others? How am I gonna spread the word or be around people who are sinful? Jesus spoke with tax collectors and prostitutes and hung around them.”
Erica doesn’t even miss a beat.
“Yeah, probably because he was screwing them.”
My eyes snap to her, a glare cutting across my face.
She just smiles, one hand resting lightly on her steering wheel. Then she winks.
“See?” she starts. “Told you I’m a bad influence. You were right.”
I shake my head, but a small smile pulls at my mouth despite myself.
“No. I was wrong. I mean, I wasn’t totally wrong but I was kind of wrong. He hung around those people. There’s no evidence or anything that he slept with those prostitutes. People keep saying that to discredit Jesus.”
“Yeah,” Erica cuts in, her fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, “but he was living a human experience. And he was around them all the time. And the most documented conversations he had in the Bible was with the freaking prostitute.”
“Yeah, but it’s because those are the people who need the word of God,” I reply.
“Yeah, well, why did he hang around the Pharisees and the other Romans and stuff? We never hear of him preaching to them. I mean, his ministry was for the lost sheep of Israel. But he healed the Roman Centurion. He wasn’t against Roman people.
Paul, the apostle, was the one who wanted to preach the gospel in Rome.
So it doesn't really matter. The word of God goes everywhere. But what’s important was Jesus says—”
“King, I’m not interested,” her voice cuts straight through mine.
She doesn’t even look at me at first, her hands settling on the steering wheel like she’s already preparing to leave.
“Yet that’s another reason why you and I can't be friends,” she continues. “All you want to do is talk about God and the Bible and whatever, and that’s great. That’s who you are. And that’s what makes you you, and you should keep that. I have no part in that at all.”
“But I wouldn't be doing my due diligence as a Christian if I didn't also teach you about the word,” I counter.
“While you're trying to have sex with me?”
My face burns instantly . Heat rushes up my neck and settles in my cheeks. My grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel as my eyes flick around the parking lot without meaning to.
There aren’t many people left. Just a few cars scattered around. Ushers, workers still inside, and a handful of people lingering way off in the distance, talking among themselves.
Still… it feels like everyone can hear her, and like I'm exposed.
“Goodbye, King,” she says as she drives off.
That was very embarrassing. But she's right. How can I preach to her about her sinfulness, or coming to God, when I myself don't have that under control?
I thought I did, but...
I watch as she pulls off, and before I can think too hard about it, I start the engine and follow her.
She stops to get gas first. I stay back, waiting, watching her through the windshield, my thoughts running in circles. Then she pulls off again, heading toward her apartment and I follow.