Disclaimer: I don't own Community.
Peace
Jeff passed a few stragglers as they made their way out of the large, gothic building. Around him folks wished each other a Merry Christmas and shared hugs and handshakes with friends and acquaintances that they likely only saw on this one night of the year. Slinking past the minister at the door, he slipped up the aisle and planted himself in a pew near the middle of the gigantic, mostly empty sanctuary.
Greendale had no shortage of churches, and Jeff wasn't particularly picky about which one to choose for this particular outing. He went with the Episcopal Church because it was a stone's throw from his apartment and it was in the middle of town, so he would have other things to do when he got bored.
He clasped his hands together, resting them on the back of the pew in front of him and lowered his head. He figured he probably looked like he was praying, which no one would really question. In truth, he was looking for something—something he wasn't entirely convinced he would find here, but he figured it was as good a place to start as any.
He heard the large doors close behind him as the final members of the Christmas Eve congregation exited. The minister strode quietly back up the aisle, passing him wordlessly. Jeff raised his head and watched the elderly man begin to tidy up the left over bits of communion.
Now that the room had descended into relative silence, Jeff allowed himself to look around. The sanctuary was ornate—almost to the point of being ostentatious. Large golden-coloured statues were placed sporadically throughout the room, and each wall was lined with incredible stained glass windows depicting scenes that Jeff assumed could be found in the Bible. The stage in front boasted a grand piano, and the far wall was almost entirely taken up by an elaborate antique pipe organ. Speakers could be found in each corner of the ceiling, as well as directly in front of the massive pulpit from which the minister delivered his sermon.
Jeff readjusted himself on the pew. All of the gaudy decorations in the world couldn't make a solid wood bench comfortable.
He surveyed the room once more, this time at eye level. A few others still rested in the pews, some praying, some just staring into space.
He was surprised to find that the back of one particular head in the second-to-front row looked somewhat familiar. It was the back of a head he knew well because he usually sat behind her in class.
Curious, he pulled himself out of his seat and wandered up the aisle to where she sat.
"Milady," Jeff greeted, noting the way his voice reverberated throughout the room. Annie startled briefly before recovering, sliding over in the pew so Jeff could sit next to her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I was just about to ask you the same question." Annie shrugged.
"It's Christmas Eve," she answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Yes, the eve of a holiday you don't celebrate." She offered a sad smile and leaned back in the seat, resting her hands easily in her lap.
"You're right, I don't." Jeff watched her for a moment, confused. She looked different than usual, though he chalked it up the dim light being cast throughout the space. Her eyes still sparkled, but in a way that lacked the joy he usually found in them.
Sensing his questions before he could ask them, Annie elaborated.
"Before My parents split up, my dad used to bring me here for Christmas Eve services every year," she explained. "He was Episcopalian, but my mom was Jewish Orthodox and she pretty much put the kibosh on all Christmassy things, except this one."
"What about after they divorced?" Jeff asked. Annie let out a long, slow breath and shrugged.
"When my Dad left, he moved to Tennessee and hasn't been back since. I talk to him on the phone and he sends birthday cards, but I haven't actually seen him in about six years."
Jeff felt his stomach drop. He knew Annie's parents were divorced, and he knew that she wasn't speaking to her mother but he had never thought to ask about her father.
"He abandoned you." Annie shook her head.
"No, not really. I mean, I still talk to him." Jeff couldn't help but feel angry.
"That's not good enough," he replied roughly. Annie frowned, her carefully manicured veneer seeming to crack just a bit.
"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked after a few moments. Jeff nodded. "I still come here every Christmas Eve because a part of me thinks he'll be here." A lone tear slid from her eye. Jeff watched it trail down her cheek before dropping off her chin and disappearing into the fabric of her shirt. "It's stupid, because I know he won't be."
"That's not stupid," Jeff said softly. Annie shrugged with feigned nonchalance, and rapidly wiped away another tear.
"Whatever."
"Hey." Jeff nudged her lightly, making eye contact. "It's his loss, Annie. You're the best." She offered a sad smile, and turned slightly toward him in the pew.
"Okay, enough of my crap. It's your turn now," She said, drying her eyes with her sleeve. "What are you doing in church on Christmas Eve?"
Jeff considered pressing her on the dad thing, but opted not to. He knew what it was like to be abandoned. He knew how much it hurt to talk about.
"I don't really know why I'm here, to tell you the truth," he told her. Annie raised an eyebrow.
"You don't know? You were just drawn in by the Holy Spirit?" she teased. Jeff offered a small smile, but shook his head.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've had a pretty dark year," he told her. She made a face.
"Fire axe. Pierce's dad," she offered. He chuckled humourlessly.
"Yea, to name a few."
"Are you okay?" He was silent for a moment, contemplating the question. Annie was patient—he liked that about her.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. He turned to look at her, finding comfort in her lack of judgement. "Sometimes I just feel like I'm going insane, you know? Like I can't control my own emotions, which is not something I'm used to." She frowned, but let him continue.
"I guess, if I have any real reason for being here, it's that I'm looking for... I don't know... peace? I don't really believe in all of this God stuff or whatever, but I figured this was as good a place to start as any."
"I can get that," she said. Jeff looked up at her.
"Does this place make you feel any better?"
"I don't know, maybe. Or maybe it's just the idea that it can make a difference that actually helps," she considered. "How about you? Do you think you can find peace here?"
Jeff stopped for a moment to really consider this question. He didn't buy into the 'Jesus Christ saviour of the world 'thing, but the room itself did have a groundedness to it that he hadn't immediately realized. He felt calm within these walls. Balanced.
"Maybe," he concluded. She smiled softly and rested her head on his shoulder, allowing the two to fall into a comfortable silence as they both sought absolution.
End
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