Chapter 21
Kurt breathed into his hands. His nose was cold. He was hungry and kind of freezing. What time was it again? He hadn't even had breakfast. Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue were being awfully silent in the kitchen. Wondering about him, checking up on him. He should get in there and give them his reassurances, except not yet. He wanted to get warm first.
Back in his own room he could relax. The bed was unmade and his phone was plugged into the charger on his desk. He pulled on a knit cardigan, oversized like a hug. Socks. Two pairs for the warmth. How nice. He freed the phone from the charger and brought it with him to the bed. Pulled the blanket around himself, one arm outside to hold his phone.
Turned out it was half past one and he had four missed calls. Four. And texts. A plethora of texts.
From Mercedes: Where are you? Are you alright?
From Finn: Dude, glee about to start, you're gonna miss the competition.
From Rachel: Kurt, are you sick at home? Remember to hydrate and get plenty of vitamin C
From Rachel: Rosehip tea works wonders
From Finn: You won!
From Puck: Dude, we won the glee thing. Dinner tomorrow at breadstix ok
From Tina: Congratulations on winning the duet competition. Hope you're feeling okay.
From Puck: Dude, reply to your texts. Don't make us worry
From Mercedes: Kurt, I think we should talk if you feel up for it. I think we can work out all this stuff between us if we tried, don't you? You're my BFF and I miss you.
From Brittany: Hi
Hi. Kurt smiled back. How remarkable. All the concerns and the congratulations, it was more than he'd counted on. A lot more. Puck saying dinner tomorrow as if it was zero problem. Mercedes saying she missed him, like he missed her. A mutual missing each other thing.
"Kurt? Are you down there?" Ms. Pillsbury's tentative voice from the top of the stairs.
"Yes," he called back. "I'll be up in a minute."
The exchange was so familiar, it was reassuring. Just like with his dad, Kurt allowed himself a literal minute to calmly finish what he was doing. No need to feel rushed. Better for everybody concerned.
To Puck: Dude. I'm fine. But thank you for your concern ;)
He might have reconsidered the winky face. But then, Puck had said he was worried, what was he supposed to do, just not tease him about it?
Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue were standing in the living room, waiting for him. They looked at him with caution all over their faces, like they were afraid to scare him. Right. There was no accounting for Kurt's stability of mind. Phf. He gave them a cheerful smile, it only felt a little bit strained.
"Make yourselves at home, I'll be right back."
He swept past them to the kitchen, buoyed by all the well-wishes in his phone. Now for something quick to eat. There, perfect, a pack of graham crackers. He filled a glass with water and munched down four crackers, one after the other. Bread and water, standing over the sink to avoid crumbs. Bad table manners, but who cared? The important thing was that it got rid of the hunger and gained him an immediate boost of energy. Yes. Excellent. Now he was ready to deal with his guests.
He plopped down next to Ms. Pillsbury on the sofa, Mr. Schue back on the other side of the coffee table. The Breadstix voucher was still there. Aha! First things first. With a bit of theatrical sluggishness, Kurt leaned forward and put his finger on the voucher and slid it over to his side of the table. Accepting his prize.
"I apologize for what happened before," he said to Mr. Schue. "Thanks for giving this to me. You didn't have to." That's right, Mr. Schue had come all this way to hand over the voucher in person. He'd arranged the competition and probably gotten the dinner with his own money as well. He deserved a lot of credit for his generosity.
"Okay." Mr. Schue sounded hesitant. "If you're sure."
"I am."
"Well." Ms. Pillsbury cleared her throat, a genteel sound. "That's not our only reason for stopping by. We also wanted to see how you were doing."
Kurt nodded, his hands clasped together. He was grateful. Again, she didn't have to.
"You know we're here for you, right?" she continued. "And not just us. A lot of people were asking about you." She held him with a steady gaze, like she wanted to press the message home.
"I know," Kurt said. His phone felt warm in the pocket of his cardigan. "It's a little bit weird, though. I don't want any special treatment." Probably. "I skipped school for one day and you just..." He waved his hand between them. Pointing out that they were here. In his home. What was that if not special treatment? What about all the times when Puck skipped school? Or Quinn, when she was pregnant and kicked out of her house? Where had the visits been then?
"Skipped school," Mr. Schue repeated. "So you're not really...?"
"Sick? Dying? Having a nervous breakdown all by my lonesome? No."
"So why-"
"Will. It's fine." Ms. Pillsbury leaned closer to Kurt on the couch. "You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to," she smiled. "But we'll see you at school tomorrow, right?"
Nope.
Or yes. He had to, didn't he? Even though he didn't want to. Even though Karofsky. Still and always freaking Karofsky.
"There's just a lot going on," Kurt said, annoyed. Annoyed at himself that he hadn't fixed it already, his own stupid problems.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ms. Pillsbury asked, sounding calm and capable. She really wanted to help, he didn't doubt it.
He could tell her. Could accuse Karofsky all over the place. Call him dangerous, tell her Karofsky had dragged him behind the dumpster and hugged him. Hugged him until he'd squeezed fear right into the bones of him. Could tell her it was only a precursor of what Karofsky planned to do. Not that Kurt knew anything about anything. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Kurt owed Karofsky his silence, in some stupid, stupid same-boat solidarity kind of way. Besides, Kurt didn't want to be that guy.
Okay see, there was this story in the Bible about a city called Sodom. Kurt hadn't read it but he knew it anyway. Two male angels, lovely-looking by all account, who almost got... you know. Sexually assaulted by all the men in the city. He'd heard that story be described as "the most homophobic thing in the Bible". Since hello, it portrayed gay people as those horrible individuals, a danger to you, a danger to your kids, a danger to society. Gang of rapists. Which is why God threw rocks from the sky and utterly crushed the city of Sodom. Because they deserved it.
Point being, Kurt would prefer not to star as a couple of angels in a stupid, homophobic play, thank you very much.
Ms. Pillsbury was looking at him, waiting for him to answer her question. Was there anything she could help him with?
"Maybe," Kurt said without a plan. "Um. Since you're a guidance counselor." He held up a finger, trying to pace himself. "I guess I could use some counsel in, ah, conflict resolution. For instance, what do you do when people don't get along? Isn't there some- some procedure, some model you can follow? To learn to get along." Help. If he floundered any more he'd be a fish.
Luckily Ms. Pillsbury didn't immediately demand to know what he was talking about, she just went into lecture mode. "Well," she said, relaxed. "Conflict resolution is all abut de-escalation. Keep your cool and choose your words well. Don't get sidetracked, don't make it personal. Avoid name calling, avoid placing blame. Don't confuse the person with the issue. All parties should feel like they're working together towards a common goal."
Impossible. "What if the issue is personal?"
"Then the conflict might have already gone too far. You might need outside help." She rubbed her chin, looking thoughtful. "Think of conflict as a cave, with each step leading you further and further away from the light of kindness and reason. At the very end of the cave awaits the utter darkness of violence and dehumanization. At this place nothing can be solved, there are no constructive arguments to be had. You need to de-escalate first. Get closer to the exit of the cave, then deal with the issues of the conflict. Do you see what I mean?"
"I think so." Kurt had forgotten to breathe. His shoulders were tense. He did see.
"Wait," Mr. Schue said. "This is about you and Mercedes, isn't it?" A smile of incredulity, like why were they even talking about darkness and violence when it was about Kurt and Mercedes?
"Please." Ms. Pillsbury said. A clear don't interfere.
Actually, Kurt was glad for the distraction. "It's not about Mercedes," he said. "I'm just speaking generally." He pulled in his feet and curled up on the sofa, attempting to look innocent.
"Of course you are," Mr. Schue sighted.
Hah. Kurt might not be Sun Tzu, but would you look at that. Master of misdirection.
"There's a reason they say you should stay away from discussing politics or religion," Mr. Schue said, sounding like he sympathized with Kurt about the mess he'd gotten himself into.
"That's stupid." Oops. "I mean, you should be able to talk about anything. If you're friends, you'll work it out." He had a message of his phone saying it could be done. And what was Mr. Schue attempting to do anyway? Dash Kurt's hopes? Wouldn't work. He and Mercedes were stronger than that. "Everything can be solved if you try hard enough," he said. That sounded completely naive, but whatever. He leaned into it. "You never know unless you try. That goes for everybody. If we worked together we could stop the fighting, heal the world."
"An ambitions plan." Ms. Pillsbury pursed her lips. "Just. Beware of easy solutions. Nothing that ambitious could ever be easy."
"Exactly," Mr. Schue agreed. "Sometimes it's better not to push too hard. You'll end up making things worse."
What the hell? Kurt looked back and forth between his guests. "You're saying I shouldn't even try. Because it's too hard." He put a hand to his chest. "Why are you doing this to me? Why try to dash my youthful optimism? Why put a damper on my hopes, my dreams, my reasons to get up in the morning?"
"Kurt." Mr. Schue, in a no-nonsense tone.
"Well, excuse me." That's right, Kurt was a teenager, he was emotionally regressing. Don't mind him. "It's just so frustrating. If we could just work together, if we could just talk and fix things, all the unnecessary, stupid things that people are fighting about for no good reasons!"
"Oh dear," Ms. Pillsbury said, smiling. Not making fun of him, just keeping it light. Managing him with kindness. It sort of worked. He felt all pacified.
"I'm serious," he exhaled. "If people could just..." Something. No, he knew what it was. "Care. If people could care about the truth, then there wouldn't be all this fighting."
"I hardly think there'd be any less fighting if more people cared more about truth." Mr. Schue said it like it was a slightly dirty word. How odd.
"Don't you think caring about truth would make people less likely to fight about unnecessary things? We could just work together to find out who's right and who's wrong and then the one who's wrong could change their mind." They would if they cared about the truth.
"Kurt. Does this include religious beliefs?"
"It definitely includes religious beliefs." Hello, what else had they been dancing around ever since his disagreement with Mercedes had been mentioned?
His guests were exchanging significant glances. It made Kurt wonder what they'd talked about in the car on the way over, how they'd compared notes, trying to figure out how to deal with him. If the subject came up. How they were supposed to fix it, the a problem Kurt had turned out to be.
How do you solve a problem like Maria? Di da da di da da da.
Sound of Music. Ever relevant.
"Kurt." Mr. Schue sounded tired. "We already talked about this, back on Monday after glee. I thought we agreed that religion wasn't about believing a given set of propositions. It's not like science, in the way that it's either right or wrong and no in between. If that's what you think then you're missing the point."
"Mr. Schuester." Kurt imitated the tired tone. "Either a belief is true or it isn't, doesn't matter if you call it religion or not. People can be wrong either way."
"Okay. Listen." Mr. Schue worked his shoulders like he was trying to relax. "When I gave that assignment about spiritual beliefs, it was intended as a lesson. A lesson in tolerance. There's a diversity of religious views represented in glee and I wanted to give everybody a chance to express themselves. No one was supposed to feel judged or left out."
"Oh yeah? And how did that work out for you?" Kurt was a smart. Aleck.
Mr. Schue met his eyes, looking exacerbated. Kurt raised a brow. A beat of silent staring, and then his teacher looked aside and snorted in amusement like he couldn't help it. Before Kurt knew it they were chuckling together about the way things had turned out. So much for good intensions, right? You had to laugh.
Mr. Schue wiped his eyes, still laughing. He had a few gray hairs at his temples, you never really noticed when he was at the front of the classroom. And Kurt forgave him. He hadn't planned to, or even been aware of holding on to any kind of a grudge, but there you go. Mr. Schue was forgiven.
"I thought religious songs might be a nice change of pace," Mr. Schue chuckled. "Nostalgic. Supportive. Maybe even cathartic."
"I can see that." Kurt nodded, a pouty smile of ironic empathy. "Too bad you forgot that some people take this kind of stuff extremely seriously."
"Kurt." Ms. Pillsbury cut in, softly. "Would you say that you're one of those people?"
Uh-oh. "What do you mean?" Kurt tilted his head at her, puzzled. Acting more puzzled than he was. He could recognize hidden criticism when he heard it.
"Do you think religion is important?" She was sitting on the edge of the cushion, her back straight. Asking him a direct question.
"Sure," Kurt said. Here we go. "I think it's bullshit, but it's important bullshit that shouldn't be ignored."
Whack! The sound of Mr. Schue slapping a palm against his own face. Kurt got it, since yikes. Then again, this was his house and Ms. Pillsbury had asked him a direct question. A question, he'd be willing to bet, he'd answered in just the way she'd expected. So there was that. Ms. Pillsbury nodded, slow and thoughtful, but she didn't seem inclined to add anything else. Instead in was Mr. Schue who jumped in again, hands on the table.
"I don't understand why you have to be so harsh," he said. Back to insisting that Kurt saw things his way. "Why is it so hard for you to accept other people's heartfelt opinions?"
"Because truth doesn't work like that." Kurt spoke softly. What was it Ms. Pillsbury had just said about resolving conflicts? Stay calm and non-insulting? Maybe if Kurt watched it, he and Mr. Schue could come to some sort of agreement about this. "You can't just say you really, really believe something and expect me to bow my head and be okay with that. You believing it doesn't make it true."
"That's... No." Mr. Schue looked taken aback. "Everyone has a right to their own opinions, yes. That includes you. I'm not trying to silence you. But you're still misunderstanding what religion is about."
"Religion isn't about believing a given set of propositions," Kurt said. Repeating Mr. Schue's own words. He had to hear how weird that sounded when Kurt said it back.
"Exactly!" Mr. Schue grinned. Right.
"Religion is not about believing things that you think are true," Kurt said. To put it another way.
"I wouldn't say that." Mr. Schue gestured, arms wide. "The important thing is that no matter what you are, be it Jewish, Christian, Hindu, it's okay, because it isn't about making claims about the truth on the exclusion of all others. It's about being human, about living your life and striving for something better."
"And apparently all religions are awesome and can't be improved in any way." Striving for something better. Striving. For something better. His ass.
"That's not what I'm saying." Mr. Schue took a deep breath. "People improve their religions all the time, but that's the work of theologians and people who are, for lack of a better word, holy." He gave Kurt a meaningful look. "You can't improve on religion by attacking it. That would be like... like teaching somebody to sing by cutting their throat."
"Never disagree and never argue." Check.
"Kurt." Mr. Schue threw up his hands. "I'm trying to make you realize that you're going about this in a destructive and harmful way. Stop being stubborn and actually think about what your attitude is doing to other people."
Kurt glanced at Ms. Pillsbury, who'd remained a silent observer through all this. He turned back to Mr. Schue.
"Alright. Mr. Schue. With all due respect and so on, this is a crappy intervention."
"I don't think so. I'm afraid that this is something you very much need to hear."
"You're assuming that I'm the one with the problem."
"I don't have to assume, I've seen it." In a gentle tone. "I see it right now in the way you talk to me, even."
"How am I talking to you?"
"You get aggressively argumentative every time I mention religion."
"That's because you won't listen to me."
"Okay." Mr. Schue leaned back, abruptly. "Is there something you want to say? I'm listening now." He fell silent, attentive and open. Like a challenge.
"Uh-huh." Kurt crossed his arms. He felt a trembling deep in his stomach. Was this bravery? Was he being brave by not backing down? "You might not realize it, Mr. Schue, but what you're doing is called promoting religion. As a teacher, I don't think you're supposed to do that."
"You can't be serious!" Mr. Schue sounded appalled, which okay, Kurt was sort of threatening his job. Threatening it again.
"Why not?" Kurt said. True, he'd taken a solemn oath that he wouldn't go to the school board a second time, but hey. That only meant that Kurt had to step up and take care of it by himself, no asking for outside help. "How serious were you when you wanted me to agree that religion is all about making people better, meaning that it would be a good thing if everybody were as religious as possible?"
"Now you're just twisting my words."
"I'm not trying to," Kurt said. He wasn't. His voice went plaintive all of a sudden. Jeez, he sounded like a little kid.
"Kurt," Mr. Schue said, voice earnest. "All I'm saying is that you can't keep harping down on other people's deeply held beliefs. It'll make you a very trying person to be around, I hope you can see that."
"That's not what I want. I want to make things better. I'm trying."
"Okay. Maybe you are." Mr. Schue was shaking his head, the no you're not loud and clear. "But let's face it, you see something you perceive as a weakness and instead of being gracious about it, you push. That's not the action of a friend. That's the action of a bully."
No way. Kurt wasn't- he didn't-
"I can see you understand what I mean," Mr. Schue said.
"No. I know what bullying is." Kurt raised his chin. "Standing up for yourself is not it."
"Kurt," Ms. Pillsbury said. "Do you feel like you're attacked by religion? Do you feel like you have to defend yourself?"
"Sometimes."
"Exactly," Mr. Schue said as if Kurt had just proved his point. "Sometimes. That's just it. Religion means vastly different things to different people. Don't assume you know what somebody is talking about when they bring up God, don't assume they mean what you think they mean."
"Gee, Mr. Schue." Sarcasm. "People disagree about the one true God, you don't say."
"I don't understand why it should even matter to you what other people believe."
"It matters because religion is so not about striving for something better." He wasn't about to let that one go. "It's about being obedient to God and then calling that being good and moral and then telling everybody they're immoral for not following your God, never mind what's actually good or evil."
"Kurt."
"No really, calling religion a striving for something better is just religious propaganda. They say that God's commandments are the foundations of all things good and moral, meanwhile have you actually read those commandments?" Kurt leaned forward in mock confidentiality. "They're hit and miss, to say the least." Not that he was any kind of expert, but he'd read a list. The 613 commandments. On Wikipedia. What of it?
Mr. Schue just shook his head. "You know that's not what religion is about."
"I know that's not what you think it's about. But I happen to think that it matters a lot what people believe!"
Mr. Schue rubbed at his face. "You have to let go of this fixation you have about beliefs. I know some people would have it differently, but religion is so much more then that. It's about who we are as human beings and how we relate to the world. It's about the stories we tell to tie everything together and give everything meaning."
Kurt opened his mouth, closed it again. They were going. Around. In circles. Except that might actually be a good thing, because this time around Mr. Schue was suddenly making sense. Of course. He was talking about stories, about metaphors, about the God that existed only as a figure of speech.
"Alright, I'm sorry," Kurt said, meekly. High road! "I guess I shouldn't have gotten so argumentative. And you're right about a lot of things. I get that religion is part of people's identity and that they might be hurt if I say rude things about stuff that's important to them. I probably shouldn't be calling it bullshit. Not to their faces."
"You don't say," Mr. Schue smiled, looking relieved. Yeah. Don't be rude. That was a given, Kurt should have conceded that one right off the bat. Even though it seemed obvious, he should have said.
"Although." Kurt peered at Mr. Schue and couldn't help smirking. "I'm not so sure that what you're saying is so much better."
"What do you mean?"
"Well. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you just say that people don't really believe what they say they believe?"
"No." Mr. Schue frowned, an uneasy scrunch. "I'm just saying that everything in religion isn't meant to be taken literally. A lot of it is stories. You don't really think people in ancient Greece believed that their gods were literally, scientifically true? Zeus? Poseidon, god of the sea? It was never meant to be taken that way, people back then knew that."
"They did?" Huh. Kurt squinted. "Is that an actual historical fact? Or are you just making stuff up to fit your own agenda?"
"My agenda." A tight smile, seeing some irony in Kurt's use of that word. Fuck him. That wasn't funny.
"Your agenda to make me give religious beliefs a free pass. You think belief in Poseidon was never serious? Tell that to the little girl three thousand years ago who was about to be sacrificed on the alter of Poseidon. Tell her it's fine, it's just a metaphor, no one really believes in the god of the sea."
Mr. Schue gave him a flat stare, like child sacrifice, really, you went there?
"Mr. Schue, you're living in denial."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are." Kurt had to scoff. Yes you are, no I'm not. Funny. "Mr. Schue, I know it's hard to wrap your mind around, but religious people actually believe what they say they believe. They think it's true. Literally. They believe in miracles, they believe in immortal souls, they believe God is real and exists in reality. He's the God described in the Bible. Literally. For real. That's not mocking it or anything, it's calling it like it is."
Mr. Schue took a breath, about to interject, but Kurt wasn't done yet. He felt all eloquent and stuff.
"Meanwhile," he said. "I don't believe. I don't believe that God exists in reality. That means something, that tells you something about me. And if it were true that people thought it was just metaphors and stories, then saying that I didn't believe wouldn't mean much, would it? It would be like I was speaking nonsense."
There. That ought to settle it. Or maybe not, since all he got in return was a blank stare. Maybe to Mr. Schue, Kurt was speaking nonsense. Gah!
He turned to Ms. Pillsbury, the sane one. "Please help us out here?"
"It's easy to talk past each other," Ms. Pillsbury mused. "We have to be careful to make sure that we're on the same page. So. In your opinion, who is God? Would you please introduce us to this God that you say you don't believe in?"
"Sure." Um, okay. Spotlight back on Kurt. He hadn't known there was going to be a quiz, but fine. He got this. "God is this perfect, all powerful, all knowing spiritual person who can't ever be wrong. He sometimes writes books and he sometimes sends prophets." Kurt paused. "Or the prophets are the ones who write the books and God just inspires them, I'm not sure how that works. Anyway, God has a son called Jesus who died on a cross and came back life, according to some. Others disagree." Jews and Muslims, namely. "God is supposed to be good and forgiving, but he's also going to send a bunch of people to eternal pain and torture in hell. He has angels and a Devil and a whole thing going on between the forces of good and evil. And at the end of time there's going to be a final reckoning, the judgment of souls, the great cleanse, Armageddon."
Kurt-in-the-classroom. Full marks, please.
"You're talking about a very, very specific God." Ms. Pillsbury was shaking her head, smiling.
"So what?" Kurt said, stung. "I'm just brainstorming here. You want me to describe all the gods I don't believe in? That could take a while." He could even make up some on the spot. Shlaggadugg, god of monsters and fashion.
"You can't find truth in non-belief. Nothing is not an answer, it doesn't lead anywhere."
Um, what? Some vague preaching, great. He could do that right back. "I agree," Kurt said. "Nothing isn't anything, but at least it's a starting point. Isn't it better to go back to zero than to continue down the wrong path?"
"Mhm," she hummed. "We all have our own lives to live. As long as we remain open, it will all work out in the end."
"Remain open." Kurt smiled. How suspect. "As in, remain open to the wonderful experience of being touched by the grace of God?"
"If you want."
"But I don't believe in God."
"But I do."
"Well. Either God exists or he doesn't. One of us has it wrong."
"No, Kurt." Mr Schue jumped in, sounding flustered. "That's not it. You're talking past each other."
Kurt didn't think he and Ms. Pillsbury had been talking past each other.
"I agree with Kurt," Ms. Pillsbury said, placid as a river. "One of us is wrong. Either there is a God or there isn't. I believe there is, although it's probably not the God you're thinking of. But beliefs matter. I don't see how we could even start having a truthful conversation unless we're free to express what we believe or don't believe."
"Thank you," Kurt said, with emphasis.
"Just be sure that everyone concerned is onboard with having the conversation. Which I am, for the record."
"Me too," Kurt shrugged. "For now."
She looked amused. "Just tell me if I'm getting too close to promoting religion. I'll stop."
"No, it's fine." He fidgeted. "I'm the one who asked for help, I think, about my disagreement with... some religions people." Some people. He wouldn't talk about Mercedes behind her back. "This is helping. Maybe I just need to practice." Get all the bullshits out of the way.
"You should think about your goal." Ms. Pillsbury said, tone supportive. "What are you hoping to achieve? Do you want to have an equal and respectful conversation between truth-seekers? Or are you just trying to win?"
"Bit of both," Kurt said, sheepish.
"Kurt," Mr. Schue sighed.
"Excuse me," Kurt said. "It's hard! People are sensitive. I'm trying."
Mr. Schue didn't seem convinced. "People's beliefs are much more then just sensitive. They're essential. Some might say you're trying to take their hopes away."
"How am I taking it away? By disagreeing with them? Is that it? Is their hope so fragile that I could take it away just by saying 'I'm sorry, but I don't agree with you?'"
"It's a possibility."
"So what? That which can be destroyed by the truth should be destroyed by the truth." That was a quote, but he didn't know from where.
"That's an extraordinary dogmatic statement."
Was it? "The truth shall set you free," Kurt tried. That one was from the Bible.
Mr. Schue made his exaggerated ouch-face. Nope, didn't like that one either.
"So much for truth-seeking," Kurt muttered. Kind of spiteful, but come on.
"Let's leave that for now," Ms. Pillsbury said. She moved as if she going to get up from the couch. "Just remember to be kind, to yourself and to others. In the end, I think kindness is what really matters, whether we happen to believe in the truth or not."
Would God not punish non-believers who were kind? Could living a kind life save you from hell? He didn't ask, since he was almost certain she didn't believe in hell. To her credit. As for Mr. Schue...
"Sorry, Mr. Schue, for outing you as an atheist."
"What? I'm not an atheist."
"I'll get my coat," Ms. Pillsbury said, already halfway out the room.
Which left Kurt alone with Mr. Schue. Who Kurt had just called an atheist. Which Mr. Schue had denied. Awkward. But it should be fine, it could all be resolved with one simple question. Kurt glanced at his nails and asked, casual and by-the-by.
"So you do believe in a god?"
"Not by your definition of belief, no."
"But by some other definition?"
The response was a deep, demonstrative sigh.
"No, really," Kurt leaned closer, voice close to a whisper. Now he definitely wanted to know. "Do you believe we live in a world where God exists for real? Because if God is just supposed to be a metaphor and a story then, guess what? I'm not an atheist either."
"Kurt." Telling him to back off.
"What?" Did Kurt back off, no he didn't. "It's too holy to explain? God is beyond doctrine, beyond definition, beyond disagreements between different religions?"
"Yes." Aggravated.
"Beyond reality, beyond mere, crass existence?"
Mr. Schue frowned, something vulnerable about his expression. Yeah. Kurt was pressing way too hard. Had he just managed to push his teacher into a corner, forcing him to take a position on questions he hadn't been ready for? Maybe Kurt actually was a bit like a bully. Sometimes. A little bit.
"Never mind," he backtracked. "You don't have to tell me."
Mr. Schue gave an impatient huff. Maybe it was fine then. "Why can't we just say that all beliefs are equally valid?"
"Because truth doesn't work like that, truth doesn't work like that, truth doesn't work like that." Kurt was sort of gratified to feel that he wasn't annoyed. He got the disconnect now. "You're just saying that because you don't take people at their word. Like, they can't actually believe that. Only fundamentalists would think it's literally true."
"So you think there's no middle ground?"
"Between believing and not believing? I don't see what that would be."
"How about, I don't know?"
Kurt shrugged. "No one knows. There could be a God, there could be a flying teapot on the dark side of the sun, who can say for sure?"
"The dark side of the sun?" Mr. Schue smiled, distracted.
"The moon, whatever." Right. The sun didn't have a dark side. Obviously. Kurt had to be more shook up than he'd been aware of, to get it scrambled like that.
"You shouldn't force people to pick a side," Mr. Schue said, back on track and hitting Kurt right where it hurt.
"I think," Kurt said. "I think that I have to." It shouldn't hurt, but it freaking did. It was always him, wasn't it? He who was out of line, causing a disruption and getting what he deserved. He who was being obnoxious and doing it on purpose. "I am who I am, and even if I end up..." alone. "I'm not forcing anyone. If they don't want to be on my side, at least..." at least this way he was being honest. Kurt pressed his lips together. Damn. Damn. Welcome to the pity party.
In his defense, he didn't feel quite right. He'd slept badly. He'd tried to dance with the mop and hadn't been able to. And then his hearing had gone away. Being temporarily deaf had been enough to make him feel unreal, unnatural, like he couldn't trust reality. His dad might be dead, acupuncture might be a thing, and Mercedes might never love him again. None of that might be true, or all of it. Who was he supposed to trust if he couldn't even trust himself?
"We're on your side, Kurt." Huh. Ms. Pillsbury, Kurt hadn't even noticed she was back.
"Yes. Sure. I know."
I'm on your side.
That was Puck. He'd said the same thing. Twice, actually. Also, he had Finn, Rachel, Brittany, the whole of glee. His phone was warm with messages. And his dad, always on his side. No matter their disagreements, his dad would be the last to leave.
The sofa cushion sank as Ms. Pillsbury resumed her seat next to Kurt. She was wearing her red coat, elegant and slim.
"Could you give us a moment?" Low to Mr. Schue, who seemed to shake himself. With a worried glance at Kurt he trailed out to the hall.
"Are you alright?" Ms. Pillsbury murmured.
"I'm embarrassed," Kurt said. He blinked, hard. "Sorry for getting weird."
"Not at all." She touched the back of his hand. "Our problem is being taken care of, by the way."
Huh? He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.
"The dumpsters," she qualified. "I was present when coach Beiste tore through the football team. And then the hockey team. She certainly lit a fire." She smiled. "The hockey couch seemed quite inspired by her civic-mindedness. I think together those two won't quit until the whole school has taken a firm and open stance against bullying."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. We care, you know. Teachers, administrators, everybody who works at the school. The students too, they want a safe environment for themselves and their peers."
"Okay," he nodded. That wasn't actually new information.
"I mean it," she said. She leaned close, her shoulder bumping his. "You're far from the only one who has come forward. I think we're only now starting to get an idea about the extent of the problem. And we are taking it seriously. Believe me. We're not going to let this slide, not this time."
Whoosh. He believed her, just like that. She was telling the truth. How uplifting. Kurt looked away.
"You alright?" she asked. Again.
He shrugged. "Tired. Hungry. But thank you." He took a breath and added, since he felt like it, "I'm fine, just trying not to get my hopes up."
"I see." She gave an amused huff. "I'll do my best to live up to your high expectations."
They smiled at each other.
Ms. Pillsbury rose to join Mr. Schue by the door. Kurt followed to see them off. Goodbyes were said, Kurt thanked them for checking up on him. Mr. Schue thanked him back, Kurt wasn't sure what for. His teacher was pretty subdued, come to think about it. Ms. Pillsbury, in contrast, seemed energized. Standing on the porch, she grinned at Kurt and offered him a jaunty wave. Kurt waved back. Mr. Schue looked between them, clearly expecting some sort of an explanation. Eh. Kurt closed the door.
Alone in the hallway, he had to laugh. Ms. Pillsbury teasing him was kind of hilarious. At least she had stopped trying to reassure him. Not that it was any use. It was too late, his hopes were already up.