XIII
Kieran Clifton smiled to himself as he saw the young man hovering hesitantly outside his door.
"Ah, Jed," he said warmly. "Come in, come in."
Jed came in, but was unusually reluctant to sit down and settle.
"What is it, my son?" he asked finally, when the boy made no move to spit out his problem.
"Father, I-" He looked up, blue eyes clouded over with seriousness. "I've been doing some thinking. And I-" he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think the priesthood is for me. I'm going to, uh... I'm going to transfer out of theology to take economics."
Kieran nodded slowly to himself. "Okay, son."
"It's- father, I'm sorry!" Jed blurted abruptly. "I wanted to- I-"
He stood up, and forestalled the young man's anguish with a hand to his shoulder. "Jed," he said gently. "The priesthood is a tough road to follow. It's not for everybody."
"But I-" He covered his face with a hand and sighed. "I know I could have been... you said I had potential, but..."
Kieran sat down and smiled up at him. "Josiah, you have the makings of a wonderful priest... but you have the makings of a great many other things as well. If the path feels wrong to you, it's better that you know it now than try to walk it against the advice of your heart."
Jed was silent for a few moments, looking at the ground. "I know that, father," he said finally. "But I still feel..." He shrugged, frustrated. "I feel like I've let you down."
The priest smiled quietly at him. "The priesthood is no place for caged birds, Jed. I'll let you into a little secret, one that my fellow clergymen sometimes seem to have a little trouble grasping. God doesn't want you to be unhappy. God loves you, Jed, and he's given you this life and asked you to dedicate it in his service. But that service doesn't have to mean these robes, and there are other deeds than prayer that are God's work."
"That's- that's what I feel!" Jed said, as if startled that his thoughts could possibly be echoed. "I just... Oh, I don't know." He sat down abruptly. "I've been thinking that I'd like to... I'd like to get married, maybe. Have a family. And I'd like to... I'd like to get out into the world and, and do things." His face coloured. "I'm sorry, father, I didn't mean-"
"That's quite all right," he smiled. "I understand. You have the potential for greatness in you, Josiah Bartlet. Perhaps, indeed, God plans for you to be in other places than a seminary."
Jed smiled, the bright fresh smile of a soul suddenly lifted after confession. It was only as the expression dawned across his face that it was easy to see how much his indecision and confusion had been weighing him down.
Some men, Kieran knew, might have sternly chided Jed about giving in to temptation, told him he should be strong and stay true to his calling. And yes, it was a cruel blow to a religion always in need of fresh young blood to lose a man such as Josiah Bartlet... but he knew, just from looking at Jed's face, that he'd made the right decision.
"So tell me," he added, perhaps a little playfully. "This family you'd like... would there be a particular young lady you have in mind, perchance?"
Jed hesitated for a beat. "No father," he said, regretfully. "No, there isn't."
But Kieran suspected, from the way he'd seen Jed's eyes light up for a certain young member of the Barrington family, that perhaps he wasn't being entirely truthful.
"Hey." Ron smiled at her, and tilted his glass. "I'm just getting another drink. Sure you don't want one?"
"I'm sure," Abbey nodded, and made an effort to grin back.
"Okay. I'll be right back."
Ron headed over to the bar, and Abbey sighed to herself. What was wrong with her? This was a nice night out, it was a nice party, Ron was being sweet and attentive, just like he'd been in all the weeks since she'd put him on 'probation'... why wasn't she enjoying herself?
She'd hadn't used to mind going out to parties before. But now she felt oddly... stifled. Everybody was talking about such boring, mundane things, everybody seemed so... limited. She wanted to say "Let's blow this place, let's get out of here and find some real fun," but Ron wouldn't get it. Ron thought this was fun.
This was supposed to be fun. Listening to the girls giggle about their boys, about who was stepping out with who and what they'd heard on the gossip network. Listen to the guys chat about sports and cars and whether this party was better than the one they'd been to at Steve's house last week.
Didn't anybody want to talk about anything important?
Maybe it was because she was one of the only ones not drinking... but Ron had only had a glass, and he was still enjoying himself, laughing at the dumb jokes and rubbing shoulders with all these... all these people. Who were these people? She was fairly sure she didn't know half of them. Whose party was this, anyway? The girl in the red dress, she thought... but she didn't even know who the girl in the red dress was, and she was willing to bet most of the people around her didn't, either.
Was this what a good time was supposed to be like?
Abbey was caught up in a strange mixture of guilt and frustration that had been building for some time now. Ron was trying so desperately hard for her, doing everything he could to be the best boyfriend he could be, all she could think was this wasn't where she wanted to be, these weren't the people she wanted to be with. It was all so, so... she didn't even know what it was.
But she knew it wasn't what she wanted.
Was it bitchy to look around at these people and think that if she tried to have a real conversation with them, they wouldn't know what to do with it? Maybe, but on some level it was also true. She found herself guarding her words, trying to decide what to say and what to leave out, think what would be 'acceptable' and what would just make people look at her in a funny way.
She had to do that with Ron. How could Ron ever be the one, if she had to censor her conversation all the time because she knew if she started talking about dreams and politics and history and the state of the world, he wouldn't understand why she thought those things were so important? He'd listen and he'd be sweet and attentive and everything else like he should, but... he wouldn't understand why she cared.
Why did she care? She didn't know. Abbey just knew that somewhere out there was a world that was so much larger than the next party and the next good time. And she wanted to talk about it, she wanted to live in it, she wanted to change it.
And Ron didn't want those things. He didn't hunger for more like she did. He didn't... he didn't dream.
Abbey looked across the room at her boyfriend, and suddenly felt something in her wrench. Could she see the two of them together in five years, ten, twenty... fifty?
Suddenly her eyes felt blurry and her legs felt weak beneath her. There was a lack of air in this room as if this party, these people, this life was threatening to choke her.
Ron, crossing the room back towards her, looked worried. "Abbey?" He gripped her arm, and spoke loudly to overcome the noise of the party. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just- I think need some air." She practically fled for the door, Ron trailing after her.
"Abbey?" he asked, looking down at her with brow wrinkled in consternation. "Are you all right? Are you sick? Do you want me to take you home?"
"I'm okay, I just feel a bit..." She didn't finish. "It's too oppressive in there. I'm not feeling too good. I need to clear my head."
"I'll walk you home," he offered immediately, heading back to get his coat.
"No!" she protested a little too vehemently.
He turned back towards her, looking confused and a little hurt.
"No, seriously, Ron, I'm, I'm okay." Abbey mustered a smile from somewhere. "You go back to the party. I just... need some space, or some air, or... something." She stumbled away from him, and didn't look back to see the expression of concern she knew would be on his face.
Jed frowned over his work; but it was mostly a good frown. It was hard work trying to cram everything at once; he was hoping to catch up on as much as possible so he could slip into the economics course for the second semester without too many bumps along the way. It was a hard slog, but it was satisfying. You chased the numbers around and finally you got them to a place where they fitted together and there they were, caught. Not like the nebulous issues of theology.
He found, to his relief, that he'd been feeling better about his religion since making his decision. He could feel like he was praising God because he wanted to, not because he was getting graded on it at the end of the semester. When he wasn't under so much pressure to come to a conclusion, questions of faith and of the soul became intriguing again.
Yes; although his roommates would have been both confused and horrified to hear as much, sitting alone up here doing math into the night, he was happier than he'd been in a long long time.
Of course, there was always the question of his father... But his father had never wanted him to take theology anyway, had certainly never wanted him to embrace Catholicism. Maybe if he could achieve his goal, if he could slide seamlessly over into the economics syllabus and score well by the end of the year, he would at least get... (approval?) ...acceptance.
So... things were good. He didn't feel quite so much like he was living in a hell of indecision anymore. He was hopeful, he was enjoying his work, he felt like the barriers that had grown up between him and God were beginning to peel back... Jed had everything he wanted.
Maybe not quite everything.
The image of Abigail Barrington rose up in his mind, but he pushed it down. He knew what that was, intellectually. She'd grown and taken on new dimensions in his mind in the midst of confusion, the way your first crush grew in your head into the most beautiful and amazing girl in all the world. She'd become a symbol, and that was why he'd become so obsessed with thinking about her. A symbol, not the real thing.
No matter how his heart grew tight and painful in his chest just seeing her across the aisle at church, it wasn't really the real thing.
Shaking his head at his relentless daydreaming, Jed threw himself back into his equations. Math would drive the confusing thoughts out. Math was good that way.
It was still failing miserably at being good that way when there was a hammering of knocks on the front door. He glanced at his watch, thinking it was a little early for Andy or Jason to be rolling home drunk and unable to find their keys. Well, just so long as they weren't going to make another attempt to drag him out with them...
When he got to the door and yanked it open, however, Jed had to wonder if his daydreaming hadn't tipped over the edge into sleep and actual dreams. For here was Abigail Barrington, standing outside his front door.
She smiled wanly at him.
"Hey there, Jethro. Mind if I come in?"