"Ma, does this look okay?" I asked, doing a spin for her to check out my outfit.
"You look fine honey. Since when do you care what you wear to church? You always look nice, you know that," said my mother.
"I know, but I want to look especially nice for today's mass," I said, twirling around again.
"And why is that?" asked my dad, suspiciously.
"Because I'm not driving with you guys today," I said.
"What do you mean you're not driving with us?" she asked, "Who on earth are you driving with?"
"Umm, well, Ben. You know, Ben Hunter? Jack's brother," I said.
"Hello," she said, dramatically, "I know who Ben Hunter is. Which is why I'm so surprised you'd want to drive to mass with him."
"It doesn't surprise me," muttered my father.
"What about Jack?" asked my mother.
"What about Jack?" I retorted.
"Why aren't you going out with him?" she asked, confused.
"'Cause she's a problem child," answered my father.
"I'm not a problem child," I answered, "I just like Ben. I'm dating Ben."
"You're dating Ben? I thought Jack liked you," said my mother, before correcting herself, "No, I know Jack likes you."
"I know he does too. But I like Ben and Ben likes me and that's that," I said, and my father laughed a little. I definitely take after my father more than my mother; he understands me a lot better than she does most of the time.
"So you're going to church with Ben Hunter?" my mother said.
"Well, yes," I answered, "Isn't that what we just went over?"
"I don't appreciate that attitude," she said.
"Well, I don't understand what you don't understand!" I said, growing frustrated, like I did every interaction with her.
"Kath, she's going with Ben. It's fine, Kayla, you look very nice," said my father, as my mom pouted.
"Bring a sweater," my mother added, always having to get the last word in.
Ben picked me up and my mother just gave him the stink eye. At least my father was reasonable about it, even though I knew he probably wasn't thrilled either. Most dads weren't when Ben Hunter showed up at their door.
We drove to the church and when we got out of the car we were greeted with more stares, some less friendly than others. My friends looked happy to see us, their parents did not. Jack and Ben's parents looked happy to see us, Jack did not. There was no winning and clearly it would take some time for the people around here to get used to the sight of us together, after my having spent so much time with Jack and Ben having spent so much time with, well, everyone.
Speaking of which, who's to say this will last? Maybe I'm just one of the various girls Ben's dated, or whatever it is he does with girls. Who says I'll outlast any of them- maybe this time next year, next month I'll be another one of them?
As if reading my mind, Ben reached over and grabbed my hand in his, and then I remembered. Ben never takes a girl to church with him- he's never been as serious about a relationship as he is about ours.
We headed into mass and sat in a pew in the middle, so we didn't look like we were flaunting our relationship like some couples did, but we also didn't want to be in the back with the little kids who were coloring and playing on their mommy's cell phones. Church was a microcosm of the community and the seating arraignment there was almost as important as it is in the high school cafeteria.
Church wasn't a big deal in a lot of places, but in a small town like ours, especially one with such a heavy influx of Irish-Catholics, it is. We were being watched Ben knew it. He was on his absolute best behavior, and I even sang along with the choir. I never sing in church, I hate my singing voice, but I figured every bit of brownie points helped, right?
After mass, we shook hands with the Priest, mingled in the parking lot, did the whole thing. Afterwards though, instead of driving me home, he headed a different direction- to the beach.