Joanie put her hand on the nape of his neck. “I couldn’t help asking.” Her face twisted. “Can you imagine what families like us go through to have a child, and there she is, cutting babies out of wombs, and then dumping them like trash.”
Dopp caressed Joanie’s globe of a belly. “She was totally unashamed, and that told me all I need to know about who she is.”
Trent heard the sound of a cane hitting wood floor, and his stomach toppled over.
“To minimize the chances of anyone slipping up,” Dopp whispered, “Trent, check out soon and we’ll follow suit. And thank you both for coming,” Dopp muttered to his parents. “We should get together some other time, for real.”
His voice returned to its normal baritone as he addressed the table. “So who wants seconds?”
Arianna appeared and trudged behind Trent into her chair as everyone shook heads.
“I’m so full,” Dopp said. “I think I’ll have to wait on your cake, Arianna.”
“I couldn’t even think about dessert,” Trent said, and before anyone could engage Arianna in conversation: “By the way, Mom, how was your charity drive this week?”
Trent leaned back and grabbed Arianna’s hand under the table as his mother talked about what happened at the drive. For once, he appreciated her volubility, and he suspected everyone else did, too. At the first lull, he cleared his throat.
“Well, everyone, sorry to cut it short, but we should probably get going. It’s a pretty long ride back.” He looked at Arianna and squeezed her hand under the table. “We have a party in the city tonight.”
Arianna nodded, and he sensed she was grateful for his exit strategy. “Thank you very much for having me,” she said.
A chorus of pleasantries followed. As the group rose from the table, Trent’s father offered to drive them back to the train station. At the front door, everyone exchanged handshakes and hugs and Merry Christmases, but Trent knew that they were all rushing to be through with one another.
When the door closed behind them, he let out a brief sigh. The feeling of goodwill that usually came over him like magic every Christmas season was missing, he noticed; all he felt was an understanding of the sense of dirtiness Dopp had described.
As they pulled up to the station, Trent saw that the train was already waiting with open doors, which expedited their good-byes. The train stood in the station for only one minute, and it had already been at least thirty seconds; with a sinking heart, he appraised the staircase leading up to the platform, knowing there was no way Arianna could rush up it.
“I have to do this,” he said. “Hold on to your cane.”
Then he lifted her into his arms, as she squealed with delight. “My dress!”
“No one’s looking,” he said, racing up the stairs two at a time. Then he ran across the platform and slid between the closing train doors. He let her down gently as the train groaned forward. She smiled at him with that same windblown exuberance he remembered from their bike rides.
“It’s nice to go fast again,” she said.
He chuckled and guided her to two open seats.
“So, what was up with that sly exit?” she asked, taking the seat next to him.
“That’s about all I can take of my family at one time,” he joked. “They get kind of overbearing when they’re all together—I don’t know if you noticed.…”
She snorted. “You said it first.”
Trent looked down at his lap, recalling Dopp’s instructions from their impromptu meeting in the kitchen. He sighed deeply.
“What’s wrong?” Arianna asked. “I’m sorry if I offended you—”
“No, it’s not that.” Won’t it help if my confession is truthful, he wondered, since she’ll see it’s sincere?
“The thing is…” Or was he just rationalizing Dopp’s instructions so he could open up to her for real?
“Yeah?” she said, putting her hand on his.
He looked into her concerned blue eyes. “The thing is, well, I’ve actually never admitted this to anyone before … but for some reason, I feel like telling you.”
“Okay…”
“I get this weird feeling sometimes, like something’s wrong with me, but mostly just when I’m around my family.” He swallowed, waiting for her brows to knot in confusion, for her lips to curve down in solidarity.
But her expression remained placid, save for the comprehension in her eyes. “I understand completely.”
“You do?”
“I’ll tell you my opinion as long as you promise not to hold it against me.”
“No, please, tell me.”
“Your family—particularly your aunt and uncle—they’re just as judgmental as the God they believe in, and if you don’t follow their ideas to a tee, they’ll make their wrath felt. So I can see how they would make you feel uncomfortable if you ever diverge from what they consider good. Have you ever stood up to them?”
“Of course.” He racked his brain, thinking of the only example he could recall. “Back when I was a journalist covering religion, I had this whole crisis of faith because of a bunch of church scandals, one after the next. It made me seriously doubt God. I told my parents I was done.”
“And what did they say?”
“They were furious, and sent me to talk to our priest.…”
“And? Did he convince you to keep believing?”
“Yeah,” he said, feeling sheepish for some reason. So? he wanted to add.
“Well, that was then. What about now?”
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
There was a pause. This is supposed to be about you, he thought.
“And in the meantime,” she said, “you feel guilty for not feeling as religious as you think you should be, right?”
Trent’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
“I can tell they’ve put a lot of pressure on you to be a certain way. What do they think of your taking time to write fiction? I noticed they weren’t overly supportive.”
He shrugged.
“I bet they don’t like it,” she
