Autoboyography
Page 29
Where he sleeps.
Where he . . .
I’m disappointed to find it’s so neat. I’ll have to file away my thoughts of Sebastian and rumpled sheets for another time. A row of soccer trophies line a shelf above a BYU Cougars flag. A bright blue foam finger emblazoned with a giant Y sits propped in a corner. I imagine him at one of the games, screaming along with the crowd, grin wild, heart hammering.
Sebastian stands near the door as I make a short circuit around his room, not touching anything but peering closer at photographs and the spines of books.
“I’m sad I didn’t do more snooping at your house,” he says, and I look back at him over my shoulder.
“Next time,” I say with a grin. I’m struck momentarily dumb by the awareness that there will be a next time. “I’ll admit I was surprised to be invited over for dinner with your family, after . . .” I search for the right words, but know he gets my meaning when a flush rises from his neck to his cheekbones.
“Mom likes to be involved in who is coming and going,” he explains. “I don’t have a lot of friends over.”
“Oh.”
“I think she wanted to get to know you better.” He quickly holds up his hands. “No recruiting. I promise.”
Another question pushes its way out of me. “Do you think she thinks I’m . . . ?” I let my rising eyebrows finish the sentence for me.
“I don’t think it would ever occur to her. I think she just wants to know my friends, especially if she doesn’t know them through church.”
The way he’s watching me sets off a game of pinball inside my stomach. Breaking away, I look around. There are books everywhere: on shelves and stacked near his bed, in small piles on his desk. Alongside his computer I see a leather-bound Bible in a zip-around cover. His initials are embossed in gold on the top.
“Um, those are for church,” he explains, taking a step closer. He slips it free of its case and flips through the delicate pages.
“It’s huge.”
He lets out a small laugh. “It’s called a quad,” he says, and I take it from him again, feel the heft in my hand.
“That is a lot of rules.”
“When you put it that way, yeah. I guess it is.” He leans across me to open it, pointing to a table of contents. “But see? It has more than one book. There’s the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price.”
I blink up, surprised to find him so close. “Have you read it all?”
“Most of it. Some of it more than once.”
My eyes go wide. Without question, these books would put me to sleep. I would be the worst Mormon. I would Rip Van Winkle my way through life if I had to endure it.
“When I have a question,” he says, “I know the answers will be there.”
I glance back down to the book. How can he be so sure? How can he have kissed me on the trail and still agree with what’s in here?
“So, how is this different from just the Bible?” I feel like I should know this already. I mean, I’m not familiar with the Bible, either, but I am pretty confident they’re not the same.
“You don’t really want to hear this, do you?” His posture is self-conscious, a little unsure.
“Maybe just give me the Mormons for Dummies version.”
Sebastian laughs and takes the book from my hands, turning to the right page. We’re standing so close, and I’m thinking about moving closer, realizing that if anyone came in and saw us like this, they’d simply think we were reading Scriptures together.
“The Book of Mormon is another testimony that Jesus lived, that he was the son of God.” He blinks over to me, checking to see that I’m listening. Seeing that I am, he bites back a smile and returns his attention to the book in his hands.
“It would be what came after the Bible, and outlines our Heavenly Father’s plan for His children.” Looking up at me again, he says quietly, “His children being us.”
I laugh. “I got that part.”
His eyes flicker to mine for a moment, amused. “The Doctrine and Covenants contains the revelations Joseph Smith and other prophets received from God. It’s a way to receive guidance from modern prophets in modern times. This one,” he says, flipping to the back, “is the Pearl of Great Price, which is said to be a record of the prophet Abraham in Egypt as a young man. As the church grew, they saw a need to put the stories and translations and history in one place, so more people could learn from it. These books are tools, in a way. If you read and sincerely pray, you’ll find answers and guidance and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the words are true.”
I don’t realize how intently I’m listening until I look up to see him watching me again. It’s not that I agree with any of this, but there’s something about his voice and the strength with which he believes it that has me hanging on every word.
“You’re good at this,” I say, but my mouth has gone dry. “Have you considered . . . I don’t know, going on a mission and teaching this stuff? Get yourself a sign that says ‘gone baptizing’?”
He laughs like I’d hoped he would, but now that we’ve touched on the subject of his mission, I want to ask more. Where does he think he’ll go? What will he do there? Who will he be with? Are there any loopholes in this no-contact thing? Will there be any space for me in his life at all?
“Briefly,” he says with a grin. The moment grows quiet and his eyes flicker down to my mouth.
Has he thought about our hike as much as I have? It’s the last thing I think about before I go to bed and almost the first thought in my head when I open my eyes. I want to kiss him so badly, and if the look on his face, the way his breathing has picked up is any indication, I think he wants it too.
• • •
Everyone is at the table when we reach the dining room. There are four chairs on each side and one at each end for his parents. Sebastian takes the empty seat nearest his dad, with me to his left, Lizzy and Aaron next to me, and his grandparents and Faith on the other side.
The table is covered in plates and bowls of food, but nobody is eating. I realize why when Sebastian taps his foot against mine, nodding to where his hands are clasped in front of him.
Right. Prayer.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Dan begins, eyes closed and chin bowed to his chest. I quickly mimic the action. “We are thankful for this food and the bounty You have once again placed before us. We are thankful for the loved ones and new friends You have brought to our table. Please bless this food to nourish and strengthen our bodies and minds so that we may do right by You. Please bless those who cannot be here, and may they find their way safely back. We thank You for this, Lord, and ask that You continue to bless us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
A hushed wave of amens move around the table, and just like that, the quiet is gone. Silverware scrapes across dishes, and plates are passed in a rush as everyone dives in. Faith wants chicken nuggets, and Aaron wants to know if his dad will play catch with him after school tomorrow. Lizzy is chatting about Young Women’s Camp coming up.
I inspect the drink choices on the table in front of me: water, milk, strawberry kiwi Shasta, and even worse, root beer. Absolutely no caffeine. I pour myself a glass of ice water.
Dan hands Sebastian a platter full of turkey, and smiles over at me. “So, Tanner, Sebastian tells us you’re originally from California?”
Where he . . .
I’m disappointed to find it’s so neat. I’ll have to file away my thoughts of Sebastian and rumpled sheets for another time. A row of soccer trophies line a shelf above a BYU Cougars flag. A bright blue foam finger emblazoned with a giant Y sits propped in a corner. I imagine him at one of the games, screaming along with the crowd, grin wild, heart hammering.
Sebastian stands near the door as I make a short circuit around his room, not touching anything but peering closer at photographs and the spines of books.
“I’m sad I didn’t do more snooping at your house,” he says, and I look back at him over my shoulder.
“Next time,” I say with a grin. I’m struck momentarily dumb by the awareness that there will be a next time. “I’ll admit I was surprised to be invited over for dinner with your family, after . . .” I search for the right words, but know he gets my meaning when a flush rises from his neck to his cheekbones.
“Mom likes to be involved in who is coming and going,” he explains. “I don’t have a lot of friends over.”
“Oh.”
“I think she wanted to get to know you better.” He quickly holds up his hands. “No recruiting. I promise.”
Another question pushes its way out of me. “Do you think she thinks I’m . . . ?” I let my rising eyebrows finish the sentence for me.
“I don’t think it would ever occur to her. I think she just wants to know my friends, especially if she doesn’t know them through church.”
The way he’s watching me sets off a game of pinball inside my stomach. Breaking away, I look around. There are books everywhere: on shelves and stacked near his bed, in small piles on his desk. Alongside his computer I see a leather-bound Bible in a zip-around cover. His initials are embossed in gold on the top.
“Um, those are for church,” he explains, taking a step closer. He slips it free of its case and flips through the delicate pages.
“It’s huge.”
He lets out a small laugh. “It’s called a quad,” he says, and I take it from him again, feel the heft in my hand.
“That is a lot of rules.”
“When you put it that way, yeah. I guess it is.” He leans across me to open it, pointing to a table of contents. “But see? It has more than one book. There’s the Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price.”
I blink up, surprised to find him so close. “Have you read it all?”
“Most of it. Some of it more than once.”
My eyes go wide. Without question, these books would put me to sleep. I would be the worst Mormon. I would Rip Van Winkle my way through life if I had to endure it.
“When I have a question,” he says, “I know the answers will be there.”
I glance back down to the book. How can he be so sure? How can he have kissed me on the trail and still agree with what’s in here?
“So, how is this different from just the Bible?” I feel like I should know this already. I mean, I’m not familiar with the Bible, either, but I am pretty confident they’re not the same.
“You don’t really want to hear this, do you?” His posture is self-conscious, a little unsure.
“Maybe just give me the Mormons for Dummies version.”
Sebastian laughs and takes the book from my hands, turning to the right page. We’re standing so close, and I’m thinking about moving closer, realizing that if anyone came in and saw us like this, they’d simply think we were reading Scriptures together.
“The Book of Mormon is another testimony that Jesus lived, that he was the son of God.” He blinks over to me, checking to see that I’m listening. Seeing that I am, he bites back a smile and returns his attention to the book in his hands.
“It would be what came after the Bible, and outlines our Heavenly Father’s plan for His children.” Looking up at me again, he says quietly, “His children being us.”
I laugh. “I got that part.”
His eyes flicker to mine for a moment, amused. “The Doctrine and Covenants contains the revelations Joseph Smith and other prophets received from God. It’s a way to receive guidance from modern prophets in modern times. This one,” he says, flipping to the back, “is the Pearl of Great Price, which is said to be a record of the prophet Abraham in Egypt as a young man. As the church grew, they saw a need to put the stories and translations and history in one place, so more people could learn from it. These books are tools, in a way. If you read and sincerely pray, you’ll find answers and guidance and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the words are true.”
I don’t realize how intently I’m listening until I look up to see him watching me again. It’s not that I agree with any of this, but there’s something about his voice and the strength with which he believes it that has me hanging on every word.
“You’re good at this,” I say, but my mouth has gone dry. “Have you considered . . . I don’t know, going on a mission and teaching this stuff? Get yourself a sign that says ‘gone baptizing’?”
He laughs like I’d hoped he would, but now that we’ve touched on the subject of his mission, I want to ask more. Where does he think he’ll go? What will he do there? Who will he be with? Are there any loopholes in this no-contact thing? Will there be any space for me in his life at all?
“Briefly,” he says with a grin. The moment grows quiet and his eyes flicker down to my mouth.
Has he thought about our hike as much as I have? It’s the last thing I think about before I go to bed and almost the first thought in my head when I open my eyes. I want to kiss him so badly, and if the look on his face, the way his breathing has picked up is any indication, I think he wants it too.
• • •
Everyone is at the table when we reach the dining room. There are four chairs on each side and one at each end for his parents. Sebastian takes the empty seat nearest his dad, with me to his left, Lizzy and Aaron next to me, and his grandparents and Faith on the other side.
The table is covered in plates and bowls of food, but nobody is eating. I realize why when Sebastian taps his foot against mine, nodding to where his hands are clasped in front of him.
Right. Prayer.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Dan begins, eyes closed and chin bowed to his chest. I quickly mimic the action. “We are thankful for this food and the bounty You have once again placed before us. We are thankful for the loved ones and new friends You have brought to our table. Please bless this food to nourish and strengthen our bodies and minds so that we may do right by You. Please bless those who cannot be here, and may they find their way safely back. We thank You for this, Lord, and ask that You continue to bless us. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
A hushed wave of amens move around the table, and just like that, the quiet is gone. Silverware scrapes across dishes, and plates are passed in a rush as everyone dives in. Faith wants chicken nuggets, and Aaron wants to know if his dad will play catch with him after school tomorrow. Lizzy is chatting about Young Women’s Camp coming up.
I inspect the drink choices on the table in front of me: water, milk, strawberry kiwi Shasta, and even worse, root beer. Absolutely no caffeine. I pour myself a glass of ice water.
Dan hands Sebastian a platter full of turkey, and smiles over at me. “So, Tanner, Sebastian tells us you’re originally from California?”
