Evelyn
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re making me hang out with that blonde bitch and her friend again,” I yelled at Jack, who was leaning over the kitchen island, eating a banana. It was two days after the night at the bar, and he’d just told me we made plans with them, although, looking through the chat logs, neither I nor Grace had said a word.

“The stick up Grace’s ass is probably longer than I am tall,” I continued, thinking about how she towered over me. While I was shorter than most people, at five foot two inches, it was unusual for a woman to be nearly a foot taller than me. I was definitely feeling a bit more irritated than I should about the situation because of that, and because she was as haughty as she was beautiful. Goddammit, why did she have to be so beautiful.

Not only did she literally look down on me for most of the conversation, but she had the audacity to show up to a bar, and then tell me she didn’t drink with that judgmental voice of hers, like she was trying to tell me I was wrong for having one drink her friend bought me. I knew her type, all holier-than-thou and judging everyone else, but in reality they were massive hypocritical assholes.

“And Brianna was totally trying to hit on you, even after you told her you weren’t interested,” I finished.

“Were you even listening to our conversation?” he laughed, pointing his half-eaten banana at me accusingly.

I mean, no I wasn’t, I was anxious about being approached by pretty women but he didn’t need to know that.

He continued, “She was really nice, and I’m pretty sure given the location and where her gaze was focused, she was probably more interested in you than me, not that it matters. Besides, I told you it would be good to make more friends, and this is a good opportunity.”

“Yeah and how well did it go when I tried to be friendly with blondie?”

He grimaced, “Well you got off to a poor start, it happens. I’m sure if we go somewhere else you’ll find something in common.”

—
We had nothing in common. The four of us had met in a local sandwich shop, only for Grace to look at the menu and realize there was nothing for her to eat because every sandwich had meat and she was a vegetarian. Of course she was.

We talked about going somewhere else, but she insisted we don’t deviate from the plan on her account, and the three of us awkwardly ate while she watched, sipping water while sitting upright in perfect posture.

Jack and Brianna were making fast friends with each other, and honestly, I was warming up to her as well.

Unfortunately, my first impressions of Grace seemed to be correct. I didn’t even think someone this standoffish could exist, the kind of person to show up to plans she agreed to and then look down on us eating, like we were inferior because she could sustain herself on only water.

Ok maybe she was just looking down on me, because she was only a few inches taller than Brianna and about the same height as Jack, and it wasn’t her fault I’m not as tall as her, but still.

Pissed me off.

As Jack and Brianna chatted about his job as a substitute elementary school teacher, and her incoming business degree, I quietly alternated between bites of my sandwich and throwing mean looks at Grace.

Jack suggested we get ice cream next, despite the winter season, Brianna agreeing with him that all weather is ice cream weather, and we made the short walk over.

We all ordered, Grace getting a vanilla cup, Brianna and Jack getting cones of some kind of fruit flavor, and me a mint chip milkshake. Thank god Grace actually got something, although I guess she was too prim and proper to eat ice cream out of a cone. Whatever.

Once we got our orders, and after a brief wait for my milkshake, we walked down the street together.

It was a mildly chilly December afternoon, and given we lived in a medium-sized town with a large college, there were a decent amount of pedestrians and bikers around the mainstreet, which had many local restaurants, small shops, and an assortment of well-groomed plant life.

I had ended up next to Grace by default, given that Jack and Brianna were still animatedly talking with one another, about who knows what, and I figured that I should at least try to talk so I could tell Jack I had met my socialization quota.

“So what would you normally be doing on a Sunday afternoon like this?”

She looked at me, necessarily looking down given our height difference, and responded, “Normally I’d be at mass with my parents, but since they are out of town right now, Bri managed to convince me to do this instead.”

I rolled my eyes, facing away from her for a moment so she wouldn’t see, and almost laughed when I looked back and saw her with what looked like a guilty expression. “Are you missing your parents, or does that expression mean you actually want to be at church right now?”

She gave me a glare, “I never miss Sunday mass,” she said with finality, like it was a law of the universe.

“I don’t really get the point of it, so maybe you should explain it to me. You might even save my soul while you’re at it.”

My smirk quickly turned into an ‘o’ of surprise when my teasing tone went completely over head and she proceeded to excitedly tell me about all of the mental and spiritual benefits of regularly attending church.

While some of her reasons made sense, like having a strong community, and likening praying to meditation, and she approached the whole conversation with a naive enthusiasm that was almost cute, I was still annoyed at her trying to take the moral high ground at every turn.

Determined to catch her in a moment of hypocrisy, I countered, “Well what does your lovely community think about queer people,” My smug smile quickly fell when she just sighed and gave me sad puppy eyes in response.

Dammit, this is not the righteous moral victory I had hoped for. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. I knew better than to just blurt that out, and I couldn’t believe I messed up so poorly I actually felt bad for Grace of all people.

Brianna, who had apparently heard the end of our conversation, joined in. “Yeah, our church has some shitty beliefs, but Grace and I aren’t like that. I’ve been trying to change my parent’s views on the subject for years now but sometimes it feels like one step forwards, two steps back.”

Jack sighed, “Yeah, you’d think with all of the college students this town would be progressive, but this place has just as many homophobic assholes as progressives for some reason.”

And of course I somehow managed to ruin the mood. Fuck me, why is being social so hard?

Grace
Our outing with Jack and Evelyn quickly wrapped up after the mood went south and I walked to my apartment alone, the sun just starting to descend from its peak in the sky.

It was the kind of chilly day early in winter where the sky was so clear it looked warm outside through a window, but immersed in the slight breeze I felt chilled to the bone. The ice cream I’d not wanted but felt obligated to get anyways didn’t help.

The sun, despite trying its best, provided no warmth through the thin denim jacket I was wearing. The stupid thing didn’t even have sleeves long enough to go to my wrists, the eternal struggle of being a woman over six feet, so I had to fold the sleeves up to my elbows in a facade of an intentional fashion choice.

I was frustrated. I wanted to be frustrated at Evelyn, with her constant judgment of me, and the way she’d instantly went for a cheap shot about my family being homophobes. What, did she expect me to have chosen to be born to a different family when I was a baby?

And I was frustrated with her. But I knew I was honestly more mad at myself, because even though she was annoying and there were plenty of better ways to bring up the subject, she was right. My parents, and many of the churchgoers I regularly socialized with did have some terrible opinions.

While it was easy to bury my head in the sand when it was just my own sexuality, it was hard to ignore how the relationship Brianna had with the church community, and with her parents especially, was becoming increasingly strained over this very topic. Even though she wasn’t out, she still tried to advocate for LGBT+ people, and as a result, it was a common discussion if she should even be allowed to attend our gatherings.

And I didn’t know what to do about it. I felt like it should be pretty obvious reading the actual scripture that the moral thing to do is to accept queer people into the community, but for some reason they just didn’t see it that way. I knew both my parents and hers would call us sinners and worse if they ever found out, and I was feeling increasingly guilty about keeping it all in.

While I didn’t care about being able to come out, I did care about doing the morally right thing, and my morals were telling me doing nothing was not right.

I didn’t know how to convince them, and I wasn’t naive enough to think me coming out would change their mind.

I finally got home, opening the front door to my apartment to see the small neat space, decorated with an organized assortment of pale, light colors.

‘I wonder how Evelyn decorated things’ popped into my head, and I quickly shoved the thought to the side.

I shouldn't be thinking about her. She was rude and inconsiderate and if Brianna tried to get us to hang out again, I was going to assert that I never wanted to see her again.

I sighed and sat on my couch, leaning all the way back until the cushions almost swallowed me up.

What if Evelyn challenging me was what I needed to become a better person, to become the kind of person who could change her family’s mind about gay people, could change the whole church’s mind?

Maybe I could spend more time with her, if I had to. ‘In order to become a better person,’ I justified. I wondered if I could get the secret to how she was so pretty while I was at it.

I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking about her.

I prepared myself a salad with the leftover vegetables I had lying in the fridge. I didn’t like cooking for myself, but I also wanted to live alone to have my own space, so I ended up not using most of the cooking skills I’d learned as a child.

I still regularly baked sweets to bring to church events, and right now, I was feeling like I could use some baking to work the stress out.

I pulled out the paper with my favorite lemon cookie recipe on it, even though I didn’t need to look at it anymore, and got to work.

It wasn’t going to solve all of my problems, but it still felt good to do something, and I’d end up with something tasty afterwards.