“Clarity?”
I whip around, slamming my hip into the edge of the desk. Jameson takes a hesitant step forward, as if he might catch me, but I wave him off and press a hand to my side. My hip is sure to bruise, but I’ll live.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine,” I say, forcing a breath. “Dana’s with your aunt. If you’re here for her—”
“I’m not. I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”
I exhale, keeping my expression neutral. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” he interrupts, meeting my eyes. “I do.”
Silence settles between us, Jameson fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt, looking nervous and maybe a little lost.
“The way things went down at camp wasn’t right.” He shakes his head, his voice quieter now. “The wayIhandled it wasn’t right. I should’ve stood up for you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
My throat tightens. When Jameson sent me that text, I didn’t simply lose him as a friend. It was like he was punishing me bytaking himself away. And while I’ve come so far in accepting myself, I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words until now.
“What changed?”
He hesitates, letting out an exhale so big, it seems to carry more than air. “When Yasmin said you weren’t a real Christian, I realized that’s not true. At least, I don’t think it is. She can’t judge you or decide that about you… which is exactly what I did.”
As I was researching today’s lesson, I came across scriptures about sin and judgment, specifically about how people can’t judge each other. Only God can. And now Jameson is here, echoing that back to me…
“Nothing has changed, you know? I’m—” I take a breath, pushing against all the pressure to not say the words. “I’m with Hannah. We’re together. And I don’t think that’s wrong or something I’m supposed to repent for.”
I don’t know if Jameson wants to be friends again, but if his apology is a step in that direction, he should know who he’s trying to be friends with.
He nods slowly, his eyes flickering with something thoughtful. “Do you know what Mrs. Patricia says about you?”
Not what I was expecting him to say.
“Uh, no.”
“She told my aunt that you’re special, someone the kids can look up to. That you put your heart into everything you do here and you’re an example of what she hopes all her saints will turn into.”
“She said that?” I ask, leaning against the desk now, not because I’m in pain but because I feel like I could fall over.
Jameson nods. “Dana tells us about the lessons when we pick her up. She even said ‘Ms. Jones’ showed her theright wayto pray.” He chuckles at the thought before his eyes settle back on me. “You make a difference because that’s who you are. It’s who you’ve always been.”
I blink, overwhelmed. Mrs. Patricia thinks I have something to offer Sunshine Saints, not the other way around. Which would mean she’s not trying to use Bible study as a way to send a message about my sexuality. Shewantsme to teach, believes I have an impact, even after what happened at camp. She believes that I belong here.
I look at Jameson, and even though he’s the guy I’ve been friends with for more than ten years, he’s simultaneously… not. He’s different, maybe because I don’t see him the same after everything that’s happened or maybe because he’s changed.
“I forgive you,” I say, meaning it. “And I appreciate you apologizing.”
I don’t know if that changes anything between us, but I don’t think it needs to. Jameson isn’t the person I thought he was.
And thankfully, neither am I.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I have something I want to tell you,” I say, staring at my hands in my lap, weaving and unweaving my fingers. I try to relax against the cushion behind me, but that only makes me bend back at an odd angle. I scoot up to the edge of the seat, but that feels too formal.
My couch has become the least comfortable place on the planet.
“What is it, honey? Is everything okay?”