Until I Saw Your Smile (10 page)

Chapter 8

M
ary and Matthew met in front of the church on Wednesday, Mary wearing a long, form-fitting dress in every color Crayola ever created, Matthew in jeans, a white sweater, and a blue windbreaker.

She led him to the nearby Gold Star Jerk Center two doors down from Arkansas Fried Chicken and mere steps from the number 2 subway station. She ordered for both of them: gungo peas soup, jerk chicken, and a pie plate full of rice and peas drowning in coconut milk and spicy sauces.

“You
want
some strong coffee to go,” the counter girl told Matthew.

That was more an order than a question.
“This water is enough,” Matthew said. “I'm sure I'll need it.”

The counter girl eyed Mary before staring at Matthew. “I
strongly
recommend you get
lots
of strong coffee. At least
two
large cups.”

“I'm okay, thanks,” Matthew said holding up his cup.

He turned to Mary as they walked away. “What was that about?”

“She knows me,” Mary said.

“Am I going to need coffee to keep up with you?” Matthew asked.

Mary smiled. “Something like that.”

Since a February picnic on the banks of the Bronx River was out of the question, they walked back to the church, where Mary's office seemed smaller and more intimate. They ate mostly in silence, Matthew occasionally smacking his lips and fanning the air in front of his face.

“I used to be a very bad girl, Matthew,” Mary said, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “You name it, and I did it.”

This isn't exactly the place to be naming bad things. I can think them, though. What a way to start a conversation!
“We all have our wild sides.”

“All I
had
was a wild side,” Mary said. “I went to Catholic school, but I didn't learn anything spiritual. I ran the streets the second school ended. I'm not like that anymore. I'm a born-again Christian now, so I don't drink, smoke, curse, or fornicate.”

“Not before marriage,” Mary added.

“Are you saved, Matthew?” Mary asked.

Oh boy. I ran into this in college with a cute Puerto Rican girl from Paterson, New Jersey. It didn't end well.
“I'm not saved as you and your church probably mean. I was baptized.”

“Oh, Matthew, Matthew,” Mary said. “You know you're going to hell, right?”

And we've just met.
“Well, I don't know what to say to that.”
Other than it's extremely rude to tell someone you barely know that he's going to hell over some jerk chicken and gungo peas soup.

“ ‘The wages of sin is death,' ” Mary said, “ ‘but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord.' ”

The wages of sin
are
death since “wages” is plural, but I won't quibble.
“I know that, Mary. I did study the Bible.”

“I was living a life of death when I was Catholic,” Mary said. “I was pure evil. I pierced nearly every part of my body.”

“I also tattooed places I shouldn't have,” Mary said.

“The tattoos are fading and most of my piercings have closed up,” Mary said, “but they're still a constant reminder of my sin. I slept around, I drank, I smoked, and I did drugs. I did the most sinful things, and I have trouble remembering to this day all the evil I did. You know you've been bad when you can't remember all the bad you've done. But I don't want to talk about my past. I've put my sin far behind me. I want to talk about yours.”

“My past or my sin?” Matthew asked.

“They're one and the same, aren't they?” Mary asked.

“Some of it.”
And I'm suddenly not hungry.

Mary smiled, widening her eyes. “You don't think you're sinful, do you, Matthew?”

“I know I am, Mary,” Matthew said, “but I don't dwell on it.”

“You should,” Mary said. “Your sin is keeping you from heaven.”

And this conversation is keeping you from a Valentine's Day date with me, Mary.
“I still think I'll make it to heaven eventually.”

“You don't still believe in purgatory, do you?” Mary asked.

“I've never been very sure about purgatory.”
This conversation is kind of like purgatory, though, because a heavenly woman is talking about hell, and I'm in between.
“It seems too much like a cosmic time out.”

“Purgatory doesn't exist at all, Matthew,” Mary said. “There's no description of it in the Bible. There's only heaven or hell. Jesus said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No man can get to the Father but by me.' Unless you have Jesus in your heart, you are going to hell.”

I want to ask her to lighten up, to preach to someone else. Isn't this a date? She asked me out to try to convert me?
“I talk to God all the time.”
Sometimes in small bathrooms at house parties.
“I often wonder what Jesus would do in some of the situations I've been in.”

“That's a start, Matthew,” Mary said, “but have you had sinful thoughts this week?”

“Well . . .”
This is beginning to feel like confession. I wish all priests were this sexy.
“I had the opportunity to do some sinning the last couple of weeks, but I didn't.”

“But you were in sinful situations,” Mary said.

Some more than others.
“Yes.”

“With women?” Mary asked.

“Yes.”

“Matthew, putting yourself in those sinful situations is sin, too,” Mary said. “You have to flee lust or it will catch you.”

“I did flee.”
I put on the brakes with Monique, didn't I? My brakes were slipping with Jade. Luckily, Jade's ex cracked that door.
“But didn't Jesus hang out with sinners?”

“Well, yes, He did,” Mary said, “but He was perfect and without sin, and He came to save sinners, so He had to be around them to save them, right?”

I have to change the direction of this conversation.
“Is that why you asked me out, Mary? To hang out with a sinner?”

Mary looked away. “No.”

Time to press her buttons.
“I've had some sinful thoughts about you since Sunday,” Matthew said.

Mary looked up. “You have?”

“You are
very
beautiful, Mary.” He smiled. “In fact, you are
very
sexy.”

Mary pushed her chair back from the desk. “And we are in the house of God, Matthew.”

“God made you,” Matthew said. “I'm just admiring His creation. Is it wrong to admire God's beautiful creation?”

Mary seemed to catch her breath. “Well, no, of course not, but—”

“You have a beautiful body,” Matthew interrupted, “no matter how tattooed or pierced or how much of you is leaking out of that dress for me to look at right now.”

“I, I'm not . . .” She pulled her dress around her legs, folding her arms over her chest. “I'm not interested in that kind of thing anymore.”

“Why not?” Matthew asked.

“I am a changed woman,” Mary said.

“That doesn't change how sexy or beautiful you are,” Matthew said. “You are gorgeous.”

Mary's lower lip quivered. “Thank you, but the old me is gone, Matthew. I don't even think about sex anymore.”

“Really?” Matthew asked.

“Really,” Mary said.

Is that even possible?
“You don't have any urges or needs?”

“I fight those urges,” Mary said. “Sex is wrong unless it happens during the holy bonds of marriage.”

Matthew blinked. “You believe sex is wrong.”

“Sex before marriage is wrong, yes,” Mary said. “Look at all the children born out of wedlock. Look at all the problems of single-parent homes. Look at all the diseases out there.”

She has some valid points, but...
“Wasn't Mary pregnant
before
she and Joseph were officially married?”

“What?” Mary gasped.

I have just stepped on her holy toes.
“I know the Bible doesn't use the word ‘sex,' but doesn't the Bible say the Holy Spirit came unto Mary and she conceived?”

Mary's mouth opened and closed several times. “Mary had . . .
relations
with the Holy Spirit one night. It was part of God's perfect plan. It was a miracle.”

“As one-night stands go, that one was a doozy,” Matthew said. “Miracle or not, it changed world history.”

“Are you calling the Immaculate Conception a one-night stand?” Mary asked.

Did I do that? I didn't mean to.
“I thought you weren't Catholic anymore.”

“I'm not.” She turned away. “Really. A one-night stand.”

“It is one way of looking at it, isn't it?” Matthew said. “Young girl, no husband, suddenly pregnant.”

“I will . . . I will pray for you, Matthew,” Mary said softly.

She gave up too easily. I was just getting interested.
“Why?”

She turned to face him. “So that you will see the errors of your ways and get saved.”

“Does this mean that a second date with you is out of the question ?” Matthew asked.

Mary frowned. “This wasn't a date.”

“Didn't you ask me out to eat?” Matthew asked.

“Well, yes,” Mary said, “but we were going to go to prayer meeting for the rest of the evening.”

Hence the need for coffee. From this moment on, I will listen to counter girls urging me to get two cups of strong coffee to go.
“We
were?
We're not going anymore?”

“I don't think your mind is in the right place to attend an all-night prayer meeting, Matthew.” She folded her hands in front of her. “My ultimate goal was to ask you to attend church here regularly.”

“By sneakily asking me to a dinner that I paid for,” Matthew said.

Mary nodded. “But my motives are pure. I saw you, and I knew your soul was in trouble, so I had to act.”

“How'd you know my soul was in trouble?” Matthew asked. “We went over some legal forms for a couple hours.”

Mary sighed. “It was the way you were
looking
at me, Matthew.” She glanced up. “Like you are now.” She looked down. “With lust in your heart.”

“I'm giving you all my attention, Mary,” Matthew said. “I'm trying to be courteous. It's not lust, Mary.”
Now, anyway.
“But if it were, I'd want you to take it as a compliment. You're a feast for the eyes. You can't hide the beauty God gave you.”
Did I just say “beauty” or “booty”?

Mary blinked and looked at her hands. “Matthew, please.”

“Lust is wrong, Matthew,” Mary said. “It leads to a multitude of other sins.”

And expenses
. “I will try to tone down my lust, but it's going to be difficult.”

“You have to fight it, Matthew,” Mary said.

And I'm losing. This room is far too small.
“You know, Mary, right now there's confusion in my heart. Why, if you're not interested in sex anymore, do you dress so provocatively?”

“I don't dress—”

“I can see every curve and bump on your body,” Matthew interrupted.
If she had freckles, I'd be able to count them.
“You have very nice curves. And the colors you wear scream, ‘Look at me! I'm hot! I sizzle the pavement when I walk!' ”

Mary started to breathe deeply. “I don't . . . sizzle the pavement.”

“You do,” Matthew said. “I can't help staring at you.”

“Staring is rude,” Mary said softly.

Most of the time. Not when you're on a date.
“Didn't you dress that way so that I
would
stare?”

“No.”

She has to be lying.
“You give people a great deal to stare at. God made you for me and other men to stare at. You have beauty that bursts. In that dress, you are a sunburst.”

“As I said, I'm not that way anymore, so let's not—”

“You're not beautiful?” Matthew interrupted.

Mary swallowed. “I'm not . . . worldly.”

“Even in your dreams?” Matthew asked.

“I don't remember my dreams,” Mary said.

So sad.
“Come on, Mary. You're what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine ?”

“I'm thirty-seven.” She nodded. “I'll be thirty-eight next month.”

Wow. She looks much younger than thirty-seven.
“Really. I never would have guessed it.”

“Thank you.” She looked up.

She looks so vulnerable, sitting there fidgeting and fighting her hands.
“Mary, I like you. While I don't agree with you all the time, I like spending time with you. I'm even enjoying this conversation. If I asked you out to, say, a movie sometime, would you go? Or would you be afraid I'd be lusting after you the entire time?”

“I don't go to movies anymore, and I wouldn't go anywhere with you until I'm convinced you're saved,” Mary said. “I cannot be unequally yoked with an unbeliever.”