Page 9 of Gay for Pray
Theodore opens his mouth, but doesn’t speak, simply closes it again after a moment. A tickle of pride zings through me as I watch him flounder and actually consider my answer. It feels way better than it should to surprise him.
“This is my grade too, you know,” I say. “And my major. I do care about this stuff.”
My snappy remark finally jolts Theodore back to his usual scowl. What a shame. He was cuter while surprised. Not that I should be thinking about him being cute. Ever. At all.
“Yes, but you’re a slacker,” he says.
“A slacker? Seriously? Are you my mom?”
“I’m your project partner, unfortunately, and I am not letting my grade slip for you. We’re doing the project this way.”
He turns his laptop back around as though that’s the end ofthe matter, but screw this guy. I’m not going to let his control freak tendencies dictate my life.
“You can do what you want, but I get a say in this as well,” I say. “What if I simply write the paper differently?”
He scoffs. “You’re not writing the paper. I am.”
“Okay, then what if I present what I want to present instead of what’s inyourpaper?”
His mouth tightens and eyes narrow, and I realize it’s way too fun and easy to mess with him. He responds to every little jab, giving me far more ammunition than he should. My worst instincts take over, urging me to egg him on.
“I guess I’ll just have to use my best judgment,” I say. “Hmm, I wonder if that kind of proves the existence of free will. Something to consider formypresentation.”
Theodore’s hands ball into fists as he loses control over the situation. For a second, it looks like he’s going to leap across the table and strangle me, but I hold my ground, smiling at him as though we’re the best of friends.
“Why are you even here?” he snaps. “What are you doing at a Catholic university when you aren’t Catholic? Is life one big joke to you?”
I don’t expect that sudden turn, and maybe that’s why I answer with the truth instead of something clever.
“Because they offered me a free ride.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, which seems to be his favorite response to me. The dismissive gesture instantly spikes my blood pressure, and more honesty than I intend bursts past my lips.
“Sorry that my single mother and I aren’t rich,” I say, “but I didn’t have all that many choices. If I wanted to go to school, I needed someone to pay for it, and this is the school that offered me the most money. It was my only option.”
He clams up, jaw tight as he evidently grinds his teeth. I’vehit the right nerve, and while I should be feeling triumphant, his chastened response has the opposite effect on me. I almost want to take back or soften my words, but I clench my teeth and refuse. He should feel bad, actually. He goes around making all these assumptions about people like me because I don’t fit his ideal vision of his ideal world, but I haven’t done anything to him. Merely living my life in his proximity seems to be enough to bother him, but that isn’t my problem.
“Sorry,” he mutters down at his laptop keyboard.
His apology affects me more than it should. My thin veil of anger dissolves, leaving me even more tempted to soften this moment for him. My mind flashes to him singing in the church during his audition, the beauty of his voice, the brief handful of minutes in which he seemed toenjoysomething simply for its own sake. My heart does something I’m desperate to ignore, and I shrug.
“Whatever,” I say. “Let’s just get this project divided up so we can get it done.”
“Fine,” he says, but with none of the bite he had earlier.
He starts typing, and I let him, calming down the weird mix of emotion inside me in the meantime. I must be on the very edge of desperation if Theodore is having this effect on me. The sooner this gamble with the choir works out, the better.
After a couple minutes, he turns his laptop toward me again. The outline looks more or less the same to me, but admittedly I didn’t read it all that closely the first time.
“I think if we wanted to make an argument in favor of free will, we could still do that in a theological framework,” he says.
I don’t roll my eyes only because I understand this to be a concession from him. Our project will still be weird religious stuff, but he is giving me an opportunity to express my own point of view by taking the stand that free will exists. Honestly, I’m surprised, which is all the more reason to let him have the win.
Despite my irritation, I don’t argue with him for the rest of our hour together, agreeing to his suggestions for resources and his tweaks to our joint outline. He even lets me contribute to the plan myself. Maybe there is a God because the time passes peacefully after that. As a final miracle, I leave that study room with a clear picture of my philosophy project and a conviction that we will somehow pull this thing off. Theodore and I are going to work together for half the semester.
We might even survive it.
Chapter Six
