Jeannie’s been praying for patience, but apparently nobody’s listening. I called a few days ago and she picked up the phone, sounding breathless and annoyed, but trying to cover it up with laughter. “Oh, it’s just the same old-same old,” she tittered. After some probing, she divulged that in fact she was upset with my father because she was having trouble making him understand her instructions.
The drama centered on her trying to explain, days ahead of time, that he would need to fill in the correct amount on a check, then sign it when he went to the store with me. She was (from what I know of her style) probably telling him in exhaustive detail something he didn’t even need to know, so I told her not to worry, and that I’d write in the amount and get my dad to sign the check at the appropriate time.
Doing the shopping with my dad alone, while not exactly fun, was better than the usual arrangement. He had a chance to make some choices about what they’d be buying, and picked out a frozen dinner he thought he might enjoy, then choosing the brand of peanut butter that he liked, as opposed to whatever was cheapest.
We returned to find Jeannie outfitted from head to toe in a flowing white gown and puffy cap, which comprised her baptismal vestments. She was awaiting the arrival of her godmother, who would be taking her to church to witness the baptism of the other new converts. “I’m supposed to wear this every day for eight days after my baptism, and today’s the eighth day,” she informed me.
I was putting the groceries away while she expounded on the details of her new faith, telling me how meaningful it felt to her. I smiled and nodded, not knowing what else to do.
“My dad tells me that you’ll be having the house blessed,” I said.
“Oh, yes, when we get around to it.”
I didn’t mention that Gene had rolled his eyes when he told me about her plans, and said he didn’t know where he would go during the ceremony, but would like to be elsewhere. I told him I’d come get him if it was possible.
Godmother arrived. We greeted each other cautiously, and then she and Jeannie went off to discuss the significance of various religious symbols. “Oh, then that’s very significant,” I heard Jeannie say.
It was time for me to leave. I hugged my dad, and then went over to Jeannie, as usual, to give her a hug as well. But this time was different: she grimaced, and accepted my embrace stiffly—perhaps feeling that I would contaminate her sacred garb, or maybe not wanting the godmother to see her as too accepting of her gay stepson…who knows? It was definitely time to leave.
