Leonard did not spill any part of the Lord’s Supper or preach drunk that Sunday—had it really been yesterday he’d seen Kim? He did have extra coffee and some ibuprofen. He’d made his way through the service on autopilot, thanking God that he’d been diligent in his sermon prep so he wasn’t desperately scrambling to prepare the night before when he wasn’t even sure he felt like he believed his message and wasn’t maybe entirely sober to boot.

He knew he was saying the right things. But even though he was in personal turmoil—again! in a way he hadn’t been for years—the mechanical motions of liturgy seemed to be enough. Maybe God works whether or not I want to do the work.

Feeling, to his surprise, confident, he finished, “And I want you to know, beloved, I am preaching this to myself most of all. When life is too hard, when all your choices seem awful, when the world is against you, what we want to hear is that something of the world will fix it, that this one special thing will make it better, or just doing things good enough or hard enough—you folks who live out in the suburbs, calling your representatives every day will not make everything right—but continue to follow your consciences.

“But I'm here to tell you that though we may not be triumphant in this world, that when our best efforts are not enough, when our faith wavers, when our hearts fall, when our world turns upside down—again—Jesus is enough. And he never wavers in his love for us, and he catches our hearts, and we know—he will wipe every tear from our eyes, and bring total justice and healing in the final days. And we know this because we know he died for us to counter the cost of sin, and we know this because he rose again, and beat the oppressor death. He is for us, he loves us, and he will keep us. Hallelujah.”

An old lady stood up in the back and clapped.

They sang a hymn, and then holding his hands up, Leonard blessed the congregation. “The love of God, the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.”

He walked down the center aisle to the church doors to greet the people as they left. He managed to fend off a couple of invitations to lunch from dear kind church people who would be exhausting, met a few visitors, and then grabbed a friend who'd walked past with just a handshake.

Instead of ending the handshake Leonard pulled him in. “Hey Jamal, you have lunch plans now.”

Jamal shook his head. “Man, I don't really feel like it.”

Jamal was Leonard’s favorite new member. In the year or so since he’d started his job at UMCP, they’d become fast friends. As an academic, he didn’t hold Leonard in a position of respect that forswore intimacy, so they played basketball together, watched and debated TV shows and movies, talked through theology books, and quietly drank together.

Leonard knew it was a rare gift to find someone to whom he could be pastor and friend. He lowered his voice. “Yeah, me neither, but you gotta help me or I'll be lying to Mrs. Henry, Mrs. Webster and the entire singles ministry.” He took a closer look at Jamal. “Man, you do look awful. You wanna talk to your pastor about it?”

Jamal looked around really quickly. “Fuck you, man. But alright. You wanna pick something up and eat at my house?”

This time Leonard checked for eavesdroppers. “You still got that liquor collection?”

“Yeah, I haven’t drunk it all in a month.”

“Okay, lunch is on me, then. What you want?”

“I’ll just pick up some fast food and you can pay me back. I know you’re not done here yet. I saw a lotta cryers after that sermon. People are gonna want to talk to you.” He clapped Leonard on the back and walked toward his car down the street.

Leonard told the very last person that yes, he did have lunch plans, “thank you so much, though, ma’am” and wrote down all the people he’d told he’d be praying for them and finally, he was free.

The sexton for the week was bustling around, picking up bulletins (but hopefully not nail clippings this week), used tissues, and kids’ abandoned Sunday School drawings. “Maddy, you’ll lock up for me?”

“Got it, Pastor!”

A few minutes later, he walked into Jamal’s apartment and was treated with that heavenliest of smells. “I can never pay you enough for this, man. I was expecting a Big Mac, but you’ve blessed me indeed with this Popeyes.”

“I had to wait 15 minutes extra to get spicy, but I figured you’d take that long and more. I even saved you a biscuit.”

“It’s exactly what I didn’t know I needed.” As he’d been thanked by tearful, encouraged parishioners, the strong feelings evinced by yesterday’s unexpected encounter had faded. He was a called and effective pastor, thank you very much. And the comfort of a familiar meal only added to his peace.

“Lemme get you a plate.”

They sat and ate companionably for a few minutes. After his first thigh piece was demolished, Leonard looked at Jamal. “So, man, what’s going on with you?”

Jamal took a long sip of his drink. “Well—” He let out a deep sigh. “—this girl…I mean woman. We were talking for weeks online and I thought we were ready to meet and then, she just ghosted me.”

“Hold up. Online? You can’t meet single women in real life? Why didn’t I know this?”

“I’m a pre-tenure professor, man. I don’t have time for all that shit. And the last time I did go out, one of my students hit on me, and she was so drunk she didn’t realize it. It felt gross.”

“Okay, then, carry on.”

“Anyway, this woman was great. So smart and snappy—and hilarious. You know I actually checked out her profile because her ID was theRocksbiggestfan—she didn’t have a profile picture up but I had to know more about someone who’d call herself that. Turns out she’s doing kick ass things in the DoL. She’d gotten hired during the last administration and stayed on. And when she finally did send a picture. Oh man. But then I invited her to church and she hasn’t responded. At all. Which isn’t like her.”

Leonard felt like all the wheels in his head were turning and running into each other. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. “Did you tell her what church you went to? Do you know her real name?”

“Yeah, and yeah. It’s Kim. I told her I kept thinking about her all day as therocksbiggestfan and she told me her name instead.”

“Let me stop you right here. She went to Howard, she’s from Bowie, her dad’s an accountant, and her mom’s a school counselor. She’s got 3 siblings and a boyfriend from college she hates.”

Jamal raised his eyebrows, opened his mouth and shut it again. Then he took a long drink.

Leonard just sat there, looking at his mashed potatoes. He stirred the gravy (was it really gravy?) around with his spork, making small precise motions. This could well be the most evenly distributed gravy-like substance on the planet. If he focused on his spork, maybe he wouldn’t have to feel the shock, anger, and worst of all, possessiveness running amuck in his chest.

Jamal cleared his throat. “So I’m guessing I should have asked to go to church with her, not have her go to church with me?”

“NO! You shouldn’t do anything with her. In fact, you should delete her profile right now.”

“What, bruh, she didn’t want you so she can’t have anybody? She’s the reason you’re still single?”

Leonard meant to shake his head back and forth no, but what actually happened was the up and down nod for yes. Maybe it was time to finally admit this to himself. He bit rather savagely into the spicy breast he’d been saving for last.

Jamal sighed. “Well, if it still matters to her—I mean, she didn’t even respond or suggest going to her church. I don’t know what to do, man. Her church meets at Anacostia High School.”

“Oh, I know that one. Man, that’s different from my church. Their pastor is conservative, but he’s alright. He’s got a big online following. I’ve met him at pastoral fellowships.” Leonard wiped the grease off his hands. “Did she tell you why we broke up?”

“Nah, man. We barely talked about it. She just said she had a bad experience in college it took her a while to get over. Figured that happens to a lot of folks.”

Leonard put his hands on the back of his head, his elbows high and wide, and leaned back in his chair. If he told someone now, would the emotions he didn’t even want to name go away? “We dated all four years. I asked her to marry me spring break senior year. She said yes. When we got back from our trip, my financial aid package from divinity school came in. We’d talked about ministry and all the ways to change the world. I didn’t expect her to be surprised I was going into pulpit ministry. But she was, and she was really unhappy about it. We fought until graduation. She said I was choosing the church over her. But I wasn’t. I never felt like I had a choice about the ministry. It was such a deep core value for me, I guess I didn’t talk to her enough about it. It was just so good being with her. She would’ve been such a great partner in ministry. She woulda kept me humble, made me laugh, and she’s so wise. You know she’s wise.”

“She just didn’t want to be First Lady, huh?”

“Nope. She’d had an aunt or somebody with a terrible experience that spoiled her for life. She was never gonna do it.”

“Damn, man. I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I’m starting to realize she may have spoiled me for life.” He didn’t expect to feel the rueful smile that crept over his lips. It had been a good four years. Maybe it was worth it.

“Well. Good thing she hasn’t spoiled mine yet.”

“Well, bro, if there was a carbon copy, I’d tell you to go for it. I mean if she could be her, but not mine. I mean, you’ve only been at our church for a little while. I would miss you a lot, but she’s worth it.” He knew she wasn’t really his, not anymore. His brain knew it, anyway.

“I’d have to cut you off completely, huh? I don’t think I want to be involved with someone who hasn’t let go that much. She might say she’s over you, she might be on this dating app, but I think she’s lying to herself. If she can’t handle going to your church? Or can’t even give me the courtesy of an explanation when we’ve been talking for a couple months? I’ve never dated pastors, but I’ve dated within my discipline. The ones I was truly over I never minded being in classes together later.”

Leonard forced himself to look Jamal in the face. “I saw her yesterday. She was at a protest I walked through. Her face—God, I felt like I was punched in the balls. She looked like she’d seen a ghost and couldn’t decide if she should throw up or run away. I don’t know, man. Maybe it would’ve been fine if we hadn’t had that encounter yesterday. Ugh. How about we go check your liquor collection.”

“Why pastor, are you encouraging me to drink?”

“Proverbs 31:6, bruh. It’s my life verse right now whenever Kim—or marriage—comes up. You would not believe how many old ladies tell me I GOT to get a First Lady. Between that and the White House—there’s not enough liquor in the world.”