When Lightning Strikes (5 page)

Chapter 9

Patrick was quiet for a minute as we drove. I figured I'd put the nails in the coffin of our non-existent relationship with all the God talk, but I couldn't help myself. He was asking me direct questions, and I wasn't going to lie.

"So you think when you die your soul's gonna go to heaven?"

My gut sank at the question. It was bolder and more direct than previous questions and I caught myself thinking,
here we go…

"Yes." I said.

"And you think those of us who don't believe in God are going to hell?"

"If by God you mean Jesus, then yes."

"So you're one of the Christians who believe you have to go specifically through Jesus?" he asked.

I gave him a confused glance thinking he might be joking, but apparently he wasn't. "That's the only kind of Christians there are," I said. "The whole point of the name is the 'Christ' part, meaning Jesus Christ." I sighed. "Honestly, that's another thing I struggle with. It's much easier for me to say
God
than it is to say the word
Jesus
, but as a Christian, I believe the way to life in heaven is through Jesus specifically. It's really hard for me to say that out loud because I know it makes you cringe and everything, but it's the truth. It's the foundation."

He smiled and shook his head as he stared at the road. "I'm sorry. I'm trying, but I can't understand how someone as intelligent as you would say something like that."

I felt my blood start to boil and had to tell myself to calm down and take a deep breath. I didn't say anything right away.

He glanced at me. "I'm not trying to offend you or anything. I like you and I'm just trying to understand why you choose to believe that stuff."

"Because why not, Patrick? If believing is all you have to do, then why not? I can't think of any reason
not
to believe when the alternative is a bunch of uncertainty when you die."

"So you're scared to die, and it helps you to believe there's something afterward?"

I sighed, feeling defensive and frustrated. I took a second to ask God to help me to keep from misrepresenting Him.

"I guess my honest answer is yes. If I didn't have the hope of heaven, I think I'd be scared of death."

"Do you think I'm going to hell?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Because I'm curious. Do you?"

I groaned. "Yes. Why would you make me say that?"

"Because I'm amazed by the fact that you actually believe it."

"So you're just making fun of me?" I asked.

"No. I'm just curious, that's all."

"Well there are people who could do a much better job of answering your questions than me. Google Chuck Missler or Ken Hamm if you want some intelligent, scientific answers. I study history way more than I study the Bible and I pretty much suck at being a Christian anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm stubborn and terrible with authority and I'd rather be making a good impression on you right now than talking about this."

We were both silent for a second and then, from the corner of my eye, I saw his face break into a grin. "You want to make a good impression on me?" he asked.

"I
did
before I found out that you didn't like girls, but it doesn't matter since all we ever do is talk about religion and I seem like a big Bible nerd every time I'm with you."

He reached over the console and touched my arm. The contact was brief, but it sent chills down my back. "Did you just say I didn't like girls?" he asked, laughing under his breath.

"I meant you didn't want a relationship or whatever." I groaned. "It doesn't matter anyway. I still have the other stuff working against me."

"You're not being a nerd," he said, trying to make me feel better. "I'm just intrigued as to why you believe that stuff when we have so many other things in common."

I was quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide what to say. "I sort of feel the same way about you. I honestly can't understand why anyone would believe in just
nothing
. I mean, if you had another god and another afterlife squared away, I could maybe understand rejecting the idea of Jesus and heaven, but to refuse to believe in favor of believing
nothing
is honestly a little crazy to me. I know you feel like I'm the wacky one, but really, what do you have to lose by just believing? It's not like you have to give up anything or change anything. All you have to do is believe. It seems weird to me to pass up a free gift like that."

"So how do you know if you've believed right? Does a bolt of lighting hit you or something?"

"No. There's no lightning. I guess everyone's experience is different, but I've never known anyone to have lightning. I've, without a doubt, felt God's presence inside me and been moved spiritually, but you can only see through eyes of faith. He's never shown up in front of me or anything." I put a hand over my chest. "I know for a fact based on my own experiences that God is who He says He is. I know that in my heart, but even if I
didn't
know that, I might still be prone to believe in it because the alternative is no fun at all. I mean from what I'm telling you, Jesus is the ticket you need to make it to heaven when you die. It doesn't hurt me to believe that. I can't comprehend choosing to believe in
nothing
when there's a more promising alternative."

"So you think everyone who doesn't believe specifically in Jesus is going to hell?"

I shook my head at the fact that he was making me answer that yet again, but I said, "Yes."

"Isn't that sort of mean of a god to send that many people to hell?" he asked.

"God's not
sending
anyone. It's the opposite. He's providing a way for them to avoid it. He gave us the path to Him, and it's our choice whether or not we'll take it. There's a parable in the Bible about a wedding feast. A man was thrown out of the banquet because he didn't have the right attire. The king provided garments for all the guests, but this man, for whatever reason, chose not to wear his. The king asked where his wedding attire was, and the man didn't have an answer, so he was thrown out. It's the same with heaven. Jesus is like the coat. He's the covering we need to wear to get into the feast. He's available to everyone. Everyone has a choice. You can either put on the coat or not put it on, but without it, there's no entry. It's as simple as that."

"You sound so sure of yourself," he said, smiling at me like I was cute.

"I'm a hundred percent sure," I said.

We were getting close to my house, and I started to feel embarrassed and shy about lecturing him the whole way home.

"I guess I'll see you for some more ink when you get back from your trip," I said. I didn't have plans for another tattoo, but I wanted to say something casual like that to lighten the mood.

He didn't respond to my statement—at least not right away. I started to think he was going to ignore me, but then he finally spoke. "I'd like to kiss you when I drop you off," he said.

I thought I'd done a thorough job of making myself unattractive to him, so I couldn’t believe the request.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"I really like you, Mia, and I'd love to kiss you."

He pulled to a stop in the driveway behind my jeep. He cut his engine, but left the stereo going. He looked over the console at me. I'd never in my life been so attracted to someone, and there was absolutely no way I was going to refuse him a kiss.

"Does it bother you that we don't believe the same things?" he asked.

"No," I said, even though it did. Somewhere deep inside I knew I could never agree to start a family with someone who would tell our kids there was no God. And, while we weren't starting a family right this second… it still seemed like a waste of time to get all worked up over this guy. That's what my logical side said, but then I looked at his face. His eyes were so dark they were like staring into a midnight sky. I stared into them thinking that's how unreachable he seemed, but I couldn’t make myself deny him a kiss.

"Doesn't it bother
you
?" I said, trying to put the blame on him.

He shook his head. "Not at all. It baffles me that someone like you believes it and is so open about it, but at the same time, you're not scared of me. Anytime someone who's a Christian finds out I'm an atheist, they run off like maybe I'm contagious." He laughed. "I try not to talk about religion at the shop because it chases people off. One time Shane brought up some stuff and it came out that I wasn't a Christian, and the client I was working on got up and didn't let me finish the tattoo."

"It's like rats," I said.

"What?"

"Rats," I repeated. "You know how everybody hates rats. Well, I heard somewhere that people aren't scared of rats themselves. They're not scared of the creature or the things it might do to them, they're scared because they know they have to kill it. It's knowing the rat's doom that freaks the person out, not the creature itself."

"So you're saying Christians aren't scared of me, they're just freaked out by the idea of my fate?"

"I can't speak for all Christians, but yeah, I think it's fair to say that. Once you believe that heaven is real then hell being real goes along with that. If someone openly says they don't believe in Christ, then the first thing that crosses our minds is what we believe your fate will be." I smiled shyly, looking straight ahead at the stereo. "Which scares us into acting like douche bags half the time."

"Basically, it's out of love that they run from me then," he said.

"Definitely."

He cocked his head at me, which made me glance up at him. "Then why aren't you scared?" he asked. "Do you not care about my fate?"

"I do, it's just that me caring isn't gonna make a difference in what you choose. You're gonna believe what you want to believe regardless of what I say. In fact, my crappy preaching probably just managed to push you further away."

He smiled. "I wouldn't say that," he said. "Don't sell yourself short. If you want to know the truth, you've made more sense to me than any of the others I've asked about it." He laughed a little. "I'm still not interested or anything, but you've made a good impression for your kind."

I laughed. "My kind?"

"Hey, you just called me a rat bound for certain doom."

We both laughed. "I'm sorry for preaching so much," I said.

He gave me an easy smile with a shrug. "I still want to kiss you."

"You do?" I asked.

"Are you gonna let me?"

"I think I might," I said, a little breathlessly.

"You don't seem too sure about it."

I smiled "I'm sure," I said timidly. I didn't mean to say it timidly, that's just how it came out.

He adjusted in his seat so he could face me, and then he touched a finger to my cheek. "Come here," he said. I leaned a little closer to him, feeling like my heart might pound out of my chest. My lungs could not get a decent breath of air. He smelled good, and I instinctually turned away because of the extreme level of temptation. A year ago, I would have easily and readily engaged in no strings attached sex with this guy, and there was an internal battle happening as I contemplated giving in to my desires.

"Why are you looking away," he asked.

"Because you smell good," I said.

He laughed. I glanced up and he licked his lips as he leaned in to kiss me. It happened so quickly that I didn't have the chance to think about it. One second I looked up at him, and the next, his lips were on mine. They were soft and firm at the same time, and it was all I could do to refrain from wrapping my hands around his head, pulling him in, and deepening the kiss.

Instead, I followed his lead and let him kiss me lightly. He placed one, two, three gentle kisses on my mouth. I tilted up, letting my lips linger on his for a long time on that last one, and by the time he pulled back, he seemed ruffled. He massaged his forehead as if I tempted him, and I smiled at the sight. He sighed before looking at me. "I'm so intrigued by you, Mia."

I smiled. "You're just intrigued because I've already said I won't sleep with you and you're probably not used to hearing that."

"I'd like to believe you were right about that, but unfortunately, I think I just like you."

I cracked up laughing at that. "You’re funny," I said.

"What's so funny? I'm serious. I think I like you."

I stared at him for a second, smiling. "Well, that's too bad, because it would never work out."

"Why not?" he asked. He seemed serious, which made me laugh.

"Because you travel too much and we, you know—the whole God thing."

"I thought you said it didn't bother you that I didn't believe the same thing as you."

"It doesn't bother me with you as my friend." I hesitated, and almost said something about future children we could theoretically have together, but decided against it. "Besides, you feel the same way," I said instead. "You told me yourself that you couldn't get into anything more than friends, remember?" I smiled at him. "You're just charmed by my kid-saving skills." I winked and flexed my bicep a little, which made him laugh.