Miss Match (20 page)

Ryan holds the door for me as I climb into the passenger seat of his truck.
It's Wednesday night, and we've just finished eating at Vizzini's.

"What's the best way for me to get to Nick's house from here?" he
asks, climbing behind the wheel.

I point, which is useless because we're still in the parking lot. "Take
the first left and the next right."

"Left?"

"Right."

Here's what I will not grow up to become: A driving instructor.

Ryan promptly takes the first right.

I look at him. "What are you doing?"

"You said right."

"I said left."

"No, I said left and then you said right."

"I was affirming the left."

"The left doesn't need affirmation, just confirmation," Ryan grouses,
making a U-turn.

"Is that a declaration?"

"Laurie!"

I hold my hands up surrender-style. "I'll be quiet."

We pull onto Nick's dimly lit, mass-murderer-hiding street and park
behind a forest green SUV that belongs to the male half of Engaged
Couple Number 6, nowhere near the street light and about forty blocks
from Nick's front door.

Just goes to show what Ryan knows.

Ryan opens my door. I grab my Bible and his arm and hustle him up
the cul-de-sac to the front of Nick's house.

"What's the hurry?"

"Fearsome creatures lurk in these parts."

"Here?" Ryan looks around. "This looks like a nice area of town.
Needs better lighting."

"Shh." I hold my finger to my lips. "You have to scurry inside or
they'll come out and eat you."

"Lead on, Gretel."

I open the front door and meet the deafening roar that generally accompanies the gathering of twenty or more singles in a very
small house.

And, by my quick calculations, more have joined our midst, because
I don't recognize a third of them.

The couch is overflowing with bodies, the chairs are all occupied,
and the floor is filling fast.

"Grab a piece of carpet quick," Ryan yells in my ear.

"Roger."

"Actually, it's Ryan."

I squish on the floor beside a blonde beauty wearing jeans, a white
turtleneck, and a powder blue fleecy vest.

"Hey, Laurie," Hannah greets. Her smile widens. "Ryan."

Ryan plops to the floor, banging his elbow hard against
my shoulder.

"Ow," I protest.

He grimaces, rubbing his elbow. "Sorry. Hey, Hannah, how
are you?"

"A bit crowded."

"Uh-huh."

A long pair of khaki-clad legs bumps into my knees. "Sorry 'bout
that," a collegian-looking guy says.

I smile rather than try to reply.

"Where are all these people from?" Ryan asks.

"Who knows? Former felons, repentant hookers, clean drug dealers."
I shrug. "There are a lot of options."

"Hey, isn't that Tina Braxton?" Hannah asks, pointing past three
pairs of jeans and one skirt.

I can recognize The Queen anywhere. "Yep."

"Where's her gent?" Hannah scans the crowd.

I crane my neck but can't see past anyone's waist. "I don't know; wait
until Nick makes them all sit down."

Above the roar, a loud voice shouts. "All right! Everyone find
a seat!"

Everyone begins the desperate search for a place to plant
their heinies.

A Guy in a Blue Shirt falls backward. Sadly, a much smaller Girl in
a Red Shirt is behind him. Providentially, the staircase is behind her, so
they don't fall very far.

Blue Shirt picks himself up by grabbing the banister and turns to
help Red Shirt.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," I see him mouth. He probably spoke out loud,
but from my position it is hard to tell.

"That's okay," she says, blushing.

Well, what do you know.

Blue Shirt pauses and helps her gather her Bible and then situates
himself on the staircase right beside her, talking incessantly. Red Shirt is
nodding, smiling, blushing, and nodding.

What exactly, pray tell, are they going to relate to their kids
one day?

"No, actually, dear, I met your father when he knocked me flat at an
overcrowded Bible study for singles, where we then became Engaged Couple
Number 12."

Gee, how romantic.

Whatever happened to the good of Knight in Shining Armor
encounter? Distressed Damsel gets saved by Shining Knight? None of
this Damsel in Distress gets sacked by Shining Knight.

It's enough to make you want to stay single.

The stairs fill faster than a tuna barge in the middle of trout season.
The floor becomes the next victim, and by the time everyone has found a
resting spot, I'm convinced it is going to be our final one.

Ryan and Hannah are basically on top of me, a guy's knees are
wedged between my spinal vertebrae, I inhale a mouthful of the girl's
hair in front of me every time I take a breath, and all feeling in both of
my feet ebbs into the deep recesses of Nick's carpet.

Singles' class is not the place for claustrophobics.

Stephen Weatherby, Cool, Collected, and Calm, despite the ensuing
crisis of forty-nine people losing feeling in their limbs, sits in the one lone
chair in the front. The chair does not have a reserved sign on it. However,
no one touches it, and this is why: Lone chairs in the front of the class are
predestined for musicians, and everyone who has ever been within fifty
feet of a singles' class knows this.

Stephen lays his guitar over his right knee and balances it with his
forearm. "Great to see all of you here tonight. Let's begin with a word
of prayer."

Nick usuall ' says the opening prayer, but looking around, I don't see
him anywhere.

Stephen prays a short, honest prayer and rubs his pick down
the strings.

Four songs later, Nick appears from the kitchen. His hair is combed,
his clothes are pressed, his Bible is in its rightful place under his arm.

But his eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed, and splintery.

I close my own eyes in pain.

Where is Ruby?

"Open your Bibles with me to the beginning of 1 Corinthians 14,
please," he says, clearing his throat. The rustling and tha-whopping of
sheets of paper follows. Nick coughs into his elbow, blinks repeatedly,
and starts reading. "`Follow the way of love and eagerly desire spiritual
gifts, especially the gift of prophecy. For anyone who speaks in a tongue
does not speak to men but to God. Indeed, no one understands him; he
utters mysteries with his spirit. But everyone who prophesies speaks to
men for their strengthening, encouragement and comfort."'

He settles his Bible in the crook of his arm and looks up at all of
us. "I see three things in this passage I would really like to expound on.
First, that in our pursuit of love ..." He pauses, a thought-frown settling
between his eyebrows. "Be it a brotherly love as talked about in 1 John or
a romantic love as spoken of in Ecclesiastes 9:9, that this pursuit should
be characterized by strengthening each other in our walks, encouraging
each other to godliness, and comforting each other with the truth found
in the Word."

Nick teaches for thirty minutes, not looking much better at the
end than at the beginning. As he calls for announcements, I almost feel
the need to explain to the visiting masses that Nick does not typically
look like he's been on a drinking binge in the garage before coming in
to preach.

The moment the closing "amen" is said, everyone erupts from their
seats like a school of fish in front of a shark. Everyone, that is, except
Ryan and Hannah, who stay right where they are, pinning me down.

"I liked that lesson," Hannah says, swiping at her hair until it falls
behind her ears in perfect waves.

I nod quickly, pointing to the kitchen. "It was good. How about a
snack?"

"I liked the singing too. Must have a choir visiting." Ryan stretches,
but doesn't move.

"You know, I sensed chocolate when we came in." I'm grasping now
for any excuse to get them to move. "Let's get up and find it."

"Come to think of it, the singing was better this week," Hannah
muses.

Ryan nods. "Told ya, it's a choir."

"Maybe," Hannah says slowly. "Maybe everyone's just more talented
than we are."

"GET OFF!" I scream, jumping to my feet and pushing them to
the floor.

To quote one of my favorite children's poems:

Oh! Somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are
light.

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children
shout;

But there is no sound in Singledom-Loud Lauren has
snuffed it out.

I may have doctored that just a little. My apologies to "Casey at
the Bat."

The screaming is a bad idea for two reasons: First, because all fortynine people shut up suddenly and stare directly at me; and second,
because the feeling in my legs is still lost somewhere in Nick's carpet and
I promptly collapse right on top of Ryan.

I right myself and smile sheepishly. "Sorry, claustrophobic."

No one laughs.

'Ihe talking and mingling gradually make it back to their original
volume. I cover my face.

Ryan pats my shoulder, whether to comfort me or to disguise his
laughter, I can't tell. 'Then he gives me a shove and I tumble off his lap.

Hannah grins at me unrepentantly. "You do know how to make an
impression, don't you, Lauren Holbrook?"

I fall into bed later and tug the covers up around my waist as I lean
against the pillows, Bible on my lap. How do I consistently do stupid
things? You'd think that at some point the Clumsy Actions Vault inside
my head would run empty and I'd mature into a twenty-three-year-old
young woman rather than staying a twenty-three-year-old kid forever.
God, how come I can't be more graceful?

I flip the pages to where I left off in Ephesians 4, take one look at the
verses, and immediately start laughing. Hard.

My door opens suddenly. "Honey?" Dad asks, worry filtering
through his eyes. He looks around, noticing the TV is off and I'm sitting
on my bed with my Bible. 'Ihe worry blossoms in his expression. "What
are you doing?"

"Just my devotions, Dad." I temper the giggles and smile reassuringly. "Sorry to wake you up."

"You didn't. I was going past your room to get a cup of tea." He gives me a long look and slowly backs out. "Good night, Sweetheart."

"Night, Dad."

I look back at the Bible. "Be completely humble and gentle ... until
we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God
and become mature ... then we will no longer be infants ... we will in
all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ."

Whoever said the Bible is not relevant for today or that God no
longer speaks is insane.

Ruby meets me at the door on Thursday morning. "Hey, Laurie." Her
eyes brim with ... laughter?

She heard about my Grand Exhibition. "Who told you?"

"Hannah."

"Figures." I drop my backpack into my assigned cubbyhole. "Where
were you?"

"My Aunt Barbara is getting married again on Sunday. I didn't have
anything to wear, so I went shopping." She makes a face.

I look at her. "Were you successful?"

"No. What are you supposed to wear to your aunt's sixth
wedding?"

"I don't have any aunts."

"Consider yourself blessed." She shakes her head. "Not really. Aunts
are great-when they're not getting married six times. And making me
buy yet another dress."

"You still should have come last night. I could quote verses
on materialism."

Ruby sighs. I dig a Milky Way out of one of my hiding places and
start nibbling on it. Ruby watches, frowning. "Didn't you just have breakfast?" she asks.

"Yeah, but I'm still hungry."

"Well, what did you have?"

"Coco-Odies."

She looks from the candy bar to my waist and lets out an exhale that
sounds more like a growl. "How do you stay so thin?"