Evangelical Baby, Part 1 (memoir)
He was the Finance Officer at the Mennonite College I was attending. “Let’s see you’re working at a restaurant in town and plan to continue with your waitress job this summer?” he looked down at his notes.
I sat up straight watching the Finance Officer’s head bent over the paperwork on his desk. Grey streaks highlighted a thick head of hair, swept and cemented off his forehead by some kind of product. His voice was quiet, reasonable-sounding even.
“Yes… once I get to Idaho I’ll pick up a waitress job somewhere. I promise I’ll keep my loan payments up.”
“Hmmm. You’re going out to Idaho to see your boyfriend?”
“Oh? Have I mentioned him?”
Then he leaned across the small space between my chair and his, his knee lightly brushing mine. “Well, I’m a little concerned about you.” He paused, austere and somber, heavy black-framed eye glasses, black eyes–a Mennonite. “I hope you’re not having a sexual relationship with your boyfriend?”
I didn’t respond; I just kept worrying my fingers on my lap. Weren’t we here to take about financing my college debt?
“As a Christian woman of God you shouldn’t be having sex before marriage. I realize the temptation can be great,” he stared intently at my mouth, “and you’re–you’re actually very pretty. . . ”