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. . . ”

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