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Don’t bet on it. They wanted me where I was, leading the youth group, teaching the study lessons. They trusted me (at least Brother Card did), but they wanted me in my place. No one had ever wanted me to move freely about, doing what I wanted, chasing their daughters. Does that sound self-pitying? Maybe it is. Then again, the third fundamental truth of life is this: to 99.9% of the world you don’t exist. I’m not being self-pitying when I say that because I’m talking about you. You do not exist to most of the rest of the world. How many people even know you’re alive? Of those, how many care? Don’t add it up if you’re the type that gets easily depressed. Me, I’m not easily depressed. Never was. This nasty little world has always kind of amused me. I knew the world wanted me in my place—in a box on a shelf in the garage that they could take out when they needed it. That’s why I became a youth minister in the first place, to serve a function. People would need me. (There’s truth number four for you in case you’re keeping count: how much people “care” about you is directly proportional to how much they actually need you.) They needed me to teach their zit-faced children about Jesus, to read the Bible to the kids and tell them, yes, it does say what your grandpappy told you it said. I was a tool and they cared for me like a tool, kept me clean and out of harm’s way.
    But now I wanted something. My love. I didn’t know how to get rid of the Cards, but I hadn’t ruled anything out.
    I was thinking about all of this when someone knocked on my front door. I sprang up and turned off the television so quickly you would have thought my parents were coming through the door. After I got dressed, I hurried through the darkened living room to the front door.
    When I opened the door, Angela was standing on my welcome mat. I said her name, and she started to cry.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    She wasn’t wearing a coat, and when I pulled her to me and hugged her it was not a pleasant experience.
    Leading her inside, I said, “You’re freezing.”
    “I walked over,” she said.
    I sat her down on the couch and knelt next to her. A long strip of light from my bedroom gleamed across the hardwood floor of the living room, but she and I were in the dark. We were very close, but it wasn’t an erotic moment. She smelled like cold wind and snot.
    “Stay here,” I said, as if she were going anywhere. I fetched some Kleenex, and she blew her nose. After throwing the tissue away and getting her a wool blanket, I went into the kitchen and microwaved some hot tea packets the Ladies Auxiliary had given me in a housewarming basket.
    I paced the kitchen. Was now the time? This quick?
    I shook my head. You have to wait. You want to do this, but you have to wait it out. You don’t know what’s happened. If you pour it on too quick, it could scare her off. Take it easy.
    I noted my fortune in having just jerked off. Had I been humming along at full capacity when she showed up, I don’t think I could have controlled what would have happened.
    When the tea was ready, I took it in and gave it to her and sat down on the floor by her legs. Sweet, understanding guy.
    “You seem better,” I said.
    And she did. She wasn’t crying or shivering. She grinned and sipped her tea.
    “Want to tell me about it?”
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “I’d fill out the census for you,” I said, but I thought, Rein it in …  Don’t flirt .
    She smiled. “Have you ever been in love?”
    “No,” I said.
    Leaning forward, holding the cup with both hands, she said, “I think I am.”
    “Why?”
    “Why?”
    “Yeah.”
    She frowned. “I don’t know. I just feel love. Why haven’t you ever been in love?”
    I sighed. “I’m married to the work, I think. I want to serve God. Some people can do that without being married, some can’t. Paul said that it was better for us not to marry, provided we could control