Chapter 14: Returning to Mass
Patti Hamilton called Karen that evening; she didn’t have much new to say, except that Mark continued to be at the rehab center where he was mainly working on his upper body strength.

“They’re not even attempting to get him up to walk, but the weights he’s been lifting seem to have improved his demeanor a bit, Karen,” Patti said.

“It must have been tough for him not to workout with his legs.”

“Yes, he’s so worried about getting soft, and he’s terribly frustrated because he’s still unable to lift anything near like he used to. He says he’s lifting like a woman, now.”

Karen laughed at the thought. “I’m sure he’s lifting far more than I ever could.”

“By the way, in any of your letters did you tell him you saw some of the state basketball tournament games?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.

“Yes, I thought he’d like to hear about them.”

“Well, he let out a comment about you seeing those games and how loud you yelled,” Patti said. “And I’m sure no one else told him about that.”

“Really,” Karen said surprised.

“He must be looking at your letters now, Karen.”

“Oh, Mrs. Hamilton, that’s so good to hear,” Karen said. “I’ll keep writing, if it makes him happy.”

“I think it does, though he won’t admit it. I asked him the other day if he ever wonders about you, and he gave me a short ‘No,’ but then quickly turned away. A mother knows when a child is lying.”

Karen informed Mrs. Hamilton that her brother and a couple of his teammates were planning to visit Mark in the week after next, during the Easter break.

“Will you be home then, too, Karen?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.

“Yes, part of the week anyway. I’ll have to come back early to work.”

“If you can, Karen, I’d suggest you come down with the boys, and maybe we’ll set it up so you can step in and see him too,” Patti Hamilton said. “I think he’ll see you, but I think we’ll have to do a bit of conniving to pull it off.”

“Oh Mrs. Hamilton, really? But I don’t want to anger him or upset him.”

“On the contrary, darling, you might be just the medicine he needs now,” Patti said. “He’s sulked long enough now.”

When she finished the call, Karen felt so excited. Though she was tired, it seemed the call revived her and she sat down at her desk and wrote another letter to Mark; when she finished it was past midnight. The letter was the longest one she’d written yet, all of three full pages in her tiny, neat and precise script. She signed it, “All my love, Karen.” It was the first time she had used “love” in her letters.

*****
Whitney Roberts called Karen on Sunday night, as promised. He explained he worked most Sundays and a couple of nights a week at the Shoreside Hotel’s restaurant.

“It’s a unionized place and I get great pay with tips, but they demand a lot out of us,” he said. “I don’t mind since the money and benefits are so good. I knew you used to waitress back home at the Olympus. Maybe I could get you a job here.”

Karen laughed. “I’m not sure I’m up to working in such a fancy place. The Olympus isn’t exactly a five-star restaurant.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “You’d be a classy addition, I assure you. Plus you’d really pretty up the place.”

“I don’t know, Whit, you know, it’s really tough work, waitressing, besides I’ve got a good work-study job now.”

“I’m pretty sure I could get you a job there, particularly with your experience,” he said. “Mom had a good friend in the union there, so that helped, and I’ve worked out pretty well, I guess.

“That’s nice of you, Whit, but I have a good job now,” she said.

“Can we go out again, Karen?” he said suddenly. “I really enjoyed our time together.”

“I did, too, Whit, but you know I’m still committed to Mark,” she said.

“I know that, and how is he?”

“Recovering I guess, but it’s so slow, and I’m sure he’s pretty depressed.”

Finally she agreed to have coffee with him at the Java-a-Go-Go the following day.

*****
At Ramini’s urging, Karen made the call Monday to the University chancellor’s office, as suggested by the card the two had been handed at the restaurant.

“Oh yes,” said a stern voiced Veronica. “The chancellor said you might be calling.”

At Veronica’s request, Karen provided her with the names and contact information for both herself and Ramini and then asked, “What is this all about?”

“I’m not exactly, sure, miss,” Veronica replied, “But the chancellor is eager to see both of you soon. You two are probably free from your classes by four o’clock, I believe. How about 4 p.m. tomorrow, that’s Tuesday?”

“Oh I can’t, ma’am. I have a work-study job with Professor Fenstrom and we’re terribly busy now.”

“Well, I would hope that Miss Ramini Verma would make it then?”

Karen queried Ramini, who nodded “yes,” and the appointment was made.

“That’s so strange,” Ramini said. “Why would a chancellor of such a big school care so much about a couple of prospective interns or work-study students?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s anything bad.”

“I hope not.”

*****
“I feel like I’m on a treadmill that won’t stop,” Karen complained to her friend Jenny as the two left their morning sociology lecture.

“Won’t you have time to join the other girls for coffee, like you used to, Karen?” Jenny asked.

“I shouldn’t, but I miss all of the girls,” Karen said, remembering how the group of five girls, including Karen, met most mornings at the Student Union’s coffee shop during the first semester.

They continued down the steps of the Humanities Building, and Karen finally said, “Oh, why not?”

Moving to greet each of the girls with warm hugs and kisses as they entered the Union, Karen said eagerly, “It’s so great seeing you guys again.”

“I told Gabe I’d be likely seeing you today,” Tracy whispered into Karen’s ear as they hugged.

If anything, Tracy appeared fleshier and bigger than ever; yet, there was a clear sparkle in her eyes and Karen could see she was a happy and content young lady.

“Give him an extra kiss for me,” Karen said, truly pleased to see how well the couple was getting along.

“Thank you, Karen, that’s sweet of you,” Tracy said.

“I’m happy for you both,” she said, before moving to greet the tall, slender Beverly and then the tinier Tricia.

“Where’s your knitting, Karen?” Tricia asked when the girls were settled back into their chairs.

“Been so busy,” she replied, “But I am trying to find time to knit a sweater for Mark.”

“Oh poor Mark,” Jenny said. “How’s he doing?”

“Yes, Karen, how is he? That was so devastating,” Beverly chimed in.

“Well, he’s in rehab now, but whether he’ll be able to walk again is still a question,” Karen said honestly.

“Have you seen him?” Jenny asked.

“No, he doesn’t want to see me, but I talk to his mother regularly and I write him almost every day.”

“He won’t see you? I shouldn’t ask, but why? Did he find another girlfriend?”

Karen shook her head “no.”

“Don’t be silly, how could he find anyone as pretty as Karen?” Tracy said.

“Oh you know boys,” Jenny said. “They get goofy sometimes.”

“Yes, how about you and Kevin,” Karen asked.

Jenny scowled at the question. “Oh, he’s flown the coop. The asshole took up with a girl from his high school when he was home for the holidays.”

“Oh Jenny, I’m sorry to hear that,” Karen said. “You two looked so perfect for each other.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Jenny said. “But I guess he found that mini-skirted hairdresser more accessible.”

“Tell me about it,” Beverly echoed. She was a geeky-appearing girl, with a long face, narrow chin, long neck and sloping shoulders. Karen recalled from earlier conversations that she’d had but one serious boyfriend, a tall basketball player who ditched her for a cute, plump cheerleader.

“Where does a girl go to find a nice guy?” Tricia said. The girl had a pockmarked face that ruined an otherwise appealing appearance; she was tiny and could be cute. She had never had a boyfriend, and had only been on a few dates.

Karen suddenly felt guilty. She liked both girls, who were warm, friendly and smart; she was certain that the two would make ideal mates for the right young man. Yet, here she was, a girl for less than a year and already experiencing the magic of being admired or sought after by several boys.

“Trish,” Karen said. “Any guy would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

“Right on,” echoed Jenny.

“And, as a matter of fact, any of the guys in this University would be lucky to have any of you as girlfriends,” Karen said, smiling broadly.

“Right on,” said Beverly, getting up from her chair and leaning over to give Jenny a high five. The girls also rose and gave each other “high-fives,” giggling as they did so.

Karen glowed with pleasure. It felt so good to be one of the girls again.

*****
Jenny and Karen left the group, returning to the Humanities Building; the morning had been hazy with little wind and temperatures almost hitting 30 degrees Fahrenheit, warm and balmy by the standards of winter in the northern community. But as the two walked out of the Union, the wind had picked up and the temperatures were beginning to fall, prompting both girls to put up the hoods of their parkas.

“What happened to our spring?” Jenny giggled.

“Guess it lasted 20 minutes,” Karen replied.

They turned to face the wind and Karen turned to her friend and asked: “Isn’t Mary Catherine going to join the group again?”

“I don’t think so, since she usually has a class at that time. She only came that day ‘cause the class was cancelled.”

“Oh.”

“But, she talked about you with me, Karen,” Jenny volunteered. “She likes you, but she doesn’t know if she should.”

Karen smiled. “Sounds like her. Actually, I like her, too, but I think she’s too puritanical and will never understand me.”

Jenny slipped suddenly, having hit an area of ice on the sidewalk, and Karen grabbed her arm to stop the girl from falling.

“Thanks, girlfriend, for catching me. I should watch where I’m going,” Jenny said. “But you know, Mary Catherine is trying to understand you; she’s been going on line a lot to learn about people like you.”

“But the Catholics seem so opposed to anything like gender change,” Karen said. “I’m not sure she’ll ever overcome that.”

Jenny nodded: “I suppose you’re right, but she’s not dumb either.”

*****
Each weekday at 4 p.m., regular as clockwork, Karen appeared at her job with Professor Fenstrom where the daily routine had become particularly tense as the professor, who demanded perfection and dedication, placed more and more responsibility upon Karen. Production for “Picnic,” the spring play, was in full progress and the professor concentrated almost totally upon the play itself, leaving to Deborah and Karen the work of the Drama Department’s day-to-day activities. To Karen, he entrusted such details as following through on fund-raising, even entrusting her to make person-to-person calls to potential donors. Karen arranged for the program to be printed, hustled some of the advertising and took constant notes from him as he made preparations for rehearsals to begin.

In truth, she loved the work, especially the fact that the professor seemed to have complete trust in her as she went through her work. His oversight became less and less apparent, and Karen soon felt that the professor no longer harbored sexual desires for her.

Most nights she didn’t end her work until 8 o’clock, usually without having any supper; as a result she had lost weight. She ate either a quick meal at a fast food place on the way home or scrounged something out of the refrigerator at the house after she got home; then she had to try to stay awake while studying. But, she never forgot to write a note to Mark.

Her trysts with Angela became more infrequent, largely due to Karen’s busy days. Karen, to be sure, had mixed feelings about this; she relished her moments of sexual encounters with the muscular girl, the scent of her sweating body and Angela’s intense caresses upon Karen’s own soft smooth skin. In Angela’s arms, Karen felt she was a tender girl, totally dominated by her strong friend. The thought of those moments excited Karen.

Yet, she felt those moments were wrong, that she was deceiving not only Mark Hamilton, the love of her life, but was deceiving herself.

*****
“What a meeting that was!” Ramini said on Monday night after Karen got home from work.

“What did the chancellor want?” Karen asked.

“Well she is looking for two students to do work-study in her office, answering phones and doing general entry work on computers and also reception work,” Ramini began. “And she likes the students to dress nicely, since often potential donors and state officials come in the office. She was especially attracted to us since we were dressed so nice.”

“Oh? But you know I have a position I like now.”

“That’s what I told Dr. Thatcher, Karen. She’s really nice, and I think she really wanted you because you’re so darn good-looking, but she settled for me as second-best.”

“Don’t be silly, darling. You’ll do her proud, I’m sure.”

“Anyway, I start next Monday, five afternoons a week, plus I’ll work weekends when she has a reception,” Ramini said. “I told her you’re an experienced waitress.”

“Oh?”

“And she said she might like to hire you for serving at receptions,” Ramini winked at Karen. “She didn’t say it, but I think she knows you’d be eye-candy for the bigwigs that she likes to impress.”

Karen blushed at the thought that she’d be hired solely on her good looks; yet she was beginning to believe that her feminine beauty would be leading her places where many other girls might never go; in addition that beauty was getting attention that Kenny would never have gotten. “Thanks, Rami, but you’ll know I’ll be busy until the play is ended,” she said, declining the offer.

“You’re such a good friend,” Ramini said, hugging Karen. “Just being around you has saved my life, Karen. You showed me that I could live the life of a girl, just as I was destined for, and you’ve introduced me to Aaron and now because I was with you at a brunch, I’ve got a job so I can survive without my dad.”

“I want you to be happy, Rami,” Karen said, kissing her friend. The two hugged for several minutes.

*****
“I’m so happy to see you girls joined us again today,” Father Neuberger said, as Karen and Ramini exited St. George’s Church the following Sunday.

Karen never expected to return to the church after their initial visit the previous Sunday, but when Ramini suggested it as they cuddled together in bed on Saturday night she realized she had found the experience refreshing.

Perhaps spending the time at mass would give her a chance to contemplate on the growing complications that she was having with her sexual desires. While she had always enjoyed the mass for its pomp and ceremony, she also recalled that when she was a regular churchgoer she would find her mind wandering into all manner of contemplations. Would she find answers to her tendencies to want the caresses and kisses of Angela or Ramini while she desired the arms of Mark Hamilton?

She agreed with Ramini that it might be nice to go to mass the next morning. “I enjoyed mass last week, and it gives us a chance to dress up, too.”

“Oh, goody,” Ramini giggled. “I have a bright new sari and it’s supposed to be a nice day tomorrow, warm and sunny.”

Karen wore a peach-colored sheath dress that had a curved bodice and moderately thick cloth strap over the shoulder straps, exposing her pretty arms and shoulders. The dress was tucked in at the waist, and that helped to shape her hips and give some form to her A-cup-sized breasts. It ended just above the knees, and she wore natural-colored thigh high stockings and a pair of light tan 2” heeled pumps. She found a silk scarf with peach and light blue designs to drape over her head.

Over the dress, she wore a white knit jacket sweater to protect against the lingering morning chill.

Ramini chose a light blue sari with a floral design in teal and yellow, along with a white shawl.

“I love dressing like the old ladies do for church, making sure they cover their heads,” Ramini said.

Karen smiled. For some strange reason, Karen also enjoyed the image of following the traditions of the church, many of which had been discarded among parishioners of the present day.

“I can’t imagine why I enjoy going to church so much,” Karen confessed to Ramini as they walked to church that morning. “I quit going at home when the church got so narrow-minded about things like gay marriage and abortion. And besides they were meddling in politics, but I always enjoyed the mass.”

“Me too,” Ramini said. “Were you ever an altar boy, Karen?”

“Yes, for a while, and I liked the garments.”

“Me too. They were like dresses.”

“Philip, he was a bully in my neighborhood, he told me I looked like a girl then.”

“Did that bother you?”

“Oh, a little bit, but I could hardly argue with him, could I, Rami?”

Father Neuberger’s sermon that morning concerned Lazarus, the young man whom Jesus raised from dead after four days in a hillside tomb in one of his miracles. Told by Lazarus’ sisters that the boy was dying, Jesus took four days to get to the boy, leaving the grieving sisters to mourn and to lament over Jesus’ tardy visit.

"I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die."

Father Neuberger intoned in his melodious voice.

“Was there really a miracle that day? I’ll leave that for the theologians and the scientists to wrestle over. It’s hard for us in the 21st Century to understand such miracles; I know many of you — now that you’re discovering the world in your college classes — may discount such tales as mere fiction or the product of story-telling run amuck. That’s OK, be skeptical as you like, but the lesson of the parable is real.

“Remember how the sisters mourned for four days, saddened by the death of their beloved brother. To be truthful, I’ve always wondered about this passage. Based on my own experience, I’m not sure all older sisters were so fond of a little brother. I was just such a little brother.”

The congregation tittered.

“The lesson is a crucial one: Often when life turns darkest upon us, we grow in despair, but this parable tells us to keep the faith, to believe in your God and to never give up.

“The lesson further goes that we must not be bystanders in this: Our faith alone will not save us, since God wants us to be moved to act positively on our own behalf; it means, too, that as children of God we will be generous and open and loving to others, since we will need the love and guidance of others to find new life, to be resurrected.

“Through our own saintliness, we will be resurrected, my children. That means we must keep an open mind and be aware of the needs of others. Whether the person is the smelly, dirty homeless person on the street, or the gay person, or the person of a different color, that person is our brother or sister, that person is a child of God, just as each of you are.

“In your generosity you will be rewarded. Remember God’s word: What you do for the least of us your do for me!”

Since arriving at the chapel, Karen had looked about trying to see if Mary Catherine was at the mass. She didn’t locate the girl until halfway through the homily; she was seated in a pew several rows to the front and to her far left. For some reason, Mary Catherine turned into Karen’s direction and their two eyes met; this time, Mary Catherine smiled warmly. Karen returned with a dainty wave of her hand.

Perhaps, Karen reasoned, the words of the priest that morning were resonating on Mary Catherine causing her to look at Karen’s situation more sympathetically.

After mass, Father Neuberger’s greeting to the two girls was warm and welcoming, as he took Karen’s hand in his right hand and Ramini’s in his left, holding both hands gently as they chatted briefly while other parishioners lined up behind them.

“Your sermon was so fitting,” Ramini told him.

“Thank you, Ramini,” the priest said, smiling. “Hoped you enjoyed the service, too, Karen?”

“I did, Father, and it’s so nice that you remembered our names,” Karen said.

Karen felt it was time to move on, but the priest continued to hold their hands.

“I’d really like to see the both of you get active in our Newman Club,” he said. “We missed you at our meeting last Wednesday. Won’t you try to join us next Wednesday at seven o’clock? You’ll meet some nice people there.”

“Thank you, father,” Karen said. “I work ‘til after eight o’clock on weeknights.”

“How about you, Ramini?”

“Maybe I can make it,” she said.

“Good, and Karen if you’d like stop by after work,” Father Neuberger said. “We socialize ‘til after 10 o’clock. Pizza and stuff. Love to see you both.”

Finally, the priest let go of their hands, turning to the next person in line.

The two moved off into the bright morning. Ramini spoke first: “Wow, that’s something, Karen. He remembered our names.”

“I know,” Karen said. “We must have left an impression.”

Ramini giggled. “Maybe because we’re so pretty.”

“I doubt that,” Karen said. “There were lots of pretty girls in church this morning. I think he’s just out hustling up new customers.”

“No, Karen, you, at least, were the prettiest girl in church. You can’t deny that! I think he has his eyes on you. You know about these priests, Karen?”

“I hope not, Rami. He seems sincere. He really does.”

“Let’s see how it goes,” Ramini said as the sauntered on. “Let’s go on Wednesday night. You can stop by after work.”

Karen truly liked Father Neuberger; his plea to open-minded thinking was most refreshing. Furthermore, she liked the idea of the lush ceremony of the Catholic mass, the music and the atmosphere of the 100-year-old campus chapel. She still struggled with the idea of believing in a particular God — as described in Catholic liturgy — as well as the growing narrow-mindedness of the Vatican Church. Yet, the word of God, as preached that morning in relating the story of Lazarus, felt comforting and warm to her.

Was her body not a temple in itself? Was it not to be treated with reverence and respect? And, had she in her promiscuity been betraying herself and her God, whoever that God might be?

*****
“Let’s begin with a moment of silent reflections,” the priest said, his voice soft and soothing.

On Wednesday night, Karen arrived in the room some 15 minutes after leaving her job at eight o’clock. She noticed 20 or so other students were already there, many seated on ancient overstuffed chairs and sofas, others on straight-backed wooden chairs with embroidered padded seats that had been dragged in from the dining room, and others — all girls — on the floor, their legs folded under themselves. Ramini was among those on the floor, and Karen joined her there.

Karen spied Mary Catherine on one of the sofas and gave the girl a nod, which was returned with a smile.

Ramini whispered to Karen: “We’re just beginning the meeting now, so you didn’t miss anything.”

“Oh, so late? What did you do?”

“Just ate and talked. It was nice.”

She was happy that the priest called for a “moment of silence” and did not call for the students to pray since Karen — even in her school days at Holy Assumption School — always found that she was being hypocritical in praying. Karen failed to see that prayer meant anything other than to “show-off” one’s own religiosity. Instead, she peered down at the aging, threadbare rug, its ornate designs of blues and greens and reds upon a brown background having long before lost their luster. Her thoughts drifted to Mark Hamilton, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she might pray for his recovery; maybe there really was a God who could intervene to make him well enough to again thrown touchdown passes for the Iowa State Cyclones; maybe, too, this God would restore him into her loving arms.

“Thank you, friends,” Father Neuberger said to end the period of silence, bringing Karen back into the moment. “I’m pleased to see we have several new friends join us tonight. So those of you who are new to our circle, please take a moment to introduce yourselves, telling us your name, year in college, your major, your hometown and one significant fact about yourself. How about it? Who wants to begin? Don’t be shy we’re all brothers and sisters here.”

“Hi,” a round-faced boy with soft fat rippling from his double chin began. “I’m Jeremy Foster, I’m a junior in business, from Monroe and . . . ah . . . ah . . . the one significant fact is . . .”

The boy hesitated.

“That’s OK, Jeremy, take your time. Say anything that pops into your mind,” the priest said kindly.

“Well, it’s like this. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I like to design clothes,” he said, his face becoming red.

There was a short moment of silence, as everyone appeared stunned; the students all looked at this apparently clumsy, awkward boy in amazement. Most of the students were girls, as Jeremy was one of only four boys in the room, and suddenly applause began, at first hesitantly and then mounting into a crescendo. Karen saw the boy begin to smile, with a tear growing into his face.

“Designs clothes for girls or boys, Jeremy?” a fairly pretty, bland-faced blond girl asked.

“Girls . . . ummm . . . women, you know.”

“Cool,” someone said.

“Good for you Jeremy, I can see you’ve won a lot of friends here right off-the-bat,” Father Neuberger said. “Now, let’s move on and the rest of you newcomers please tell us about yourselves.”

After the blond girl introduced herself (she sounded rather uninteresting, Karen thought), the priest turned to look down at Karen and Ramini, as if to instruct them to introduce themselves, and Karen began.

“I’m Karen Hansson from Manitowoc, and I’m a freshman majoring in sociology and minoring in theater and I like to knit and I’ve done some acting on stage.”

There was light applause, as there was after Ramini introduced herself.

“Well thank you, and we welcome you and hope you’ll join us on a regular basis,” the priest said.

At that point, Father Neuberger got up, left the room and a large, husky girl announced that the meeting would begin. She introduced herself as Stephanie McCormick, who was the current chair of Newman Club. The girl was a born “A-personality,” Karen felt, as she took over the meeting, moving it forward.

There was the usual business, a reading of the minutes (which were mercifully brief and read by a slender boy with long dark hair and a scruffy short goatee), a financial report (showing $312.55 in the credit union account, summarized by a short, compact girl in a tight-fitting pink sweater) and a discussion of a proposed campus activity.

“How about a play?” someone suggested.

“Not a bad idea, we’ve got several drama students in this group, now that our new friend is here,” Stephanie said, looking directly at Karen.

“Yes,” said the short girl in the pink sweater. “I’m in drama, too, and also Jeremy here could design the costumes.”

The conversation continued on for several minutes, the group warming to the idea. Karen realized that they had no idea of how hard it would be to put together any kind of a production in the few weeks remaining of the semester. At first she said nothing.

“Look,” she said, finally. “I’ve been involved in plays and they’re lots of work, and no one wants to come see them unless they’re good. Maybe you should try something else.”

“Like what, Karen?” Stephanie said, her face showing some anger.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. Then she continued on, believing she had to come up with an alternative. “How about a fashion show?”

“A fashion show?” someone queried.

“Sure, girls love those things,” Ramini said, coming to Karen’s support.

“They do,” agreed Jeremy.

“Where will we get the clothes to model?” Stephanie asked.

Someone suggested approaching some of the stores near campus; another suggestion was that each girl could pick out the favorite outfit they had to model.

“I got an idea,” Karen said. “Let’s model clothes turned in at the second hand stores, like Goodwill or St. Vincent de Paul’s.”

“Yes, it could be a benefit fashion show.”

“Even the boys could model clothes,” one of the girls suggested.

They called Father Neuberger back into the room as they finished the meeting, outlining the plan. He was most enthusiastic, and urged the group to appoint a committee to plan the event and report back on next Wednesday’s meeting.

“It’s your idea, Karen,” Stephanie said definitively. “Why don’t you lead the committee?’

“Me?” Karen said shocked. “I’m really too busy. I’m participating in the spring play by the University Players.”

“You really should be part of this, Karen,” Father Neuberger said.

“I’m really too busy to lead the committee,” Karen said.

“If you want, I’ll volunteer to lead the committee,” Jeremy said.

“You will?” Stephanie said, surprised.

“Why not? You have something against boys?” Jeremy said.

“No, no, no, it’s just that . . . never mind,” Stephanie said.

Eventually, the committee was formed with Jeremy as chair and the short girl in the sweater (named Melanie Flowers) as co-chair. Karen and Ramini were both appointed along with two other girls. It was agreed the six committee members would meet the following Saturday afternoon at the chapel’s lounge to make plans for the fashion show. Father Neuberger suggested a partnership with St. Vincent de Paul Services.

“I don’t know what got into me there to make that suggestion and then to volunteer,” Karen confessed to Ramini as they left the meeting.

“It was kind of a spur of the moment thought, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but I kind of like the idea, although I’m uncomfortable, since neither you nor I are girls just quite yet,” Karen said.

“I know.”

“Should we tell that ‘significant fact’ about ourselves?” Ramini asked.

“Wonder what Father Neuberger would say about that?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, probably wished we hadn’t told him the truth about ourselves.”

“I know, Rami, but I feel uncomfortable not telling him.”

“I suppose, but who ever sees us as boys, anyway?”

Karen realized Ramini was right: both were feminine by all appearances. Yet, Karen felt she needed to tell the priest about her “significant fact.” In fact, Karen decided that she’d take to opportunity at their committee meeting on Saturday to ask Father Neuberger for an appointment to discuss a “personal situation.”

*****
Karen fretted over her sudden involvement with churchgoing; hadn’t she consciously given up on the Catholic Church several years earlier over the church’s reactionary positions on such matters as gay rights, a woman’s right to choose, female priests and the right for priests to marry? Yet, there was something refreshing about Father Neuberger and his open-mined approach to matters. She recalled that the program following the club’s business meeting involved a discussion of the paper “Catholic 2012,” a liberal pronouncement of principles drawn up by a host of prominent European Catholics; she was surprised at the opinions of several of the students, many of whom shared her own tendency to support the liberal view of matters.

In her own mind, Karen often wondered about the course in life she was taking; there were those pronouncements in the Bible, like those in Deuteronomy for instance, that would seem to make it sinful to don clothes of the opposite gender. Besides, she just wasn’t being “normal,” whatever that was. Was not her role in life to revert to manhood, to marry and to father children?

Being a girl made her so happy. Wouldn’t a caring God want a person to be happy, she wondered? Then, too, scripture also said that each individual is a child of God, entitled to respect and honor as every other child. Would not Jesus love Karen, the woman, as much as Kenny, the boy?

Karen wondered if Father Neuberger would have the answers.