you,” I said, fighting to control my breath. “It was too wonderful, it was too great, it was—no, no, you couldn’t have lied each time, every time.” I stopped and stared at her. “You’re making this up to tie it in with this Father Reilly thing. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Honest to God—”
“Watch it. You’re certified now! That’sblasphemy!”
“Just ‘honest’ then. No lie.”
I lapsed back into hot confusion.
There was a long silence.
“We could still have lunch,” she said. “Someday.”

“No thanks. I couldn’t stand it. To see you and have to sit across from you and not touch, oh, Lord! Where’s my hat? Was Iwearingone?”
I put my hand on the doorknob.
“Where are you going?” she cried.

I shook my head, eyes shut. “I don’t know. Yes, I do. To join the Unitarian Church!”
“What?”
“Unitarians.Youknow.”
“But you can’t dothat!”

“Why?”
“Because—”
“Because?”
“They never mention God or Jesus. They’re embarrassed if you talk about them.”

“Right.”
“Which means, when I see youIwouldn’t be able to mention God or Jesus.”

“Right.”
“Youwouldn’tjoin them!”
“No? You made the first move. Now it’s mine. Checkmate.”

I turned the doorknob and said:
“I’ll call you next Tuesday, a last time. But if I do, don’t ask me to marry you.”

“Don’t call,” she said.

“Oh, love that I still dearly love,” I said, “goodbye.”
I went out and shut the door. Quietly.

The End