Rowe stood outside Winnie’s open door. The sun had not yet risen. He wore khaki shorts, and a white linen button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Winnie stood just inside the door in a white tee and sweats.
“Hey,” he greeted – Rowe’s voice was soft – taking care not to wake the neighbors.
“Hey,” she replied.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good, I guess,” she answered. She invited him in, and they approached the electrical box. “Here it is, it was kind of smoking when I called.”
He held a flashlight in one hand and opened the metal door with the other. The smell of burnt plastic was long gone. He breathed in the fragrance of cinnamon candle in Winnie’s hand and a hint of vanilla from her skin.
He furrowed a brow. “Looks like a breaker blew”.
“Is that an easy fix?”
“Yeah,” he replied as he studied it. “The hard part is finding out why it happened.” He bent down to gather his tools. “I assume it’s related to the new lamp outside”
They stood close to one another – closer than common decorum allowed, however, in the dark and the quiet, it seemed a natural choice.
“Did you have anything unusual plugged in?” he asked.
“Giant vibrator,” she replied.
She mused about how unlike her it was to say that. The conversation with her roommates must be fresh in her mind, she decided. She was channeling Jess.
“There’s your problem,” he chuckled and started prying the old breaker out with a screwdriver.
She watched him for a moment and screwed up her courage. “Did you go to Summerfest?”
“I didn’t make it,” he said, without a hint of bitterness – indeed it seemed he was apologizing for not going.
She knew she was the one that needed to apologize. “I’m sorry, I don’t…” She started.
He glanced up from the electrical box, attentive.
She studied the floor. “I’m not like… good with crowds.”
He nodded, waited for her to extrapolate, but she couldn’t find the words, so he bailed her out. “I know what you mean.”
“I’m a weirdo,” she rolled her eyes, “I prefer like, one on one time with people. like that’s what energizes me, and crowds exhaust me.”
He paused a beat, then nodded. “You’re an introvert.”
“Yeah.”
He nodded.
She cringed a bit. “I go to parties with my roommates and I spend the whole night in the corner pretending to be interested in some painting.”
He smiled as he grabbed the old wires with a set of needle-nose pliers.
She caressed a bit of nothing on the wall for no reason. “I’m like a recluse.”
“You’re not a recluse. You’re…” he searched in the toolbox for the wire strippers “…demure.”
“That’s better than prim. My roommates called me prim today.”
“Prim isn’t all bad,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Better than prude maybe,” she shrugged.
He’s gently amused.
“Prim… Prude, how are they even different?” she said.
“I think prim is more… it’s like a closer cousin to proper,” he said.
“Proper’s not bad… better than priggish,” she shrugged again.
“There’s a GRE word,” he grinned and then put-on airs, “the priggish pedant.”
“Oh my God this is the nerdiest conversation I’ve ever been a part of.” She laughed.
“Wow, knowing you, that is a high bar.”
She grinned, warming to him. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No thank you, I’m okay.”
She watched him work. “Shouldn’t you turn the main power off?” she asked.
“Yeah… probably… I’ll be alright… as long as I don’t slip.”
He wielded a giant screwdriver to unscrew the old breaker clamp.
“Is that how they do it in Texas?” She asked. Rowe had revealed he spent his childhood there on the day they met.
He just smiled.
“So, were you like a genuine cowboy growin’ up?” she asked.
“Not really…” he said, quite accurately, having left the suburbs of Houston as a teenager. But this didn’t stop him from teasing her. “I mean, I’ve roped some steer in my day… slept by a few campfires… been in a few gunfights… but I ain’t no cowboy,” he added with a sudden drawl and gave her a sly look. She rolled her eyes.
“You live alone right?” she asked.
“I do.”
“So, if your hand slips and you =die, I don’t know whom to call.”
“Well, that’s depressing,” he sighed.
“This is the first time I’ve ever lived alone, I’m not very good at it.” she offered.
“What’s hard about it?” he asked.
“I don’t know… just…” her voice trailed off. “Being alone.”
“So, you don’t like people, but you don’t like being alone,” he said with a mischievous grin as he grabbed the new breaker from his toolbox.
She dropped her head back and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Oh my God, I sound like a psycho, don’t I?”
“Not a psycho… ‘weirdo’ was the term I think you used,” he teased.
“I told you, I’m better one on one… but being alone is… How long have you lived alone?”
“For two years.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend?”
“My first two years of school I did. She graduated.”
“You broke up.”
“We did.”
“Am I prying?”
“No, no, I mean. It was good and bad. She had… sort of…”
“I am prying.”
“An addictive personality.”
She waited for him to extrapolate.
He loosened the screws to connect the new wires to the breaker. “She was like a, punk rock, goth type.”
“At Holy Trinity!?”
“Yeah… art major, weirdo, you would have liked her.”
“Sounds like it,” she replied as she studied him. “So, what do you do for, like, social interaction now?”
“Well, there’s this girl I was sorta interested in, I asked her out today… but she, like, shot me down pretty hard,” he teased. He clamped the wires coming out of the new breaker.
“Shut up.”
“Said she had to read…. I don’t know…” he furrowed his brow, “truthfully she’s a little priggish.”
“She sounds awesome actually.”
“But I get it, I mean who can compete with… books?” he said.
“I told you I was a weirdo.”
He shrugged. “That’s my type.”
“I was quite normal growing up, but somewhere along the way I lost faith in humanity and became a misanthrope.” She said.
He shrugged, and played along “People suck”
Winnie laughed. “They do.”
Rowe continued. “Think about it, you have criminals,” he said, counting one with his thumb, “they suck.”
“Suck,” Winnie agreed.
“Racists, sexists,” Rowe counted two and three with his fingers.
“Suck it big time,” Winnie agreed.
“Professional wrestling fans,” he counted four.
“You realize all these categories are mostly men, don’t you?”
“Oh, women suck most of all,” he said with a mock furrowed brow before flashing her a little grin.
Before she knew it, she had hit his arm in a manner so flirtatious, she instantly felt like one of her roommates.
“Sorry,” she said.
He looked at her questioningly.
“I don’t know why I… hit you just now. I feel like I hit you too hard. I’m not good at…”
“Boxing?”
“Yeah.”
He looked her over, pleased, when a work of art on the wall behind her caught his eye. It was a striking piece, consisting of a half finished scientific illustration of a butterfly superimposed over watercolor reminiscent of a sunset fading into thousands of stars.
He froze, transfixed. Winnie followed his gaze to her art, and then back to his eyes – unsure what to think just yet.
He said nothing but picked up the candle off the floor and stepped toward it to examine it in greater detail.
The candlelight flicked over the paint, catching the texture of the paper.
“This is yours?” He asked, not taking his eyes off it.
“It is”
“It’s breathtaking” he almost whispered.
She watched him, on eggshells, almost convinced he was putting her on. When she finally relaxed, she managed a “Thank you”
“What does it mean?” He asked rather pointedly.
“Well, you tell me, the meaning of the art lies in the beholder”
He backed up and surveyed it in its entirety. “It explores the duality of art and science”
She eyed him – “Go on”
“You’re a double major right? Art and Psychology?
“And maybe theology,” she said.
“Triple major”
“Maybe, one will be a minor”
“So it’s the trinity of art, science, and spirituality. The neverending cosmic soul for the spirit,” He gestured to the stars, “the measured scientific illustration for the science” He gestured to the butterfly. “And the entire work is art, the medium for which you express yourself.”
She watched him, hanging on his every word.
He noticed that he had her rapt attention and added:
“And you’re the butterfly, an unfinished symphony,” He gestured to the unfinished wings. “ready to fly through the eternal cosmos. A finite being among the infinite, if you could only stop studying yourself”
Her lips curled with mirth, but did not otherwise validate his assessment.
“I’ve always felt art and science were two sides of the same coin.” She said. “ My favorite quote is Einstein saying the greatest scientists are artists”
He finally pulled his eyes from the painting and set the candle atop the electrical box and spoke: “I’ve heard it said that science deals with analysis, or the breaking of things down into their constituent parts, whereas art tends to deal with synthesis or the building of things up from unrelated parts. So, if people can learn to apply their art skills of creation to their science, we get all sorts of wonderful new breakthroughs.”
“That’s beautiful,” She said, looking him over as if with new eyes.
“So what are you gonna do with three majors?” He asked, picking up his wire strippers again.
“I want to be an art therapist. I thought I’d be an art major, but I think my parents were worried I’d end up drawing portraits on the sidewalk.”
“That’s not a bad gig.”
“Says the future doctor.”
“So, theology, psych, and art do you want to be an art therapist at a church?”
“That’s the plan… if that job existed in churches… which it doesn’t.” she said.
“You can make it happen.”
“Or I can be unemployed.”
“You’d be good. You empathize well. That’s like your thing,” he said.
“My thing?”
“Everyone has a thing, that’s yours.”
“You’re being kind, I wish I could empathize more.” She said.
“Remember how you said you can’t watch American Idol because it makes you anxious for the performers. Empathy is your thing. It’s your superpower.”
She doesn’t reply but lets it soak in.
“What’s your superpower?” she asked.
He thought for a moment as he pushed a wire through the back of the box. “I’m the all-knowing master of time and space.”
She snorted “Humility, that’s your thing.”
“Yeah, that too,” he gave her a sly smile as he stripped the new wire.
“So, you’re a science guy.” she said.
“I guess. Medical informatics and genetics”
“So, will you, like, have a medical practice, or?”
“I’ll be on the research side, I think.”
“Who will fix my stuff?” she asked.
“Someone with more skill than I.”
“And you’re headed to Brown?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I like Rhode Island.” she said.
“I hope I like it.”
“How soon do you go?”
“I’ll leave in the fall, so two months I guess.”
Winnie swallowed hard.
He flipped the new breaker – the lights popped on.
“That was fast,” she said.
“I still don’t know why it happened though.”
He studied the breakers.. The sun was rising out the window.
He turned his attention to her.
She folded her arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious in the light.
He started putting away his tools.
“It was good to… see you… and chat,” she said.
“Yeah,” he murmured. He closed his toolbox and stood – his eyes somewhat wistful.
“So, I guess… If I don’t see you,” she said, “I wish you well… on your future endeavors… being the all-knowing master of space and time.”
He didn’t know what to say. Finally, he managed, “I’ll miss you.”
Winnie was unusually sincere. “Yeah.”
He didn’t turn to go just yet but lowered his gaze and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he thought better of it—rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath and turned to go. “All right, I’ll see you around then?”
She watched him – unable to find any words herself until he reached the door.
Winnie could feel it stirring inside – that cocktail of mixed emotion that she felt looking through the door viewer, something deep, stirring and confusing all at once. But right now, she could feel them about to bubble over. Finally, she blurted out, “Why did you change lab partners?”
He turned to face her.
“We were set to be lab partners and you changed. We may never see each other again,” she said. A flash of pain crossed her eyes. “I just need to know why,” her tone was involuntarily plaintive. “What was wrong with me?”
He looked at her with great empathy – as if this very concern had been on his mind as well. Those damn soft eyes that could melt anyone.
“I did want to partner with you,” his words were quiet – as if to imbue them with gravity. “Nothing was wrong with you, everything is right, that’s the problem.”
“Don’t make up something to spare my feelings.”
“Listen to me,” he stepped forward, earnest. “You can feel this right?” he gestured between his chest and hers. “Between us? It works. It’s always worked. It feels right. ”
She stood frozen.
“We’re both at the top of the class,” he continued. “We like the same movies, we finish each other’s sentences, and yet you always say something that surprises me every time we talk.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He furrowed his brow for a moment and studied the floor. “You remember when we met?”
Her eyes were locked on him, she nodded yes.
“I was showing you this apartment. We were standing right about there,” he nodded to a spot on the floor. “You had your hair up and you had that little blue dress on, and you kept doing that thing where you roll back on your heels and then almost to your tiptoes, when you talked like you were so excited, the words would just rock your body back and forth.”
She focused intently on his eyes.
He met her eyes. “I remember because you were telling me about your family, and how important they were to you and how much you missed them. And how your dad was pastor of this church where everyone was pretty tight and how you were leading this young life group here in town, how you wanted to take them on a mission trip to Africa, and I thought, you know, wow, this girl is the most beautiful human I’ve ever met… but she’ll never go for me, not in a million years. Because she’s a church girl, which I respect, but the fact is, I’m sorta on the other team.”
She was still frozen, in disbelief, she spoke in a half-whisper, “You worship the devil?”
Rowe grinned widely. “No, I’m a humanist.”
“A humanist?” her voice was almost breathless.
“Yeah.”
“Like a secular, “I don’t believe in God” kind of humanist?” she asked.
He was a bit sheepish. “That’s the one.”
“So, an atheist.”
“Right.”
She sat down on a bench in the hall behind her, just the relief of knowing lifted some weight off her shoulders. “Here I was thinking you didn’t partner with me because you were my landlord…”
“Your landlord?”
“I thought you were afraid of a million-dollar lawsuit if we dated.”
He was amused. “A million dollars?” he repeated. And then earnest, he added, “I’d take that risk.”
She chuckled to herself, amused… but ultimately disappointed.
“Oh… my…” she ran her hand through her hair. “At least I know why now… I felt like there was something wrong with me.”
Genuine concern in his eyes, he replied, “No… no… I just figured that that whole atheist thing would be a deal-breaker for you…” he studied her reaction, but he couldn’t read her.
“Is it a deal-breaker for you?” he asked, “I mean in the long term because if we both know we’d be more than a fling, I think we have a shot at being the real deal and why go down that path if it’s just gonna lead to pain.”
She didn’t reply right away, a serious question deserved a serious answer. She sighed, studied him. Why him? The irony she chose to ask God for guidance in answering this question was not lost on her. Christianity, or more broadly, spirituality, was her defining quality. It was the magnetic force that guided her internal compass. It was central to the nature of her being. It not only made her what she was…. It was her. She didn’t have a soul… she was a soul. Could she be friends with someone that denied this? Yes. Could she be attracted to this person? Obviously yes. Could she rip his clothes off? This much was certain. She blinked hard, why was she even asking herself this question? The question was whether they could be more than a fling, would it work in the long term. Could she settle down with someone who did not share her spiritual view of the world? Who did not even believe in God? She knew the answer – she knew the answer before she started introspecting, she was just dragging it out because she didn’t like what the answer was. Her mind and her heart seldom agreed.
“Yeah, I guess… I mean…” she reflected – looking within. “If I’m honest… It’s like the biggest deal-breaker there could be.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“That was nice though… what you said… about me.” She managed to share a glance with him, then studied the floor nervously.
“You don’t believe in God at all?” she asked. She met his eye. “I mean are you, like, agnostic? We can’t know, or are you like a real ‘atheist – there is no god, down with church?”
He paused… sighed. “The latter.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I’m actually working on a book with a friend of mine that helps save people from religion.”
Winnie was stunned. “You’re actively out there preaching against religion?”
“Yeah.”
She was flabbergasted. “Are you serious?”
“I am.”
“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, laughing.
He was slightly amused, sheepish.
“So, it’s like your mission,” she continued, “to trick people into thinking God doesn’t exist?”
“Take the word “trick” out of there and…” he shrugged, “I don’t know if there’s any good way to say this, but I think religion is one of the world’s biggest problems.”
“Wow… this is… like… sitting down with the enemy here….”
“I bet I could save you,” he said.
“You could save me?!”
“Yeah.”
“From what?!” she argued.
“Seriously, let’s talk about it over dinner.”
“You think you’re going to change the core of who I am over dinner?”
She had a point, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Then you save me.”
She furrowed her brow.
“I like you,” he admitted. He stated his case, “That doesn’t happen often. For all we know, we’re about to miss out on lifetime happiness just for some… philosophical belief… Something in our heads… that can never be proven either way.”
Why him? Winnie asked herself.
He saw her caution.
“You’re evangelical, right?”
“Technically, I’m Baptist.”
“Isn’t it like your duty to try and convert me… It’d be immoral not to.”
She smiled, picked up a coffee cup from the counter, and studied it mindlessly as she considered it. “We’d have to agree on a definition of God first.”
“Okay, we’ll do that over breakfast.”
“But I’m gonna say God is love, so we’ll have to define that too.”
“That’ll be lunch. I’m buying. Breakfast, what is God, lunch, what is love.”
“What’s the dinner’s topic?”
“Dinner is ‘what is good…. How to love.”
She nodded, yes, that was fitting.
“And why atheism is bad.” she added.
“Yes, or the damage Christianity is doing to this nation.”
She rolled her eyes.
He checked his watch. “Three meals, three topics. I’m buying. It’s 6 am, sunrise, I’ll give you until sundown,” he set his alarm, “to try and save me from “Hell,” and you give me until sundown, to try and save you from the specious reasoning and possibly harmful superstition of religion.
“Specious reasoning huh? I bet you’re an expert in that.”
He shrugged. “We’re at a Christian university which I think has a less than desirable relationship with the truth…. I don’t want you lying in bed at age forty with the creeping realization that this whole spiritual world isn’t all it’s made up to be and that the church you’re in is filled with selfish conservatives and that the guy you married has a backwards bible inspired view of the role of women in a marriage and doesn’t genuinely appreciate you for what you could be.”
Her eyes widened. “That is ironic because I lament the fact that you’re going to be lying in bed at age fifty, alone because no woman in her right mind would marry an atheist and be faced with the creeping realization that you are not a God… That your philosopher friends are cynical blowhards and that maybe, just maybe, there is something much, much larger than yourself and you’ve spent the majority of your life ignoring it.”
He grinned broadly. “This is gonna be good.”
It disarmed her.
“If we fail,” he said, “we walk away… If one of us succeeds, then who knows what’s in store, we’ll have our entire lives to figure it out.”
She considered it, put her face in her hands as she admitted to herself, she was going to do it, took her hands down, and shared a look with him – breaking into a resigned smile.
“You’re buying right?” she asked.
He grinned.