Forget Green Gables

Counting Stars

"Your grandmother's hilarious," Jamie says as she crawls into bed with me that night. "Those stories she told about your family. You should write a book."

I shake my head with so much force that Jamie gets a mouthful of hair. "Sorry. No, I shouldn't. My family is just flat out crazy." I pull my hair up into a bun. "And not like, you know, my mom is. They're nuts."

"Yeah, but they're endearing."
"Okay, Ms. Word-of-the-Week."

"Sure, Hermione," Jamie returns, turning off the bedside lamp. "I'm just saying..." she trails off and silence hangs thick like humidity. "Do you think I'm going to Hell?"

"No, why?"

"The church says what I did is a sin." She does not elaborate, and she knows she does not need to.

I stare at the stars on the ceiling for a moment, considering their history. Galileo provides me with inspiration about what to say next. "The church isn't always right, you know."

"Name one time they've been wrong," Jamie almost begs me.
"They won't let women be priests. They didn't allow interracial marriages until just a few decades ago. They thought it was better if lay people couldn't read the Bible so they would have to accept the Vatican's word about everything. They excommunicated Galileo for being right." I motion to my ceiling.

Jamie says nothing, but I know she is awake and staring up at the stars on the ceiling. "Do you remember when we realized we'd done it backwards?"

I nod. "Yeah. Boy, were you mad."

Jamie stays silent for a long time. "That's when I knew we were best friends," she says, finally.

"Me too," I answer. "I'm glad we are."

"Definitely."