St. Peter's Church

1

July 6, 1957.

There was a quick rap upon Paul's bedroom door.

"Paul! Are you awake yet?" Called his father, Jim, from the other side.

"I am now..." muttered a tired Paul, rolling over and sitting up, groggy from crying the night before. "Can I come in?" asked Jim. "Yeah," Paul responded, shifting to a comfortable position.

"Did you forget?" stated Jim, sitting his cup of tea on Paul's messy bedside table, "Ivan is coming over to take you to church in an hour, you need to get ready."

As Paul got up and sifted through his wardrobe for some slacks and a nice shirt, Jim started up again. "I can't remember for the life of me why he's coming by; do you remember?"

"Yes, I do," said Paul, shifting his tone to a slightly happier one, "He wanted to introduce me to one of his mates."

Paul was fifteen years old, but could easily pass as about twelve. His visage made for a very youthful appearance, and if it weren't for his height, voice or the way he dressed, no one would know he was in his teens.

"I'll leave ye to it, I reckon," Jim said, grabbing his tea and disappearing behind the door. Paul didn't look back, rather finding out he was gone by the door clicking.

He was far too tired to shower, not that he had time anyway. After slipping on the clothes he picked out, which consisted of black slacks and a tweed jacket, he worked on his dark brown hair, combing it and styling it.

He wasn't much aware of how much time had passed while he was doing all of this, very slowly out of lack of energy. When he looked down at his watch, his energy levels sprang up, and it was also the moment that a loud honk from Ivan's car outside went off.

"Come on, Paulie, Ivan's here," called Jim from downstairs.

Paul was practically running sideways down the staircase, nearly tripping thrice. "Watch your step, son," said Jim in his usual mellow manner.

"Bye, Dad," said Paul cheerfully. "Be home by 1," Jim said, and Paul was out the door.

Ivan watched Paul as he crawled into the passenger seat of his car. "Hey, Paul, what's up?" asked he. "Nothing, really. Just a little nervous, is all," responded Paul.

"Nervous?" asked Ivan, "there's no reason to be nervous, Paul, John's a nice bloke." "Do you remember what happened last time you said that about someone?" Paul asked. Ivan pursed his lips, shifting into drive. "This is different, I can promise ye," he replied.

The ride was mostly silent, until Paul decided to speak up more. "Tell me a bit more about John," he said. "He's a pretty cool guy," stated Ivan, "I honestly don't know how you'll feel about him, but I figured since the two of you had never met before, that I might as well initiate some sort of conversation, yeah?"

Paul nodded weakly, putting all his trust into Ivan's words. He was a usually cheerful and optimistic person who hid negative emotions beautifully, and wanted to keep his hopes up.