He Loved Me First ✓

He Loved Me First (3)

Chapter 3

She had been bouncing up and down with excitement, then settled down a bit to ask me of my sister. “She's a sophomore in high school,” I said simply.

“I know,” she said with a smile.

“Well, what about your family?” I asked.

“My dad is a lawyer,” she said innocently, “And my mom is a nurse. They both get paid good money. That's good because I'm the oldest of seven children.”

“Seven?!” I repeated. My mouth hung open in shock. Felicity giggled.

“Yes, there are nine of us total. People always react like that. I'm not quite sure why.” She kept talking, almost as if she was rambling on because she was nervous. “I guess it could be that it's just so counter-cultural, and it's pretty rare nowadays.”

“How can you even keep track of that many siblings?” I asked, absolutely dumbfounded by the idea of such a large family.

“It's easy, Oliver,” she said. “There's Peter and David who are identical twins and are 17. Joseph is 15. Sarah is 13. Isaiah is 10 and Lucy is 8. All very strong Catholic names,” she smiled proudly.

“You mean like mine?” I asked, just to see what she'd say. I hadn't yet told her I was not Catholic anymore and was trying to casually squeeze it into the conversation.

She grinned at me. “Yes! There are two saints named Oliver, and I could be sitting across from a third.”

I frowned at her, “I don't like my name very much.” For that reason, I wanted to add.

“Oh, I love my name!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Saint Felicity is my patron saint. She was a martyr. I long to be a martyr someday. Do you know how amazing that would be? It would be a dream come true!”

What have I gotten myself into? I thought, This girl is obviously very Catholic, and I'm obviously very not.

“Um, Felicity?” I asked, causing her to pause in her series of rants.

“Yeah?” She tilted her head to the side to look at me.

“I'm not Catholic anymore.”

She was completely horrified at what I'd just said. “What?! Why?!”

“I'm just not.”

“But you had such strong roots! How can you just turn away from all of that?” she asked me.

“None of it makes any sense whatsoever.”

“Really? Did you look into the reasoning for any of it?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Well, no, but I don't have to. I have enough common sense to just know what's true and what's false,” I said.

“Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically. She was definitely mad at me. “Sure you know more than Saint Augustine, or C. S. Lewis, or...”

I cut her off. “Why are you so mad at me? This choice affects me, not you.”

“This choice affects everyone! The world is a stage, Oliver! People are watching!” she insisted.

“You mean like they're watching us right now, because you're making a big scene over nothing?” I asked. I was getting frustrated now.

“What? This isn't nothing! I can't believe you'd even say that! You, of all people should know better!”

“Why should I know better?”

She took a deep breath and whispered, “Body of Christ, save me!” She then replied to my question, “You were raised better than this. You weren't raised in a home with no morals. You're better than this, Oliver, can't you see?”

“I can't,” I said, “But can't we just agree to disagree? Why is everyone trying to change me?”

Her eyes widened. “There are more people trying to help you? Who?”

“My parents,” I said, “And my uncle Ethan. And my sister.”

“That will make things a bit easier,” she said, seemingly talking to herself.

“What are you talking about?” I asked her, my voice a little gentler this time. I noted we were having an argument and we had practically just met. I didn't want to lose this very unique girl this quickly.

“You'll be okay,” she said with a small smile. “We'll get you reconverted eventually. I'll dedicate a rosary to you every day until it happens.” She had such confidence that it would happen. I have to admit, I kind of liked that about her.