Mask of Celibacy: A Multimedia Novella

26 ¦ Admitting the Truth

My emotions were boiling over. First the plant, then the letters, then the call, and now this? I didn't have the mental strength to keep my discipline intact anymore.

"Actually, there is something I want to say," I said in a proud voice. "I'm an adult, and who I choose to date is my concern."

"Jess, I can't believe what I'm hearing," Mom said. "Did that...Helen...put you up to this?"

"Why do you get the impression that I'm some dumb pushover?" I asked in a way that would put a snapping turtle to shame. "No, she didn't put me up to this. No one did. It was my own stupid idea to date someone new."

For God's sake!

"I suppose this has nothing to do with your sudden interest in Holy Cross or your new look," Grandad said with a curled lip.

Mom poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

"This puts me in a precarious position." I crossed my arms. "I can tell the truth, and you can think I'm a bad person. Or I can lie, and I can be a bad person."

"You're not a bad person," Mom said.

"No, I'm not. But you keep asking me questions to get the answers you want to hear."

"I, for one, want to hear the truth young lady," Grandad growled. "No more lies. Do you have a boyfriend? And does he or does he not attend Holy Cross?"

"Yes. And yes."

"I see. Thank you," he said with a huff.

"But I did get a makeover from Helen," I said, "because my clothes look like a burlap sack."

Mom gasped. "You never questioned my shopping before."

"Because I don't give a crap about clothes," I replied. "But apparently other people do."

"Do you...like...your new attire?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. To the extent that I care at all, I think I look kinda pretty."

Grandad gave Mom a stern look with the gravitas of a thousand lectures. "Well, okay then," she said with a haughty look. "I don't see why you shouldn't."

"This boyfriend, on the other hand," Grandad said, narrowing his eyes, "why are you keeping him from us?"

"Because I knew you'd make a fuss and forbid it when he's innocent."

"No man is innocent, Jess. They all want--"

"He's different," I insisted. "I know everyone says that about their boyfriends, but he is. He holds the door open for me. He asks me before even giving me a hug. Not even you guys do that."

Mom cocked her head. "We're your family, dear."

"Still...the point is: He's a gentleman. He's intelligent. He's kind. He's a talented musician."

"What does he play?" Mom asked.

"Piano and organ, like you," I replied. "He's so good that he has permission to practice on the chapel organ and the Steinway in Brooks Hall."

She hummed in thought. "You don't have to meet him in secret, you know. Perhaps you could invite him here."

Oh, hell no! That's the last thing I need.

"He better not have touched you," Grandad said, his eyes a dark storm. "Or I'll have a little...chat with him."

"He hasn't."

"Good."

I rolled my eyes. "Speaking of which, there's something else you should know."

"And that is?"