Chloe was standing outside and popped into his car. They zipped over to Witherspoon’s and grabbed an outdoor table. The sun cast a golden glow on the trees. 

Jerry ordered an Italian cream soda – enough caffeine for today – and Chloe, a hot chocolate. 

“So, Mr. Jerry from out of town, fancy schmancy, what do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a minister.”

“Funny.”

“No. Really.”

“You’re a priest?”

“No, a minister. There’s a difference.”

She laughed. “I’m impressed. What church?”

“Westminster Presbyterian Church.”

“Wow. That place is haunted, you know.”

“Really.”

“Oh yeah. They say that someone jumped off the bell tower and its spirit refuses to leave.”

“Wow.”

“And the place is controlled by a coven of witches led by some old lady named Helen.”

“Wow.”

“You say wow a lot.”

“It’s an East Coast thing.” 

“So, how about you,” Jerry asked. “What do you do?”

“Well, I’m the manager, one of them, there’re six of us, at the Co-op. I also do photography.”

“Cool.”

They paused and smiled at each other. A cat sidled across Jerry’s leg, its tail lingering. He leaned down and scratched its ear. A passing car stirred the leaves in the street, then all grew quiet.

“You want to go to a movie?” he asked.

“How about some dinner first? I know this great place we can grab some burritos. You like burritos? Where from the East are you from? India?”

“New Jersey, and I’m embarrassed to say this but I’ve never had Mexican food.”

“Wow.”

Jerry pointed at her and laughed. “Got cha. I’m game. Let’s go.”

It was a hole in the wall, but the rice and beans, the pulled pork, the guacamole, all tasted divine to Jerry. Then there was the salsa. With insouciance, Chloe offered him a spoonful. Fire raged in his mouth. Water made it hotter. Tears streamed down his face as his body broke into a sweat.

“Not funny,” Jerry sputtered.

“You’ll get used to it. You build up a tolerance,” she said as she spooned some onto her burrito.

For the movie, they chose Ordinary People. Jerry lost himself in the story, about a thriving family ruined by the loss of one of their two sons in a boating accident. The surviving younger son, who was not the favored child, feels guilty still being alive. He is sent over the edge by the suicide of his best friend. At his emotional bottom he comes to realize the truth about his mother. By the film’s end, Jerry could barely rise out of his seat. 

“Drink?” asked Chloe.

“No thanks. It’s home for me.”

Back in the car, Chloe said, “That was quite the knee slapper.”

Jerry didn’t respond.

Chloe gave directions to her home, but he wasn’t listening. He pulled over to the side of the road. He dropped his head to the steering wheel and sobbed.

Ever so gently, he felt a hand on his upper back, moving in small, slow circles. Jerry kept his head down. He had just released something held onto for a long time. He picked his head up and leaned back in his seat. Chloe’s gaze fixed on him with compassion.

“Wow,” he said with a huge sigh.

“Please stop saying that.”

“I don’t cry. Actually I did cry not too long ago. It was with my kids. I mean, my church youth group. They were saying goodbye to me, all gathered around, and one kid fell into my arms and gave me a cross.” Jerry pulled it up from around his neck and showed her. “No big deal, right? But it got to me. Like this movie. It got to me. I don’t know. I guess a lot of things are getting to me.” 

“What about it?”

“I don’t know, the music for starters. What the hell was that?”

“Pachelbel’s Canon in D.”

They sat silent for awhile. Chloe kept her hand on the back of his neck.

“Everything can look so normal, ya know,” Jerry said. “But just scratch a little deeper, and you realize it’s a mess and hanging on by a thread.” He looked at her. “That’s me.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

Chloe, her eyes, fathomless pools, right there, not going anywhere. He leaned over. They kissed, tentative, then with glowing heat.

Jerry pulled away.

“Wo…” 

Chloe’s hand covered Jerry’s mouth before he could finish the word.

“This has been quite a day” Jerry said. “I preached for the first time in my life. I feel thoroughly inadequate. Fake. And I guess I feel kind of alone. I mean really alone.”

“Maybe you need California. Maybe you need to lose Jersey, loosen your tie. Get a little of the laid back energy we offer here, not to mention some granola and wheat grass juice.”

“I’m not even going to ask what that is.”

He drove her home, and they exchanged phone numbers. Intending to head home to his newly rented apartment along the Sacramento River, he unconsciously drove back to the church.