The Fall 4:02

Wednesday night brought the young women’s campfire and movie night at the bishop's house. Izzy attended the activity, as promised, and Winslow saved a seat for her next to the fire pit. Several of the leaders even brought snacks for the girls to roast over the flame, and Winslow was pleased to find cinnamon rolls among the array. The leaders had hung a sheet on the side of the Bishop's house and aimed a small projector at it in preparation for the movie.

A leader stood by the projector, popping a disc into the attached DVD player. 

“I thought we were watching Finding Dory,” Izzy said, glancing at the DVD.

The leader, Hannah, hardly looked apologetic. “That was the plan, but we found out that movie has a lesbian couple in it, so we needed to pick something else.” She whispered the word like it was dangerous.

Winslow watched Izzy visibly deflate at the news, and she figured the disappointment was from more than just the choice of movie. She leaned closer to Izzy and whispered, “Sorry, I didn't know they changed plans.”

Izzy gave a halfhearted smile. “It's fine.”

“I think it's dumb, actually,” Winslow said. She had seen all the outrage when the movie came out, and knew that the couple in question was only shown for a few seconds and they weren't even confirmed to be together. It was a wholesome, family-friendly story, with or without a lesbian couple, and the leaders certainly didn't need to choose another movie.

Izzy seemed to feel a little better knowing that Winslow found the switch unnecessary as well, but she still looked rather uncomfortable for the duration of the activity. Winslow hoped that Izzy could recover from this, but the damage might have been too much. Such a simple demonstration of intolerance, going directly against Christ's teachings of unconditional love, could very easily be the thing that turned Izzy away from the gospel forever. Winslow frowned, knowing her friend was right to be upset and perhaps even to blame the church for this sort of behavior, but she also felt that this kind of thing shouldn't have a place in the church at all.

She thought back to her conversation with Cherry and her interaction with Kiernan about the highlighters. A person's comfort should come before arbitrary rules about what's right and wrong, but so should love. Love should come before everything, really.

Brother Roman stood in front of their class on Friday with his copy of The Book of Mormon— the scriptures that supplement the Bible in Winslow's faith. The teacher had his book open to the third chapter of Mosiah, reading a passage aloud.

 “Verse seven has always stood out to me, because it tells us that when Jesus gave his life for us, he didn't just suffer our sins. He also felt all the pain and suffering that each of us has ever felt. Isn't that amazing?” Brother Roman looked around the room, making eye contact with a few of the students and receiving nods of agreement. “This means that whenever you have one of those moments where you're upset and think nobody understands, there's always someone who understands perfectly.” Winslow smiled at the thought as Brother Roman continued. “Does anyone want to share about a time in their life where they’re comforted to know that our Savior knew their exact feelings?”

Winslow looked around the room, waiting to see if someone else would raise their hand. She couldn't think of anything off the top of her head, but if needed, she could find something to say.

After a moment, another girl slowly lifted a hesitant hand into the air.

“Yes, Lindsay?” Brother Roman offered her the floor.

“Um…” Lindsay started nervously. “Last year, my two-year-old niece passed away unexpectedly.” Winslow folded her hands together and listened respectfully as the girl elaborated. “That was hard enough for the whole family as is, but my sister was pregnant with her second daughter at the time, and with the stress and everything, she had a miscarriage.”

Winslow's heart sank. What a horrible thing to go through.

“That was really tough,” Lindsay continued. “My sister lost both of her babies in a matter of weeks— and the rest of us were grieving, too, but my sister was understably struggling the most. None of us knew how to help her. Like, the whole thing sucked so much… What do you even do in that situation? Nothing we say or do will make it any better.”

 Winslow and several other students nodded in understanding.

“My sister started questioning her faith, because she thought, ‘Why would God let something like that happen? It seemed kind of cruel, didn't it?’ But eventually I was able to realize that through the atonement, Jesus Christ knew exactly what she was going through, which means He knew exactly what she needed from us in order to begin to heal.” Brother Roman nodded thoughtfully. “So I started praying, asking for help and guidance. Since he knew what my sister needed, he could give us a hand through the Spirit, and we could know how to help without having to put pressure on her or anything… And it worked, too! I know some people will doubt that, but my sister shared a testimony with us saying that she knows Christ was there to guide her through it, and she was amazed that our family was able to give her exactly what she needed. The whole thing ended up strengthening my testimony, too, even though there's still a lot of pain and grief mixed in.”

Brother Roman smiled at her. “That was beautiful, Lindsay. I can tell you have a wonderful spirit. Thank you for sharing.”

Winslow smiled, considering the bittersweet story in its entirety. She wasn't sure she could be so strong in a situation like that.

Brother Roman moved on, asking if anybody else wanted to share, and Reid leaned over to Winslow.

Chuckling, he said, “I'm just glad he understands the pain of having your PC crash right before a Victory Royale.”

Winslow scowled, turning to look at him in quiet horror. “Be reverent or sit somewhere else,” she hissed.

Reid sat back, folding his arms with an annoyed pout. “Geez, you're so sensitive.”

Later, walking to lunch, Winslow told Reid to go ahead without her so she could use the bathroom. When she approached their usual spot in the cafeteria, Winslow saw Landon sitting across from Reid. They were both laughing, but tried to hide it as she approached. Reid hurried to return Landon's phone, covering his mouth with his free hand in a desperate attempt at appearing collected.

“Ooh?” Winslow stepped over the bench to sit beside Reid. “What's so funny?” she asked, wanting to be in on the joke.

Landon chortled. “This meme I found—”

“It's nothing!” Reid interrupted, setting his hand on Winslow's thigh.

“What?” Winslow was confused and started to feel uneasy.

“Seriously, it's nothing,” Reid said, looking pointedly at his friend.

“Naw, it's pretty good!” Landon slid his phone across the table to Winslow.

She peered down at the device, Reid groaning next to her. A meme was pulled up, with a picture of a devious grin accompanying the words, “When the school shooter leaves you in a room full of girls who can't fight back.”

Something inside Winslow churned horribly and she felt like all the air was knocked from her lungs. Trying to moisten her suddenly dry throat, she looked down at Reid's hand on her thigh. She didn't want him touching her. She didn't want him touching anyone.

“That's… so disgusting,” she said with a shaky voice, sliding the phone back towards Landon. “I can't believe you'd laugh about something like that.”

“Come on, Winslow, it's just a joke!” The boy laughed and looked at Reid for backup.

“It's not a joke,” Winslow asserted. “It's implying that you would appreciate a school shooter leaving you surrounded by your dead and dying peers so you can rape them with no repercussions.” Her whole body felt hot, like she was turning completely red from emotion.

“See, I told you she wouldn't like it, dude.”

Winslow eyed Reid. “Excuse me?”

“I told him not to show you because I knew you'd react like this,” he said, visibly irritated and rolling his eyes.

“The problem isn't that he showed me, it's that you think it was funny in the first place!” Winslow couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Landon put his hands up defensively and found the audacity to laugh. “Calm down, it's just dark humor. Neither of us is a rapist, so what's the problem?”

Winslow felt tears well in her eyes. He had a tendency to cry when she was angry or scared. “Seriously?” She tried to keep her voice steady. “You're disgusting.” She shoved Reid's hand off her thigh, standing up to leave.

On her way out of the cafeteria, she made eye contact with Kiernan. He was sitting only a few yards away from the table she just left. His face was scrunched with concern, like he either saw the whole thing or could at least tell that Winslow was livid. He quickly looked away, pretending he didn't see anything, but Winslow saw him shoot a hateful glance in Reid's direction.

Winslow ate her lunch on the floor in the hallway outside the orchestra room, hoping none of the assistant principals would scold her for it. As soon as she finished her food, she ducked inside the classroom to get her instrument ready early.

Her teacher, Ms. Oakes, found her sitting in one of the practice rooms and checked that everything was okay.

“Yeah, just boy drama,” Winslow admitted, receiving an apologetic chuckle of understanding.

Later, with about a third of the class period left, Ms. Oakes told the students to form small groups to rehearse with until the bell. She smiled at Winslow when she gave this instruction, like she knew Winslow needed time to vent to her friends.

Gathering her things and following Gwen and Marcella to the hallway to practice, Winslow recounted recent events. They both listened respectfully, but she could tell they were also disturbed by his twisted excuse for a sense of humor.

“I just feel like he doesn't take anything seriously,” she said. “How am I supposed to feel the Spirit in seminary if he's just cracking jokes the whole time? And that stupid meme… The way my stomach twisted when I saw it…?” Winslow shook her head in defeat. Gwen and Marcella shared a sideways glance, looking concerned and apologetic.

Gwen leaned forward earnestly, holding the neck of her cello. “Winnie, are you sure you even like him?”

Winslow stared into her lap, contemplating the question. “I don't know,” she finally admitted, recalling countless instances of his bad behavior.

“It might be time to call it quits, don't you think?” Gwen suggested gently.

“Yeah, and date Kiernan instead!” Marcella urged.

If Kiernan expressed interest, I'd leave Reid in a heartbeat, Winslow thought with a sigh. Aloud, though, she only muttered, “Whatever. Let's run this section again.” She raised her viola and her bow, counting off to set the tempo. She didn't want to think about Reid anymore.