I’m Jewish. Why is that so hard for me to tell people? I usually try to skirt around the questions such as “What denomination are you?” or “What church do you go to?” with “I go to a very small church. You’ve probably never heard of it.” Very rarely do I just come out a say it like I just did, “I’m Jewish.” People look at you different when you tell them that you are Jewish after they have assumed that you are Christian just like them.
Especially very intense Christians.
Very intense Christian boys.
Very intense Christian boys whom I have crush on.
When I tell them, after a bit of confusion that “Coulter is not a Jewish last name,” they just overlook me as another acquaintance. I do not fit in their world anymore. They want nice Christian girls, and their Jewish friend is not an option.
My best friend Katie in ninth grade had “I ♥ Christian Boys” scrawled across her spiral notebooks and binders. I just rolled my eyes when I saw it, but that was before I fell in love with “The Biggest Christian in the School.”
His name was Luke, after one of the Gospels. He was everything I wanted in a guy: smart, cute, athletic, great personality, and ambitious. He wanted to be a doctor in third world Hispanic countries. The only problem was that “he promised himself and Jesus that he would never date in high school.” So long story short, we just became good friends. I think he knew I was Jewish. He never asked, I never told, we never talked about it. But he was rather patient in explaining when I didn’t know what the wreath symbolized on a drawing of a cross. He talked more about being a Christian with other kids, and I just listened. Jesus guided his life and made him a good person. His goal was to spend his life in service of Christ. I thought that was fantastic, because he was so sincere and living what he preached.
Once, during Physics class, he was picking on me for getting the best grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Walker said, “I’m tired of you picking on Melanie all the time.” I was kind of the teacher’s pet by the way.
“I love Melanie. Melanie’s my friend. I’d give Melanie by kidney,” responded Luke defensively.
“I’m glad you put the ‘ney’ on the end because at first I thought you were going to say ‘I’d give Melanie my kid,’” came back Mrs. Walker. The whole class started laughing. I think I started turning red, but I can’t exactly help that my ruddy complexion makes my face turn red when I laugh. I was not blushing. Later in class, I happened to look over and he caught my eye, smiled and gave me thumbs up. I smiled back. God, I miss that kid.
He was a senior and I was a sophomore. The last day of class I was walking down the hall with him and said, “Bye Luke. Good luck with college,” as we split off.
“See ya,” he said. It was ironic, because I never saw him again.