Were you identical or fraternal twins?” David asked me after a few moments. I was sure he was dying to know all about the mystery surrounding my impromptu cemetery visit, not to mention my admission of having never been here.

“Identical,” I exhaled.

He nodded.

“How did she die?” he asked, steering us away from his father’s grave and back down the path to the grave I’d been avoiding for three years.

“A random heart condition finally caught up to her,” I said, staring straight ahead, afraid to make eye contact with him for fear of crying again.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My dad died from a heart attack. It was very sudden.”

I nodded, finally summoning the courage to meet his eyes again as we were in motion.

“Was he the pastor of The Church of Saint George?” I joked.

David chuckled and shook his head.

“No. That church isn’t real. My dad was one of the most influential pastors of my entire

life. It’s hard to come here because it’s a reminder of what I’ll never be,” he said. I looked at David with a knowing expression.

“That’s how I feel about my sister. Her faith was so much stronger. She was so solid, so faithful, never doubted. I’ll never measure up. Being a twin was strange,” I said.

I knew I was giving away more information than I ever intended to, but David was so kind and maybe it was good for me to unburden myself. Savannah was lacking in many ways, but her faith was strong. It was so, so much stronger than mine. I always felt inferior, but never let it show…

“Savannah was always ill. She was born with a weak heart, and it caused issues. She had several learning disabilities, and she was painfully shy. I look back and I hope that I didn’t take away from her life,” I said.

“Why would you have taken away from her life?” David asked.

“I felt like I had to be everything she couldn’t be. The smartest, the most outgoing, the bold one, the toughest. Savannah was so sensitive. It made her more loving, more compassionate, kinder. I know it was hard for her to be so different, but I envied her for her good nature,” I confessed.

“I’m sure you were perfectly nice as well,” David said.

“I was. But she was so clearly the stronger Christian. She did everything right. She prayed without ceasing, she told people about Christ. She loved others with everything in her. She was so faithful, so constant. She used to ask my dad about who he would arrest after his shifts and pray for them by name. Then she would write letters to them to tell them that she prayed for them, and that Jesus had a plan for their lives. I never once did anything like that.” I explained.

“You shouldn’t compare your faith to hers,” David said quietly.

We were standing at her grave. A huge, tall stone on the edge of the row. Savannah’s face appeared in my brain with perfect clarity. We were identical but there were subtle differences between our features that those closest to us could detect well. David stared at me; I wondered if he was trying to work out what Savannah looked like in comparison to me. I turned toward him and met his eyes.

“Well done thy good and faithful servant,” he said quietly, reading the words of Savannah’s headstone out loud.

“My parents insisted on putting that on the grave when we were all making funeral plans. I could never bring myself to come here until today. It’s strange to see these words in real life,”

I said. “Why have you never come and why did you decide to come tonight?” David asked.

I inhaled as I considered his questions.

“I needed a win. I’ve felt like a coward, like a loser for years because of avoiding this

place. Today marks three years since her burial. I should have been there, but I couldn’t bring myself to go, so I remembered the date earlier today and when you mentioned being a pastor, it was a further reminder. Savannah would have never waited this long to visit my grave if I had been the one born with the bad heart. She would never have avoided it. She would never have stayed away to protect herself. She was too kind, too wonderful,” I explained, hoping David wasn’t noticing me choking up again.

“You are too hard on yourself. Imagine the good qualities she recognized in you. It isn’t easy to come to places like this,” David said.

I understood but it didn’t take away my guilt and shame. Beyond avoiding Savannah’s grave, I had also avoided church, reading the Bible, doing anything remotely “Christian”, in three years. It ate away at me every single day of my life. I didn’t know how to end this pattern. Stepping back into that life I had intentionally taken myself out of seemed like such an impossible and monumental task.

Almost as though David was reading my mind, again, he reached for my shoulders and looked me dead in the eyes.

“Just step on it,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I pretty much knew.

“When I was hesitating around turns while we would practice around the racetrack, my driving instructor used to tell me to just ‘step on it’. I learned to just punch the gas pedal and push through. No thinking, no hesitating, no fear. Just step down and go,” he explained.

He was right. I had overthought this for so long. This was easy, simple. I needed to just go and go quickly. It actually wasn’t difficult to add these things back into my life. I knew it

wouldn’t be hard to make God the center of my life again. I just had to make the move. I had done it so easily at the red light; it felt like such a natural pull. Certainly, I could do this spiritually. I came to the realization that maybe this was the win I actually needed tonight.

David’s simple words had helped me begin to break through a barrier I had hidden myself behind for all these years.

You won.

“So, I won after all,” I declared.

“What on earth are you talking about? I had you. I know I did. I’m a professional race car driver, Georgie!” David exclaimed.

“Not the drag race, David,” I said with a small smile. He looked at me kindly and squeezed my hand again.

“How does it feel to help your opponent win?” I asked him.

“Feels good. It would feel better if I had coffee,” David said.

I laughed, feeling so much lighter.

“Can I ask you one more question?” David asked me.

“Sure,” I answered.

“How did you get your Audi?” he asked.

“Savannah always knew I wanted one. She left me every penny she ever saved with a letter telling me that I had to buy myself one. I wouldn’t dare refuse her dying wish for my life,”

I said with a smile.

We walked out of the graveyard together, the darkness completely behind us and the flashlight illuminating the path beneath our feet.

The End

January 2022- Fifth Issue

“The graveyard? You got it. I love non-traditional dates. I have no problem going there with you, Georgie. And to answer your earlier question: I lied because I knew I wouldn’t get a ticket if I said I was a pastor. If I get a speeding ticket, or get points on my license, I’ll be out of a job,” David explained.

I wondered what on earth his job was.

“Why would you lose your job for that?” I asked, wondering if he had already told me what his job was when we were making small talk just minutes before. I was too distracted by my own thoughts to recall. David looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“I told you before, Georgie. You really weren’t listening earlier, were you?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes, feeling annoyed and embarrassed that he could read me this well, this early into knowing me.

“I was thinking about a lot of things. You have a weird effect on me, Reverend.” I replied.

“Thanks? I think?...” he responded.

“So what do you do for work?” I asked again in a mildly annoyed exhale.

I turned fully toward the driver seat to see if David was being serious. His pleased expression told me that he was. I couldn't decide if I loved this fact or detested it. This new information made him so much more interesting to me. I felt my heart begin to beat a little bit faster. Leave it to me to decide to drag race one time in my entire life and when I do it, it’s against a real race car driver. Life was weird.

“Please elaborate. Now,” I insisted.

David laughed and flicked his blinker on to make a sharp left turn. We were heading toward back roads. I was never more curious about David in my entire life and needed this night to never end now that it had begun.

“There’s nothing else to say. I’m not famous for it...yet. I have sponsors, I have an entire team…”

David began to speak about his job in great detail and I absorbed most of it before becoming completely distracted by his sharp cheekbones and expression eyebrows as he spoke with enthusiasm about his ranking as a driver and all the success he had in his career. I was completely fascinated with him by the time he finished his race car monologue.

“So, what do you do, Georgie? I never asked you before. All I know about you is that your dad is a cop, and that you’re crazy enough to try to drag race a racecar driver late at night. Not to mention take a night drive to a graveyard with a complete stranger,” he said.

“Well David. Strangers are just friends who haven’t met yet. To answer your question: I am a lawyer.”

Now it was David’s turn. With a shocked expression, he spun around in his seat to look at me.

“A lawyer?! Are you serious, Georgie? I did not see that coming in a million years…” he exclaimed.

“It feels good to shock you with my career choice. I can fight my way out of jail anytime I want should I ever get arrested for my silly speeding choices,” I said with a sly smile.

David’s subtle expressions told me that he was officially as enamored with me as I had become with him.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?” David asked.

“You’re the one who knew exactly where the cemetery was. Are you planning on visiting a grave or robbing one?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he parked, got out, and stepped around the car to open my door. It felt strangely as though we were on a real date even though we were standing on fallen leaves and began to trudge across the slightly damp ground and broken sticks. The path from where David parked sloped downhill from the main area of the graveyard. I had never been here before but realized that it was probably past the time I should have been. There was a grave I felt I had to visit tonight. My heart raced at the thought of all the times I should have been here, but never came. What a loser!

I shrugged off that thought and briefly wondered where exactly I should be walking towards; and when I turned my attention back to David, he had a flashlight in his hand that seemed to appear out of thin air.

“Where did you get the flashlight?” I asked.

“My back seat. I come here a lot. Always at night,” he said.

“That was too few words, David. I need more from you,” I declared quietly.

My curiosity had risen yet again. It temporarily surpassed my feelings of guilt and grief regarding the graveyard as a whole. I really, really should be more familiar with this place. I swallowed down my thoughts and waited for David to explain himself.

“My father is buried here. He was a pastor. I come here at night sometimes because I don’t prefer to cry in the daylight…satisfied?” David offered. I nodded.

“Your turn, Georgie: you owe me some answers now,” he said softly.

 I swallowed nervously.

“What answers do you want from me?” I asked.

“For starters: how old are you? And mostly, why did you want to come here instead of coffee?” he asked.

I was barely able to tell him that I was 28 years old. We were passing the giant headstone I was afraid of seeing, but knew I’d have to face. I had never seen it in person and it caught me off guard so I tried to ignore it and focus on breathing like a normal person to stabilize my fast heartbeat. David didn’t needle me when I failed to answer his other question, but did happen to catch me looking back at the headstone in the row closest to the path we were walking on.

“Have you been here before, Georgie?” he asked me kindly.

I shook my head and hoped I wouldn’t cry. David might not like to cry in the daylight, but I didn’t like to cry ever.

“I have never been here, but I was supposed to. Years ago. I should have been here,” I said.

Something about David made it so easy to open up. He was too easy to talk to. Too freeing to be around. I loved it, just not at this particular moment. It was making things too real for me. It was more fun when he was just some guy I was riding in a car with and wondering about. Mostly, I had wanted to know why he lied about his job, but he answered the question already and it somehow still wasn’t enough from him.

David detected my strange tone of voice and didn’t push me to answer any more questions. Instead, he looked at my face with a genuine smile and squeezed my hand encouragingly. It felt like heaven, and I felt grateful for the darkness, knowing he couldn’t see that I was blushing. I felt ridiculous; just over an hour ago, I was brazenly racing this guy on the open road like it was nothing and now I couldn’t even speak to him without feeling like a teenager.

We walked onward into the darkness surrounded by headstones and stone columns for another half mile when we made it to David’s father’s grave. When he clicked on the flashlight to see the engraved words on the stone,

I read the name and the dates with intention. David’s father died fairly young. And recently. Only 65 years old. I wondered how he died. David stood silently next to me and read the words on the headstone.

I resisted crying at the words David was reading and re-reading over and over. It was too familiar. I began to feel myself filling up with shame. The guilt was overtaking me and I struggled to breathe until I felt tears falling like raindrops.

Naturally, David, who within the past several minutes seemed to have insight into my very soul, noticed me crying like a baby on his right side. I turned away entirely, my back facing him.

“Georgie. I am so sorry. Are you OK?” he asked kindly, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged his hand off and walked two steps forward in an attempt to pull myself together and push my shame and guilt back down without him so close.

“I’m so sorry. Usually, I cry when I’m here. I didn’t think you would,” he admitted.

I didn’t think I would either. I felt so childish. When we pulled into the graveyard I thought I would be fine. I was too interested in David’s career, explaining mine to him, and recalling whether or not I actually would have won a drag race against a real race car driver. It was all so distracting. But now, standing in the graveyard and completely immersed in thoughts of death, darkness, pastors, and words from the Bible on headstones, I didn’t stand a chance against my feelings.

David waited to speak to me until I was no longer audibly crying. He stepped toward me slowly and asked me one single question.

“Is Georgie short for Georgia?” he asked.

I nodded.

I knew why he asked this. David wasn’t stupid and could definitely do basic math. The date on the grave we passed earlier matched the date of the year I was born. The headstone we passed was Savannah’s.

TO BE CONTINUED...

 Ugh! There I was, pulled over for drag racing…by my police officer father, no less. And yet, I found my happenstance opponent a bit intriguing.

I suddenly felt an unexplained desire to befriend David; he had a strange magnetic pull on me. I knew that if I tried to continue our conversation here, with my father’s authoritative presence looming, this late at night, I would miss this once in a lifetime opportunity. My dad wasn’t going to leave until he saw that I was driving away and no longer foolishly racing strangers late at night.

David shot me a look of curious shock, but reluctantly spouted off his phone number. entered it into my phone and immediately shot him a text.

David’s eyes widened as he read my latest text; his flirtatious expression was indescribable. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“I want to talk to you. Don’t be a creep.” I said to him.

I turned around and approached my father. “He’s cool; you should get going, Dad. I am sorry, by the way.” I said to my father as he walked with me back to my car door.

“Listen, Georgie. Please promise me that you’ll be done with this nonsense for a while. I know you’ve been restless but you’re going to kill someone, and this isn’t a good look for a 28-year-old aspiring attorney.” he said.

I nodded and reassured him that I was heading home. He was right. It wasn’t a good look. I was too old and too proper for drag racing. I wasn’t raised this way. I questioned myself the entire time as I pulled back onto the road behind my dad. What motivated David to lie about his profession? What was my own motivation for speeding down the road, hoping to win against a stranger? Why had that been so fulfilling for me? Was I racing away from something or toward something? Why did I feel like such a loser?

Realizing it was the sort of thing I could spend hours pondering, I shook out the negative voice in my head, hoping it would never return. I decided to ignore my own silliness and focus on David’s instead.

Pulling into the first random lot, I parked and walked over to the spot David had just pulled into. As he climbed out, I wondered if this was a good idea, but my curiosity had taken over my good sense. He was taller than I could tell from when he was sitting behind the wheel of his almost-as-fast-as-my car. It was never declared who won, but I felt sure that it would have been me.

Rushing through normal introductions, I barely listened to him as he shook my hand. “So, we can both admit that I would have won that, right?” I asked David when he was mid-sentence about where he lived.

“Are you serious? I had barely even put my foot down, Georgie.” he replied.

“But you didn’t put your foot down. Did you, David?” I pressed.

“I was about to, but you cut me off to pull over. Also, thanks for the tip that that cop was your dad, by the way. Do you only drag race when you know he’s on duty?” David asked.

“I never drag race, David. Do I look like the sort of person who does this regularly?” I sassed back.

As I was showcasing my white blouse, fitted olive green work pants, and black heels. I pondered how good it felt to speed down the road after a long workday. It felt like I was on the brink of a tangible success and David had robbed me of this.

Suddenly, I felt that I was standing too still. I almost felt cornered, hemmed in by his stare. David looked at me wordlessly while a tornado of thoughts swirled around in my head. My frustrating workday, my foiled attempt to beat David on the road, my father’s annoying interception, and now, my strange attraction to David, who I still knew almost nothing about.

“Let’s forget coffee and go for a drive instead.” I declared after half a minute. I needed to be in motion. I stepped forward toward my car before catching a glimpse of David’s surprised face. He reached out to stop me, wagging his own keys in the air between us. I looked up and met his blue eyes.

“If we’re going for a drive. I’ll be the one driving.” he insisted.

I pondered this. It occurred to me that maybe David needed a win tonight as well. And when I really put thought to it, it didn’t matter if I was driving or not, I just didn’t want to be still. I grabbed my keys out of the ignition and my flats from the back seat and walked toward David.

He and I walked silently toward his car just a few yards away from mine. I walked over to his passenger door, only to be surprised to see him also approaching the right side of his car.

“I thought you wanted to drive.” I murmured.

He pulled the door open for me.

“I might be a fast driver and an escaped convict, but I’m still a gentleman.” David said.

“You’re an escaped convict?” I quirked.

 He shook his head.

“I just wanted to make sure you were listening. You seem a little distracted.” he retorted.

He was right. I was distracted for most of our exchange and finally realized why. There was a place I knew I needed to go tonight. I didn’t know David, but I didn’t want to go alone.

Maybe I wouldn’t cry if someone else was with me.

“Why did you say you were a pastor?” I questioned.

“I’ll tell you when you tell me where you want to go instead of coffee.” he replied.

I wondered how crazy it was for me to even speak the words.

“I know it isn’t the type of date you are probably hoping for, but I need to stop by the graveyard.” I confessed earnestly.

I should have known that the voice would return as I made this admission to David out loud. “What a loser!”

 “Use a word to describe your level of anger?” I asked my father.

He just glared at me. It was nine at night and he held the flashlight up to the window of my car, not exactly in the worst mood I’d seen him in, but certainly angry at the discovery of my latest hijinks. I thought about reaching into my purse to find a tube of lipstick to show my father how put together I still was in this strange moment but resisted the temptation to enrage him even more.

It had been a weird day and I never felt more like I needed some sort of a win than today. The voice of self-doubt in my head echoed inside me throughout my entire workday. “You’re a loser.” It was louder than it had ever been before.

Because of this, I just couldn’t help myself when I was driving tonight. I was pulled up to a red light, singing at the top of my lungs when I glanced over to my right, and noticed a man staring at me from his front seat. He gave me a half smile, clearly amused at the sight of me, in addition to being impressed with my car. I noticed that he wasn’t ugly by any sense of the word and felt my heartbeat pick up a bit. He gestured his head forward to the road. I nodded, gesturing to the road in front of us in agreement, and revved my engine. The man did the same and we both narrowed our eyes at each other.

 I faced forward to watch the light change and punched the gas pedal, taking my brand new Audi R8 up to speed in seconds. I beat him off of the line easily, but he was closely approaching and I knew I’d have to punch it if I wanted to win this impromptu drag race. Seconds after I watched my speedometer move toward 100 miles per hour, I saw blue and red lights in my rearview mirror. Awesome! I’ll lose this by default now!

I immediately knew it was my father and felt almost no sense of panic. The man I was racing looked at me as we both began to slow down. I thought for a moment that he would foolishly try to race off, but our eyes met again and we both non-verbally agreed to pull over together in a nearby parking lot.

It was never clear who the winner was because our race had been cut short.

I rolled down my passenger window.

“It was a fun attempt, Shawn.” I shouted over to my opponent.

“My name isn’t Shawn. It’s David.” he shouted back to me.

“You look like a Shawn. Sorry about that.” I shouted.

“What’s your name? And how on earth did you get that car?” David asked.

“It’s Georgie. And wouldn’t you like to know, David?” I answered with a coy smile.

I saw my father step out of his patrol car and approach my Audi with a gruff expression. I looked back in David’s direction. He was opening his glove compartment in search of his registration. I whistled at him to get his attention. He looked up at me again with a confused expression.

“This cop is my dad. Don’t panic.” I said.

David’s eyes widened in relief. I couldn’t help but notice that David was a little beyond being not ugly, although, I didn’t try too hard to take in his attractive appearance with my father approaching my left. I asked him to describe his anger and waited for his response with a sheepish expression.

“Blinding rage.” he answered, unamused by my question.

“Oh come on Dad, that was two words. I asked you to use one word to describe your level of anger.” I joked, knowing I could get him to crack if I tried hard enough. “Rage.” he said, his face unchanged.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself, Dad. I have no impulse control and this new car does things to me. Literally no one’s life was at risk. Please don’t ticket me and please don’t tell Mom. Also, meet David, Dad! He seems like a good one. Look! He even has car insurance!” I exclaimed, noticing that David was staring at us with a few papers in his hand.

My dad rolled his eyes and marched over to David’s window.

I wondered how this would play out. I really was too old for this. I was 28 years old and had a real job, a nice apartment, and a proper enough upbringing to know better. Drag racing late at night was something that much younger and less professional people did...right? Maybe it wasn’t. I had held a professional job for years but somehow couldn’t resist the rush of adrenaline that came with stepping on the gas pedal when I was sitting at that red light and caught David’s eyes. My thrill doubled as my speed had risen.

Leave it to me to randomly drag race someone while my Dad was on duty. I guess it was a blessing in disguise. David didn’t seem like the sort to drag race either; he was definitely close to my age. He was put together enough to know exactly where his insurance card was and spoke very kindly to my father. I was officially intrigued.

I watched as my father wrapped up his interaction with my newest friend and waited for him to come back around to my drivers side.

“Georgie. Go home. I’ve let your new friend David off with a warning. He told me that he’s a pastor so I couldn’t bring myself to actually ticket him.” my dad explained.

I was even more intrigued than ever now.

“Are you serious? That guy? He’s a pastor? I’m not even close to being done with that

information!” I declared.

I shut my car off and waved off my father. He rolled his eyes as I swung my door open and walked by him, knowing that once I had my mind set on something, I wasn’t going to stop.

It’s what made me such a good lawyer.

“David. You’re a pastor?” I demanded as I looked at him in disbelief, only inches away from his unrolled window.

David looked up at me as he closed his glove compartment, tucking away his paper neatly.

“Yes. I am a pastor.” he said slowly.

I wasn’t convinced.

“How interesting, David. And to which church is it that you find yourself preaching every Sunday morning, David?” I asked him in a placating tone with a smile, blinking more than was necessary as I spoke.

David stammered for a moment.

“Church of St. George.” he murmured, almost as though it was a question.

“‘Church of St. George’?” I parroted.

He nodded.

“Where is that?” I asked.

David looked uncomfortable with my interrogation.

“You look a little hot under the collar, David. Pun very much intended, by the way.” I said.

“Georgie. Would you quit asking me questions? Of course, I’m not a pastor. I just don’t want a ticket. I shouldn’t have lied to your dad, but I did and now I wish you’d shut up and just go with this for me…” he hissed.

His eyes were shockingly blue, his dark hair radiated quality, and his face was even more attractive than I had realized now that I was closer to him. I wondered why he lied. If only he knew I was a typical intuitive lawyer… I was intrigued by David’s lie and decided to go with this after all.

“Oh right! I know that church!” I shouted loudly, making an obvious display of the fact that I had decided to go with his lie for his benefit.

My father was standing just feet away from our exchange and I didn’t want to blow this for David. He had officially captured my interest. David narrowed his eyes at me in disbelief.

“Give me your phone number.” I commanded.