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“Huh,” he said, turning from the screen to look at her.
“Do you think you’ll go back to that church?”
“Oh,” he said. “Next Christmas Eve, for sure. But no, probably not. Why? You look worried.”
“No, just curious.”
“How about you? You said it was okay.”
“I thought it was pretty, honestly. But at the end of the day, it’s all just nonsense, isn’t it?”
“Do you mean celebrating the birth of Jesus, specifically, or just religion?”
Wendy thought for a moment, her eye on George Bailey, who was dancing at the high school dance, about to fall into the under-floor pool. “Both. All of it. It’s a nice story, but that’s all it is. It’s just been made up to give people hope that their horrible lives aren’t entirely in vain.”
“Cynical,” Thom said, also watching the screen.
“That’s why you married me, right?”
“Right.”
“Look, I don’t think it’s the worst thing, religion. Whatever gets anyone through this life is generally fine with me. I just don’t think it’s real. But if you’re interested in that church, then I’m not going to stop you. Maybe you’ll find something there.”
“But you’re worried?”
“No. Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. I sense it. I think you’re worried that I’ll get a conscience and feel worse about myself than I already do.”
“Do you feel bad about yourself?” She turned her body and put a hand on his hand that was holding the remote control.
“No, I’m fine. I’m not going to find God and confess everything I’ve done. I just think something about church is comforting. It’s the same way I feel when we walk into a bar and see someone we know. Being part of something.”
“That makes sense,” Wendy said.
“But being part of you, part of us, that’s the most important thing. Now and always.”
It was a phrase she’d heard him use before—“now and always”—and she liked the ring of it. She told him.
They finished the movie, rewatching the end again, then went upstairs to bed. Before falling asleep, Wendy said, “Maybe we should have a kid.”
“Oh,” Thom said.
“You okay?”
“Yes, you just took me by surprise.”
They’d talked a little bit about it already—having children—but always in an abstract way, something that might happen in the future.
“We don’t have to talk about it now. It’s just, I watched you tonight at the church service, and saw the way you looked at kids.”
“You were like: Either he’s dying to be a dad or else he’s a pervert.”
“Pretty much what I thought.”
“If it’s something you want, then I want it too.”
“Okay, we can leave it at that for now. I’m tired.”