Page 36 of Maybe Some Other Time

Shrugging, Thelma walked toward the large valley oak tree that offered its ample branches for shade.

Couples, friend groups, and singles dotted the shade beneath, some with food, but most taking a break to drink water and fan themselves.

Everyone is so festive. Thelma felt dowdy next to them, although she had been confident leaving the house that morning.

Even Robbie said I looked nice… He rarely talked to her if he could help it.

For him to compliment her? Thelma was on cloud nine.

But the young queer people celebrating in Los Angeles that day reminded Thelma of how she once felt as a young woman in college, sunning with Sandy beneath a large oak tree on their campus.

It was the start of the spring term, freshman year, and the two of them met up with some of Sandy’s lesbian friends from an underground club in Hollywood.

We rode around in a Cadillac convertible, laughing, drinking, and flirting with each other.

It was Thelma’s first time making eyes at a woman who wasn’t Sandy, and her girlfriend was far from jealous.

She encouraged it. As if Sandy knew that Thelma’s time for such frivolity was limited.

She may have kissed one of those girls while they hung out in a basement bar that night, but it never went further than that. Not until Gretchen had Thelma ever been beneath another woman who wasn’t Sandy.

Why do I have to think about her right now?

Probably because Thelma saw Gretchen in the distance, walking with two effeminate men and another woman with long hair and a chest fit to burst from her skimpy top. They walked from booth to booth, Gretchen in shorts and a loose tank top with glitter in her hair and colorful bracelets on her wrist.

Thelma ducked behind the oak tree. Since their date last weekend, they hadn’t spoken to or even bumped into one another. Thelma was too embarrassed, and she assumed Gretchen was busy—and embarrassed as well.

I quite like how she kissed…

Thelma held her hand up to her throat. That day, she had absentmindedly adorned her old golden cross that had traversed the decades without her.

It turned out that Debbie had kept much of Thelma’s jewelry, and some of it made it to Robbie’s house after the former moved into the memory care home.

Megan had unearthed the 1940s jewelry box Thelma had received as a graduation present from her grandmother, who died a few years later.

The cross was something she bought herself shortly after.

A simple adornment to wear to church and other functions.

Don’t I feel silly wearing it here? If Thelma had learned one thing since coming to the future, it was that secularism was bigger than ever before.

Megan claimed to have never really been to church before, and it was clear that Robbie hadn’t been since he was a boy.

Gretchen knew nothing about the Bible. Nobody thought it strange that Thelma had worn the cross a few times, but why was she wearing it?

Because it’s mine. Was it deeper than that?

She gazed up through the green, wavering leaves of the oak trees. Clouds came in to cast the festival grounds into deeper shadow. People around Thelma exclaimed how nice the breeze felt, but she was focused on what lay beyond the clouds.

Is God even still here? Was He ever there to begin with?

Since everything that had happened, including her talk with Pauline in the car, Thelma couldn’t help but feel that everything she knew about faith and Heaven might have been fabrications of another world.

Definitely a relic of another time. Something she couldn’t have fathomed back in the ‘50s. Or the ‘40s. Or the ‘30s…

When she was sure that Gretchen and her friends had moved on to another part of the festival, Thelma stepped back out. She visually confirmed that Megan was still looking at books before standing firmly between the oak tree’s shade and the row of booths advertising local charities… and churches.

Churches?

Something dropped in Thelma’s stomach. Could anyone blame her for assuming they were here to proselytize and inform all the homosexuals why they were going to hell?

Especially when she spotted the Lutheran booth, staffed by a plainly dressed middle-aged man and a woman slightly younger than him?

And a… wait. Was that one of those “drag queens?”

An invisible string pulled her from the cool protection of the oak tree to the awning covering the Lutheran church’s simple but colorful booth.

The drag queen, with dark skin and plenty of sparkles on her face, loudly sighed to bend over a cooler of icy drinks.

She pulled out two waters to hand to her fellow church-goers before anyone saw Thelma standing there.

“Hi!” The man’s chipper voice plowed into Thelma like a howling wind. “How’s it going? Having a fun Pride?”

She gaped at the trio of Lutherans, all smiling at her, the drag queen waving as she drank her water, and the other younger lady pushing a colorful wheel toward Thelma.

“Would you like to spin the wheel? We’re giving out all sorts of swag to those lucky enough today!”

“Swag?” Thelma had heard that word before, but couldn’t remember what it meant.

Both the man and woman sitting at the table pointed to the collection of merchandise in front of Thelma. “T-shirts, hats, magnets, bookmarks… it’s really all about luck!”

Thelma bit her lip as her purse, dangling from her elbow, smacked against her hip with her approach.

She was childishly delighted to spin the wheel and hear it CLACK CLACK CLACK as rainbow colors whirled in a circle, all three members of the local Lutheran congregation grinning from ear to ear at her joy.

“Fun!” Thelma exclaimed, hands smacked together.

They all watched as the wheel slowed, ticking past MUG, MAGNET, TOWEL before slowly landing on T-SHIRT.

“Hey-o!” The man picked up a bottle of bubbles and blew them right toward Thelma’s face. “Winner, winner! You got one of the biggest prizes! Tell her what she’s won, Liz!”

The woman held up one of the black T-shirts with a rainbow heart on the chest. Inside it were the words LOVE IS LOVE on top of a faded cross. “If you desire, any size of your choice! They make great sleep shirts!”

“You’d look great in it, honey,” said the drag queen behind them. “You’ve got the perfect skin tone for this shade of black.”

The man with white hair and fine stubble on his chin leaned in toward Thelma, loudly whispering against his hand, “She says that to everyone.”

A paper fan landed on his head. “Do I ever lie, Paul? This girl’s got fashion and style. What’s that you're wearing, hon? Ralph Lauren?”

Thelma glanced at her sundress. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It’s from a thrift store.”

“Well, you have a great eye for style. Your hair is fantastic.”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Liz said. “How do you get your hair like that?”

Thelma didn’t think twice about getting sucked into this conversation. “Curlers. Big ones. The old-fashioned kind,” she quickly amended. “You have to sleep with them in.”

“Just like my Ma used to!” Paul exclaimed. He then demonstrated how his mother used to sit. “Cigarette in one hand and coffee in the other, as she sat in her big pink bathrobe at the kitchen table. Dad used to yell something fierce to see her in her mud mask, too!”

While the others laughed, Thelma perused the brochures and sign-up list advertising something called the “Evangelical Lutheran Church in America,” which she had never heard of before.

“What size are ya, hon?” Liz asked.

“Oh! I… don’t know. I don’t wear a lot of T-shirts, but…” She squared her shoulders and actively projected confidence. “I’d love one.”

“How about a medium?” Liz handed Thelma a shirt. “Always a good place to start.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you heard about us?” Paul pointed his pen toward the runner hanging from their table.

“We’ve been a staple of the area for over forty years.

We’re always looking for new members who might be looking to get back in touch with their Christian spirituality.

We totally understand that many members of the LGBT community have had bad experiences with other churches, but we’re… ”

Thelma interrupted him. “I just can’t believe the Lutherans are here.”

The three members glanced at each other, the drag queen’s fan slowing its movements.

“Lots of people here, hon,” she said. “Got some Methodists behind us.”

“Episcopalian friends just a few booths down,” Liz said.

“And, of course, we can’t forget those silly billies at the Unitarian-Universalist church!” Paul exclaimed. “But of course they’re here. They’re one of the biggest church sponsors.”

“It’s just…” Thelma tucked one of her loose curls back over her shoulder as she picked up a pamphlet that focused more on the church’s community service than any depiction of Jesus.

“The last Lutheran church I was a member of was much like the one I grew up in.” She flipped to the other side, which featured pictures of beautiful stained glass windows and a schedule of services, including in Spanish.

“Not very welcoming of people not like them. Even though many of us were Democrats who believed in Christ’s teachings of not judging others and devoting ourselves to service toward our fellow men. ”

“Oh, honey, I grew up in one of those, too,” the drag queen said with a hefty sigh. “Except they were Baptist. And in Texas.”

“There have been a few schisms over the years,” Paul gently explained. “But we follow the teachings set forth by ELCA, which is very inclusive to those of all walks of life.”

“That’s right,” Liz continued in his stead.

“We believe that God made you the way you are for a reason. And it’s not our duty to tell you that it’s wrong.

Christ loved everyone. In our church, salvation is found through faith and service.

The rest is between you and God. We’re just here to provide community and help you with any questions you might have. ”