church and cigarettes

over a mai tai and a cigarette, i was discussing my recent plight as a kicked-out college student with my new acquaintance, emily. as emily puffed away, i unraveled the gritty, ugly details of the workings of the baptist college that practices little of the christian principle it supposedly stands for. and here the two of us were, nestled together on a leather couch in a tight corner of a smoking room, hidden away from the rest of the club goers at this little venue in hollywood. hidden away, in fact, from the rest of the world--christian and not.

as i finished my story, i noticed a familiar look in emily's eyes, that somehow easily concocted mixture of concern and repulsion: care for my situation, and disgust at those who have brought me there. emily's wrist slung the butt of her cigarette down and rubbed it harshly against the glass of the ash tray.

"well, if you still want to go to church, my boyfriend and i found this really great place that meets just around the corner. and just so you know, you'll be totally welcomed there."

something between the words that were spoken and the obvious concern behind emily's voice captured me. two years ago, i would have seen an ironic contradiction in this scene: a smoky lounge, alcohol, talk of church, and me. the gay one. now, however, i see more humanity in this situation than i would ever have seen in many of the places i was hanging around. overshadowed by love, sympathy, and the intricate workings of daily life, our vices took a back seat to that small glimpse of truth that was ultimately of importance.