Thirty minutes! thought Mike, could this get more humiliating? Well of course it could; in another minute, it would be thirty-one minutes, and thirty-one minutes of humiliation was worse than a mere thirty minutes worth. Sheesh, how had he gotten himself into this mess? How stupid, how pathetic was he? Apparently I'm thirty-and-a-half minutes' worth of stupid and pathetic.

At least he was with someone as decent as Mary Willingham, probably one of the kindest people on earth. Thank God it's Mary. Of course it would have been better if it had been no one, but given that he was to be as stupid and pathetic as this, better to be that way with Mary than, oh, say Leah. Or Carole.

Not that I would have ever been this stupid with either of them. Or that they would have let me be. Only Mary....

Poor Mary, this was just a lot to ask of even her. Mike knew that when he finally had the guts to get himself out of this mess, he'd owe her a huge apology and maybe disappear from her life for a while. Like forever.

Mike did not have a lot of distinguishing characteristics. He wasn't ugly or handsome, just okay. "Okay," in fact, described Mike accurately. Nothing special, but nothing awful. Just okay. Easy enough to be around, but just as easy to forget. He had never had a girlfriend, but he had lots of friends who were girls. He had the entire Youth Group to count as friends, but somehow it was always him calling others to ask if they wanted to do anything. He never had to decide between the competing demands or requests of different people. Whoever he called first who was free, that was who he spent his time with. Or just himself if no one was free, or wanted to make the time. Mike was okay with everyone, but no one thought he was very special. Or at least, if they did, Mike had no knowledge of it.

But he was okay with that.

What he was not okay with was the way his heart, every now and then, decided that he was in love. Mike did not get crushes on girls; Mike fell in love. Mike really fell in love, the same way a meteor falls from space: bright, burning up, threatening to flatten everything below. And just as Mike could not stop a meteor from falling to earth, he could not stop his heart from falling in love. He never knew who would be the victim of his heart's kamikaze dive, but he did know it would never be a good result. He knew from experience, from humiliation and disappointment and once a real broken heart, betrayed and destroyed in front of every person he knew in the world. Mike was not okay with his heart and the way it treated him, and he was more angry at his heart at this moment then he had ever been before.

Angry at the thirty-one minutes of pain and humiliation his heart, his stupid idiot heart had subjected him to. And Mary. Had subjected Mary to. She was probably completely baffled at what was going on, but she was being very kind to Mike nonetheless. They were friends, after all, and Mary would never do anything to embarrass or hurt a friend.

Unlike me, apparently, thought Mike, I seem willing to make a friend suffer through anything.

That was a bit strong, he knew, but he was not feeling anything but angry at himself. Humiliated, angry and wishing that somehow he could go back in time — thirty-one-and-a-half minutes back in time — and avoid this entire mess. Not sit down next to Mary thinking what he was thinking, not even come over to her house at all. Why hadn't his mom made him stay home, do some homework or clean his room or just ground him to make sure he didn't do anything horribly stupid and humliating.

That's good, blame your mom for this while you're at it. Mike had a knack for finding a way to make any bad situation even worse. Give me a few minutes and enough incentive, and I'll find some clever way to take what's already crappy and make it even crappier.

Mike was not proud of this knack, but he didn't think he had any pride to begin with. Would a person with any pride, any self-respect, subject himself and someone he professed to love to — thirty-two — minutes worth of humilation and silence.

That was the truly grotesque part of all this: the silence. If he had been talking for the past half-hour, even babbling like an idiot, at least he'd have been doing something. Something inane was still something. This was nothing. That was the worst of it: the embarrassment did not merely close his brain, it closed his mouth. If he'd been talking, saying anything, at least Mary could have then responded, maybe said something to make him wise up or change course. Mary was smart as well as decent; she'd have said the right thing, and he could have responded and then they'd have both been free ages ago. Instead: this.

Thirty-two-and-a-half minutes of humiliation. God.

And of course, Mike knew, that was where he should have started: with the Lord. Instead of coming over here to subject poor Mary Willingham to his infantile, selfish, ridiculous infatuation, he should have stayed home and prayed for guidance and strength. Ten minutes with the Lord and you'd have spared Mary and yourself — thirty-three! — minutes of this garbage! As usual, he got to the Lord after he had made a mess of things. The place he should have begun was a place he could not even get help from right now. What was the Lord going to do for him here? This was his mess, and the Lord would let him muddle through. As always.

As always. Mike never cared much for himself, but times like this brought out his self-loathing with a fresh urgency. He tolerated himself most of the time, but right now he simply could not stand himself. God might forgive him, and Mary might be sweet to him, but God loves everyone and Mary is sweet to everyone. I am still a jerk, and I hate myself for doing this to her. What? I was going to say "I love you, Mary" and she was going to say, "Oh, Mike, I love you too!" and we'd live happily ever after? How stupid can I be? Mike never had any doubt that he could be even stupider. Just give me another chance; I can outdo myself in stupidity whenever I want.

But it was too late now for anything but total disaster, so Mike decided he'd just give up and get it over with. The longer he waited, the worse it would get. Like cold zucchini, he thought, and the memory of how revolting that was made him smile. His mother, angry and determined to make him eat the goddamn zucchini, and Mike, resentful and determined not to eat a single bite of the goddamn zucchini, and eventually he'd choke down the two pieces she set as his ransom for escape, nearly gagging on the cold slimy vegetable, but he'd get to have a full dessert and they'd move on with their lives until the next time she served something horrible and stupid. Remembering zucchini battles made him feel just a tiny bit better, only a tiny bit but that was enough to break the hold of silence that was trapping him and poor Mary.

At last, he said:

"Mary," and as the words began, he knew they were not true and he wanted more than ever to disappear. This would be the perfect time for the Rapture, Lord, but he was stuck with these last few moments of humiliation that he had created for himself. Stuttering as untrue and unnecessary words clattered from his mouth at last, "I ... like you..." and of course he did, she did, they did, those weren't even the right words! All this time, all the humliation and he can't even finish the shameful act with the right damn words! I like you? Like you? What happened to love? LOVE? The whole reason you went through this, because you love her? He could not believe the weak, lame words, the culmination of this entire stupid evening: the wrong words!

But Mary understood, and she really was the most decent human being in the world. No wonder he thought he'd fallen in love with her. He had been spending time with her lately, some school stuff and some Youth Group things, and just time as friends. And then, all of a sudden, during last Sunday's evening meeting, he had realized: I'm in love with her. Except, of course, he wasn't, but it had taken over half-an-hour of embarrassment and silence to figure that out. Mary, though, a lot smarter and clearly closer to the Lord than Mike, knew what was going on and she would never say or do anything to make him feel worse. She had sat there with him as if with a sick friend — I am a sick friend, a sick stupid friend — and let him take his time to get where he needed to get. Although she probably had no idea it would take this long for me to get there.

"I like you, too, Mike, but..." she began, and Mike had heard enough. Suddenly relieved that this dumb game was over, he grinned at her, dopey but finally free from his own trap.

"No, that's ok, I know, me too" babbling a bit but at least they both knew this was over. Mike was not in love with her, and she had never been in love with him, so they could return to being friends and that was all Mike wanted: to have friends. Friends like Mary, and Tanya, and Andy, and Ben, and all the rest. Friends are the best. All I need.

But walking home a short time later, Mike did not feel so relieved or happy. Yes, friends were great, but he knew he wanted more. He was not happy, and he knew it. He prayed and studied the Bible, he tried to be the best friend he could to the others in Youth Group, he sought the Lord's will for his life constantly. But he could not pretend that everything was fine. It wasn't. But Mike had no idea what was wrong. What was missing. He tried to tell himself it was his faith, but at times like this, walking alone the dark, the cool nighttime of his neighborhood, he wanted what he was missing to be her. Whoever she was. He felt that must be wrong, but it was what he wanted: Her.

Whoever she was.