that there wasn’t a fire, but didn’t have a clue as what was going on. Was I supposed to do something in response to this bizarre activity? If so, what? Whatever it might be, I wasn’t going to do it.
Making a mental note to buy an umbrella as soon as possible, I made a dash for my room, ducking and weaving in a kind of ridiculous attempt to avoid the drops of water being flung in all directions around me. I didn’t want them to touch me, not because I didn’t want to get wet but for some other reason, one I couldn’t express — but it was strong, nonetheless. This was some Catholic mumbo jumbo; I was sure of it, and I refused to participate. Returning to the room as quickly as I could, I swooped low, managing to dodge a dousing just in the nick of time.
“What the hell is he doing?” I demanded of my roommate, as I slammed the door shut behind me. With an air of superiority, Jon was quick to explain it to me. “It’s holy water,” he said.
“Huh?” I responded.
“Holy water. You know. He’s blessing the floor and all the rooms on it.”
I nodded weakly, but I still wasn’t sure what was going on. As a Presbyterian, the notion of using holy water to help sanctify spiritually needy college students just didn’t register. I stared at my roommate blankly, vaguely wondering if he was a plant, a closet Catholic sent to trip me up. Even if I could have grasped what holy water was, I doubt that I would have thought it would help. But I didn’t want it to touch me, and I found myself wondering why. I couldn’t really come up with an answer that made sense.
The whole incident somehow made me feel out of place — or rather, it made me aware that on some level I had been feeling that way all along. It actually triggered a number of insecurities that I was working hard to ignore. Despite my outward determination, I was actually feeling uncomfortable in my new surroundings. Was there anything behind the courteous smiles that everyone seemed to give me? Was it apparent I was only sixteen — younger than everyone in my class? Would anyone care that I was of a different religion, from a different country? Would anyone care that I didn’t really belong?
You Take the High Road, And I’ll Take the Low Road
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