Shannon surveyed me with frank disappointment, taking in my baggy
flannel coat and oversized men’s jeans. “How old are you?” she said.
“I’m a freshman,” I said. I didn’t want to admit I was only seventeen, and
that I should be in high school, finishing my junior year.
Shannon moved to the sink and I saw the word “Juicy” written across her
rear. That was more than I could take. I backed away toward my room,
mumbling that I was going to bed.
“Good call,” she said. “Church is early. I’m usually late.”
“You go to church?”
“Sure,” she said. “Don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But you, you really go?”
She stared at me, chewing her lip, then said, “Church is at eight. Good
night!”
My mind was spinning as I shut my bedroom door. How could she be a
Mormon?
Dad said there were gentiles everywhere—that most Mormons were
gentiles, they just didn’t know it. I thought about Shannon’s tank and
pajamas, and suddenly realized that probably everyone at BYU was a gentile.
My other roommate arrived the next day. Her name was Mary and she was
a junior studying early childhood education. She dressed like I expected a
Mormon to dress on Sunday, in a floral skirt that reached to the floor. Her
clothes were a kind of shibboleth to me; they signaled that she was not a
gentile, and for a few hours I felt less alone.
Until that evening. Mary stood suddenly from the sofa and said, “Classes
start tomorrow. Time to stock up on groceries.” She left and returned an hour
later with two paper bags. Shopping was forbidden on the Sabbath—I’d
never purchased so much as a stick of gum on a Sunday—but Mary casually
unpacked eggs, milk and pasta without acknowledging that every item she
was placing in our communal fridge was a violation of the Lord’s
Commandments. When she withdrew a can of Diet Coke, which my father
said was a violation of the Lord’s counsel for health, I again fled to my room.
The next morning, I got on the bus going the wrong direction. By the time I’d
corrected my mistake, the lecture was nearly finished. I stood awkwardly in
the back until the professor, a thin woman with delicate features, motioned
for me to take the only available seat, which was near the front. I sat down,
feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes. The course was on Shakespeare, and