Donna, the scientologist


donna2Ok, so it was probably doomed from the start, but I’ve always been a man of faith and thought we could get it together. I was coming back from lunch and Donna was standing there in front of my office, with diamond blue eyes and a flyer about Dianetics. I stopped for a minute and stared into her eyes, a little entranced.

“Are your trying to hypnotize me with those things?” I asked.

“No.” She said. “I just want to tell you about the truth”

“Well, I think that you’re the truth, blue eyes, but I’ve got be going.”

I left her standing there, a little thrown off her game, and didn’t think anything of it. That afternoon, though, I found myself sitting next to her and one of her cult friends on the subway and couldn’t resist striking up a conversation.

“You two convert anybody today?”

Donna looked at me and smiled. “It was too sunny out. People are more open to our message when the weather’s kind of shitty.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, “You two come with me to get a drink, and I’ll let you give me the whole spiel.” Donna’s companion looked a little horrified, but I knew before I said it that Ms. Blue Eyes would be game. We got off at the next stop and found a classy little wine bar, where Donna started to tell me her story of being raised in the church. Her story kind of humanized the whole scientology thing. And she was actually a sweet girl. I realized while I had initially wanted to save her from the fucked up space religion she was born into, I actually really just wanted to get to know her better.

We dated for about a month, never getting more physical than a kiss, mostly going for tea and talking about the things that made us happy. For me, it was top-shelf booze and travel. For her, it was literature and the outdoors. I proposed one day that we take a road trip up north to New England.

“You know, to watch the leaves turn,” I said.

“That seems a little bit cliché for you, Knox.”

“Yeah, but sometimes something’s a cliché because it’s a classic,” I said.

“Alright.” She said, “Lets do it.”

I made all the arrangements. Mapped the trip, booked the bed and breakfasts, everything. A few days later, when we were set to depart she stood me up. After waiting an hour at the rental car place, I called her home and cell phones. Both disconnected. I took the trip alone, with a 3 bottles of rye and a couple notepads and kept trying to tell myself that it was probably doomed from the start.

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