It was odd. 

D was… Well, so I’ve long been under the impression that Easter was generally considered a happy thing, by most christians. I mean, the folks in my family who’re big on that kind of thing all seem to feel that way. 

Not D. The story of holy week really upset him. And even though he said he knows that everything turns out all right in the end, he couldn’t help being sad about it. 

He also knew, without me ever saying so, that I’m not a believer. And that led to an incredibly strange discussion that I’m not going to repeat/summarize here, because no one would ever believe me. I will say that he’s never once tried to change my mind on purpose, though he made some points in our talk that are making me rethink my position. 

All of this happened after church, over lunch and then after. D was pretty wrung out, so he took a nap and I folded laundry and basically got ready for the week. 

Genoise was really sweet — when D was talking about how holy week bothered him, she hopped up onto the couch and wiggled her way into his arms and just stayed there. When he laid down to go to sleep, she curled up with him. I don’t think she left him alone until it was officially time for bed and I closed the door to keep them out. 

Monday morning was pretty much routine, for us, but this time it was D who was feeling awkward and strange in the evening. He showed up anyhow, and I was glad to see him. We went home and he made dinner and we watched a rerun of a basketball game from just before Christmas, which seemed to help him feel better. 

I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about some of the things he said on sunday, but… I don’t know. They’re not making me want to break up with him. They’re just kind of weird and incredible; if they’re not true, at least they’re harmless. 

Past time for bed, now. Ganache is already snoring.