“Ladies like to know that they’re not just secretly infatuated with a man but also a gentle-man. Not just someone who’s classy, funny, a sharp dresser, and Ivy League educated…but someone spiritual as well. And that is why I went to Angela’s church last Sunday. So that she could see, that I am not only dedicated to her…but to God as well. Also, the Patriots were on Monday Night Football this week.”

“Hello my lady.” Andy scooted into the pew with a smile and sat down next to Angela.

“Andy, what are you doing here?!” Angela grabbed at her dress and pulled it closer.

“Oh, well, my anger management sponsor suggested that I should go to Church more often. Fancy seeing you here.” Andy continued to smile, and folded his hands in his lap.

“I didn’t know you were Catholic.” She whispered.

“Yeah….I, uh, am. Big Catholic, in fact. I took a semester of Latin at Cornell actually. For my languages….’cause I needed them. Also took ‘Intro to the Jewish Bible’ because I believe in tolerance….don’t you?” He gazed steadily at her, and the neckline of her dress, which gave him a glimpse of her clavicle.

“Yes, of course. Jesus taught all of his followers tolerance.”

Andy nodded in approval. “He did, he did. So…do you think that you could ‘tolerate’ to get some coffee with me after Church today?” He wrinkled his forehead in apprehension of her answer.

“No, I teach Sunday School after the service. Somebody has to instill morals and values into children. They won’t get it at home these days.” Angela frowned sharply and stared at a woman in a blouse two pews ahead.

“Yeah, no, that’s fine, because I’m actually busy after Church today too. I, uh, on weekends, rake leaves for the elderly.”

“That is good work, Andy.”

Andy smiled at her faint compliment. “Thank you Angela. It fills me with a sense of accomplishment.”

They fell silent as the service began. Andy glanced over quickly and nervously at Angela several times, but she seemed focused on the front of the Church.

After what seemed like forever, somebody passed Andy a little cup of red liquid. He squinted at it, and swirled it around.

“What is this?” He scrunched down and whispered to Angela. He was so close to her that he could smell her bath powder.

“The blood of Christ, Andy.” Her eyes were wide, and she stressed every syllable.

Andy looked confusedly at the small cup again, and then back at Angela.

“Drink it, Andy. It’s the Eucharist!” She hissed.

Her tone stopped any hesitancy that he had. He drained the little cup in a single gulp.

“Oh, it’s wine!” He smiled broadly and looked over at her.

“No, it’s the blood of our savior, Andy.”

“Right, of course” he nodded, and then straightened up and tried to look over the heads of the other people in the Church. “…is there more? Like a Pinot Grigio stage? Or…”

Angela frowned and shook her head. She refused to talk to him for the rest of the service.

“Yes, it is true that Andy Bernard was at my Church on Sunday. He….was unenlightened about the customs of Catholicism, despite his claims to the contrary. But, it showed moral fiber for him to attend. Other men wouldn’t. They would drop you off at the entrance of the Church and be ten minutes late picking you up because they were off joyriding with their cousin. Wha—No, it’s just an example. No, Andy Bernard, from Sales, is just a co-worker, nothing more.”