Paint Me True by E.M. Tippetts

always greeted me with a, “Hey, Eliza,” then quickly looked away.
    One Thursday night, about six months ago, the activities coordinators decided to make us play the Newlywed Game with partners we were to select at random. The only rule was that we couldn’t have ever dated each other. Now, this was a really, really stupid idea and I said as much to Len, who was seated right behind me on the floor of the gym. “Half the girls are gonna get left out,” I said. The gender ratio in the ward was way out of whack. “And what’s the point of quizzing people about each other when they’ve never dated? They won’t know anything.”
    “They could be friends,” he pointed out.
    “Well, right. Okay, look, I don’t want to be left out. Partner with me?”
    “I dunno...”
    I turned all the way around. This felt very high school, sitting on the wooden floor of the gym, worried about whether or not I’d get left out as people chose teams. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You got too many other girls lining up? You can’t choose?”
    “I’m the membership clerk. I know all kinds of random facts about people from their records. Doesn’t seem fair.”
    “Oh come on. You know our parents’ names, like that’s gonna come up. Or our baptism dates? And you’ve memorized them? Quick, what’s my birthday?”
    He shrugged that off, but I felt mortified for a moment. He knew my birthday. He knew my age. Or if he didn’t, he could easily find out. Moreover, if I played this game, I might have to reveal my age. I’d tried to hint that I was about twenty-eight. Old enough not to be interested in the young guys just fresh off their missions, but not too close to that dreaded age of thirty-one.
    He looked over at me again and said, “Fine, okay. We’ll team up, but unless you own an Xbox and know the difference between Evol burritos and every other kind of frozen burrito, we’re gonna lose.”
    “How many great works of art can you name?”
    “I was an art history major.”
    “What?”
    “Just kidding. I didn’t go to college.”
    “Oh okay.”
    “That was a joke too.”
    I folded my arms and waited.
    “Computer science degree from the University of Oregon, in Eugene.”
    “That’s hilarious. Ohmigosh, just the best joke ever .”
    That cracked him up. “You?”
    “Fine art, University of Utah. Really. Truly. Totally serious. Don’t laugh.”
    “That’s cool. My middle name’s Gareth. My astrological sign is Pisces, and my first car was a Ford Taurus. That’ll get us through the first round. Trust me. I’ve been in this ward forever. Played this game a million times. What’s your middle name?”
    “Renee.”
    “Astrological sign?”
    “They’re not gonna ask that, are they? I don’t even know.”
    “First car?”
    “Honda Civic.”
    “Your astrological sign is Libra, if you care.”
    “You memorize that off everyone’s membership records?”
    He shrugged. “I have a good memory.”
    The sickening thing? He was right. We sailed right through the first round with those three questions. Three quarters of the couples got disqualified and joined the rest of the unattached girls on the floor to watch the rest of the game.
    For round two, I and the other girls went to wait in the hall while the activities coordinator quizzed the guys. After she ushered us back in, I sat in the folding chair next to Len and hoped our impending crash and burn would at least be humorous.
    “Where did you serve your mission?” was the first question.
    “I didn’t go on one.”
    “Five points!” I don’t know why she did points in increments of five, but whatever. I never watched the show, The Newlywed Game. Maybe it was how they did it too. She moved on down the line and I ignored the results. This game was a pretty stupid way to spend a Thursday evening.
    “What would be your ideal first date?”
    I glanced up, surprised that they were back to us so soon. “Steakhouse.”
    “Five points!”
    I looked at Len.