Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.
- Helen Keller
When Belle got home from school the day of Mikhail and Maria’s party, she was exhausted but excited for the first time in months. That morning, she had come in the kitchen and discovered an envelope left by Gabe. Inside, she found a message from his teammate on the mission trip. Belle knew Christian. He was one of the nicest people she knew, and she had tried often in her more social days to get him to join their young adult group. Though he turned her down every time, he was always polite to her. He was always the first to hold the door for someone, or encourage them with a smile or a kind word.
She had waited until now to open the envelope - a little nervous to know what was inside. Belle knew if the words happened to be condemning, she wouldn’t be able to make it to school that day, and she needed to, in order to turn in late assignments and keep up where she could. Despite knowing Christian was a nice person, Belle knew suicide was a different thing altogether. Even the kindest people who had a relationship with Christ tended to change if the words attempted suicide were mentioned. Since her return to church, Belle was well-versed in everyone’s opinion of her, since someone let it slip what was happening with her.
But the message Christian had for her wasn’t condemning. It was hopeful. He reminded her that the Lord had a plan for her life, quoting some verses from Jeremiah, and letting her know he had been praying for her. She smiled, remembering that Christian didn’t even know who he’d been giving the message to, but had gone ahead and done it anyway, trusting that Gabe would pass it on. His team was home now. Belle had seen Christian in church the past Sunday. She knew without asking that he was aware of what she’d almost done, yet he hadn’t spoken one unkind word, and continued to look her way and smile, continued holding the door for her. Belle felt so blessed to have friends like him.
Belle thought of Andrew and how much their friendship had shifted. She suspected he was one of the church-goers who might have different opinion of her now. It hurt to think that twelve years of friendship might so easily be gone, but Belle had to be prepared for the fallout. She had made a choice, and choices had consequences. She knew her friendship with Missy was changing, too. Belle wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not, but she was willing to hang in there and find out. There was one thing Belle knew for certain now, and that was that she wasn’t to blame for anything. That had been a huge relief. Since the conversation with her mother, Belle had been sleeping better - she still had nightmares, but not as frequently. Plus, her side-effects from the medication were finally starting to become manageable, and little by little, Belle was noticing a change in herself.
She knew enough, though, to realize that God was working on her heart and mind too. Belle had slowly began to believe what key people around her told her all the time. If she asked God, and was repentant, He would forgive her no matter what she’d done. And though there were days when Belle was still stuck in the mire of regret and self-loathing for what she’d done, that was improving by leaps and bounds.
Tucking the note from Christian in her pocket, Belle knew she had to get ready soon if she wanted to be on time at Mikhail and Maria’s. Only briefly did she consider wearing a dress and looking together, as she had the year before. Instead, Belle decided to go to the party as she’d gone to school - presentable but not fancy. She would dress honestly. And, she decided, leave the bandana at home.
--
Belle rode with Greta over to Mikhail and Maria’s. Greta had been more than a little surprised that Belle was going, given the various disasters that had happened the last time she’d been around her friends. But Greta didn’t push it. Belle was out of the house by her own desire, and that was something for sure.
“You have a coat on, you know?” Greta pointed out, staring at the fleece blanket Belle wore over the top of all her other layers. It looked like a big brown shawl, and it was covered in moose heads.
Belle nodded. “I know, but I like this.” She adjusted a little in the seat so the seatbelt would fit comfortably.
“Okay then,” Greta commented dryly, pulling out of the driveway. “By the way, how did Mikhail get my email address?”
“I gave it to him.”
“Why?” Greta asked, staring hard at Belle, before she focused her attention back on the road.
“Because he wanted to invite you, and you weren’t there on Thursday,” Belle explained.
Greta turned onto a side street, preferring it to the busy main road. “We had a flood today,” she said, barely acknowledging Belle’s previous comment.
“Where? At your house?”
“Think about it. Where does every bad thing ever happen to me?” Greta insisted.
Belle’s eyes widened. “How did that happen? Did you leave Alan unsupervised?”
Greta shook her head. “I have no idea! And then, when I called for assistance and asked for them to bring a mop, they brought a broom,” she gave Belle a disgusted look.
“How does your store hire these people? What were they planning to do? Sweep up the water?”
Rolling her eyes, Greta let out a sarcastic chuckle. “They need to start running common sense checks on people, along with the background checks.”
“That means you’d be out of a job…” Belle quipped.
“Oh, shut up!” Greta snapped good-naturedly. “You wanna eat beforehand?”
“No way,” Belle denied. “I don’t have much of an appetite anyway, and they’re gonna have an absolute Christmas feast over there.”
“I keep forgetting we’re not going to Micah’s. That guy hardly buys enough groceries to feed himself, much less his guests.”
“We won’t go hungry, trust me,” Belle promised.
--
Gabe arrived in plenty of time to help set up and even brought an extra from his Costa Rican coffee supply for the celebration. He’d had it all along, but wanted it to be used where it could bring the most joy. He helped Maria set food out, and intercepted Chris’ famous barbecued chicken to set it on the counter, and steal a piece before everyone arrived, and it was gone in seconds.
Christmas was only a few days away now, and Gabe could hardly believe it. The past weeks had gone by so fast, and so much had happened. There was a knock on the door, and he could hear Aly’s little feet running toward it. “Come in!” she called loudly.
On the other side of the door, Belle smiled. She hadn’t seen Aly in ages. Carefully, she eased open the door, and peeked around it.
Aly’s entire face lit up when she saw who had come to visit. “Belle! You come to my house for the party!” she said excitedly, launching herself into Belle’s arms.
“I sure did. Did you miss me?”
The little girl nodded until all her curls bounced around on her head. “For a long time, I miss you,” she told her friend seriously, giving Belle a tight squeeze around the neck. “Who’s that?” Aly asked, looking curiously at Greta, who was taking off her coat.
“This is Greta. She’s my friend,” Belle introduced simply.
“An’ I am your friend, huh?” Aly said, smiling.
“You sure are. Now why don’t you go find Papa and Mama? I’ll play with you in a little bit, okay?” she promised.
From the kitchen, Gabe heard his friends arriving and stepped away from what he was doing.
“Hey ladies,” he greeted, smiling. Reaching out, he gave Belle a hug. Instinctively, he didn’t do the same with Greta. She didn’t strike him as the hugging type.
“Hi, Gabe.” Belle smiled.
Aly, who still hadn’t managed to leave for the other room took Greta by the hand. “Here. You have some chicken, okay?”
Against her will, Greta smiled down at the little girl. “You’re pretty smart, huh?”
Nodding distractedly, Aly continued to chatter. “You can have all the chicken an’ food my mama make.” she said importantly, pulling Greta to the kitchen.
“What about your papa? Did he make food, too?” Greta asked curiously. She didn’t think Mikhail could cook, but wanted to find out anyway.
Aly shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “He don’t know how. He jus’ play with me.”
Mikhail was sitting at the table arranging bowls when Greta saw him. “Your daughter just told me you don’t know how to cook,” she said smirking.
“I don’t,” he answered, smiling at Aly.
Greta laughed. “Well, thanks for the warning. I’ll remember that.”
“Papa,” Aly said seriously, climbing into Mikhail’s lap, and staring into his eyes. “Belle come over. She not sad anymore.”
From the other side of the table, Greta felt her breath catch, and in that moment she wished she could believe things with as much conviction as this three-year-old girl.
--
People continued to arrive, but Belle was content to remain on the couch next to Gabe, who showed her pictures from his mission trip.
“…And this is where we stayed,” he was saying, indicating a certain house. It was white and surrounded by mango trees. Gabe kept going, showing pictures of Macario, Manuela, and all the other children who had impacted his life.
“Reminds me of my own trip,” Belle admitted turning wistful. “That seems like so long ago.”
Gabe touched the blanket around her shoulders gently. “What’s this?” he asked, smiling. He didn’t want Belle to get too down.
“My moose blanket,” she said easily. “Hey, where’s Georgie?”
Blinking, Gabe stared at her. “Who?”
“That spider,” Belle insisted. “The one who likes to take showers.”
Gabe chuckled. “Jorge,” he corrected. “He’s right here.” Flipping through the pictures, Gabe found the one he was looking for and showed her.
Belle studied the picture carefully. “He’s so big…” she breathed. “You should show Greta this one. She’d like it.”
“You seem like you’re feeling a little better,” Gabe commented cautiously.
“I am. The medicine might be working, finally. And my mom and I talked,” she confided quietly. “So that helped a lot.”
Gabe smiled broadly. “That’s so awesome. I’m glad. Can I get you something to eat?”
Tilting her head, Belle thought about it. “Maybe a little of that barbecue Chris brought. If there’s any left…”
“You got it.” In seconds, Gabe was up and in the kitchen.
Alex had arrived late as usual, wearing Christmas garland around her neck and a gaudy red bow in her hair. Other than that, she dressed as she normally did. Her shirt was a burnt orange color, and said I HAVE CONTROL ISSUES.
“Bella!” she called happily, launching herself into the empty space beside her friend and planting a big kiss on her cheek. “Hook me up,” she said, motioning for Belle to open the blanket, so she could warm up.
“You’re freezing!” Belle gasped. “Get out from under here; you’re making me cold!”
Alex laughed, and squirmed out of the blanket. “Nice look by the way,” she quipped, catching a look at Belle’s dark green sweatshirt and black jeans.
“Here you go,” Gabe said, handing Belle a plate full of chicken and piroshkis, the Russian pastries that Maria made each year. He didn’t know if she liked them, but he figured he’d take a chance on it and see what happened.
Finally looking up, Gabe noticed Alex. “Oh! Stay right here. I have a surprise for you.”
“…If it’s eyeball fruit, you’re eating it with me,” Alex whispered conspiratorially in Belle’s ear.
“You’ll be eatin’ that all by yourself,” Belle said confidently, taking a bite of chicken.
Gabe returned momentarily with a cup in hand. It was brimming with coffee.
Alex’s eyes lit up. “No way…Is this the Costa Rican stuff? You are amazing,” she said firmly and took a long drink. It burned her mouth, but that didn’t matter. The coffee was deliciously rich. Even though Gabe had brought it to Alex black, it tasted surprisingly sweet. She decided it had been well worth the wait.
Mikhail and Maria’s was swarming with people now. Josh and Katerina had arrived, and Josh was busy introducing his sister around. Elise, Rob and Kylie had gotten there too, and all three had dressed to impress. Belle tried not to be self-conscious about coming dressed so casually. She saw Missy across the room, and Belle wondered if she knew everything was okay now.
Belle couldn’t help but smile as she watched Rob lead Kylie to the exact spot where the mistletoe hung and waited expectantly beneath it.
“Well?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Well, what?” Kylie studied him as if he worried her.
Grinning, Rob leaned in and kissed her long and full on the mouth. All around them, little cheers went up. Belle even caught Elise smiling in their direction, even as Jared and Micah whistled their encouragement.
Kenzie and Julia came after that. Belle was relieved that Rob and Kylie got to simply enjoy each other’s affectionate moment without hearing a snide comment in the background. Chris had been there since before she and Greta, and was busy distributing chicken, wearing an apron and a chef hat.
The last to come was Andrew. Belle had wondered if he would show up at all, but there he was, dressed like he always was in a button down shirt and jeans. She had seen him plenty since being released from the hospital - school mostly - but they hadn’t talked.
When he came Belle’s direction, she felt her stomach drop. She tried to stay calm, but couldn’t deny that she was worried about what he might say.
People in church had been bad enough - the pastor’s wife wanting to talk to her about “what was going on,” the other congregants who looked at her with wary or disappointed eyes. Some were bolder and shared with her what they thought of her decision, that she had sinned and needed to repent, and more, that her not being happy with herself was like an insult to God. Age hadn’t been a factor. Neither had status in the church. Everyone had an opinion, and the bravest had shared theirs with her. But she still didn’t know what Andrew thought. That scared her.
“How are you?” Andrew asked standing before the couch and looking down at her. Thinking better of it, he crouched down to look into her eyes.
Belle just stared, feeling confused. She hadn’t thought he cared how she was. “I’m okay,” she managed. “How are you?”
“Sorry,” he said sincerely. “I’m sorry I brushed you off when you needed me.”
“I missed you,” Belle said softly. “And I’m sorry for hurting you…I really wasn’t thinking.”
Andrew held his hands up. “Don’t apologize. You don’t need to. So, are you doing okay now?” he wondered.
“A little better.”
Smiling, Andrew stood up. “That’s good,” he looked over his shoulder. “Uh-oh. Looks like things are about to turn official. Talk to you later?” he asked.
Belle nodded and kept her seat as everyone assembled in the living room to pray. She knew what was coming. Letters. They had written them frequently early on but hadn’t done so in about a year. Mikhail came in with notebooks and pens. Belle knew he had waited until Maria went to put Aly to bed, so the little girl wouldn’t disturb things.
“Got a mail shortage again, Mikhail?” Jared teased.
Greta finally came into the living room, taking the seat beside Belle. It hadn’t escaped either one that no one moved to fill it. “What are we doing?” Greta whispered.
Belle shushed her, indicating the Mikhail would explain. She was just grateful the prayer hadn’t gotten too intense or personal. She could deal with Julia’s know-it-all, disgusted looks all night if Belle could be assured that they wouldn’t all come around her and try to touch her. She still wasn’t ready for that.
“Tonight,” Mikhail said quietly, “I want everyone to write me something. Much of you already do this. Katerina, it’s okay if you don’t wanna write. But everyone else, I like a letter from you. Tell me something about you. How you’re doing. Something you learn. We don’t do this for a year, so you’ll have lot to say to me.”
Paper was distributed, and everyone started to write. Belle looked around self-consciously. After a minute, she stood up and started to leave. She knew there was a little office just off to the side from where they were. She didn’t feel comfortable writing around everyone. Not now.
Belle moved carefully, making sure her blanket didn’t fall. When she passed Missy, Belle felt her own hand being squeezed. Belle returned the gesture, comforted that Missy was watching out for her.
In the little office, Belle sat silently, thinking of all the things she had to say. Praying for courage, she reached into her pocket and took out the letter from Christian. Phrases jumped out and comforted her. “…plans to prosper…not to harm you…plans to give you a future and a hope. …I will bring you back from captivity.”
Belle lifted her head.
She felt herself emerging.
--
Gabe sat for a long time, thinking about his letter. Every time he’d written one, it had been significant. Sharing things with Mikhail this way was something that he wouldn’t trade for anything. But each time, Gabe found himself thinking deeply about what he would say. So as always, he prayed and began writing:
Dear Mikhail,
Wow life can change, can’t it? I can’t believe that a year ago I was praying that my life would make an impact somewhere in the world, and now I’m back from serving already! I know I haven’t gotten the chance to share very much, but trust me, my time was amazing! God is so great and He is truly everywhere!
I think, overall, the biggest thing I know for sure is that God has worked on me and made me that man of integrity that I’ve been wanting to be. I can face sadness now. It doesn’t overwhelm me. Now, I feel strong enough to be there for somebody when they’re hurting, and just be there with them. I couldn’t say that last year.
My faith has grown so much, I can’t even tell you. God is truly amazing.
I definitely faced my share of trials in Costa Rica and even when I came back, but that doesn’t change how I feel inside, or my desire to serve others. I’m so thankful that I don’t need to rely on myself for strength. I think that was the thing before. I took everything on, but never handed it over to God. That’s a mistake I won’t make now.
Thank you so much for all your support.
Gabe
--
Alex had moved to the foot of the stairs, not minding the numerous times when Maria stepped around her. Their stairway was nice and big, with plenty of space to stretch out. She didn’t, though. Alex just enjoyed the private feel she got whenever she sat there. Sometimes, at Micah’s she went and sat on his stairs to be alone and think, especially the previous year, when things had been so difficult. Closing her eyes for a moment, Alex knew what she had to say, and began to write:
Can you believe Gabe didn’t bring back a single eyeball fruit for us? I’m just kidding. I don’t really care about that.
I’m doing a lot better than I was the last time I wrote, I think. If that was when I was still dealing with post-op depression, which I think I was. School’s good. I’m learning to let my dad have his own opinion on things, even if it’s about me.
The whole thing with Belle really shook me up, though…as it did everyone. I wish we could do something, or pray hard enough so no one would ever feel that hopeless.
Thanks for being so great for us through all the hard times, though. It means a lot to have a leader people can really count on.
Alex
--
Chris had long since abandoned his chef hat and apron and now sat alone in the quiet kitchen, grateful that God was working in their lives as much as He ever had. Chris thought of teaching his choir students and smiled. God had been so good this year.
My kids are wearin’ me out, but life is pretty good. They got through the first concert, so that’s all that I care about. Life as far as personally is okay. Hope the chicken was decent this year.
Chris
--
Missy was one of a few who kept her seat. She crossed her legs, and struggled for composure, not knowing why, when everything had finally settled, she was left feeling a little lost. More than that, too. She felt insufficient. And though Missy knew it was a lie, she found herself sitting with it, and wishing her mindset were different.
Mikhail,
I’m struggling to remember how God feels about me. I know I tend to be very hard on myself but I don’t really know how else to be. I have high expectations of myself.
Why is it so easy for us to see the good God has placed into other people and so difficult to see it in ourselves? I feel like this is the first time I’ve written anything of substance to you. Everything with Belle has just opened my eyes to how much every single one of us - myself included - needs to have support. We can’t live in hiding and shoulder everyone else’s pain. It’s not right. God wants to have all my issues and everyone else’s that I try to bear.
Please pray that I’ll remember what’s important.
Missy
--
Kylie tried not to look at Missy next to her on the couch. She knew if she did, there wouldn’t be much writing going on. Whenever somebody was in pain, Kylie felt compelled to ease it. However, she also knew Missy, and that though she might be upset now, by morning, her joy would be renewed.
Hey Mikhail,
I’ve missed this! It used to be the highlight of our meetings - the times when we’d write these letters.
Life is wonderful right now. It might sound funny to say, given everything that’s gone on, but it’s true. I’ve really grown to see what’s important to me. God’s literally been using everyone in my life to remind me to take better care of myself. Rob and Elise are doing great. Things have been much calmer now that their mother’s left them alone. Elise has done an amazing job with everything, and I’m so proud of her.
Let me know if there’s any way I can pray for you and your family.
Kylie
--
Julia sat very still. When she was sure no one was watching, she cast curious glances at the side office where Belle had gone. Sure, Alex had left too. So had some others. But Julia knew that Belle was one they needed to watch. She hadn’t stopped being disappointed in her since the night they all found out. Julia knew Belle far better than a lot of people, and she knew in her heart that all this had just been a cry for attention - nothing more.
Mikhail,
I’m still amazed (not in a good way) by some of the people who consistently pretend that everything is right with their world, when really, it’s not. It’s not right to live deceiving people like that and I’m surprised more people haven’t confronted a certain person about that. Not to mention the way they blatantly disrespected God by doing what they tried to do. That’s got to be the worst kind of sin. Don’t you agree? I can’t believe people can live like that and be okay with it. I’m going to be praying for this person, and I hope you will be, too.
Peace and love,
Julia
--
Rob shook his head and tried not to laugh out loud. He couldn’t get the earlier phone conversation out of his mind. Ryan wanting someone to look at his car - describing all the noises it made. He glanced at Elise who was busily filling her paper with thoughts to share. He thought of the first time she’d written a letter. How it had looked like a list, and how many times she’d asked for clarification. There was hardly any evidence of that girl left.
Rob here. Life’s been pretty good actually. Elise brought home an A on an English paper. Wow. I’m still so proud of her. Plus, she actually let me keep this one up on the fridge, even though it’s about a war book. I’ve been going to church because I want to lately, and it’s not half bad. Plus, I think it’s a good thing for Elise, too. She really gets a lot out of it, and I guess I am too. I haven’t really learned anything, other than that our good buddy Ryan seems to think that because I work at a gas station, that means I can fix his car. He dropped it off. I guess he thinks because I work around cars, and Kylie works at a factory we’ll be able to tell what’s wrong with it. I have no idea. I told him that, but he doesn’t believe me. “Just look at it.” I’m still looking. Any ideas?
Rob
--
Jared shook his head and tried to concentrate and ignore Julia, who was giving the door to the office covert glances, trying to pretend she wasn’t wondering what Belle was writing, and why she had distanced herself from them.
Mikhail,
I know everyone is probably giving their opinion on Belle. (I can tell, because a good chunk of them keep looking toward the office as they write.) I’m not even going there. I don’t think it’s anyone’s place to speculate, or even say how what she did hurt us. I’ve been where she was. Not exactly, but I know enough to understand that the last thing she needs is a room full of her friends writing about her, or giving their opinions about what went on there.
You may be disappointed to know that I haven’t learned anything since last year, when I learned that Josh was an okay kid.
Jared
--
Josh couldn’t remember being happier. He hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk to Belle, but Kat had said hello, and that was nice. Everything was as it should be, and that made him happy. His sister was home; all his friends were here. He thanked God, knowing now that without Him no good thing was possible.
Dear Mikhail,
As you can see, my sister is home for Christmas! That’s the best answer to prayer I’ve gotten all year. Thank you if you prayed. Things are going well for me. School is really boring since I don’t have class with Andrew or Belle anymore. But I’m getting good grades still, so that’s the most important thing.
I guess I really have learned a lot since last year. Mainly when we talked about forgiveness. It works a lot differently than I thought, even though I’ve been going to church for a while now. There was still a lot I didn’t understand. That’s why I’m glad I come here every week, because we can talk more in depth about things than just listening to a sermon.
Thank you for the hug.
Josh
--
Elise gave Robby a funny look from across the room. He kept looking at her and smiling. She shrugged and tried to finish what she’d started without losing her train of thought.
I’m so glad to be on break right now. School is still really hard for me, even though I’m doing a lot better in it. It’s nice to have a break from it. Especially a long one. But did you know Micah helped me write a paper, and I got an A? I think that’s the first one I’ve gotten since I got hurt. I hope this doesn’t sound too weird or anything, but I really feel like a new person more and more every day. I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare. Even though things still scare me now, it’s easier to overcome them and not get stuck like I used to. It’s a nice change to be able to be strong for someone else rather than always having someone be strong for you.
Elise
--
Micah took some holiday M&Ms out of the dish beside him and ate them happily. This had to be the first year he actually felt good writing one of these. It was a new feeling, but one he wouldn’t mind keeping with him for a while.
Mikhail,
I never told Alex this, but Gabe isn’t the only one who likes the snowflake speech. I got a lot out of the pudding party. So much that I’m reading the Bible more now, and because I want to do it. Pretty cool, huh?
Micah
--
Kenzie couldn’t help but feeling boring and unoriginal, though she knew Mikhail would get a kick out of whatever she said. Belle and Alex had both taken off to their own secret locations to write, and Kenzie wished that she would have something so interesting to say that she had to hide away to say it.
Mikhail,
I never feel like I have anything interesting to say in these things. Especially now that I’m not screwing up at every turn. I mean, I have a job. I’m out of the garage band, and things are looking pretty good. One of these days I’m gonna have to steal the recipe for that chicken. Chris says he uses secret sauce, but I bet it’s just from a jar. Wanna help me steal it?
P.S. Kidding.
Yours,
Kenzie
--
After staring at Christian’s letter a long time, and praying like the verse instructed, Belle began to write:
Dear Mikhail:
This year has probably been the hardest of my life. I never thought I would be where I am today, but I can tell you that I am grateful to be alive. I want to thank you for being there for my mother that night. It means a lot to me that you were there, and not somebody we don’t know well.
I’m doing a little bit better. I think the medicine is starting to work, and I know God is working on me, which is more important than any pill. I always thought my faith was rock-solid. Nothing could shake it. This year, it has been shaken in the biggest way. Everything I ever believed as fact turned out to be a lie. That was so difficult. But the thing I learned is this: even if we are faithless, He is faithful to us.
Please continue to pray for me. Your prayers mean more than you know.
Love,
Belle.
--
Andrew couldn’t help but feel a little lonely. Though he no longer felt the need to carry around the picture of himself and Tommy, Andrew still thought of him, and he still ached in that private place about the pain that only himself and a few others knew about.
Mikhail,
This time of year is still difficult and more so this time around, because I don’t have as much support. I know you always say call you, but I just never do. I guess I’m stubborn. I did go with my parents this year on their trip, I know you don’t know what I’m talking about, but that’s probably why I can tell you.
I guess that’s it.
Andrew
--
Greta sat self-consciously on the couch, wishing she knew a little bit more about how things worked. The truth was, she didn’t. And Greta didn’t know if she would continue to come on Thursdays, or any day. She didn’t really know if this was for her. All she knew for sure is that somewhere in the space of time she had known Belle, she had changed. Greta knew more about suffering, joy, truth and despair than she could have ever thought possible.
Dear Mikhail…
I have never done this before, so sorry if it’s not the way people do it.
I didn’t know what to think the first time Belle dragged me to one of these meetings. I had met Christians before. (You meet some weird people in food service.) And they weren’t the kind of people I wanted to know. Then, I met Belle.
She doesn’t know this, but even though she was going through a hard time, I could tell there was something different about her. She never preached to me, never came off like she was better than me. She was unlike any other Christian I’ve ever met. She was just real. And that impacted me.
I know you all would say that it’s not about people, it’s about God. But if there weren’t people like Belle around, I would have gone my whole life and never seen real evidence of him. Because even in her pain, she showed me I was loved.
I know that there has to be something more out there. Otherwise how do we live? How do we cope?
What’s left when you descend into darkness, and there’s nothing left to grasp but your own pain?
I know the answer now.
It’s faith.
Greta
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Faith: Chapter 11
The path to our destination is not always a straight one. We go down the wrong road, we get lost, we turn back. Maybe it doesn’t matter which road we embark on. Maybe it matters that we embark.
- Barbara Hall, (Northern Exposure)
Sherry lay awake in bed, as she had almost every night since Belle came home. It had been almost three weeks since she‘d found Belle in her bathroom. Now, each night, Sherry stayed awake until she couldn’t anymore - just listening. They had lived in their current house long enough that Sherry knew every creak in the floor, and every other noise that her daughter made as she roamed the house at night.
It had been difficult, but Sherry had learned to stay put. Belle was predictable. Always either going into the kitchen to sit at the table or to the living room and watching TV marathons from the ‘70s and ‘80s.
Sherry suspected Belle had nightmares, though she never said as much. What Belle never knew is that Sherry had them, too. She had, since before Belle was born, when Sherry and her husband had begun having problems. It made Sherry sick to remember.
When she’d been pregnant the abuse had all but disappeared and he had gone soft, constantly talking to her stomach and treating her so tenderly. That all had stopped before Belle was a year old. Then, his temper started showing again. Belle was a toddler the first time Sherry saw him hit her. And though she knew she should have taken Belle and left then, Sherry had stayed, feeling strongly that Belle should have her father in her life - that she would do better if her parents were together.
Life continued much the same for the following couple years. Then there came the night he found Belle’s toys in a neat pile at the bottom of the stairs, hidden carefully behind a box. He had asked her to put them away in her room, and instead of obeying, she had been sneaky and hidden them.
For twenty minutes or more, Sherry had tried to keep him occupied, knowing how volatile he was when he felt disrespected. She had tried everything - antagonizing him about little things so he would come after her instead. That had worked, but only for so long. Eventually, he had enough. His daughter was going to learn her lesson this time. He was going to make sure she never forgot it. Unfortunately, all the time he had spent fighting with Sherry earlier, only seemed to be a warm-up compared to what he inflicted on their little girl.
For several minutes, Sherry couldn’t move. She had been stunned and wracked with guilt for not leaving when she saw the first bruise around Belle’s upper-arm two years before. Now,. Belle was bleeding from the mouth and her eye was bruising from a blow. He had her by the ear, as he used every foul name for a woman he could think of to berate their little girl. Then, she’d heard Belle scream through tears.
“Mama! I’m sorry! Make it stop!”
That night, she’d stepped up and did what she had always known was right. When Sherry couldn’t get a hold of Belle and leave immediately, she made a decision, and forced Belle onto the floor where she could easily take the blows, as he lashed out at them both. Sherry knew that Belle wouldn’t have survived this, had she not stepped in. When she had an opening, Sherry had picked Belle up and run. He had chased them for several blocks until they knocked on a door, and told the woman who answered that they had been robbed, and they couldn’t go home.
Getting out of bed, Sherry made her way to the kitchen to make some tea. She knew herself well enough to realize when she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. From the hallway, Sherry had a clear view of Belle sitting on the old couch in the living room, curled up with a blanket flipping idly between Italian cooking and the replay of the nightly news.
Belle heard her mother get up, and immediately moved to find the remote and adjust the volume on the TV. The last thing she wanted was another late-night confrontation. Belle watched, feeling tense, as Sherry continued into the kitchen and listened as she put water on the stove for tea.
Turning her attention back to the show about how Parmesan was made, Belle tried to ignore her own tiredness. Tonight, she hadn’t even bothered to try and sleep. She had done homework until she couldn’t focus anymore - doing all the reaction papers and composer bios that would help boost her grade. She had even tried to get a start on all her missed Geography, but she hadn’t gotten very far with that.
Belle had stayed off the phone, even going so far as to turn her cell off, and changing the message to inform Greta and whomever else called that she was catching up with school and promised that if anyone tried to bother her, it wouldn’t be pretty.
Though her mother hadn’t taken away privileges since she’d been home, Belle constantly felt guilty, like she should be punished. When she had the energy, which was rarely, she would try to clean house while her mom worked.
After hearing her mom in the kitchen after several minutes, curiosity got the better of Belle, and she went to investigate.
Sherry was puttering around the kitchen.
“Did I wake you?” Belle couldn’t help asking. She pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, comforted by its softness and familiarity.
“No. Why don’t you go back out and sit down? I’ll bring you some tea.”
Belle blinked. It looked like her mother, but she was rarely this quiet.
“Okay,” Belle agreed hesitantly, returning to the couch and waiting. She muted the television, and then thought better of it and turned it off completely.
Minutes later, Sherry came out carrying two flowered cups - the kind they used to have afternoon tea with when they still lived close to Belle’s grandparents. Sherry didn’t use the cups much anymore, preferring a large coffee thermos that she could take in the car to a little bitty tea cup. Sitting down next to Belle, she offered her one and put an arm around her.
“You’re not tired either, are you?” Sherry asked sympathetically.
Belle shook her head. “No. I’m very tired. Just can’t sleep. Caught up on some homework though,” she offered.
“That’s good. Look, honey. I need to talk to you about something.” Sherry said seriously, pulling her daughter closer. “I made a real big error in judgment when I blamed you for everything with your dad. That wasn’t true, and it wasn’t right of me to put the blame on your shoulders.”
Belle shrugged. “That’s where it belonged. You said so yourself,” she tried not to care. Saying those words was almost as painful as hearing her mother say them.
“I did say that, and I suppose I meant it when I said it. But that was because I didn’t want to see the honest truth - that it was my responsibility, and I didn’t handle things well. You were just a child, and you were doing what all kids do. The truth is, I was scared to leave your father. It was easier to put the blame on you than admit I was scared,” Sherry spoke quietly.
Belle looked down, staring into her cup of tea. “But I didn’t help things either. I made them worse for you and him both. If I’d behaved, you wouldn’t have been forced into having to leave.”
Sherry felt her heart squeeze painfully. “Look at me, honey.” When Belle did, Sherry continued. “For me to blame you, that would be like Mikhail and Maria blaming Aly for something going wrong between them. Aly isn’t responsible for her parents’ happiness, and you weren’t responsible for ours. You were four years old. I should have never said those things to you, and I’d take back every one if I could.”
Belle closed her eyes, feeling grateful, but pained at the same time. She wished that her mother had come to all these realizations sooner. “Why did you tell me he was the one that left?”
“Because,” Sherry sighed. “I always hoped you wouldn’t remember that night. Eventually it faded, and you believed the story. I didn’t ever want you to remember your dad hitting you or calling you names. As painful as it was, I thought you’d do better if you thought he just left us.”
Closing her eyes, Belle felt overwhelmed and relieved. “I remember. We ran from him, and it was late at night. He was chasing us. It was after y’all fought about me… I heard it from under the bed.” Belle pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
Sherry stoked Belle’s hair tenderly, ignoring the resentment that came when she flinched. “I was the adult. I should have been protecting you from the start, but I didn’t. We were having problems long before you were born. You didn’t have anything to do with why we fought, not really. I should have never said what I did to you. When I saw you still had the bandana, I remembered grabbing it off the counter that night. Whenever I see it, I remember your little face that night and how hurt you were. It reminded me of all the ways I failed you as a mother.”
Belle stared at her hands. “When it started coming back to me, it felt like I was going crazy. You never talked about us running or anything. Or times he hurt us. I only remembered once. When I found this, it was like proof that it was real. Then the nightmares got worse, and I knew it was real, and you still never talked about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Sherry apologized. “It’s not a conversation I ever wanted to have with you. It’s been years, and I still can’t get over the memories of that time. I thought if we never talked about it, you might be spared the pain.” Looking into Belle’s eyes, she answered the silent questions that were lurking there. “It really happened, honey. He had a bad temper, and he hurt us, and one night after a fight, he came after you. And I knew I had to do something, or you weren’t going to make it out of that room. So I covered you, and let him hurt me, and then I took you and we left.”
It was silent a long time, before Belle had the courage to speak again.
“I wish I could have done more to help you then,” Belle said regretfully, laying her head on her mom’s shoulder.
Sherry kissed Belle’s hair gently. “Every time you smiled, you helped me. Every time you woke me up in that shelter or showed me a new song you learned at school, you lifted my spirit. That helped me more than you can imagine, love. Do you know why I gave you the name I did?” she asked Belle softly.
Shaking her head, Belle stayed silent.
“Belle Christine,“ Sherry sighed tenderly, “It‘s because, before I ever saw you, I knew you were going to be beautiful. Those days before I found out I was carrying you - those months and years - had been so dark, but I knew in my heart that within me, there was this beautiful little life growing, and that whenever the light of my faith was growing dark, all I’d have to do is look at you, and I’d be reminded of the Lord.”
“Are you still?” Belle asked hesitantly.
Sherry took her daughter’s face and looked into her eyes calmly.
“Every day.”
--
Josh never did well alone. He spent a lot of time alone, but he wasn’t the kind of person who voluntarily did things by himself. He didn’t like to be solitary. Whenever he was left in the house while his mother did an errand, Josh played music to fill the silence.
Closing his eyes, Josh tried to be positive but it was getting hard. He’d done all the homework required over break already, and he was bored. If Katerina didn’t come home for Christmas it would definitely be a quiet holiday. His mom was the type to spend any free time she had reading a good book, or going for a walk. For a while, Josh thought he may have inherited his mother’s personality down to the last attribute. But over the last year, Josh found himself growing up to be more like Kat.
Katerina was always happy and full of energy. She was rarely introspective and solemn, as he tended to be when he was younger. She always had a fun idea for a present for their mom, or a new, clever way to decorate their Christmas cookies.
Now that he was a sophomore, Josh found himself relaxing a little bit more than he ever had. By now, he was resigned to the fact that he was always going to be smart. He was okay with that. And the more Josh began to be okay with himself, the more he found himself enjoying things like his big sister.
Ever since Kat had gone away to school the previous year, Josh had become accustomed to a quiet and serious house. There weren’t footsteps thundering up and down the stairs - and there wasn’t anyone to pull pranks on. Josh had tried on his mom. She wasn’t amused.
Staring gloomily out the window, Josh thought of calling some people, but didn’t know who to try. Belle was probably one of his closest friends, but she was going through a really hard time right now and needed to concentrate on healing. He and Andrew had never been that close, and Elise lived far away. Josh thought of Jared. They talked occasionally, but this wasn’t the kind of thing he felt comfortable going to Jared with. This was about his sister. She was the most important person in the world to him.
A car pulled up in front of the house, and someone got out. Josh squinted. It couldn’t be.
It didn’t look like Kat’s car, and it didn’t look like Kat for that matter. Her once long hair was cut short - similar to the style Julia wore hers in. Of course, on his sister, it looked better.
It took only a matter of seconds for the Josh to hear her thunder up the stairs, screaming his name.
“Joshy!” Katerina ran forward to embrace him. “Surprise!”
Blinking, Josh stared up. He hadn’t seen his sister in four months, and every time she came home, he felt like he had missed out by not seeing her as often as he wanted.
“What are you doing here?” he managed, reaching up to give her a hug.
She smiled. “I’m home for Christmas. What do you think?”
“I thought you couldn’t come home,” Josh said, incredulous.
Finally, Katerina moved to take off her coat and hang it in the closet. “I pulled some strings,” she told him. “So what do you say? Wanna bake some Christmas cookies with me?” she winked at Josh.
“Mom always says you can’t use the kitchen, ‘cause you never clean up after yourself.”
“So? Neither do you!” Already planning what kind of cookies she was going to make, Kat began taking various ingredients out of the cabinets. “When’s Mom coming home?”
“Not for hours. She’s out shopping,” Josh said, pulling up to the table and taking whatever Kat handed him.
“We’ll have plenty of time then,” she said happily.
Josh’s brow furrowed. “Does Mom know you’re home?”
“Nope,” Kat grinned, handing Josh red and green sprinkles from the collection of decorating stuff.
He shook his head. “You’re gonna give her a heart-attack… Hey, we should make a whole bunch of these and bring them to the party at Mikhail and Maria’s. You should come.”
“Sure, I’m always up for a party,” she agreed easily. “So, how have you been? How’s Belle doing?”
“Better, I think,” Josh ventured. “But it’s kind of hard to tell. I hope she’s at the party though. We don’t really talk at school anymore.”
“That’s too bad. She’s a sweet girl,” Kat commented, running a hand over her brother’s head absently.
“Yeah.” Josh measured out some flour and dumped it in the bowl.
Katerina stopped studying the mixer to see where the power switch was and looked at him. “You’re not blaming yourself, are you?” she asked seriously.
“No,” Josh admitted quietly. “I did at first, but not anymore.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed.
Shrugging, Josh elaborated. “I think we all blame ourselves for it a little bit. For not seeing she was in trouble. For not showing her we loved her enough. Obviously, I know it was her choice, but I still feel guilty knowing she was walking around with so much pain, and not even noticing. Every time I see her now, I just want to cry. She was really upset when we were gonna pray for her and just got up and left. It just let me know that she must still be really hurting.”
Kat nodded, sympathetically. She’d read every one of Josh’s letters, taken all of his phone calls. She knew how hard this had hit him. Belle had always been a good friend. Kat regretted nothing more than not being able to be there for her brother the night he found out.
“It’ll probably take a while. All you can do is be her friend.”
Josh nodded. “I know. I haven’t been doing the best job at that. I can barely talk to her. I have no idea what to say. We had fun together before. Now she’s so different, I don’t want to say something wrong and make her worse.”
“Just say hi. Tell her it’s nice to see her,” Kat encouraged. “Girls always love to hear that kind of stuff.”
Smiling, Josh agreed. He couldn’t wait to go to the party with his sister, so he could show Gabe that their prayers had been answered.
--
Andrew couldn’t remember wanting anything less than to go to Mikhail and Maria’s party this year. He knew it was tradition. He knew it was expected. But he didn’t want to go. If he did, he’d have to stare at Belle and pretend everything was fine between them, when he knew it wasn’t.
It had been weeks, and still there were times Andrew would wake up in the morning and forget that his best friend was so changed. He knew it wasn’t his job to forgive her for what she’d done, yet he still felt like he needed to. He had barely talked to her since she’d returned to school, and ignored her when she asked for notes for Geography, but he couldn’t help it.
Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of what she had done and the anger had risen up inside him. It made him furious that someone who meant as much to him as Belle did could just try and throw her life away. He remembered all the times she’d helped him, and constantly wondered why she wasn’t aware that he would do anything he could to help her. He had seen her change, little by little, but had believed that she would be okay no matter what.
She hadn’t been.
From the time they were first graders, he and Belle had been like brother and sister. She was the first person he met when his family moved. The first friend he made. She had always been sweet and confident - and, he knew deep down - she had always hurt.
Though he had never been brave enough to press for real answers the one time she’d come close to sharing with him after they had gone to see Alex in the hospital last year, he always wished he had. He knew there was more to her fear of being vulnerable than she admitted. But with time, the memory faded, and without even realizing it, he bought into the lie that she was fine.
Andrew couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Now that her ever-present smile was gone, and she dressed like she didn’t care. Because he knew this was the real Belle, and he wondered how long she’d been in hiding.
Despite everything, Andrew sensed God working in him. As much as he was sure his faith would shatter knowing that the Lord would allow this to happen - he only felt it growing. He knew it was going to take a long time before he could come to terms with what happened, but he was willing to wait.
What was important now was to somehow find it in himself to look outside himself, and give to Belle what she had given him countless times, when she put aside her own pain to help him deal with his own.
He prayed often and hard, knowing that by his own strength he had nothing to offer Belle but anger and blame. He wasn’t expecting a quick fix and didn’t want one. He wanted to do God’s will, even if it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Andrew knew he would go to the party. He would see his friends, and he would talk to Belle. He couldn’t even imagine how much courage it had taken her to come up and talk to him, knowing that he was upset with her. But Belle had.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but walking into God’s will and outside of your own was rarely easy.
Andrew smiled.
Rarely easy, but always worth it in the end.
- Barbara Hall, (Northern Exposure)
Sherry lay awake in bed, as she had almost every night since Belle came home. It had been almost three weeks since she‘d found Belle in her bathroom. Now, each night, Sherry stayed awake until she couldn’t anymore - just listening. They had lived in their current house long enough that Sherry knew every creak in the floor, and every other noise that her daughter made as she roamed the house at night.
It had been difficult, but Sherry had learned to stay put. Belle was predictable. Always either going into the kitchen to sit at the table or to the living room and watching TV marathons from the ‘70s and ‘80s.
Sherry suspected Belle had nightmares, though she never said as much. What Belle never knew is that Sherry had them, too. She had, since before Belle was born, when Sherry and her husband had begun having problems. It made Sherry sick to remember.
When she’d been pregnant the abuse had all but disappeared and he had gone soft, constantly talking to her stomach and treating her so tenderly. That all had stopped before Belle was a year old. Then, his temper started showing again. Belle was a toddler the first time Sherry saw him hit her. And though she knew she should have taken Belle and left then, Sherry had stayed, feeling strongly that Belle should have her father in her life - that she would do better if her parents were together.
Life continued much the same for the following couple years. Then there came the night he found Belle’s toys in a neat pile at the bottom of the stairs, hidden carefully behind a box. He had asked her to put them away in her room, and instead of obeying, she had been sneaky and hidden them.
For twenty minutes or more, Sherry had tried to keep him occupied, knowing how volatile he was when he felt disrespected. She had tried everything - antagonizing him about little things so he would come after her instead. That had worked, but only for so long. Eventually, he had enough. His daughter was going to learn her lesson this time. He was going to make sure she never forgot it. Unfortunately, all the time he had spent fighting with Sherry earlier, only seemed to be a warm-up compared to what he inflicted on their little girl.
For several minutes, Sherry couldn’t move. She had been stunned and wracked with guilt for not leaving when she saw the first bruise around Belle’s upper-arm two years before. Now,. Belle was bleeding from the mouth and her eye was bruising from a blow. He had her by the ear, as he used every foul name for a woman he could think of to berate their little girl. Then, she’d heard Belle scream through tears.
“Mama! I’m sorry! Make it stop!”
That night, she’d stepped up and did what she had always known was right. When Sherry couldn’t get a hold of Belle and leave immediately, she made a decision, and forced Belle onto the floor where she could easily take the blows, as he lashed out at them both. Sherry knew that Belle wouldn’t have survived this, had she not stepped in. When she had an opening, Sherry had picked Belle up and run. He had chased them for several blocks until they knocked on a door, and told the woman who answered that they had been robbed, and they couldn’t go home.
Getting out of bed, Sherry made her way to the kitchen to make some tea. She knew herself well enough to realize when she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. From the hallway, Sherry had a clear view of Belle sitting on the old couch in the living room, curled up with a blanket flipping idly between Italian cooking and the replay of the nightly news.
Belle heard her mother get up, and immediately moved to find the remote and adjust the volume on the TV. The last thing she wanted was another late-night confrontation. Belle watched, feeling tense, as Sherry continued into the kitchen and listened as she put water on the stove for tea.
Turning her attention back to the show about how Parmesan was made, Belle tried to ignore her own tiredness. Tonight, she hadn’t even bothered to try and sleep. She had done homework until she couldn’t focus anymore - doing all the reaction papers and composer bios that would help boost her grade. She had even tried to get a start on all her missed Geography, but she hadn’t gotten very far with that.
Belle had stayed off the phone, even going so far as to turn her cell off, and changing the message to inform Greta and whomever else called that she was catching up with school and promised that if anyone tried to bother her, it wouldn’t be pretty.
Though her mother hadn’t taken away privileges since she’d been home, Belle constantly felt guilty, like she should be punished. When she had the energy, which was rarely, she would try to clean house while her mom worked.
After hearing her mom in the kitchen after several minutes, curiosity got the better of Belle, and she went to investigate.
Sherry was puttering around the kitchen.
“Did I wake you?” Belle couldn’t help asking. She pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, comforted by its softness and familiarity.
“No. Why don’t you go back out and sit down? I’ll bring you some tea.”
Belle blinked. It looked like her mother, but she was rarely this quiet.
“Okay,” Belle agreed hesitantly, returning to the couch and waiting. She muted the television, and then thought better of it and turned it off completely.
Minutes later, Sherry came out carrying two flowered cups - the kind they used to have afternoon tea with when they still lived close to Belle’s grandparents. Sherry didn’t use the cups much anymore, preferring a large coffee thermos that she could take in the car to a little bitty tea cup. Sitting down next to Belle, she offered her one and put an arm around her.
“You’re not tired either, are you?” Sherry asked sympathetically.
Belle shook her head. “No. I’m very tired. Just can’t sleep. Caught up on some homework though,” she offered.
“That’s good. Look, honey. I need to talk to you about something.” Sherry said seriously, pulling her daughter closer. “I made a real big error in judgment when I blamed you for everything with your dad. That wasn’t true, and it wasn’t right of me to put the blame on your shoulders.”
Belle shrugged. “That’s where it belonged. You said so yourself,” she tried not to care. Saying those words was almost as painful as hearing her mother say them.
“I did say that, and I suppose I meant it when I said it. But that was because I didn’t want to see the honest truth - that it was my responsibility, and I didn’t handle things well. You were just a child, and you were doing what all kids do. The truth is, I was scared to leave your father. It was easier to put the blame on you than admit I was scared,” Sherry spoke quietly.
Belle looked down, staring into her cup of tea. “But I didn’t help things either. I made them worse for you and him both. If I’d behaved, you wouldn’t have been forced into having to leave.”
Sherry felt her heart squeeze painfully. “Look at me, honey.” When Belle did, Sherry continued. “For me to blame you, that would be like Mikhail and Maria blaming Aly for something going wrong between them. Aly isn’t responsible for her parents’ happiness, and you weren’t responsible for ours. You were four years old. I should have never said those things to you, and I’d take back every one if I could.”
Belle closed her eyes, feeling grateful, but pained at the same time. She wished that her mother had come to all these realizations sooner. “Why did you tell me he was the one that left?”
“Because,” Sherry sighed. “I always hoped you wouldn’t remember that night. Eventually it faded, and you believed the story. I didn’t ever want you to remember your dad hitting you or calling you names. As painful as it was, I thought you’d do better if you thought he just left us.”
Closing her eyes, Belle felt overwhelmed and relieved. “I remember. We ran from him, and it was late at night. He was chasing us. It was after y’all fought about me… I heard it from under the bed.” Belle pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
Sherry stoked Belle’s hair tenderly, ignoring the resentment that came when she flinched. “I was the adult. I should have been protecting you from the start, but I didn’t. We were having problems long before you were born. You didn’t have anything to do with why we fought, not really. I should have never said what I did to you. When I saw you still had the bandana, I remembered grabbing it off the counter that night. Whenever I see it, I remember your little face that night and how hurt you were. It reminded me of all the ways I failed you as a mother.”
Belle stared at her hands. “When it started coming back to me, it felt like I was going crazy. You never talked about us running or anything. Or times he hurt us. I only remembered once. When I found this, it was like proof that it was real. Then the nightmares got worse, and I knew it was real, and you still never talked about it.”
“I’m sorry,” Sherry apologized. “It’s not a conversation I ever wanted to have with you. It’s been years, and I still can’t get over the memories of that time. I thought if we never talked about it, you might be spared the pain.” Looking into Belle’s eyes, she answered the silent questions that were lurking there. “It really happened, honey. He had a bad temper, and he hurt us, and one night after a fight, he came after you. And I knew I had to do something, or you weren’t going to make it out of that room. So I covered you, and let him hurt me, and then I took you and we left.”
It was silent a long time, before Belle had the courage to speak again.
“I wish I could have done more to help you then,” Belle said regretfully, laying her head on her mom’s shoulder.
Sherry kissed Belle’s hair gently. “Every time you smiled, you helped me. Every time you woke me up in that shelter or showed me a new song you learned at school, you lifted my spirit. That helped me more than you can imagine, love. Do you know why I gave you the name I did?” she asked Belle softly.
Shaking her head, Belle stayed silent.
“Belle Christine,“ Sherry sighed tenderly, “It‘s because, before I ever saw you, I knew you were going to be beautiful. Those days before I found out I was carrying you - those months and years - had been so dark, but I knew in my heart that within me, there was this beautiful little life growing, and that whenever the light of my faith was growing dark, all I’d have to do is look at you, and I’d be reminded of the Lord.”
“Are you still?” Belle asked hesitantly.
Sherry took her daughter’s face and looked into her eyes calmly.
“Every day.”
--
Josh never did well alone. He spent a lot of time alone, but he wasn’t the kind of person who voluntarily did things by himself. He didn’t like to be solitary. Whenever he was left in the house while his mother did an errand, Josh played music to fill the silence.
Closing his eyes, Josh tried to be positive but it was getting hard. He’d done all the homework required over break already, and he was bored. If Katerina didn’t come home for Christmas it would definitely be a quiet holiday. His mom was the type to spend any free time she had reading a good book, or going for a walk. For a while, Josh thought he may have inherited his mother’s personality down to the last attribute. But over the last year, Josh found himself growing up to be more like Kat.
Katerina was always happy and full of energy. She was rarely introspective and solemn, as he tended to be when he was younger. She always had a fun idea for a present for their mom, or a new, clever way to decorate their Christmas cookies.
Now that he was a sophomore, Josh found himself relaxing a little bit more than he ever had. By now, he was resigned to the fact that he was always going to be smart. He was okay with that. And the more Josh began to be okay with himself, the more he found himself enjoying things like his big sister.
Ever since Kat had gone away to school the previous year, Josh had become accustomed to a quiet and serious house. There weren’t footsteps thundering up and down the stairs - and there wasn’t anyone to pull pranks on. Josh had tried on his mom. She wasn’t amused.
Staring gloomily out the window, Josh thought of calling some people, but didn’t know who to try. Belle was probably one of his closest friends, but she was going through a really hard time right now and needed to concentrate on healing. He and Andrew had never been that close, and Elise lived far away. Josh thought of Jared. They talked occasionally, but this wasn’t the kind of thing he felt comfortable going to Jared with. This was about his sister. She was the most important person in the world to him.
A car pulled up in front of the house, and someone got out. Josh squinted. It couldn’t be.
It didn’t look like Kat’s car, and it didn’t look like Kat for that matter. Her once long hair was cut short - similar to the style Julia wore hers in. Of course, on his sister, it looked better.
It took only a matter of seconds for the Josh to hear her thunder up the stairs, screaming his name.
“Joshy!” Katerina ran forward to embrace him. “Surprise!”
Blinking, Josh stared up. He hadn’t seen his sister in four months, and every time she came home, he felt like he had missed out by not seeing her as often as he wanted.
“What are you doing here?” he managed, reaching up to give her a hug.
She smiled. “I’m home for Christmas. What do you think?”
“I thought you couldn’t come home,” Josh said, incredulous.
Finally, Katerina moved to take off her coat and hang it in the closet. “I pulled some strings,” she told him. “So what do you say? Wanna bake some Christmas cookies with me?” she winked at Josh.
“Mom always says you can’t use the kitchen, ‘cause you never clean up after yourself.”
“So? Neither do you!” Already planning what kind of cookies she was going to make, Kat began taking various ingredients out of the cabinets. “When’s Mom coming home?”
“Not for hours. She’s out shopping,” Josh said, pulling up to the table and taking whatever Kat handed him.
“We’ll have plenty of time then,” she said happily.
Josh’s brow furrowed. “Does Mom know you’re home?”
“Nope,” Kat grinned, handing Josh red and green sprinkles from the collection of decorating stuff.
He shook his head. “You’re gonna give her a heart-attack… Hey, we should make a whole bunch of these and bring them to the party at Mikhail and Maria’s. You should come.”
“Sure, I’m always up for a party,” she agreed easily. “So, how have you been? How’s Belle doing?”
“Better, I think,” Josh ventured. “But it’s kind of hard to tell. I hope she’s at the party though. We don’t really talk at school anymore.”
“That’s too bad. She’s a sweet girl,” Kat commented, running a hand over her brother’s head absently.
“Yeah.” Josh measured out some flour and dumped it in the bowl.
Katerina stopped studying the mixer to see where the power switch was and looked at him. “You’re not blaming yourself, are you?” she asked seriously.
“No,” Josh admitted quietly. “I did at first, but not anymore.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed.
Shrugging, Josh elaborated. “I think we all blame ourselves for it a little bit. For not seeing she was in trouble. For not showing her we loved her enough. Obviously, I know it was her choice, but I still feel guilty knowing she was walking around with so much pain, and not even noticing. Every time I see her now, I just want to cry. She was really upset when we were gonna pray for her and just got up and left. It just let me know that she must still be really hurting.”
Kat nodded, sympathetically. She’d read every one of Josh’s letters, taken all of his phone calls. She knew how hard this had hit him. Belle had always been a good friend. Kat regretted nothing more than not being able to be there for her brother the night he found out.
“It’ll probably take a while. All you can do is be her friend.”
Josh nodded. “I know. I haven’t been doing the best job at that. I can barely talk to her. I have no idea what to say. We had fun together before. Now she’s so different, I don’t want to say something wrong and make her worse.”
“Just say hi. Tell her it’s nice to see her,” Kat encouraged. “Girls always love to hear that kind of stuff.”
Smiling, Josh agreed. He couldn’t wait to go to the party with his sister, so he could show Gabe that their prayers had been answered.
--
Andrew couldn’t remember wanting anything less than to go to Mikhail and Maria’s party this year. He knew it was tradition. He knew it was expected. But he didn’t want to go. If he did, he’d have to stare at Belle and pretend everything was fine between them, when he knew it wasn’t.
It had been weeks, and still there were times Andrew would wake up in the morning and forget that his best friend was so changed. He knew it wasn’t his job to forgive her for what she’d done, yet he still felt like he needed to. He had barely talked to her since she’d returned to school, and ignored her when she asked for notes for Geography, but he couldn’t help it.
Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of what she had done and the anger had risen up inside him. It made him furious that someone who meant as much to him as Belle did could just try and throw her life away. He remembered all the times she’d helped him, and constantly wondered why she wasn’t aware that he would do anything he could to help her. He had seen her change, little by little, but had believed that she would be okay no matter what.
She hadn’t been.
From the time they were first graders, he and Belle had been like brother and sister. She was the first person he met when his family moved. The first friend he made. She had always been sweet and confident - and, he knew deep down - she had always hurt.
Though he had never been brave enough to press for real answers the one time she’d come close to sharing with him after they had gone to see Alex in the hospital last year, he always wished he had. He knew there was more to her fear of being vulnerable than she admitted. But with time, the memory faded, and without even realizing it, he bought into the lie that she was fine.
Andrew couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Now that her ever-present smile was gone, and she dressed like she didn’t care. Because he knew this was the real Belle, and he wondered how long she’d been in hiding.
Despite everything, Andrew sensed God working in him. As much as he was sure his faith would shatter knowing that the Lord would allow this to happen - he only felt it growing. He knew it was going to take a long time before he could come to terms with what happened, but he was willing to wait.
What was important now was to somehow find it in himself to look outside himself, and give to Belle what she had given him countless times, when she put aside her own pain to help him deal with his own.
He prayed often and hard, knowing that by his own strength he had nothing to offer Belle but anger and blame. He wasn’t expecting a quick fix and didn’t want one. He wanted to do God’s will, even if it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Andrew knew he would go to the party. He would see his friends, and he would talk to Belle. He couldn’t even imagine how much courage it had taken her to come up and talk to him, knowing that he was upset with her. But Belle had.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but walking into God’s will and outside of your own was rarely easy.
Andrew smiled.
Rarely easy, but always worth it in the end.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Faith: Chapter 10
Blessed are those who can give without remembering, and take without forgetting.
- Princess Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco
Belle never meant to fall asleep. It just happened. The last time she remembered looking at the clock, it was just past 9 PM. She had been in the middle of catching up on homework. She had missed seven days of school, which was the maximum a student could miss each quarter without failing all their classes automatically.
Homework hadn’t been going well. She had a week’s worth to catch up on, and though two of her classes weren’t difficult - she could do choir and keyboarding in her sleep - the other two were. Belle found herself overwhelmed by her geography text and the prospect of researching some random historical figure for her humanities class.
Somewhere in the midst of the homework, Belle had fallen asleep. With sleep came the nightmare she’d had almost every night since she’d overdosed.
It started in the kitchen with she and her mom fighting. Sherry looked tired and angry, and Belle had seen the disappointment in her eyes countless times before - she just never knew what it meant until now. Belle heard the horrible things her mom said to her, as she had every night.
She relived going into the bathroom and sitting by herself a long time, before finally facing her own reflection in the mirror. Her face was battered. She had a black eye, and her bottom lip was split. Terrified eyes stared back at her. In that moment, Belle knew what she had to do. She felt a heaviness so real it left her breathless, and Belle knew she had never felt pain like it. It was so poignant, Belle was sure it would overcome her completely. She always wept, desperate for comfort or reassurance that she knew would never be there.
In her nightmare, Belle took the sinus medicine, and she felt the effects. Her heart raced, and her face felt hot. Belle felt nausea wash over her and looked around in confusion, momentarily unsure of what was going on. Her stomach clenched painfully, and by the time her vision started dimming at the edges, and she remembered what she’d done - Belle found herself unable to call for help.
She blacked out, feeling petrified as the world moved from a swirl of colors to darkness. Belle could feel herself fall backward, as she struggled to keep hold of the sink, and could do nothing to stop herself. She was out before she hit the ground.
Only this time, her mom didn’t find her. It happened like she had thought it would. Her mom hadn’t discovered her there until the next evening. Her mom was in work clothes, and had walked through Belle’s bedroom before knocking on the bathroom door. Belle observed herself and her mother in third-person. She heard the water running and the fan - that had been a half-hearted attempt to block out sound, in case she’d started crying. The lights were garish as they’d been in the ER, getting her stomach pumped. She saw her own body unmoving on the floor - her skin ashy by this time and her body twisted in an unnatural way from the fall. Her mom’s voice cut through her senses like a knife every time. Each night she’d dreamed this, her mother’s voice sounded the same, demanding to know what she was thinking, and then turning and walking out of the room - disgust showing clearly on her face.
Belle woke up gasping for breath. It was a raspy, horrible sound, and Belle was terrified she wouldn’t be able to get enough air. The nightmare was so real. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t remember when they started. They burned her eyes and ran down her face and neck - a warm salt-water trickle. Her nose ran constantly, and she was already developing a headache from crying so hard.
Shaking, she knocked a notebook to the floor, and wrapped her arms around herself. She sobbed, trying to pick the notebook up, but she couldn’t even bend over. If she had, Belle was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand again.
Fumbling, Belle stepped into her shoes, and grabbed her jacket off the bed. Her pajamas were short-sleeved, and Belle already felt cold, but she knew she couldn’t stay where she was. As quietly as she could, she let herself out of the house and closed the door, feeling her stomach drop even further.
Her mother never even stirred.
Once in the driveway, Belle’s hand shook as she tried to put the key in the ignition. Once on the road, she cried all the way to church, feeling an overwhelming need to be comforted by God, and to repent again for very nearly taking her own life.
Belle barely remembered the drive itself, knowing she must have relied solely on muscle memory and God’s protection in order to arrive in one piece, barely remembering how she got there.
Through tears, Belle looked toward church. The big, white building was dark, with no cars in the lot. Belle didn’t have to get out to know that the door was locked. The clock in the car read 10:30. Knowing that the drive itself took nearly a half-hour, Belle couldn’t imagine that she’d been asleep less than an hour and managed to have such a horrific nightmare.
She clutched the steering wheel and prayed desperately that God would forgive her. Somewhere, Belle knew she was. She’d been praying the same prayer, almost from the moment she regained consciousness and realized she was alive.
Belle couldn’t remember exactly when things had started unraveling for her. It had been years. She didn’t know why, suddenly, memories were so vivid for her. Before, there had been nothing but an ache in her heart. Maybe it was knowing Elise. Maybe it was confiding in her. Maybe it was meeting Greta - and seeing that it was possible to be unflinchingly honest in your appraisal of the world and yourself. Whatever it was, Belle couldn’t help but wish she could go back in time and somehow unlearn the truth.
“God, why?” she choked, as an image of her father‘s enraged face filled her mind. “Why was I like that? Why didn’t You make me good, so he didn’t be like that to me? Why didn’t You just let him take my life then? I can’t do this anymore! I can’t live guilty…” Helplessly, she pounded the steering wheel, feeling unsatisfied still, and wept.
She could hear the still, small voice inside her, but couldn’t bring herself to listen. It hurt too much to hear she was loved right now. When she knew she’d brought so much pain and heartache to her mother and so much disappointment to her father.
After fifteen minutes, Belle couldn’t stand it anymore, and got out of the car. The combination of the heat and the pine-tree scented air-freshener was enough to cause her to feel suffocated and overwhelmed. There was snow and ice in the lot, and immediately her shoes were wet. It wasn’t windy, but the air was cold enough that it took her breath.
She shook helplessly and found it difficult to walk. Belle lost her footing several times in the short walk from her car to the door.
Not knowing what else to do, Belle tried the door and found it locked, as she suspected. She leaned against it and sank down, until she was sitting against the glass. Though she was freezing, Belle knew she would rather be closer to sanctuary and be cold, than stay in her warm car and feel forsaken.
Helplessly, Belle buried her head in her knees, as sobs shook her. She didn’t want to imagine what it might have been like had her mother not found her soon enough, but that was all her mind could picture. That, and the countless times she had disobeyed as a little girl. She remembered her mother’s words and felt her heart squeeze painfully, knowing she wouldn’t have said them if they hadn’t been true. Though it had been close to two weeks since their fight, Belle could still remember every word. They haunted her at night, when she was alone, and anytime she looked into her mother’s eyes.
Belle kept her head down to ward off the chill. Her ears had lost feeling, her feet and hands were freezing. She regretted coming in her pajamas; she may as well have worn nothing at all beneath her coat - the cold bit right through the thin fabric. Still, Belle stayed and sought comfort in the only place she had always felt accepted.
--
Gabe had a lot on his mind. Since arriving home earlier that day he had been jet-lagged but hadn’t been able to sleep. He was torn, not knowing whether he’d done the right thing in leaving early or not.
No one had met him at the airport. No one had known he was coming home. But that hadn’t bothered him. Though he’d been exhausted, he’d called Belle first thing, and gotten her voice mail. Momentarily, he had panicked, and then remembered her saying in an email recently that she planned to return to school today.
So he had left a message, telling her he was here, and he would see her soon. He hoped her day was going well.
Having been home for only hours, culture shock had started to set in big time. Actually, it had started the minute he’d gotten off the plane for a layover in the South before making the last leg of his journey home and seeing an airport gift shop. Living among people with so little, and almost never making the trip into town himself, Gabe had seen little more than dirt roads, mango trees, little kids and Jorge for several weeks. Magazine covers seemed foreign and pointless. Everything he saw seemed like excess. Even his own apartment and his parents’ house seemed huge and unfamiliar. Gabe felt like a stranger here.
He knew God was hard at work in him, though. He felt completely different than he had leaving the country. Gabe felt like he had grown, not only in strength of character, but also in faith. He had relied on God, rather than taking matters into his own hands, and that made him smile.
Pulling into the parking lot of the church, Gabe immediately noticed a small dark-colored car. Not able to place it, Gabe didn’t give it a second glance. He had some talking to do with God, and he knew that despite feeling like a stranger at home, he had never felt a foreigner in church.
He was at the door when Gabe realized suddenly that he wasn’t alone. Something was against the door. A dark, ominous shape. Without analyzing, Gabe knew it had to be a person. His heart leapt to his throat, and he nearly dropped the key.
“Are you okay?” he asked uncertainly.
Belle lifted her head, jerking back, as she realized she was no longer alone.
Gabe was standing out in the cold, dressed warmly in a jacket, hat, gloves and boots. Had she not recognized his eyes - which were a warm, shining amber color - Belle would have tried to run. She was hunched almost double against the cold as he investigated her. Belle glanced at him though her tears. She could see dress pants, and she suspected an equally nice top was hiding beneath all his extra layers.
Startled, Gabe squinted in the moonlight. “Belle?” The dark-haired stranger didn’t look like Belle, but it was all he could think of, especially after realizing that the car in the lot looked a lot like hers, and that the person in front of the doors, was, in fact, a girl.
She nodded, still not able to compose herself.
For a moment, Gabe stood, stunned. He could barely make out her features due to the dark, and his shock, but her eyes were unmistakable. When he touched her, he felt the leather jacket she always wore and realized how little she was wearing.
Gabe could tell that she must have left in a hurry. Snowflakes stood out like diamonds against the tangled darkness of her hair. She had come in fancy pajamas that looked more suited for a summer night, and an old pair of tennis shoes with no socks. Belle’s eyes were so dark, Gabe suspected they were almost the same color as her new hair. Her skin looked pale in the moonlight, and her breathing was shallow and sounded raspy.
Hurriedly, he unlocked the door, and rushed to put the code in the church’s security system.
In minutes he was back outside the door. “Come on, sweetie,” he said gently, helping her to her feet. She could barely stand, though from cold or upset, he couldn’t tell.
Supporting her until she reached the couch across from the coffee bar, he moved quickly to take off his coat and cover her with it. Then, he went to other rooms, praying there would be a blanket somewhere - maybe in one of the preschool rooms downstairs.
Belle remained on the couch, still crying, and still unable to control her shaking. Her stomach and throat were sore - all-too-frequent reminders of the nightmare she had come out of, both the dream and reality. The dark was the only thing that gave her comfort.
Though Gabe had begun turning lights on downstairs, upstairs where she remained was cloaked in darkness, aside from the lit sign above the coffee bar. She didn’t want Gabe seeing her like this, but didn’t mind him being there if he couldn’t see her
In seconds, he returned, and darted out to his car, where he remembered keeping an extra blanket in the winter months.
Back inside again, Gabe spread a thick blanket over her and sat beside her on the couch, fishing out her ice-cold hand and holding it. “Hey,” he said gently. “I missed you.”
Though it had been nearly an hour since she awoke from her nightmare, Belle still was nowhere near okay. She had felt close to hyperventilating since she woke up and couldn’t stop shaking no matter what she did. Against her will, the tears still fell.
“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing a tissue from a box on a nearby table and handing it to her.
“No,” Belle admitted brokenly. Her voice was strained, tinged with panic, and much lower than Gabe remembered. She made no move to take the tissue.
Gabe looked into her eyes, and could see the pain in them, despite the darkness around them. The headlights on his car lit up the night outside, and the moon shown brightly. “What happened?” he asked quietly, feeling, for the first time, like he could handle hearing her answer. Whether he would have been able to say the same before the trip, Gabe didn’t know. But he doubted it. He remembered leaving Alex alone the year before after he’d promised to be there. And with confidence, Gabe knew this time would be different. He’d grown since then.
“I dreamed that my mom didn’t find me,” Belle said, sniffing. “Not until the next night.”
Though Gabe was shocked, he simply nodded and listened. She didn’t need to give him more details. He knew the nature of her nightmares. She’d told him she had them in emails recently. He had a feeling it was because she didn’t feel like anyone else would care to hear about them.
“She blames me for everything…” she wept, folding her arms across her stomach, as if to literally hold herself together.
But Gabe reached out again and took her hand back. “Mmm…” he said sympathetically. “Your mom?”
Belle nodded. “She says it’s all my fault! Why we left my dad…”
“He didn’t leave you?” Gabe asked suddenly, dread filling his insides.
She shook her head. “We left after he went off on me and beat me up. I thought he’d kill me before then, but Mom took me and we left. When I confronted her, ‘cause I was remembering, she said the reason he did that was because of me. That I drove him to it.”
“You know that isn’t true. Look at me,” Gabe said seriously. “That’s not true,” he squeezed her hand.
Helplessly, she wept, trying to take her hand away and cross her arms. But Gabe held on.
“But it feels true,” he said knowingly. “Doesn’t it?”
Nodding, she finally gave up, and gripped his hand until it hurt.
“You’ve had a hard couple months, huh?” he soothed. “What else do you remember?”
“He…hurt us a lot…” she managed, gasping.
“You and your mom both?” Gabe questioned calmly.
Nodding again, Belle let out a shaky breath. “She grabbed this bandana off the counter when we ran. It was black, and she gave it to me to put on when we were far enough away. I saw Alex wear one earlier this summer, and I guess it triggered something in me,” Belle admitted, beginning to calm.
When Gabe didn’t say anything, Belle went on. “She acts like nothing ever happened. Like we never left him. Like I never took those pills. She said I can’t keep trying to take myself out of the game whenever I hear something I don’t like, and that everybody says things they don’t mean when they’re angry. But I know she did mean it.”
“Can you talk to her?” Gabe asked.
Belle shook her head. “She’s too busy for me. The only time we talk is when she wants to. To get after me about something, or if she’s stressed about work. It’s the same as it always was. Nothing’s different. She still doesn’t care. She was at home sleeping when I woke up after that nightmare and she never even checked to see what was wrong. I got out of the house to come here, and she never noticed.”
“That probably doesn’t do a lot for your sense of safety, does it?”
“No. I mean, if I’d wanted to, I could’ve just gone to the corner store and gotten something and taken it,” Belle said bitterly.
Gabe’s eyes warmed with a smile. “But you didn’t. You came here instead,” he told her confidently.
“I just wanted to be where I know I’d always be accepted,” she said softly. “And ask for forgiveness.”
“Honey, you are,” Gabe insisted. “I know you, and I know you’ve asked God’s forgiveness already. All you’ve got to do is ask once, and He’ll take care of it.”
“I know…but I can’t forgive myself…” she admitted quietly.
“Do you want to?” Gabe asked, squeezing her hand.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking.
Reaching over, Gabe pulled the blanket around her more securely. “Then we’ll pray that God does it.”
“You sound like Mikhail,” Belle said, laughing in spite of herself. “’We make it true.’ That’s what he said when I told him I didn’t know if I could believe it was true I was forgiven.”
“Sounds like something he would say,” Gabe said smiling. He waited, wanting her not to feel pressured one way or another, knowing she had been through enough for several lifetimes.
Finally Belle nodded, looking into Gabe’s eyes certainly. “I want you to pray for me,” she said softly, but with all the confidence that had been lost just moments before.
Gabe closed his eyes, hearing her speak those same words twelve years prior.
Finding her other hand, he held them both, bowed his head and prayed fervently. He let his love his friend become evident, knowing that faith worked through love.
“Dear Lord, I thank You so much for Belle. I thank You that she is not her own. That she’s not her father’s daughter or even her mother’s daughter before she’s Your daughter. I thank You for all the ways You have been working in Belle’s heart. And right now, God, we just pray that You’d cause Belle to forgive herself in the same way You have already forgiven her. Because if You don’t condemn her, what right has she to condemn herself?
“I thank You that You caused Belle to come here tonight, and let us find each other. I thank You for reminding both of us that we aren’t alone. God, I pray that You would continue to work in Belle and lift her depression, and remind her that You are her creator and that she is fearfully and wonderfully made - that it was You who created her inmost being. And just like Alex reminded them when they brought spoons, though she’s not exactly like any of the rest of us, God, You still created her, and You’re still going to use her for Your glory. And You have already, in so many ways.
“God I pray that You would cause Belle to understand that she’s not at fault for things that happened when she was a little girl. I pray that You would heal all those old hurts, and take away the pain of her mother’s words, and realize that what she said wasn’t true at all…”
Gabe trailed off, unable to say “Amen,” or end the prayer, until he was sure he had covered everything, and that Belle didn’t have anything to add. When she didn’t say anything, and when nothing more came to his mind, Gabe finished. “Lord, we ask all this in Your name. Amen.”
Belle reached out, before Gabe spoke the last word, and embraced him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s no problem,” he told her confidently. “And if you need anything, I want you to call somebody,” he said, taking her at arm’s length and looking her in the eyes.
Belle nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m serious. I’m gonna be calling you, but if something comes up, and we’re not talking, I want you to call somebody. If you’re in school, excuse yourself, and go to the restroom and make a call.”
She smiled slightly, entertained a little at the fact that Gabe was giving her advice to make covert calls from the ladies’ room in school.
“Okay,” she managed, though it was difficult to say. Belle knew that these kind of conversations were the real thing, like binding promises that couldn’t be broken.
“Okay?” he asked, taking her hand again. “You need to practice reaching out. We’re here for you, if you’ll give us the chance to be. And you are so loved…” he told her genuinely. “I hope you know that.”
“I’m starting to see it,” she admitted. And with the admission, Belle felt a little of her heaviness lift.
--
Gabe got up early the next morning. There was something about getting up at 6 AM that was appealing, despite the fact that he knew he could legitimately sleep for several more hours. After spending time with God and praying, he got on the phone and called Alex, prepared to do so over and over until she answered.
“Hello?” Alex asked, feeling almost drunk with tiredness. Whoever was calling didn’t realize that her Wednesday wake-up time was never before 7 AM.
“Guess who?” a familiar voice on the other end urged.
Alex sat straight up in bed, ripping the phone away from her ear. “Gabe?!” She very nearly screamed it, and only held back because her parents were asleep.
“Hey…” he greeted. “How are you?”
“When did you get back?” she asked, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed and getting up to pace with excitement.
“Yesterday. I hung out with my parents for a while, and went to church last night. Sorry I haven’t called until now.”
“No, that’s cool. It’s cool that you’re back!” she exclaimed.
“So, I was wondering if you wanted to do coffee with me?” he asked slyly.
Alex stopped pacing. “Right now? The sun’s not even up. And what about your Costa Rican coffee.”
“Actually, I brought that back for my parents. Though I can probably get a hold of some for you to have, if you want to try it. And yes, right now! It’s a beautiful day…”
“How do you even know that? I thought you’d be frozen after twenty-four hours in snow-country…” Alex commented, fishing through her clothes for the perfect shirt to wear. She finally found it, and smiled. “I’m wearing a special shirt today, just for you,” she told him happily. “Just in case you forgot how I am.” Alex smiled. This one said, WHAT? I’M NOT LISTENING.
“You don’t have to wear a shirt for me to remember that,” Gabe told her easily. “So meet me at the usual one in a few minutes?” he asked.
“Yeah. You’re not sitting there now, are you?” she said suspiciously.
“No, I figured I’d give you a few minutes to get ready.”
They hung up, and Alex raced around, finding her boots, coat, hat and gloves in record time. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her pajama pants, so the stars and moons would compliment the dark blue in her shirt quite well. And Gabe would just have to forgive her for the fact that she had done little else before coming. She was excited. What could she say?
By the time she arrived, he was already seated at one of their two favorite chairs - the ones that squished when you sat in them - right by the fireplace. He already had a beverage, and she noticed a second one right away.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, sitting down, and immediately taking a sip, and grinning broadly when she tasted espresso.
Gabe smiled back. “Figured you might need a pick me up this morning,” he shrugged.
“You figured right,” she told him smiling. “So how was your trip back?” she wondered, crossing her legs in the enormous chair.
“I don’t remember,” he admitted. “I slept most of the way back.”
“Did Brent have a total moment when you told him you were going?” Alex asked, feeling intrigued.
“No. He was pretty resigned to it by the time I actually did it. Besides, these last few days are just the beach and debriefing. Tom and Lydia didn’t mind at all. I think they were surprised I stayed as long as I did afterward. I just feel bad leaving Christian and the rest.” Gabe paused, thinking. “Oh shoot!”
“What?” Alex asked, confused.
“I forgot to give Belle that thing Christian said to give to her…” he said regretfully.
Alex tilted her head. “When did you see Belle?”
“Last night. We both ended up at the church around the same time. I had it with me then, too, and I didn’t give it to her.”
“How was she?” Alex asked, growing serious.
Gabe shook his head. “Dealing with some heavy stuff. But she promised to call somebody if stuff comes up for her.”
“Do you think she will?” Alex asked, ashamed at being skeptical, but not able to hold back.
Gabe nodded. “She will.” He took a sip of his drink before he spoke again. “How long did your depression last?” he wondered, hoping it didn’t seem like an insensitive question.
“Nine months,” she said easily. “I didn’t take anything for it, so it was really hard. But God finally lifted it. I call Belle every day before she leaves for school, to make sure she’s up and okay,” Alex confided. “I’ve been over quite a bit, so hopefully if something comes up she’ll feel safe calling me or somebody with it.”
“I think she will. Do you talk about your depression with her?”
“Mostly, I just tell her that God lifted it. She seems really stuck on the fact that she might feel this way forever. So I just remind her that she won’t. I think it helps her to know there’s an end in sight, even if she might not know when it’ll come.”
“I’m glad she has you,” Gabe said, squeezing Alex’s hand.
--
Belle went to school the following morning with her outlook a little brighter. At least she knew someone cared. Not that God didn’t, but sometimes it was nice to know that a person did.
Choir was a little rocky. Her teacher pulled her out, and let her listen again during class, even though she was already pretty far behind, missing two concerts and a day of rehearsal. She was grateful that he was going easy on her so far. When she came to him and asked what her grade was, she was shocked. She had never received a C in choir. When she begged for ways to improve it, he told her she could write a paper on a composer of a certain piece of music they were learning, and if she wanted, another on her experience learning the previous music for the holiday concert. That made her feel slightly better, but she still had to deal with Andrew’s icy stares, and the way he ignored her in the halls when she asked him for the notes in another class.
Kids didn’t treat her differently, but that was because they didn’t know. The few times she had seen Josh, Belle felt horrible. He didn’t seem able to look at her without his eyes filling with tears, much less speak to her.
Belle was on her way to Humanities and couldn’t deny the nervousness she felt. She knew that this particular teacher seemed to want to know every detail of her absence, even though it was excused. Belle knew the class was far into research for presentations. She would have to work doubly hard to keep up.
Her third hour class didn’t worry her. Belle could do Keyboarding make up work in her sleep. In fact, she already had made up most of the work for that class, once she got home from school the previous day. The two choir papers weren’t going to be difficult, but Geography was. Even on her best day, that one required extra studying on her part, in order to pass the map tests of the different countries in each continent.
Taking a deep breath, Belle made her way into Humanities and found her seat. She ducked her head low, but it didn’t matter. The teacher still noticed her and came over.
“How are you doing?” she asked in a tone that made Belle angry. She had never felt condescended to before.
“I’m fine,” she answered shortly.
“Are you really? You were gone a long time. My excused absence list said yours was due to hospitalization.”
Belle tried to ignore her. Luckily the bell rang soon after, and the teacher returned to the front of the room to talk about their presentations and quiz them on the previous day’s notes.
Without being told, Belle knew she would be taking this quiz. She’d been there for the material, so she had no excuse not to take it.
She struggled to write legibly but even her best attempts looked horrible. Belle was ashamed that she couldn’t even do this right, and handed hers in facedown.
“Whose is this?” the teacher asked, minutes later, as she was grading. The paper was displayed to the room from her desk.
“It’s mine,” Belle said, raising her hand.
“Belle Sutton. I can’t even read your name! Now, you’ve had enough absences that you can’t afford to turn in work like this,” she scolded.
Closing her eyes, Belle knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. She’d been praying that the shaking in her hands would go away fast, but so far, no luck. Writing was difficult. Belle felt her eyes fill. She already had a headache and was nauseous, the last thing she needed was public humiliation.
Belle forced herself to wait until most of the class was focused on their work before she stood up and approached the desk. “Can I get a bathroom pass?” she asked. “I don’t feel very well.”
“I understand that you’ve been hospitalized,” Belle was told in that maddening tone. “But you are really going to have to work on your stamina…and honestly, Belle, even though I can read these answers? It’s far from A work.” the teacher told her, sounding disappointed. Finally, she wrote out the pass, and Belle took it gratefully, making sure her cell phone was in her pocket.
Once Belle was alone in a stall, and fairly certain that she wasn’t going to throw up, she called Alex.
“Hey Bella,” Alex greeted happily. “What’s up?”
Tears were falling already, and Belle knew better than to try and keep them in. “I don’t know,” she managed sadly.
“Aw… What’s up?” Alex asked again, moving outside a building on campus, where it was quieter.
“I just feel like crap, and my teacher’s bein’ a jerk to me…”
“Why?”
“’Cause she couldn’t read my quiz, and I felt sick and had to get a pass,” Belle said, sounding defeated.
“That shaking and your feeling sick? There’s nothing you can do about that. Those are side-effects you can’t control. Can you talk to her about that?” Alex asked moderately.
“And tell her what? That I’m a head case? She’s already after me for every detail about my absence!” Belle exclaimed.
“You need to explain to her you’re going to need extra consideration for the next little while,” Alex said firmly. “Not across the board, just in a couple places, and if she doesn’t get that, then I’ll come in and talk to her,” she kidded. “You’ll get through this, kiddo. It’s gonna be okay.”
Belle sighed, not able to keep a smile off her face at the thought of Alex coming to school and talking some sense into her annoying teacher. “Okay,” Belle said finally. “Thank you.”
“Keep your chin up,” Alex encouraged. “You’ll make it.”
- Princess Elizabeth Asquith Bibesco
Belle never meant to fall asleep. It just happened. The last time she remembered looking at the clock, it was just past 9 PM. She had been in the middle of catching up on homework. She had missed seven days of school, which was the maximum a student could miss each quarter without failing all their classes automatically.
Homework hadn’t been going well. She had a week’s worth to catch up on, and though two of her classes weren’t difficult - she could do choir and keyboarding in her sleep - the other two were. Belle found herself overwhelmed by her geography text and the prospect of researching some random historical figure for her humanities class.
Somewhere in the midst of the homework, Belle had fallen asleep. With sleep came the nightmare she’d had almost every night since she’d overdosed.
It started in the kitchen with she and her mom fighting. Sherry looked tired and angry, and Belle had seen the disappointment in her eyes countless times before - she just never knew what it meant until now. Belle heard the horrible things her mom said to her, as she had every night.
She relived going into the bathroom and sitting by herself a long time, before finally facing her own reflection in the mirror. Her face was battered. She had a black eye, and her bottom lip was split. Terrified eyes stared back at her. In that moment, Belle knew what she had to do. She felt a heaviness so real it left her breathless, and Belle knew she had never felt pain like it. It was so poignant, Belle was sure it would overcome her completely. She always wept, desperate for comfort or reassurance that she knew would never be there.
In her nightmare, Belle took the sinus medicine, and she felt the effects. Her heart raced, and her face felt hot. Belle felt nausea wash over her and looked around in confusion, momentarily unsure of what was going on. Her stomach clenched painfully, and by the time her vision started dimming at the edges, and she remembered what she’d done - Belle found herself unable to call for help.
She blacked out, feeling petrified as the world moved from a swirl of colors to darkness. Belle could feel herself fall backward, as she struggled to keep hold of the sink, and could do nothing to stop herself. She was out before she hit the ground.
Only this time, her mom didn’t find her. It happened like she had thought it would. Her mom hadn’t discovered her there until the next evening. Her mom was in work clothes, and had walked through Belle’s bedroom before knocking on the bathroom door. Belle observed herself and her mother in third-person. She heard the water running and the fan - that had been a half-hearted attempt to block out sound, in case she’d started crying. The lights were garish as they’d been in the ER, getting her stomach pumped. She saw her own body unmoving on the floor - her skin ashy by this time and her body twisted in an unnatural way from the fall. Her mom’s voice cut through her senses like a knife every time. Each night she’d dreamed this, her mother’s voice sounded the same, demanding to know what she was thinking, and then turning and walking out of the room - disgust showing clearly on her face.
Belle woke up gasping for breath. It was a raspy, horrible sound, and Belle was terrified she wouldn’t be able to get enough air. The nightmare was so real. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t remember when they started. They burned her eyes and ran down her face and neck - a warm salt-water trickle. Her nose ran constantly, and she was already developing a headache from crying so hard.
Shaking, she knocked a notebook to the floor, and wrapped her arms around herself. She sobbed, trying to pick the notebook up, but she couldn’t even bend over. If she had, Belle was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand again.
Fumbling, Belle stepped into her shoes, and grabbed her jacket off the bed. Her pajamas were short-sleeved, and Belle already felt cold, but she knew she couldn’t stay where she was. As quietly as she could, she let herself out of the house and closed the door, feeling her stomach drop even further.
Her mother never even stirred.
Once in the driveway, Belle’s hand shook as she tried to put the key in the ignition. Once on the road, she cried all the way to church, feeling an overwhelming need to be comforted by God, and to repent again for very nearly taking her own life.
Belle barely remembered the drive itself, knowing she must have relied solely on muscle memory and God’s protection in order to arrive in one piece, barely remembering how she got there.
Through tears, Belle looked toward church. The big, white building was dark, with no cars in the lot. Belle didn’t have to get out to know that the door was locked. The clock in the car read 10:30. Knowing that the drive itself took nearly a half-hour, Belle couldn’t imagine that she’d been asleep less than an hour and managed to have such a horrific nightmare.
She clutched the steering wheel and prayed desperately that God would forgive her. Somewhere, Belle knew she was. She’d been praying the same prayer, almost from the moment she regained consciousness and realized she was alive.
Belle couldn’t remember exactly when things had started unraveling for her. It had been years. She didn’t know why, suddenly, memories were so vivid for her. Before, there had been nothing but an ache in her heart. Maybe it was knowing Elise. Maybe it was confiding in her. Maybe it was meeting Greta - and seeing that it was possible to be unflinchingly honest in your appraisal of the world and yourself. Whatever it was, Belle couldn’t help but wish she could go back in time and somehow unlearn the truth.
“God, why?” she choked, as an image of her father‘s enraged face filled her mind. “Why was I like that? Why didn’t You make me good, so he didn’t be like that to me? Why didn’t You just let him take my life then? I can’t do this anymore! I can’t live guilty…” Helplessly, she pounded the steering wheel, feeling unsatisfied still, and wept.
She could hear the still, small voice inside her, but couldn’t bring herself to listen. It hurt too much to hear she was loved right now. When she knew she’d brought so much pain and heartache to her mother and so much disappointment to her father.
After fifteen minutes, Belle couldn’t stand it anymore, and got out of the car. The combination of the heat and the pine-tree scented air-freshener was enough to cause her to feel suffocated and overwhelmed. There was snow and ice in the lot, and immediately her shoes were wet. It wasn’t windy, but the air was cold enough that it took her breath.
She shook helplessly and found it difficult to walk. Belle lost her footing several times in the short walk from her car to the door.
Not knowing what else to do, Belle tried the door and found it locked, as she suspected. She leaned against it and sank down, until she was sitting against the glass. Though she was freezing, Belle knew she would rather be closer to sanctuary and be cold, than stay in her warm car and feel forsaken.
Helplessly, Belle buried her head in her knees, as sobs shook her. She didn’t want to imagine what it might have been like had her mother not found her soon enough, but that was all her mind could picture. That, and the countless times she had disobeyed as a little girl. She remembered her mother’s words and felt her heart squeeze painfully, knowing she wouldn’t have said them if they hadn’t been true. Though it had been close to two weeks since their fight, Belle could still remember every word. They haunted her at night, when she was alone, and anytime she looked into her mother’s eyes.
Belle kept her head down to ward off the chill. Her ears had lost feeling, her feet and hands were freezing. She regretted coming in her pajamas; she may as well have worn nothing at all beneath her coat - the cold bit right through the thin fabric. Still, Belle stayed and sought comfort in the only place she had always felt accepted.
--
Gabe had a lot on his mind. Since arriving home earlier that day he had been jet-lagged but hadn’t been able to sleep. He was torn, not knowing whether he’d done the right thing in leaving early or not.
No one had met him at the airport. No one had known he was coming home. But that hadn’t bothered him. Though he’d been exhausted, he’d called Belle first thing, and gotten her voice mail. Momentarily, he had panicked, and then remembered her saying in an email recently that she planned to return to school today.
So he had left a message, telling her he was here, and he would see her soon. He hoped her day was going well.
Having been home for only hours, culture shock had started to set in big time. Actually, it had started the minute he’d gotten off the plane for a layover in the South before making the last leg of his journey home and seeing an airport gift shop. Living among people with so little, and almost never making the trip into town himself, Gabe had seen little more than dirt roads, mango trees, little kids and Jorge for several weeks. Magazine covers seemed foreign and pointless. Everything he saw seemed like excess. Even his own apartment and his parents’ house seemed huge and unfamiliar. Gabe felt like a stranger here.
He knew God was hard at work in him, though. He felt completely different than he had leaving the country. Gabe felt like he had grown, not only in strength of character, but also in faith. He had relied on God, rather than taking matters into his own hands, and that made him smile.
Pulling into the parking lot of the church, Gabe immediately noticed a small dark-colored car. Not able to place it, Gabe didn’t give it a second glance. He had some talking to do with God, and he knew that despite feeling like a stranger at home, he had never felt a foreigner in church.
He was at the door when Gabe realized suddenly that he wasn’t alone. Something was against the door. A dark, ominous shape. Without analyzing, Gabe knew it had to be a person. His heart leapt to his throat, and he nearly dropped the key.
“Are you okay?” he asked uncertainly.
Belle lifted her head, jerking back, as she realized she was no longer alone.
Gabe was standing out in the cold, dressed warmly in a jacket, hat, gloves and boots. Had she not recognized his eyes - which were a warm, shining amber color - Belle would have tried to run. She was hunched almost double against the cold as he investigated her. Belle glanced at him though her tears. She could see dress pants, and she suspected an equally nice top was hiding beneath all his extra layers.
Startled, Gabe squinted in the moonlight. “Belle?” The dark-haired stranger didn’t look like Belle, but it was all he could think of, especially after realizing that the car in the lot looked a lot like hers, and that the person in front of the doors, was, in fact, a girl.
She nodded, still not able to compose herself.
For a moment, Gabe stood, stunned. He could barely make out her features due to the dark, and his shock, but her eyes were unmistakable. When he touched her, he felt the leather jacket she always wore and realized how little she was wearing.
Gabe could tell that she must have left in a hurry. Snowflakes stood out like diamonds against the tangled darkness of her hair. She had come in fancy pajamas that looked more suited for a summer night, and an old pair of tennis shoes with no socks. Belle’s eyes were so dark, Gabe suspected they were almost the same color as her new hair. Her skin looked pale in the moonlight, and her breathing was shallow and sounded raspy.
Hurriedly, he unlocked the door, and rushed to put the code in the church’s security system.
In minutes he was back outside the door. “Come on, sweetie,” he said gently, helping her to her feet. She could barely stand, though from cold or upset, he couldn’t tell.
Supporting her until she reached the couch across from the coffee bar, he moved quickly to take off his coat and cover her with it. Then, he went to other rooms, praying there would be a blanket somewhere - maybe in one of the preschool rooms downstairs.
Belle remained on the couch, still crying, and still unable to control her shaking. Her stomach and throat were sore - all-too-frequent reminders of the nightmare she had come out of, both the dream and reality. The dark was the only thing that gave her comfort.
Though Gabe had begun turning lights on downstairs, upstairs where she remained was cloaked in darkness, aside from the lit sign above the coffee bar. She didn’t want Gabe seeing her like this, but didn’t mind him being there if he couldn’t see her
In seconds, he returned, and darted out to his car, where he remembered keeping an extra blanket in the winter months.
Back inside again, Gabe spread a thick blanket over her and sat beside her on the couch, fishing out her ice-cold hand and holding it. “Hey,” he said gently. “I missed you.”
Though it had been nearly an hour since she awoke from her nightmare, Belle still was nowhere near okay. She had felt close to hyperventilating since she woke up and couldn’t stop shaking no matter what she did. Against her will, the tears still fell.
“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing a tissue from a box on a nearby table and handing it to her.
“No,” Belle admitted brokenly. Her voice was strained, tinged with panic, and much lower than Gabe remembered. She made no move to take the tissue.
Gabe looked into her eyes, and could see the pain in them, despite the darkness around them. The headlights on his car lit up the night outside, and the moon shown brightly. “What happened?” he asked quietly, feeling, for the first time, like he could handle hearing her answer. Whether he would have been able to say the same before the trip, Gabe didn’t know. But he doubted it. He remembered leaving Alex alone the year before after he’d promised to be there. And with confidence, Gabe knew this time would be different. He’d grown since then.
“I dreamed that my mom didn’t find me,” Belle said, sniffing. “Not until the next night.”
Though Gabe was shocked, he simply nodded and listened. She didn’t need to give him more details. He knew the nature of her nightmares. She’d told him she had them in emails recently. He had a feeling it was because she didn’t feel like anyone else would care to hear about them.
“She blames me for everything…” she wept, folding her arms across her stomach, as if to literally hold herself together.
But Gabe reached out again and took her hand back. “Mmm…” he said sympathetically. “Your mom?”
Belle nodded. “She says it’s all my fault! Why we left my dad…”
“He didn’t leave you?” Gabe asked suddenly, dread filling his insides.
She shook her head. “We left after he went off on me and beat me up. I thought he’d kill me before then, but Mom took me and we left. When I confronted her, ‘cause I was remembering, she said the reason he did that was because of me. That I drove him to it.”
“You know that isn’t true. Look at me,” Gabe said seriously. “That’s not true,” he squeezed her hand.
Helplessly, she wept, trying to take her hand away and cross her arms. But Gabe held on.
“But it feels true,” he said knowingly. “Doesn’t it?”
Nodding, she finally gave up, and gripped his hand until it hurt.
“You’ve had a hard couple months, huh?” he soothed. “What else do you remember?”
“He…hurt us a lot…” she managed, gasping.
“You and your mom both?” Gabe questioned calmly.
Nodding again, Belle let out a shaky breath. “She grabbed this bandana off the counter when we ran. It was black, and she gave it to me to put on when we were far enough away. I saw Alex wear one earlier this summer, and I guess it triggered something in me,” Belle admitted, beginning to calm.
When Gabe didn’t say anything, Belle went on. “She acts like nothing ever happened. Like we never left him. Like I never took those pills. She said I can’t keep trying to take myself out of the game whenever I hear something I don’t like, and that everybody says things they don’t mean when they’re angry. But I know she did mean it.”
“Can you talk to her?” Gabe asked.
Belle shook her head. “She’s too busy for me. The only time we talk is when she wants to. To get after me about something, or if she’s stressed about work. It’s the same as it always was. Nothing’s different. She still doesn’t care. She was at home sleeping when I woke up after that nightmare and she never even checked to see what was wrong. I got out of the house to come here, and she never noticed.”
“That probably doesn’t do a lot for your sense of safety, does it?”
“No. I mean, if I’d wanted to, I could’ve just gone to the corner store and gotten something and taken it,” Belle said bitterly.
Gabe’s eyes warmed with a smile. “But you didn’t. You came here instead,” he told her confidently.
“I just wanted to be where I know I’d always be accepted,” she said softly. “And ask for forgiveness.”
“Honey, you are,” Gabe insisted. “I know you, and I know you’ve asked God’s forgiveness already. All you’ve got to do is ask once, and He’ll take care of it.”
“I know…but I can’t forgive myself…” she admitted quietly.
“Do you want to?” Gabe asked, squeezing her hand.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking.
Reaching over, Gabe pulled the blanket around her more securely. “Then we’ll pray that God does it.”
“You sound like Mikhail,” Belle said, laughing in spite of herself. “’We make it true.’ That’s what he said when I told him I didn’t know if I could believe it was true I was forgiven.”
“Sounds like something he would say,” Gabe said smiling. He waited, wanting her not to feel pressured one way or another, knowing she had been through enough for several lifetimes.
Finally Belle nodded, looking into Gabe’s eyes certainly. “I want you to pray for me,” she said softly, but with all the confidence that had been lost just moments before.
Gabe closed his eyes, hearing her speak those same words twelve years prior.
Finding her other hand, he held them both, bowed his head and prayed fervently. He let his love his friend become evident, knowing that faith worked through love.
“Dear Lord, I thank You so much for Belle. I thank You that she is not her own. That she’s not her father’s daughter or even her mother’s daughter before she’s Your daughter. I thank You for all the ways You have been working in Belle’s heart. And right now, God, we just pray that You’d cause Belle to forgive herself in the same way You have already forgiven her. Because if You don’t condemn her, what right has she to condemn herself?
“I thank You that You caused Belle to come here tonight, and let us find each other. I thank You for reminding both of us that we aren’t alone. God, I pray that You would continue to work in Belle and lift her depression, and remind her that You are her creator and that she is fearfully and wonderfully made - that it was You who created her inmost being. And just like Alex reminded them when they brought spoons, though she’s not exactly like any of the rest of us, God, You still created her, and You’re still going to use her for Your glory. And You have already, in so many ways.
“God I pray that You would cause Belle to understand that she’s not at fault for things that happened when she was a little girl. I pray that You would heal all those old hurts, and take away the pain of her mother’s words, and realize that what she said wasn’t true at all…”
Gabe trailed off, unable to say “Amen,” or end the prayer, until he was sure he had covered everything, and that Belle didn’t have anything to add. When she didn’t say anything, and when nothing more came to his mind, Gabe finished. “Lord, we ask all this in Your name. Amen.”
Belle reached out, before Gabe spoke the last word, and embraced him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s no problem,” he told her confidently. “And if you need anything, I want you to call somebody,” he said, taking her at arm’s length and looking her in the eyes.
Belle nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m serious. I’m gonna be calling you, but if something comes up, and we’re not talking, I want you to call somebody. If you’re in school, excuse yourself, and go to the restroom and make a call.”
She smiled slightly, entertained a little at the fact that Gabe was giving her advice to make covert calls from the ladies’ room in school.
“Okay,” she managed, though it was difficult to say. Belle knew that these kind of conversations were the real thing, like binding promises that couldn’t be broken.
“Okay?” he asked, taking her hand again. “You need to practice reaching out. We’re here for you, if you’ll give us the chance to be. And you are so loved…” he told her genuinely. “I hope you know that.”
“I’m starting to see it,” she admitted. And with the admission, Belle felt a little of her heaviness lift.
--
Gabe got up early the next morning. There was something about getting up at 6 AM that was appealing, despite the fact that he knew he could legitimately sleep for several more hours. After spending time with God and praying, he got on the phone and called Alex, prepared to do so over and over until she answered.
“Hello?” Alex asked, feeling almost drunk with tiredness. Whoever was calling didn’t realize that her Wednesday wake-up time was never before 7 AM.
“Guess who?” a familiar voice on the other end urged.
Alex sat straight up in bed, ripping the phone away from her ear. “Gabe?!” She very nearly screamed it, and only held back because her parents were asleep.
“Hey…” he greeted. “How are you?”
“When did you get back?” she asked, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed and getting up to pace with excitement.
“Yesterday. I hung out with my parents for a while, and went to church last night. Sorry I haven’t called until now.”
“No, that’s cool. It’s cool that you’re back!” she exclaimed.
“So, I was wondering if you wanted to do coffee with me?” he asked slyly.
Alex stopped pacing. “Right now? The sun’s not even up. And what about your Costa Rican coffee.”
“Actually, I brought that back for my parents. Though I can probably get a hold of some for you to have, if you want to try it. And yes, right now! It’s a beautiful day…”
“How do you even know that? I thought you’d be frozen after twenty-four hours in snow-country…” Alex commented, fishing through her clothes for the perfect shirt to wear. She finally found it, and smiled. “I’m wearing a special shirt today, just for you,” she told him happily. “Just in case you forgot how I am.” Alex smiled. This one said, WHAT? I’M NOT LISTENING.
“You don’t have to wear a shirt for me to remember that,” Gabe told her easily. “So meet me at the usual one in a few minutes?” he asked.
“Yeah. You’re not sitting there now, are you?” she said suspiciously.
“No, I figured I’d give you a few minutes to get ready.”
They hung up, and Alex raced around, finding her boots, coat, hat and gloves in record time. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her pajama pants, so the stars and moons would compliment the dark blue in her shirt quite well. And Gabe would just have to forgive her for the fact that she had done little else before coming. She was excited. What could she say?
By the time she arrived, he was already seated at one of their two favorite chairs - the ones that squished when you sat in them - right by the fireplace. He already had a beverage, and she noticed a second one right away.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, sitting down, and immediately taking a sip, and grinning broadly when she tasted espresso.
Gabe smiled back. “Figured you might need a pick me up this morning,” he shrugged.
“You figured right,” she told him smiling. “So how was your trip back?” she wondered, crossing her legs in the enormous chair.
“I don’t remember,” he admitted. “I slept most of the way back.”
“Did Brent have a total moment when you told him you were going?” Alex asked, feeling intrigued.
“No. He was pretty resigned to it by the time I actually did it. Besides, these last few days are just the beach and debriefing. Tom and Lydia didn’t mind at all. I think they were surprised I stayed as long as I did afterward. I just feel bad leaving Christian and the rest.” Gabe paused, thinking. “Oh shoot!”
“What?” Alex asked, confused.
“I forgot to give Belle that thing Christian said to give to her…” he said regretfully.
Alex tilted her head. “When did you see Belle?”
“Last night. We both ended up at the church around the same time. I had it with me then, too, and I didn’t give it to her.”
“How was she?” Alex asked, growing serious.
Gabe shook his head. “Dealing with some heavy stuff. But she promised to call somebody if stuff comes up for her.”
“Do you think she will?” Alex asked, ashamed at being skeptical, but not able to hold back.
Gabe nodded. “She will.” He took a sip of his drink before he spoke again. “How long did your depression last?” he wondered, hoping it didn’t seem like an insensitive question.
“Nine months,” she said easily. “I didn’t take anything for it, so it was really hard. But God finally lifted it. I call Belle every day before she leaves for school, to make sure she’s up and okay,” Alex confided. “I’ve been over quite a bit, so hopefully if something comes up she’ll feel safe calling me or somebody with it.”
“I think she will. Do you talk about your depression with her?”
“Mostly, I just tell her that God lifted it. She seems really stuck on the fact that she might feel this way forever. So I just remind her that she won’t. I think it helps her to know there’s an end in sight, even if she might not know when it’ll come.”
“I’m glad she has you,” Gabe said, squeezing Alex’s hand.
--
Belle went to school the following morning with her outlook a little brighter. At least she knew someone cared. Not that God didn’t, but sometimes it was nice to know that a person did.
Choir was a little rocky. Her teacher pulled her out, and let her listen again during class, even though she was already pretty far behind, missing two concerts and a day of rehearsal. She was grateful that he was going easy on her so far. When she came to him and asked what her grade was, she was shocked. She had never received a C in choir. When she begged for ways to improve it, he told her she could write a paper on a composer of a certain piece of music they were learning, and if she wanted, another on her experience learning the previous music for the holiday concert. That made her feel slightly better, but she still had to deal with Andrew’s icy stares, and the way he ignored her in the halls when she asked him for the notes in another class.
Kids didn’t treat her differently, but that was because they didn’t know. The few times she had seen Josh, Belle felt horrible. He didn’t seem able to look at her without his eyes filling with tears, much less speak to her.
Belle was on her way to Humanities and couldn’t deny the nervousness she felt. She knew that this particular teacher seemed to want to know every detail of her absence, even though it was excused. Belle knew the class was far into research for presentations. She would have to work doubly hard to keep up.
Her third hour class didn’t worry her. Belle could do Keyboarding make up work in her sleep. In fact, she already had made up most of the work for that class, once she got home from school the previous day. The two choir papers weren’t going to be difficult, but Geography was. Even on her best day, that one required extra studying on her part, in order to pass the map tests of the different countries in each continent.
Taking a deep breath, Belle made her way into Humanities and found her seat. She ducked her head low, but it didn’t matter. The teacher still noticed her and came over.
“How are you doing?” she asked in a tone that made Belle angry. She had never felt condescended to before.
“I’m fine,” she answered shortly.
“Are you really? You were gone a long time. My excused absence list said yours was due to hospitalization.”
Belle tried to ignore her. Luckily the bell rang soon after, and the teacher returned to the front of the room to talk about their presentations and quiz them on the previous day’s notes.
Without being told, Belle knew she would be taking this quiz. She’d been there for the material, so she had no excuse not to take it.
She struggled to write legibly but even her best attempts looked horrible. Belle was ashamed that she couldn’t even do this right, and handed hers in facedown.
“Whose is this?” the teacher asked, minutes later, as she was grading. The paper was displayed to the room from her desk.
“It’s mine,” Belle said, raising her hand.
“Belle Sutton. I can’t even read your name! Now, you’ve had enough absences that you can’t afford to turn in work like this,” she scolded.
Closing her eyes, Belle knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. She’d been praying that the shaking in her hands would go away fast, but so far, no luck. Writing was difficult. Belle felt her eyes fill. She already had a headache and was nauseous, the last thing she needed was public humiliation.
Belle forced herself to wait until most of the class was focused on their work before she stood up and approached the desk. “Can I get a bathroom pass?” she asked. “I don’t feel very well.”
“I understand that you’ve been hospitalized,” Belle was told in that maddening tone. “But you are really going to have to work on your stamina…and honestly, Belle, even though I can read these answers? It’s far from A work.” the teacher told her, sounding disappointed. Finally, she wrote out the pass, and Belle took it gratefully, making sure her cell phone was in her pocket.
Once Belle was alone in a stall, and fairly certain that she wasn’t going to throw up, she called Alex.
“Hey Bella,” Alex greeted happily. “What’s up?”
Tears were falling already, and Belle knew better than to try and keep them in. “I don’t know,” she managed sadly.
“Aw… What’s up?” Alex asked again, moving outside a building on campus, where it was quieter.
“I just feel like crap, and my teacher’s bein’ a jerk to me…”
“Why?”
“’Cause she couldn’t read my quiz, and I felt sick and had to get a pass,” Belle said, sounding defeated.
“That shaking and your feeling sick? There’s nothing you can do about that. Those are side-effects you can’t control. Can you talk to her about that?” Alex asked moderately.
“And tell her what? That I’m a head case? She’s already after me for every detail about my absence!” Belle exclaimed.
“You need to explain to her you’re going to need extra consideration for the next little while,” Alex said firmly. “Not across the board, just in a couple places, and if she doesn’t get that, then I’ll come in and talk to her,” she kidded. “You’ll get through this, kiddo. It’s gonna be okay.”
Belle sighed, not able to keep a smile off her face at the thought of Alex coming to school and talking some sense into her annoying teacher. “Okay,” Belle said finally. “Thank you.”
“Keep your chin up,” Alex encouraged. “You’ll make it.”
Thursday, November 9, 2006
Faith: Chapter 9
Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.
- James Baldwin
Thursday night came much quicker than Belle wanted. She didn’t know why she ever agreed to go to small group. She still wasn’t back at school, she wasn’t even going to church on Sundays yet. But somehow, Belle had been convinced.
Maybe it was Alex, always coming by and being there - and always asking her to come. Maybe it was that she missed Greta. Whatever the reason, Belle found herself in her piece-of-junk car driving over to Micah’s as if nothing was amiss. She prayed on the way that her presence wouldn’t be the cause of any weird reaction or comments. Belle hadn’t been to small group since before. She had no idea how it would go, and barely knew why she was going there in the first place.
Absently, she thought of Gabe, and the most-recent email he had sent. He was coming home soon. He had been so good to her. This one had also been full of encouragement and love, but most of all sympathy that she was struggling. Belle missed that other places. Her mom still had rarely been compassionate about what she had been through or what she was still facing. All in all, Belle had seen very few of her friends. She was scared of what Andrew and Josh might say.
As Belle drove, she observed the snow-covered bare trees in the darkness around her. She didn’t put music on in the car anymore and instead found solace in the silence. She stopped at a light and waited. When it switched to green, and she didn’t move, the car behind her honked. Belle felt tears rise inside her, as she started driving again. Why did everyone have to be so impatient with her? This was taking a lot to go somewhere that she used to go, and to do it by choice.
Lately, all of Belle’s choices had consisted of either sleeping or watching TV. In between times, she prayed. But that had never been a choice, and certainly wasn’t a choice now. Belle prayed because she had to. It was for the sake of her soul.
The times Alex had visited, they had sometimes gone places, but just the two of them,. Sometimes they went for little walks, sometimes they went to a small local café, where Alex could occasionally persuade Belle to eat something. Other times, Alex drove her to see Greta, and ogled the logo tee shirts she was so fond of. Greta always took one or the other of her breaks and sat down with Belle, and they talked for a little bit. Belle never said, but she was so grateful for the time she got to spend there, and that Alex never minded giving them privacy.
Sighing, Belle continued on her drive, praying her car would keep running long enough to get into Micah’s driveway. She thought of Aly, and wondered if the little girl had forgotten about her by now. She hoped not.
Catching a glimpse of herself in her rearview mirror and felt surprised. Along with everything else, Belle had decided it was a good thing to start wearing make up again. She had gone about the routine as she always had - though mascara was particularly bothersome with her shaky hands. Belle tried to dress well, keeping in mind that she would be around people who she hadn’t seen in a long time. She didn’t want them to worry about her, and knew they would have had she come like she wanted - in her sweats, and without make up.
But she had worn a festive looking red fleece shirt and black jeans. Her hair was back in a simple ponytail, and the black bandana was over the top.
Belle didn’t know why she felt compelled to wear it, but hoped people didn’t hone in on it and decide they wanted it as a centerpiece to their conversation. But Micah and Alex wore them all the time, and nothing was said about them, so Belle tried to relax as she pulled into the driveway, giving her reflection one last cursory glance before she got out of the car.
--
The conversation died the minute Belle came through the door. Whether or not that was because they were discussing her Belle didn’t know, and didn’t care. She found a seat, and hoped Greta would show up. But inside, Belle knew she probably wouldn’t. She rarely came to things apart from Belle; the last couple had been exceptions.
“Look who’s back! Hey, stranger,” Micah greeted coming in from the kitchen.
Belle waved half-heartedly, curling into one corner of the couch.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re taking fashion tips from Micah now,” Jared raised his eyebrows, indicating the bandana.
“No, she’s taking them from me,” Alex insisted, trying to keep the mood light.
Belle fought the urge to cover her head. If any of them knew what was good for them, they would keep their mouths shut about it. She tried to convince herself that if they knew what it represented to her, they wouldn’t have been making jokes about it. It didn’t help much, though.
“I think she looks cute,” Missy offered. “Belle, you look adorable.”
“Thank you,” Belle forced herself to answer, even though she wasn’t feeling thankful.
Belle cringed as Julia came in then. She stopped so suddenly upon seeing Belle that she pitched forward as Kenzie came in behind her.
“Oh, hey Belle,” Kenzie greeted warmly. She doubted Belle would know how missed she had been.
Belle waved a little in return, and Kenzie surprised her by coming over and giving her a big hug. From Julia, Belle only got a cold stare. The kind that she gave Rob and Kylie behind their backs.
The group started, and Mikhail opened in prayer saying how thankful he was for everyone who had been there to celebrate his birthday, and he also asked the Lord to bless their time together.
They talked about forgiveness, and Belle felt as though she were on display. Even when people weren’t looking at her, she felt like they wanted to. Andrew blatantly ignored her, as he had ever since word got out. He hadn’t been to see her and hadn’t stopped to visit. Naively, Belle had first assumed that he, of all her friends, might understand. But he had been one of the first to shun her. Josh asked difficult questions and looked openly at her while asking.
“Is there such a thing as a sin that’s unforgivable?”
“Do you have to ask for forgiveness? Or does God, in His grace, just give it to you?”
Belle kept her eyes down most of the time. She wished she had brought something to do. She used to bring a journal with, out of habit, to take notes or jot things down she might want to remember. Now, Belle wanted to remember nothing and hadn’t even grabbed her Bible before leaving the house.
The topic of choice ended up bringing about many confessions of different things people had yet to forgive themselves for. Jared still hadn’t forgiven himself for driving recklessly and getting into the accident that paralyzed him. Alex admitted she had only recently forgiven her father for years of painful things he had said to her. Belle could feel the room hold its breath as they all awaited her admission. But she stayed silent. She wasn’t about to give them what they wanted to hear.
As they all bowed their heads to pray in closing, Julia spoke up.
“I think we should pray for Belle.”
From the couch, Belle stiffened. She wanted to get up and run out of the room, but she couldn’t move. Against her will, she felt herself walking toward the center of the room where a chair had been put. Belle sat down and held her breath.
In seconds, the room had converged around her. Everywhere, hands reached out to touch her. “No,” she insisted, standing up. “Don’t touch me!”
“Belle,” Julia said knowingly. “I really think you need this. We’re just trying to help.”
“Get away from me!” Belle exclaimed, pushing past all the people and hurrying down the hall to Micah’s bathroom.
Belle seethed silently. Nobody better follow her this time. She had her fill a long time ago of everyone thinking they knew what was best for her. Angrily, she called Greta.
“Hey. What?” Greta answered.
“Why aren’t you here?” Belle demanded pacing the floor. “They’re eating me alive!”
“Wait. You’re at Micah’s? Why?” Greta asked, surprised.
Belle sighed. “I don’t know. ‘Cause I thought you might be here. ‘Cause I had some energy for once. But they’re all over me. They wanna pray me back in or something. Like I’m lost,” Belle said helplessly, sniffling.
“I know you,” Greta said gently. “And I know you’re not lost. And if they think you are, then they’re the screwed up ones, not you.”
Belle smiled a little. “They wanna lay hands on me…”
“If you don’t want ‘em to, tell ‘em that! I would!” Greta insisted.
“I did,” Belle admitted softly.
Greta laughed. “That’s my girl! Stop by my house after, if you want. I’ll be up. As long as your mom won’t have a fit about it.”
“She will probably, but I don’t care.” Belle dismissed.
“At least call her, if you’re planning to be late,” Greta encouraged. She didn’t want things any worse between Belle and her mother than they were already.
“I know. I will,” Belle promised.
Belle eventually came out and found herself practically nose-to-nose with Missy.
Missy stared at her with a piercing look that made Belle uncomfortable. She was dressed the way she always was. Business casual. Suit jacket, nice shirt and slacks. Her curly hair was pulled back severely, the way Belle used to see it when they would get together once a week. Belle could barely remember the last time she’d seen Missy in that context.
“What?” Belle asked, trying to walk around her.
“You tell me,” Missy said seriously, snagging Belle by a sleeve.
Anger surged inside Belle like a fire. “You wanna search me?” Belle challenged. “Do it. You won’t find anything,” she said confidently. “I was on the phone with Greta.”
Taking a deep breath, and wishing she didn’t have to, Missy motioned for Belle to turn her pockets inside out. Without missing a beat she obliged, simultaneously pulling out her shirt pockets.
“Okay,” Missy said finally, stepping aside to let her friend pass.
Belle walked around her without a word.
--
In the kitchen, everyone was milling around eating brownies and ice cream. Belle haunted the edges of conversation, hoping no one would press her about her reluctance to have prayer. She watched Alex dive into her brownie with gusto, and she was grateful that the sight of food no longer made her nauseous.
“Hey, are you okay?” Elise asked from beside her.
Belle hadn’t known she was there and tried not to jump. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You can talk to me, you know? About anything. I’ll be here for you. I’m strong enough to hear it,” she insisted. “Whatever it is.”
“Thanks, that’s nice to know,” Belle said, reaching over to give Elise a hug. “Do you think I look weird with this?” she asked self-consciously, touching the bandana.
Elise shook her head. “Why do they even care about that? No one cares when Micah or Alex or Kenzie wears one.”
“I know,” Belle agreed.
“Do you want a brownie?” Elise asked. “Or are you still not feeling hungry.”
“Not really,” Belle admitted. “But that does look like a good one.”
Elise took it out of the bowl and offered it to Belle, who took a tiny bite off the corner.
“Mm, that is good,” Belle said. “Who brought these?”
“I did,” Elise confessed. “I made them.”
Belle’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You’re like a chef now! You should host your own show on Food Network or something,” she said, smiling.
Elise looked confused. “No cable, remember. And even when we did have it, I never watched any food channel…”
Belle nodded. “Yeah, I’ve kind of been a couch potato. But I have lots of recipes if you want to use one sometime.”
“We could have a baking party. Remember when we made cookies before Thanksgiving last year? I didn’t even know how to put them on the sheet right,” Elise laughed.
“Hey,” Alex said, inviting herself into the conversation. “If you wanna talk cookie massacre… Belle, have you told her about my most recent failure in the kitchen?”
“She tried to make chocolate chip cookies over the weekend and forgot some ingredient, so they all melted together. Then, she burned them,” Belle passed along seriously, though a smile threatened.
“Wow. Alex, that’s worse than me!” Elise was shocked.
For a short time, Belle felt normal. Like nothing was different, like she wasn’t depressed or the cause of her mother’s pain and the break up of her parents’ marriage. But soon enough those feelings returned, as Julia passed her with that look once more.
When she motioned for Belle to follow her into the hall, Belle didn’t know why she felt compelled to go along with it, but she did.
“You know, you of all people need to be surrendered to prayer, and be humble enough to receive it when it’s offered,” Julia said intensely.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Belle demanded lowly.
“I think you know what it means. We both know that what you did is the worst kind of sin. It’s an insult to God. He created you, and you’re gonna go and off yourself just because something upset you? I want you to know that I see you for who you really are. You’re not Little Miss Perfect like you pretend to be. You’re nothing more than a liar.” Julia crossed her arms, waiting to see what kind of an impact the truth would have on Belle, if any.
“You’re right,” Belle said simply, turning and walking away.
But she immediately felt her breath catch as she went back in the kitchen and heard Kylie ask if anyone had cold medicine.
--
Belle hadn’t so much as looked at a pill other than her anti-depressants in the few days since her release. But she forced herself to stay put and act normally. She knew Kylie had been quiet that evening, but hadn’t been concerned enough to ask her about it.
From across the room, Belle watched Missy take her purse off the back of a kitchen chair and open it. “Yeah, I think I do have something. I’ve had a cold recently, too. Luckily no flu, though. Gotta love flu shots,” she said easily, as Kylie moved toward her.
Belle followed, not quite believing what was going on, and nearly lost her breath as she saw the Sudafed-brand cold medicine that Missy produced from her purse.
“Thanks,” Belle said, looking long and hard at Missy. She knew she had an attitude and didn’t care. She pushed past Missy and stalked into the living room for her coat and boots.
Belle felt a familiar sweat break out all over. She felt hot and sick and overwhelmed. She knew she had to get out. All the symptoms she had tried to forget were back, and Belle could think of nothing except getting outside where it was cold. Where she could breathe.
She was halfway down the driveway, almost to her car, by the time Missy caught up to her.
“Belle. What was that about?” Missy insisted, turning her around.
“Oh yeah, right!” Belle exclaimed angrily. “You practically search me coming out of the bathroom to be sure I didn’t take anything from Micah, and then twenty minutes later, you take out my drug of choice from your purse? Are you kidding me?” Belle demanded.
Missy went pale, losing her breath in the cold, and feeling shock ripple through her at Belle’s words. “That’s what you took?” Missy asked quietly.
“Like you didn’t know! My mother probably told you everything…”
“No. She didn’t. She hardly told us anything. Honey, I never would have done that if I knew that’s what you took,” Missy said regretfully, closing her eyes.
Belle shook her head fiercely, trying in vain to keep her own tears back. “I haven’t even seen a pill, other than the ones I have to take, since I’ve been out.”
Missy closed her eyes. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please don’t leave like this.”
“I’m not staying here!” Belle insisted, still feeling the heat rush to her face.
“Well then let me give you a ride somewhere. You’re not in a state to drive.”
Though Belle remained as livid as she had been, she knew that Missy had a point. Plus, she knew she had almost no gas and her tires were bad, which wasn’t safe even on the nicest day, not to mention snow and icy roads.
“Greta’s,” Belle said shortly. “And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Okay,” Missy agreed, just grateful that Belle was willing to go with her.
Their ride was a silent one. No music. No visiting. There was nothing of their old relationship. Missy wondered if she had destroyed Belle’s trust in her permanently, or if God might be merciful and restore it.
--
Greta was on her couch, watching an old John Wayne western. It was a love she’d inherited from her dad, and though a lot of her friends didn’t share her passion, it never bothered Greta. She never got enough of the story lines, the characters and the horses.
She was well into the movie when she heard a knock at the door. Greta got up and turned off the TV. It was after 10 PM, and it was Thursday night. It could only be Belle.
Pulling open the door, Greta tried not to stare. Belle looked awful. Make up ran down her face, and her eyes were red and irritated. Greta never understood why women wore mascara - even if it was waterproof. It had only taken once for Greta to learn that she would never wear it again. She had cried it off after a fight with her mom, and her eyes had burned mercilessly.
“Hey. Who’s that?” Greta asked, indicating the car that was backing out of her driveway.
Greta was still dressed, though not in uniform. Belle knew she took that off the minute she got off work. Tonight she was wearing camouflage pants, and a dark tank top with a brown hoodie and a brown newsboy cap. Belle didn’t know anyone else who could manage to look so together at so late an hour. She knew she didn’t look near as composed.
“Missy,” Belle said darkly. She kept her coat on, and stepped out of her boots before flopping onto Greta’s couch miserably.
“What happened?” Greta asked, squatting in front of the couch.
“What didn’t happen?” Belle asked bitterly. “They tried to pray for me, Missy freakin’ searched me after I came out of Micah’s bathroom, I had a half-decent conversation with Elise and Alex. Then, Julia called me a liar. And then, Kylie didn’t feel good so Missy whipped out the freakin’ Sudafed cold medicine.”
“Oh, damn…” Greta said sympathetically. “Did you explain it to Missy.”
“Yeah, and she apologized,” Belle said quietly. “But I feel like crap. All shaky and weird. Just from seeing it.”
Greta made a sympathetic noise. “That sucks.” After a minute she spoke again. “Can we assume that you were a little preoccupied and didn’t call your mom?” Greta asked.
Wordlessly, Belle took out her cell phone and dialed home. She knew her mom wouldn’t be there. “Hey. I’m at Greta’s. I’ll be home later.”
Greta smiled a little as Belle put her phone away, and fell back against the cushions, closing her eyes.
“This sucks,” Belle complained.
Greta moved to sit beside her on the couch. “What do you wanna do?”
“Sleep.”
“Sleeping doesn’t count,” Greta insisted. “Besides that, what do you wanna do?”
“What were you doing?” Belle asked. “Before I came over?”
“Watching an old western,” Greta admitted, smiling at the many years of memories watching them with her dad.
“That works,” Belle confirmed, stretching her tiny body across Greta’s couch.
Greta looked surprised. “Seriously? None of my friends ever wanna do that with me.”
“Well, I’m not like any of your friends,” Belle said seriously.
“You’d better move those boney legs of yours, or I’m gonna be sitting on them in a second.”
“I don’t care,” Belle denied, daring Greta to follow through.
“You will,” Greta promised.
As promised, Greta sat down hard on Belle’s legs, and Belle squealed and tried to get away. “You weigh at least a thousand pounds!” she balked, laughing. “Get off me!”
“Little brat,” Greta complained, swatting Belle’s thigh. But she got up, freeing Belle’s legs, and went to pop them some popcorn. Belle followed her, deciding to make herself useful and pouring water for herself and coffee for Greta - whose caffeine intake knew no limit.
For the rest of the evening, Belle let herself relax, knowing that she was safe with Greta, and she would never pressure her to say anything she wasn’t ready to. Belle enjoyed the movie, and Greta’s freakishly accurate imitation of not only the John Wayne cowboy, but also all the other characters.
Belle stayed a long time, even after the movie ended, just sitting quietly in the room with Greta who sat in a chair and amused herself by throwing popcorn at Belle. It was enough levity that Belle wasn’t completely lost in her own thoughts, but enough quiet that she could think.
Leaning back, Belle recalled Alex’s words from Romans. That in all things God worked for the good of those who loved Him. That meant even tonight. Deep down, Belle knew it was good for her to face what she had tonight. After all, better now than sometime later. Better that she was among friends and people she knew, than alone.
Looking across the room, Belle didn’t think Greta was at all aware of how much help she’d been. Whether she was bored and lonely at home recovering, or coming in from a crisis like tonight, Greta was her one constant, always there with a crazy story to make her laugh, or a kind word to ease her pain. Belle hoped that someday she could let Greta know how thankful she was for her friendship. Though Belle had many friends, it was Greta she chose to lean on. Greta had taken on Belle’s burdens without complaint - her love increasing under the weight all Belle’s sorrow.
- James Baldwin
Thursday night came much quicker than Belle wanted. She didn’t know why she ever agreed to go to small group. She still wasn’t back at school, she wasn’t even going to church on Sundays yet. But somehow, Belle had been convinced.
Maybe it was Alex, always coming by and being there - and always asking her to come. Maybe it was that she missed Greta. Whatever the reason, Belle found herself in her piece-of-junk car driving over to Micah’s as if nothing was amiss. She prayed on the way that her presence wouldn’t be the cause of any weird reaction or comments. Belle hadn’t been to small group since before. She had no idea how it would go, and barely knew why she was going there in the first place.
Absently, she thought of Gabe, and the most-recent email he had sent. He was coming home soon. He had been so good to her. This one had also been full of encouragement and love, but most of all sympathy that she was struggling. Belle missed that other places. Her mom still had rarely been compassionate about what she had been through or what she was still facing. All in all, Belle had seen very few of her friends. She was scared of what Andrew and Josh might say.
As Belle drove, she observed the snow-covered bare trees in the darkness around her. She didn’t put music on in the car anymore and instead found solace in the silence. She stopped at a light and waited. When it switched to green, and she didn’t move, the car behind her honked. Belle felt tears rise inside her, as she started driving again. Why did everyone have to be so impatient with her? This was taking a lot to go somewhere that she used to go, and to do it by choice.
Lately, all of Belle’s choices had consisted of either sleeping or watching TV. In between times, she prayed. But that had never been a choice, and certainly wasn’t a choice now. Belle prayed because she had to. It was for the sake of her soul.
The times Alex had visited, they had sometimes gone places, but just the two of them,. Sometimes they went for little walks, sometimes they went to a small local café, where Alex could occasionally persuade Belle to eat something. Other times, Alex drove her to see Greta, and ogled the logo tee shirts she was so fond of. Greta always took one or the other of her breaks and sat down with Belle, and they talked for a little bit. Belle never said, but she was so grateful for the time she got to spend there, and that Alex never minded giving them privacy.
Sighing, Belle continued on her drive, praying her car would keep running long enough to get into Micah’s driveway. She thought of Aly, and wondered if the little girl had forgotten about her by now. She hoped not.
Catching a glimpse of herself in her rearview mirror and felt surprised. Along with everything else, Belle had decided it was a good thing to start wearing make up again. She had gone about the routine as she always had - though mascara was particularly bothersome with her shaky hands. Belle tried to dress well, keeping in mind that she would be around people who she hadn’t seen in a long time. She didn’t want them to worry about her, and knew they would have had she come like she wanted - in her sweats, and without make up.
But she had worn a festive looking red fleece shirt and black jeans. Her hair was back in a simple ponytail, and the black bandana was over the top.
Belle didn’t know why she felt compelled to wear it, but hoped people didn’t hone in on it and decide they wanted it as a centerpiece to their conversation. But Micah and Alex wore them all the time, and nothing was said about them, so Belle tried to relax as she pulled into the driveway, giving her reflection one last cursory glance before she got out of the car.
--
The conversation died the minute Belle came through the door. Whether or not that was because they were discussing her Belle didn’t know, and didn’t care. She found a seat, and hoped Greta would show up. But inside, Belle knew she probably wouldn’t. She rarely came to things apart from Belle; the last couple had been exceptions.
“Look who’s back! Hey, stranger,” Micah greeted coming in from the kitchen.
Belle waved half-heartedly, curling into one corner of the couch.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re taking fashion tips from Micah now,” Jared raised his eyebrows, indicating the bandana.
“No, she’s taking them from me,” Alex insisted, trying to keep the mood light.
Belle fought the urge to cover her head. If any of them knew what was good for them, they would keep their mouths shut about it. She tried to convince herself that if they knew what it represented to her, they wouldn’t have been making jokes about it. It didn’t help much, though.
“I think she looks cute,” Missy offered. “Belle, you look adorable.”
“Thank you,” Belle forced herself to answer, even though she wasn’t feeling thankful.
Belle cringed as Julia came in then. She stopped so suddenly upon seeing Belle that she pitched forward as Kenzie came in behind her.
“Oh, hey Belle,” Kenzie greeted warmly. She doubted Belle would know how missed she had been.
Belle waved a little in return, and Kenzie surprised her by coming over and giving her a big hug. From Julia, Belle only got a cold stare. The kind that she gave Rob and Kylie behind their backs.
The group started, and Mikhail opened in prayer saying how thankful he was for everyone who had been there to celebrate his birthday, and he also asked the Lord to bless their time together.
They talked about forgiveness, and Belle felt as though she were on display. Even when people weren’t looking at her, she felt like they wanted to. Andrew blatantly ignored her, as he had ever since word got out. He hadn’t been to see her and hadn’t stopped to visit. Naively, Belle had first assumed that he, of all her friends, might understand. But he had been one of the first to shun her. Josh asked difficult questions and looked openly at her while asking.
“Is there such a thing as a sin that’s unforgivable?”
“Do you have to ask for forgiveness? Or does God, in His grace, just give it to you?”
Belle kept her eyes down most of the time. She wished she had brought something to do. She used to bring a journal with, out of habit, to take notes or jot things down she might want to remember. Now, Belle wanted to remember nothing and hadn’t even grabbed her Bible before leaving the house.
The topic of choice ended up bringing about many confessions of different things people had yet to forgive themselves for. Jared still hadn’t forgiven himself for driving recklessly and getting into the accident that paralyzed him. Alex admitted she had only recently forgiven her father for years of painful things he had said to her. Belle could feel the room hold its breath as they all awaited her admission. But she stayed silent. She wasn’t about to give them what they wanted to hear.
As they all bowed their heads to pray in closing, Julia spoke up.
“I think we should pray for Belle.”
From the couch, Belle stiffened. She wanted to get up and run out of the room, but she couldn’t move. Against her will, she felt herself walking toward the center of the room where a chair had been put. Belle sat down and held her breath.
In seconds, the room had converged around her. Everywhere, hands reached out to touch her. “No,” she insisted, standing up. “Don’t touch me!”
“Belle,” Julia said knowingly. “I really think you need this. We’re just trying to help.”
“Get away from me!” Belle exclaimed, pushing past all the people and hurrying down the hall to Micah’s bathroom.
Belle seethed silently. Nobody better follow her this time. She had her fill a long time ago of everyone thinking they knew what was best for her. Angrily, she called Greta.
“Hey. What?” Greta answered.
“Why aren’t you here?” Belle demanded pacing the floor. “They’re eating me alive!”
“Wait. You’re at Micah’s? Why?” Greta asked, surprised.
Belle sighed. “I don’t know. ‘Cause I thought you might be here. ‘Cause I had some energy for once. But they’re all over me. They wanna pray me back in or something. Like I’m lost,” Belle said helplessly, sniffling.
“I know you,” Greta said gently. “And I know you’re not lost. And if they think you are, then they’re the screwed up ones, not you.”
Belle smiled a little. “They wanna lay hands on me…”
“If you don’t want ‘em to, tell ‘em that! I would!” Greta insisted.
“I did,” Belle admitted softly.
Greta laughed. “That’s my girl! Stop by my house after, if you want. I’ll be up. As long as your mom won’t have a fit about it.”
“She will probably, but I don’t care.” Belle dismissed.
“At least call her, if you’re planning to be late,” Greta encouraged. She didn’t want things any worse between Belle and her mother than they were already.
“I know. I will,” Belle promised.
Belle eventually came out and found herself practically nose-to-nose with Missy.
Missy stared at her with a piercing look that made Belle uncomfortable. She was dressed the way she always was. Business casual. Suit jacket, nice shirt and slacks. Her curly hair was pulled back severely, the way Belle used to see it when they would get together once a week. Belle could barely remember the last time she’d seen Missy in that context.
“What?” Belle asked, trying to walk around her.
“You tell me,” Missy said seriously, snagging Belle by a sleeve.
Anger surged inside Belle like a fire. “You wanna search me?” Belle challenged. “Do it. You won’t find anything,” she said confidently. “I was on the phone with Greta.”
Taking a deep breath, and wishing she didn’t have to, Missy motioned for Belle to turn her pockets inside out. Without missing a beat she obliged, simultaneously pulling out her shirt pockets.
“Okay,” Missy said finally, stepping aside to let her friend pass.
Belle walked around her without a word.
--
In the kitchen, everyone was milling around eating brownies and ice cream. Belle haunted the edges of conversation, hoping no one would press her about her reluctance to have prayer. She watched Alex dive into her brownie with gusto, and she was grateful that the sight of food no longer made her nauseous.
“Hey, are you okay?” Elise asked from beside her.
Belle hadn’t known she was there and tried not to jump. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You can talk to me, you know? About anything. I’ll be here for you. I’m strong enough to hear it,” she insisted. “Whatever it is.”
“Thanks, that’s nice to know,” Belle said, reaching over to give Elise a hug. “Do you think I look weird with this?” she asked self-consciously, touching the bandana.
Elise shook her head. “Why do they even care about that? No one cares when Micah or Alex or Kenzie wears one.”
“I know,” Belle agreed.
“Do you want a brownie?” Elise asked. “Or are you still not feeling hungry.”
“Not really,” Belle admitted. “But that does look like a good one.”
Elise took it out of the bowl and offered it to Belle, who took a tiny bite off the corner.
“Mm, that is good,” Belle said. “Who brought these?”
“I did,” Elise confessed. “I made them.”
Belle’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You’re like a chef now! You should host your own show on Food Network or something,” she said, smiling.
Elise looked confused. “No cable, remember. And even when we did have it, I never watched any food channel…”
Belle nodded. “Yeah, I’ve kind of been a couch potato. But I have lots of recipes if you want to use one sometime.”
“We could have a baking party. Remember when we made cookies before Thanksgiving last year? I didn’t even know how to put them on the sheet right,” Elise laughed.
“Hey,” Alex said, inviting herself into the conversation. “If you wanna talk cookie massacre… Belle, have you told her about my most recent failure in the kitchen?”
“She tried to make chocolate chip cookies over the weekend and forgot some ingredient, so they all melted together. Then, she burned them,” Belle passed along seriously, though a smile threatened.
“Wow. Alex, that’s worse than me!” Elise was shocked.
For a short time, Belle felt normal. Like nothing was different, like she wasn’t depressed or the cause of her mother’s pain and the break up of her parents’ marriage. But soon enough those feelings returned, as Julia passed her with that look once more.
When she motioned for Belle to follow her into the hall, Belle didn’t know why she felt compelled to go along with it, but she did.
“You know, you of all people need to be surrendered to prayer, and be humble enough to receive it when it’s offered,” Julia said intensely.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Belle demanded lowly.
“I think you know what it means. We both know that what you did is the worst kind of sin. It’s an insult to God. He created you, and you’re gonna go and off yourself just because something upset you? I want you to know that I see you for who you really are. You’re not Little Miss Perfect like you pretend to be. You’re nothing more than a liar.” Julia crossed her arms, waiting to see what kind of an impact the truth would have on Belle, if any.
“You’re right,” Belle said simply, turning and walking away.
But she immediately felt her breath catch as she went back in the kitchen and heard Kylie ask if anyone had cold medicine.
--
Belle hadn’t so much as looked at a pill other than her anti-depressants in the few days since her release. But she forced herself to stay put and act normally. She knew Kylie had been quiet that evening, but hadn’t been concerned enough to ask her about it.
From across the room, Belle watched Missy take her purse off the back of a kitchen chair and open it. “Yeah, I think I do have something. I’ve had a cold recently, too. Luckily no flu, though. Gotta love flu shots,” she said easily, as Kylie moved toward her.
Belle followed, not quite believing what was going on, and nearly lost her breath as she saw the Sudafed-brand cold medicine that Missy produced from her purse.
“Thanks,” Belle said, looking long and hard at Missy. She knew she had an attitude and didn’t care. She pushed past Missy and stalked into the living room for her coat and boots.
Belle felt a familiar sweat break out all over. She felt hot and sick and overwhelmed. She knew she had to get out. All the symptoms she had tried to forget were back, and Belle could think of nothing except getting outside where it was cold. Where she could breathe.
She was halfway down the driveway, almost to her car, by the time Missy caught up to her.
“Belle. What was that about?” Missy insisted, turning her around.
“Oh yeah, right!” Belle exclaimed angrily. “You practically search me coming out of the bathroom to be sure I didn’t take anything from Micah, and then twenty minutes later, you take out my drug of choice from your purse? Are you kidding me?” Belle demanded.
Missy went pale, losing her breath in the cold, and feeling shock ripple through her at Belle’s words. “That’s what you took?” Missy asked quietly.
“Like you didn’t know! My mother probably told you everything…”
“No. She didn’t. She hardly told us anything. Honey, I never would have done that if I knew that’s what you took,” Missy said regretfully, closing her eyes.
Belle shook her head fiercely, trying in vain to keep her own tears back. “I haven’t even seen a pill, other than the ones I have to take, since I’ve been out.”
Missy closed her eyes. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please don’t leave like this.”
“I’m not staying here!” Belle insisted, still feeling the heat rush to her face.
“Well then let me give you a ride somewhere. You’re not in a state to drive.”
Though Belle remained as livid as she had been, she knew that Missy had a point. Plus, she knew she had almost no gas and her tires were bad, which wasn’t safe even on the nicest day, not to mention snow and icy roads.
“Greta’s,” Belle said shortly. “And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Okay,” Missy agreed, just grateful that Belle was willing to go with her.
Their ride was a silent one. No music. No visiting. There was nothing of their old relationship. Missy wondered if she had destroyed Belle’s trust in her permanently, or if God might be merciful and restore it.
--
Greta was on her couch, watching an old John Wayne western. It was a love she’d inherited from her dad, and though a lot of her friends didn’t share her passion, it never bothered Greta. She never got enough of the story lines, the characters and the horses.
She was well into the movie when she heard a knock at the door. Greta got up and turned off the TV. It was after 10 PM, and it was Thursday night. It could only be Belle.
Pulling open the door, Greta tried not to stare. Belle looked awful. Make up ran down her face, and her eyes were red and irritated. Greta never understood why women wore mascara - even if it was waterproof. It had only taken once for Greta to learn that she would never wear it again. She had cried it off after a fight with her mom, and her eyes had burned mercilessly.
“Hey. Who’s that?” Greta asked, indicating the car that was backing out of her driveway.
Greta was still dressed, though not in uniform. Belle knew she took that off the minute she got off work. Tonight she was wearing camouflage pants, and a dark tank top with a brown hoodie and a brown newsboy cap. Belle didn’t know anyone else who could manage to look so together at so late an hour. She knew she didn’t look near as composed.
“Missy,” Belle said darkly. She kept her coat on, and stepped out of her boots before flopping onto Greta’s couch miserably.
“What happened?” Greta asked, squatting in front of the couch.
“What didn’t happen?” Belle asked bitterly. “They tried to pray for me, Missy freakin’ searched me after I came out of Micah’s bathroom, I had a half-decent conversation with Elise and Alex. Then, Julia called me a liar. And then, Kylie didn’t feel good so Missy whipped out the freakin’ Sudafed cold medicine.”
“Oh, damn…” Greta said sympathetically. “Did you explain it to Missy.”
“Yeah, and she apologized,” Belle said quietly. “But I feel like crap. All shaky and weird. Just from seeing it.”
Greta made a sympathetic noise. “That sucks.” After a minute she spoke again. “Can we assume that you were a little preoccupied and didn’t call your mom?” Greta asked.
Wordlessly, Belle took out her cell phone and dialed home. She knew her mom wouldn’t be there. “Hey. I’m at Greta’s. I’ll be home later.”
Greta smiled a little as Belle put her phone away, and fell back against the cushions, closing her eyes.
“This sucks,” Belle complained.
Greta moved to sit beside her on the couch. “What do you wanna do?”
“Sleep.”
“Sleeping doesn’t count,” Greta insisted. “Besides that, what do you wanna do?”
“What were you doing?” Belle asked. “Before I came over?”
“Watching an old western,” Greta admitted, smiling at the many years of memories watching them with her dad.
“That works,” Belle confirmed, stretching her tiny body across Greta’s couch.
Greta looked surprised. “Seriously? None of my friends ever wanna do that with me.”
“Well, I’m not like any of your friends,” Belle said seriously.
“You’d better move those boney legs of yours, or I’m gonna be sitting on them in a second.”
“I don’t care,” Belle denied, daring Greta to follow through.
“You will,” Greta promised.
As promised, Greta sat down hard on Belle’s legs, and Belle squealed and tried to get away. “You weigh at least a thousand pounds!” she balked, laughing. “Get off me!”
“Little brat,” Greta complained, swatting Belle’s thigh. But she got up, freeing Belle’s legs, and went to pop them some popcorn. Belle followed her, deciding to make herself useful and pouring water for herself and coffee for Greta - whose caffeine intake knew no limit.
For the rest of the evening, Belle let herself relax, knowing that she was safe with Greta, and she would never pressure her to say anything she wasn’t ready to. Belle enjoyed the movie, and Greta’s freakishly accurate imitation of not only the John Wayne cowboy, but also all the other characters.
Belle stayed a long time, even after the movie ended, just sitting quietly in the room with Greta who sat in a chair and amused herself by throwing popcorn at Belle. It was enough levity that Belle wasn’t completely lost in her own thoughts, but enough quiet that she could think.
Leaning back, Belle recalled Alex’s words from Romans. That in all things God worked for the good of those who loved Him. That meant even tonight. Deep down, Belle knew it was good for her to face what she had tonight. After all, better now than sometime later. Better that she was among friends and people she knew, than alone.
Looking across the room, Belle didn’t think Greta was at all aware of how much help she’d been. Whether she was bored and lonely at home recovering, or coming in from a crisis like tonight, Greta was her one constant, always there with a crazy story to make her laugh, or a kind word to ease her pain. Belle hoped that someday she could let Greta know how thankful she was for her friendship. Though Belle had many friends, it was Greta she chose to lean on. Greta had taken on Belle’s burdens without complaint - her love increasing under the weight all Belle’s sorrow.
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