31

 

I didn’t answer his text messages.

Jay sent texts to me all the time, wanting us to get together to talk. His texts were too painful to read. He had broken my heart. There’s no other way to describe it. I can admit to myself what I’d avoided. His family thought I wasn’t good enough for their son.

In novels, I’d read about the hero and heroine riding off into the sunset together, leaving behind family and friends who didn’t approve of their relationship. But that was fiction. Family was important to me. It had always been Mom and Dad and me. Recently I was getting to know Tiffany, Aunt Ira, and Uncle Bob again.

Even though we were a small family, Mom and Dad had always stressed that we were a family and that we had each other’s backs. If I ran off into the sunset with Jay, the family bond that I had established with Mom and Dad would be irretrievably broken.

Mom and Dad were my anchors. Just as I wouldn’t expect Jay to go against his family’s wishes and take up with me again, I also wouldn’t forsake my family.

Life is hard. I thought my teen years were supposed to be easy. Life shouldn’t become complicated until college at least. I had started reading the Bible every night, hoping I’d find answers there. I also read the booklets I’d been given at Tiffany’s church. Prayer—Conversation With God. A Faith Filled Life. Making All Things New. A Diary of Private Prayer. The Presence Of God. A Well-Regulated Life. Don’t Despair—God Is With You. Forgiveness—A Gift. Journey Inward—Journey Outward. It was a lot to digest. But I was beginning to understand what it means to trust God and live by faith.

As I pulled Mom’s car into our driveway, Jay drove up behind me. My heart sank. Why did he keep coming around?

Jay jumped out of his car and met me at my car door. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you,” he said.

I shrugged.

“Didn’t you get my text messages?”

“I got them,” I said, not wanting to get into why I didn’t answer.

“Lauren, I need to apologize to you,” he said, looking contrite as he leaned against my car.

“Apology accepted.”

Perplexed and apparently caught off guard, he said, “Just like that?”

“I accept your apology. I’m learning how to forgive.”

“Then you’ll go to the prom with me?” he asked.

“No, but I do accept your apology.”

“Then why won’t you go to the prom with me?”

“Because you broke my heart.”

“But I’m trying to make it right.”

“Too late.”

“It can’t be too late for us,” he said. “I think about you all the time and how much fun we used to have with our friends.”

“Key word—‘used’ to have.”

“Don’t be like that, Lauren.”

“How do you expect me to be? Happy that you finally came to your senses and want to take me to the prom?”

He looked down at the pavement as if looking for answers in a break in the cobblestones. When he looked up tears were forming in the corner of his eyes.

“Look, I shouldn’t have blamed you for the actions of your father.”

“My father didn’t do anything.”

“I know that now,” he said. “But I didn’t know then. My Dad says it looks like your father is innocent. It’s too bad his name had to be dragged through the media.”

“Yes, too bad,” I said.

We stood there, saying nothing. After a while he said, “You’re not going to forgive me, are you?”

“I told you, I’ve already forgiven you. I’m just not going to the prom with you. Our relationship was built on fantasy.”

“I understand that you’re hurt,” he said. “But I want you to understand that I’m not going to give up on us. I want you to go to the prom with me. And I’m going to keep asking until you say yes.”

He pulled me close and kissed me. Despite my words and because of lingering feelings, I kissed him back. The warmth of his lips clouded my thinking.

With satisfaction on his face, as if he had proven a point, he jumped into his car and rolled down the window. “Our relationship was real, not a fantasy. It took all this for me to realize it. I care about you Lauren and always will.”

He drove away.

His actions were supposed to impress me. Not this time. He didn’t get it. If he really cared about me, he should’ve still been around regardless of what happened with Dad. Since it seemed like Dad didn’t do anything wrong, his family told him it was all right to go out with me again.

And I was supposed to be grateful and go back to believing nothing had changed. But something had changed.

I had changed.

But I did enjoy the kiss. Too much perhaps.

 

****

 

I rushed off to my last interview. She was a substitute teacher in my World History class. One day last week she had mentioned that the face of homelessness had changed, and she was the poster child. She said we should appreciate living in Fairfield. Most students snickered, not believing her. But I wondered if she were telling the truth. After class, I told her about my story and she agreed to be interviewed for it.

We met in the Ice Cream Shoppe in the Square. I ordered a chocolate shake while Miss McCloud ordered a banana split. She was in her early twenties with short curly blonde hair. I couldn’t imagine her being homeless. Then again, I couldn’t imagine a lot of things that had happened this year.

Miss McCloud took a bite of her banana split.

“I haven’t had one of these in a long time,” she said, savoring the taste in her mouth. “You learn to appreciate the simple things.”

“How did you become homeless?”

“I was a teacher in the Kansas City, Missouri public schools for a year. They had a big reorganization and closed half the schools in the district. Since I was a new teacher with no seniority, I lost my job. I got another job right away at an advertising agency as a copywriter. I worked there a year and a half. The agency lost two big clients, and I got laid off.

“My savings kept me in my apartment for six months. Meanwhile I put in application after application and got nowhere. When my savings ran out, the manager at the apartment complex where I lived said I had to go.

“I didn’t know where to turn, so I slept in my car for a week. I parked at a Wal-Mart that stayed open 24 hours, a different one each night. I parked in the far corners of the lots so nobody would see me.

“Then it got too cold to sleep in my car. Finally I called 2-1-1. It’s a service that helps people like me who are new to needing assistance. They put me in a shelter out here. I didn’t know there were shelters in places like Fairfield. It’s very nice and warm. I also forget I’m in a shelter.

“It took several days to warm my bones. I needed warmth more than I craved food. When I was good and warm, then I could address other issues, like finding a job. I’ve been working steadily as a substitute teacher at Fairfield Oaks for the past month.”

“Why did you tell us you were homeless? We would never have known.”

“I shared my story because I want students to know what it feels like to work and want to be independent and yet this happens. I want them to not be ashamed when they have adversity in their lives. At one point, everyone is going to have to face some kind of trouble.

“At the shelter they gave us Daily Bread booklets to read. One I read said that in life we will all have troubles, but God will deliver us out of them all. It has become a promise that I stand on. It is from the book of Psalms.”

A lone tear ran down her cheek. “I never thought I’d be homeless.”

“What are you going to do?”

“After school is out, I’m going back to Iowa and live on the farm with Mom and Dad until I get back on my feet. Dad owns the farm free and clear. It’s funny how life works. Every day I worked on the farm when I was growing up, before and after school. I dreamed of the day when I could move to the big city and get a real job. Now I’m glad I have our farm to go back to.”

She settled into finishing her banana split.