On Monday morning, Kate’s steps slowed as she approached the school—her heart pounded, and her stomach churned. It would be bad. But no matter how bad it got at school, it couldn’t even come close to how difficult it had been at home over the weekend. Kate shuddered as she thought back over the past few days. Silence. Home had been like a funeral parlor, except worse. At least at a funeral, people hugged each other and offered support as they grieved their loss.
Kate sat quietly during her first-period class. When would the bomb explode? The door creaked open. She peeked up from her book—not really wanting to look. A student with an OFFICE badge pinned to her shirt handed a note to the teacher. This is it. Kate closed her book and reached for her bag.
“Kate.” The teacher held the note out. “It’s for you.”
The walk from her desk to the front of the classroom seemed much longer than usual. She felt all eyes on her, their heat boring holes in her back. Has word already gotten around? When she got back to her seat, she unfolded the note.
Kate Walker, come to the office with your books at 11:00.
Her heart sank. Two hours to wait—she just wanted it over with.
The morning passed like slow drips from a faucet. Plink. Plink. Tick. Tock. Finally, Kate’s watch said 10:55—time to go. She grabbed her bags and a few books that she might need later—in case the meeting ran long.
The secretary directed her to the conference room. Sunshine broke through the wall of windows at the back of the room. Kate looked down the long oak table and at everyone who sat around it. Pam and both of her parents, Brittany and her mom, Sandy and her dad, their coach, the principal, the school counselor and some silver-haired man in a navy blue suit and a yellow tie. Uh-oh. She took a seat next to her mom. Mom looked away.
The clock struck eleven o’clock, and Principal Coleman opened the meeting. She cleared her throat and tapped the edge of a stack of papers on the thick table. The noise made several people jump. “Well, I’m so sad we have to have this meeting, but we have no choice.” She looked down and took a deep breath. Her eyes moved quickly down the sheet of handwritten notes that had been torn out of a spiral notebook and placed on top of her pile.
She pulled the second sheet out from her stack. “What I’m going to do first is read to you from this paper. It’s a description of the events exactly as I understand they happened. I’d like you to listen and then, if the facts are straight, each student should sign the paper.”
“Will we get copies of everything we sign?” Sandy’s dad asked.
“Absolutely, Mr. Coble. Okay, here’s what I have …”
Her words were lost on Kate—she couldn’t hear through the roaring in her ears. The room buzzed just like the television did when the cable went out. She tried to focus on the words but couldn’t. She watched the paper make its way around the table until it lay in front of her mom. Without moving her head, Mom covered it with her hand and slid it with a robotic motion toward Kate.
Kate scrawled her name on the page and then slipped lower in her seat.
“Okay, then. Mr. Stot, our district administrator, will take over from here.” The principal dropped into her seat with a thud and exhaled, her part over.
“Thanks, Marsha.” The man in the navy suit stood to address the group. “I’m going to keep this short because my job here is about the consequences. Parents, between yourselves, the counselor, and your kids’ teachers, you’ll have to deal with the moral issues.” He pulled a padded brown-leather portfolio out of his briefcase and opened it on the table. Reading from a legal-sized sheet of paper, he said:
“Relating to the incidence of the possession of amphetamines and illegal drug use at a school-sponsored sporting event on November 29th, for the period of three days, Sandra Coble, Brittany Drummond, Pamela McSwain, and Kate Walker will be suspended from school. This suspension will be recorded on each student’s permanent record. In addition, any medals won at the aforementioned event must be surrendered, and any times recorded will be void. Furthermore, participation on any sports team sanctioned by this school will be prohibited for a period of twelve months from this date.”
Twelve months. Kate went weak at the thought of not swimming next season.
He cleared his throat and continued in his drone. “However, that twelve-month sports suspension can be reduced to six months by participation in a drug and alcohol abuse program. Information about such programs will be forthcoming, and participation will be monitored by Susan Moore, the school counselor.”
It should take longer than fifteen minutes to lose her whole life—but that’s exactly how long it took. She felt like this came out of nowhere—this stripping of everything important to her. What did she expect, though? Still, she just couldn’t imagine how to move on from here—who would she be? What would it be like to return to school after a suspension? What would people at church say once word got around? Mark! Did he know already? She probably should have called him last night and told him herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Are you coming?”
The first words her mom said to her all day. Sigh. Kate looked around in surprise to realize that the room had emptied. Her mom waited at the door, still not making eye contact. Grabbing her bag, Kate squeezed through the door past her, careful not to touch her.
They drove home in silence and then steered clear of each other for the afternoon. The tinkling of silverware at the dinner table grated on her like nails scratching a chalkboard. Kate opened her mouth to say something three different times, but her words just got stuck in her throat. After dinner, her mom just left the room without a word. Kate didn’t know how to move on from this. What if they couldn’t? What if her mom had finally cracked under the weight of grief?
No way. Kate slapped her hands on the kitchen table and stood up. Her wooden chair wobbled back and almost toppled.
She marched into the family room, determined to set things right. “Mom, we need to talk.” Kate sat on the arm of the sofa, blocking the television.
Mom didn’t look at Kate. Instead, she shifted six inches to the right and kept watching TV.
“Mom, we seriously need to get past this.” Kate took in a slow breath and pulled from deep within her gut to find what she needed to say to reach her mom. “I’m—I’m—I’m so sorry, Mom.” The words unleashed her tears. “I really screwed up. I don’t even know what happened. Something came over me, and I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I hardly even considered not doing it. I was just overcome with compulsion to just take the pill. I’d give anything to go back, Mom….”
“Why, Kate? Because you got caught? Is that why you’re sorry, why you wish you hadn’t done it?” Mom’s eyes narrowed in anger.
Kate tried to stop crying. She deserved her mom’s rage. How could she convince her that she truly regretted what she’d done?
“You know, Kate. I tried to stop you. I told you something like this would happen. You didn’t listen to me. You figured you knew best and your mom was just an old worrywart—out of touch.” She finally turned to look at her daughter, making eye contact for the first time in days. “Well, I was right, Kate. Now you’re in a whole heap of trouble, you’ve cost yourself a fun and exciting experience and probably a college scholarship. You’ve got a permanent school record with a suspension on it, and you can never say that you didn’t take illegal drugs.”
She stood and paced the room. “Illegal drugs, Kate. I can’t believe it. And now you have to go to drug counseling, too—you, Kate. I don’t get how this happened to you. Why couldn’t you have listened to me?” She dropped to her knees at the edge of the sofa like when she prayed at the church altar.
“I did stop, Mom … when you told me no more … I did stop.” Please believe me.
“No, Kate. That’s where you’re wrong. You stopped until it became too hard to keep your word.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “Once things became too hard, you listened to someone else. What, does Pam love you more than me? Is she smarter than your simple old mom? Or did she just give you a way to do what you wanted to do all along?”
“I wish I could go back….” Kate looked away and sighed.
“Did your friends know you’re a Christian?”
Kate hung her head in shame. “No, not really.”
Mom made eye contact with Kate. “Is your faith not as important to you as I thought it was?”
“No! Please don’t think that. I screwed up. This doesn’t define me. I made a mistake. Please don’t make me out to be so bad.” She walked to the window and stared out into the snowy night. “You know, Mom, I don’t think I can ever really make you understand my motives and how I just got messed up. Everything you said is true. You’re completely right. But there’s nothing I can do now. I can’t change anything about this situation. I can only change my thinking from now on.”
“I’m sorry, Kate. You’re right.” Mom lifted her hands and shook her head. “We all make mistakes. You’re going to have to give me some time to get over this. It’s just so disappointing. And … and I miss your dad.” Mom put her face in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking with her grief. “He would have known what to do. No … this wouldn’t have happened if he’d been around.”
Unsure, Kate sat still for a moment. But even if Mom didn’t want her comfort, Kate just couldn’t sit by and watch her mom sob without going to her. She knelt on the floor next to her mom, their legs touching. Kate reached her arms out and pulled Mom to her.
Mom pressed her hands into her eyes, the tears leaking between her fingers like a breaking dam, and collapsed into Kate—months, years, of grief pouring out onto her daughter’s shoulders.
The sun went down, but neither of them made a move to leave the now dark room. It had been years since they had held each other like this. Kate hadn’t realized how much she hungered for the comfort of loving arms. Finally, they pulled apart and looked at each other. “I’m really sorry, Mom. I love you,” Kate whispered.
“I love you, too, honey. I’m sorry, too.”
Kate shook her head. “Why would you be sorry?”
“No, I really am sorry for making this so hard on you. You did the wrong thing. That’s a fact. But I’ve done my share of wrong things.” She blew her nose. “I guess, as a mom, I just want my little girl to avoid the hurt that comes from big mistakes. But it doesn’t always work that way. I can’t always protect you from everything. You’re going to have to face the consequences of your decisions, Kate. But not alone. I’m here with you, for you. You, me, and Jesus—we make a pretty nice team.” She smiled. “I love you.”
Kate threw her arms around her mom’s neck one more time. “Thank you, Mom. I love you, too.”
“Can we pray together?” Mom looked hopeful.
“I’d like nothing more.” Kate smiled.
One broken relationship fixed. How many more to go?