47. What Fate Brings to Your Doorstep
Mom worked all day Saturday and is working lunch on Sunday.
Ray talked to me Friday about going to church again, but I don’t have a car, and it’s not like I really want to go back. The only thing I do want to continue is my friendship with Ray. He’s one of the only normal things around this very abnormal place.
At ten-thirty Sunday morning the phone rings.
Maybe it’s Ray offering to pick me up for church. If that’s the case, I’ll change my shirt and make something normal out of my hair and go.
Even if it means getting the weird vibes and possibly talking to Pastor Freaky.
“Chris?”
The voice is definitely not Ray’s.
She sounds weak, frightened, upset.
“Jocelyn? What’s wrong?”
Her breathing is shaky and heavy.
“I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“I wake up scared. And go to sleep scared.”
She’s whispering, for some reason.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I am now. He’s gone.”
“What? Who’s gone?”
“I just called to talk.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Friday night was really nice.”
“Yeah.”
“I wish it could always be like that.”
I’m about to say that it can be, but that would be a lie.
Friday night was a miracle, and those only come around at select times.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Everything.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I live with some crazy person who happens to be my aunt.”
“What’d she do?”
“She was born. She decided to take care of me. She’s a train wreck. A total and complete train wreck. Everything she touches seems to crash. Everything.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, nothing specific. Not this time. Thank God.”
“What usually happens?”
“You can’t change who you are, what fate brings to your doorstep.”
Her words sound more like a movie trailer than a girl talking over the phone to her friend.
“You must think I’m crazy.”
“I think a lot of things, but I don’t think you’re crazy,” I say.
“I’m sorry for calling.”
“I was hoping you would.”
“My aunt took the Jeep. Otherwise I’d come get you, and we could run away.”
“Just let me know when.”
“Really?”
“I’m grounded, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For running away with you on Friday night. I forgot to call my mother, not that I have a cell phone to use and not that I could have gotten hold of her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
We talk for the next hour, the tone gradually lightening. I actually get her to laugh, something that is refreshing to hear.
I almost tell her about the house I saw yesterday, but I don’t want to hear any more words of admonition.
I don’t want anybody telling me what not to do, not even Jocelyn.
“I need to go,” she eventually tells me.
“Okay.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For being there. And for not pressing. You can’t believe how good it feels.”
“How good what feels?”
“The fact that you don’t need to take anything from me.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Jocelyn says.
“What’s tomorrow going to be like? At school?”
“Let’s figure it out then. I can’t tell you for sure. I can’t promise anything.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” she repeats.
I can see the smile on her face as clearly as if she were standing right in front of me.
She’s with me, even if we’re separated by miles of wilderness.