THERE HAVE BEEN OTHER SORROWFUL OCCASIONS IN MY life. My father died from a heart attack when I was in high school. A dear friend was killed in a car accident when we were in our early twenties. My favorite aunt and uncle went through an acrimonious divorce after forty years of marriage.
I’d been saddened by those events and shed tears over them, but I’d never let my emotions overwhelm me. Now everything overwhelmed me. The world had turned ugly, and I wanted to hide from it. Deciding what to eat for breakfast was too much to handle. Leaving the house seemed unthinkable. I moved around it in a kind of daze.
“You’re depressed, Katherine,” Susan said in her usual direct manner when she dropped by later in the week. “It’s only natural, with all that’s happened.”
“I don’t get depressed.”
“Girlfriend, we don’t get to decide what we feel. Feelings are feelings. They happen to everybody. And trust me. You’re depressed.”
I looked away from her, staring across our backyard at the bright-colored tulips that bloomed along the fence. Brad and I had planted those bulbs the first fall we were in this house. How many years ago was that now? Fourteen? Fifteen? I wasn’t sure. Funny that I couldn’t find the answer to such a simple question.
I wished Susan would leave. I was tired and wanted to lie down, to be alone. Besides, shouldn’t she be at work? It was Thursday. No, Friday.
“You can’t go on like this, you know.”
“Like what?” I asked, looking at her again.
She motioned at me as if that were explanation enough. “Like this. You need to talk to somebody. A counselor or your pastor or somebody. It’s no crime to need help working through a crisis.”
I shrugged.
Susan leaned forward on the patio chair. “Kat, I’m your best friend. I care about what’s happening to you. You’ve always been as solid as a rock for yourself and everyone else. We both know that. But you’ve been through a lot in the last few weeks. You need to let out all the pent-up fear and anger you’ve got going on inside.”
I wanted to deny that I was afraid. I wanted to protest being called angry. But I couldn’t seem to open my mouth.My throat had closed up, keeping me mute.
“I know you’re worried about the investigation at In Step and heartbroken about Hayley’s baby, but I don’t think that’s what’s eating at you. You’ve lost faith in everything you used to trust. You’ve got to start believing in something or someone again.”
I hoped she wouldn’t start spouting psychobabble at me.
She laid her fingertips on my knee. “Do you believe Brad or do you believe Nicole?”
The breath caught in my chest.
“Do you believe God or do you believe Greta St. James?”
I stood and moved to the edge of the patio, my back to Susan, blood pounding in my temples.
She had a lot of nerve, saying that to me. I’d been sharing my faith with her since we were schoolgirls. Susan was the one without any faith. Not me. How dare she imply that I didn’t believe God?
“Kat, I love you more than anybody. You know I do. We’ve been best friends forever. You tolerate me when I’m PMSing and when I just want to be ugly. You even put up with me during those awful days before and after my last divorce. Remember what I was like?”
Yes, I remembered.
“So hear me when I tell you this. I’ve been through it. I know what I’m talking about. You won’t begin to feel better until you discover who you believe and what you want. Limbo is no place to make camp. You need to start working your way back to the real world, kiddo.”
The world was real enough at the moment, thank you very much. More reality I didn’t need.
Susan came to stand beside me. We exchanged a glance. I was the first to look away.
“You’ve had it pretty good, Kat. Great childhood with loving parents. You’ve always been happy in your marriage. You were able to be a stay-at-home mom, just like you wanted, and Brad supported you in that decision. If he ever objected, I sure never heard it. But what man would when he’s being catered to by his wife?”
My gaze shot back to her as I opened my mouth to object, but she raised a hand to silence me.
“Sorry. That was the feminist coming out in me.” She gave me a quick smile. “Anyway, like I was saying, you’ve had things just the way you wanted them. Until now, your kids haven’t had anything worse happen to them than the sniffles or the flu. Your home is lovely, and you shine as a hostess. Seems like your God’s blessed you for a long, long time.”
“Yes,” I answered softly.
“It’s pretty easy to believe in Him when everything’s going your way, isn’t it? Not so easy when you hit a few bumps in the road.”
I looked at her again. “It’s not a mere bump when your husband is accused of a crime and may have been unfaithful and your daughter miscarries her baby.”
“No.” She shook her head, her expression sad. “And I’m not trying to be cruel or minimize how much you’re hurting. But I am trying to make you think. Think or talk or scream or break something. Anything to get out all that garbage you’re bottling up inside.”
“I’m not the screaming type.”
“No, you like to appear like you’re all together. But girlfriend, you’re not. Not all the time. No one is. Life happens to us. Things get broken, hearts included. We’re kidding ourselves when we think we’re in control.”
“God’s in control,” I whispered.
She raised her brows and tilted her head slightly to one side, as if to say, then act like it.
Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples with the tips of my fingers. I needed an ibuprofen. My head felt like it could split in two.
“I’m sorry if I upset you. I only want to help.”
I knew that. I knew Susan loved me and would bend over backward to make things better if she could.
“I’m going to leave. I’m due back at the office.”
I opened my eyes.
“Think about what I said.”
I nodded.
She leaned over and kissed my cheek.“Call me.”Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Any time, day or night. I’m here for you.” Then she left.
A squirrel chattered from a tree in the neighbor’s yard. A sprinkler stuttered on the other side of the fence. The day was warm, but it was pleasant in the shade of the covered patio. The air smelled of spring, unfolding leaves, thickening grass, budding flowers.
Spring. Life renewing itself. Fresh beginnings.
I raised my eyes toward heaven.
Help me.
I seemed to crumple in upon myself, and the next thing I knew, I was kneeling on the concrete slab, bent forward at the waist, my face hidden in my hands.