Edified

by Marissa Sail Fike

  I nod, holding her gaze.

  “Hear me when I say that your insecurities won’t go away just because you got married. It’s going to take a little more on your end to be where you want to be.”

  “I believe that,” I say.

  “And I believe you’re ready for it.” Kaya smiles, “On your own, you have what it takes to beat this, but you said that Adam has been super supportive too, right? So that just makes this all the more possible.”

  I smile, “Yes, he has been, but sometimes I wonder if I’m asking too much of him. This is a goal I’ve made for us completely on my own … not we, yet I’m asking him to just be all in. Is that … fair of me? He’s just one man.”

  I meant the last part to be funny, but Kaya is all seriousness.

  “I want to ask you something.”

  “Okay,” I shift.

  “If there was ever to come a time that Adam wasn’t willing to do this with you, something that clearly means a lot to you, is he someone you’re willing to give up?”

  Her question, so blunt, surprises me.

  “Because this is the hardest part about being faithful to God. If He tells you that you have to give Adam up, you have to be willing to listen.”

  “I mean …” I say, “I don’t think that …”

  I don’t find my words, so Kaya continues, “Just try to understand that He will never ask you to do something that is not in your best interest, even if you don't understand it at the time. If God tells you to do that, He already has something better lined up for you, or at a bare minimum, is saving you from a situation that’ll continually hurt you in the future.”

  I nod, taking in her words.

  “Not that I think this is the case for you and Adam,” she smiles, “It’s just important once in awhile to do a little self-check. ‘If I want God’s peace and guidance, am I willing to listen to His leadership over my life? Or am I making something else more important?’ That was the thing that tripped me up the most in embracing my identity …”

  Identity in Christ

  I Am…

  Lavished in Love (1st John 3:1)

  His Daughter (1st John 3:2)

  Known (1st Corinthians 8:3)

  Holy & Blameless (Ephesians 1:4)

  Predestined for Adoption (Ephesians 1:5)

  Chosen - Appointed (John 15:16)

  God’s special possession - Called out of darkness (1st Peter 2:9)

  Accepted (Romans 15:7)

  One in Spirit (1st Corinthians 6:17)

  No longer a slave to sin (Romans 6:6)

  Part of the body (1st Corinthians 12:27)

  A temple for God’s Spirit to live in (1st Corinthians 6:9)

  Triumphant (2nd Corinthians 2:14)

  Blessed (Ephesians 1:3)

  Bold - Confident - Able to approach God with anything (Ephesians 3:12)

  A Light in Christ (Ephesians 5:8)

  Guarded in Peace (Philippians 4:7)

  Complete (Colossian 2:10)

  God’s Handiwork (Ephesians 2:10)

  Redeemed - Forgiven (Ephesians 1:7)

  Created in His image (Genesis 1:27)

  A Friend of Jesus (John 15:15)

  A Conqueror (Romans 8:37)

  Fearfully and Wonderfully Made (Psalm 139:14)

  A New Creation (2nd Corinthians 5:17)

  Free (Romans 8:2)

  ***

  From: Claire

  Sent: 10/14/19

  Time: 12:27 pm

  Hey, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to meet up this afternoon — I’m sorry :( I’m studying like crazy for midterms.

  __________

  I frown. What does she think I’m doing?

  The test is in just three days, and so far, the only part I’ll understand is the part that covers our last lesson (and that’s only because I have her notes).

  I find myself in a familiar state: sitting on my yellow rug trying to make sense of the red-inked papers spread out around me. They’re nothing but gibberish.

  I pop a couple of stress gummies. They’re delicious, but unfortunately not very powerful.

  Maybe I just need to call Adam … see if he can walk me through it. But once again, I’m met with the idea of him realizing how inept I am with math, and I just can’t bring myself to tell him.

  I let out an exasperated sigh, just as Grace’s face lights up my phone. I welcome the distraction.

  “Hey there,” I say.

  “Hey,” She sounds tired, “What are you doing?”

  “Just … stressing over math. What about you?”

  She sighs, “I told Jayden.”

  My jaw slacks. I set down my pen.

  “And?”

  “He flipped out.”

  “Oh,” I frown, “How bad?”

  “Bad,” she says, “He accused me of lying, sleeping around, and get this: trying to get back with him. All in the same ten seconds.”

  I laugh humorlessly, “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope …”

  To think we adopted him into our friend group for so long.

  “So … now what?”

  “Well,” she takes a breath, “Now I figure it out.”

  I wince.

  “I’m actually not like … devastated at his reaction,” she continues, “Maybe a little shocked. Even after everything, I’m still surprised that this is … the new him. But I’m not devastated. If this really is the new him, I’m glad he decided to back out of this one. I don’t want him around us.”

  I nod, “I don’t blame you.”

  “The only trouble now is … I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I have to be real with myself and accept that I can’t do this on my own …”

  “You’ll have help, though,” I smile, “Believe me, the baby is gonna love his or her Auntie Rae.”

  She chuckles, “I know, you and Adam will be awesome. It’s just that … I don’t know. I have to consider picking up another job … affording daycare. My dream was always to stay home with my children and raise them until they’re school-age, but that’s not even an option here.”

  “Well,” I say, “You do have options though, even if staying home with them isn’t one. I don’t want this to come off the wrong way … I totally support your decisions … but have you thought about adoption?”

  There’s silence for a minute and I worry that I’ve offended her.

  “I’d be lying if I said it’s never crossed my mind.” she says finally. “I feel so guilty for that though. The baby would never know me … or maybe it would and hate me for deciding I don’t want it.”

  “You’re not aborting it, Grace …” I knew better than to suggest that. “You’re not saying you don’t want it. You’d simply be deciding that you can’t provide the best possible care for your child on your own, and that you’re doing this so that they can have a better life. Out of love.”

  I can see her shaking her head, “But a little child isn’t going to think like that. Those are mature, grown-up thoughts. All they’re going to think is, ‘Mommy didn’t want me, and I don’t know why’.”

  I purse my lips, “That’s not true for every child …”

  “I mean, I’m a grown adult and I feel bitter toward mine for doing far less,”

  I shift my phone to the other ear, “Okay. Maybe adoption isn’t the move, and that’s totally okay. In fact, I think the relationship you’ve had with Corinne will be an amazing tool for you as a mom. From your experience with her, you know the kind of love and belonging your baby will need to feel from you — the perfect balance of independence, and moral support — and I have no doubt you’ll do an amazing job of providing it.”

  I can see her smiling, “Thanks, Rae.”

  “I mean it,” I say, “I can’t wait to see you shine as a mom, whether that’s eight months from now, or years in the future when you feel more prepared. Just know that you do have options, and you shouldn’t feel bad for considering them. To do that is human.”

  She sighs, “Yeah … I
guess you’re right …”

  “Love you, Gracie,” I smile, “Chin up.”

  She laughs, “Love you, Rae. Good luck with math.”

  I glance over the papers spread out around me.

  “Thanks … I need it.”

  33

  Grace - Monday

  I slip my shoes off by the door and do the little bow thing to Nancy behind the check-in desk. I haven’t been to yoga in almost a month now, and truth be told, I’ve missed it.

  I usually don’t mind the fragrance of synthetic frankincense wafting through the sanctuary, but today it smells sickeningly sweet. I think I might throw up. I focus on my breathing to keep the nausea down and imagine the little human inside my stomach rubbing against me affectionately.

  “Grace!” Calls the instructor, “I haven’t seen you in weeks. How’ve you been sweetheart?”

  I nod, “Hanging in there.”

  Betty’s arms are gesturing wildly to two other ladies on the far end of the room. I can only assume she’s telling another ex story, which makes me smile.

  I’m busy unrolling my mat when all the ladies, including Betty, suddenly gather at the entrance of the room. They’re all making a fuss over someone. Words of adoration like handsome, and ‘our boy’, are thrown around.

  I look up to see who is receiving all of these masculine words of praise, only to be met with the face belonging to none other than Liam Cross. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s greeting each older lady by name and passing out strong hugs.

  Finally, he sees me, but he doesn’t look surprised. He simply smiles and goes to place his mat next to mine.

  “This spot taken?” He says.

  I shake my head from my place on the mat, “You do yoga?”

  “My mother does from time to time. This would be a first for me. Well, I guess a second.”

  I glance over at the group of adoring old ladies, who are still gathered at the doorway, “How do they all know you so well?”

  He smiles, “For one thing, because of my mother. But also because I came to last Monday’s session.”

  “Why did you —”

  “Alright ladies,” The instructor says, pausing for a smile, “and Liam. We’re gonna go ahead and get started.”

  I close my mouth, deciding to put all of my focus into the session. But as the instructor begins guiding us through, I can’t help but peek over at him. His muscles flex throughout each pose — veins rippling through his tan skin. I never thought a man doing yoga could be … attractive, but Liam is the essence of strength.

  When the session is over and he is rolling up his mat, a little chuckle escapes my throat.

  “What?” He says, smiling.

  I shrug. The laughter makes my heart warm.

  “What’re you laughing at?”

  “You.” I say, shaking my head.

  He places a hand on his chest, looking exaggeratingly surprised.

  “Moi?”

  “You’re very persistent, you know that?” I smile, “I can’t believe you came to do yoga with me. Jayden would’ve never —”

  I stop short.

  Liam studies me. His face looks as though he’s resolved not to ask.

  “What?” He says, redirecting, “Can’t a man enjoy a little yoga?”

  “Of course he can,” I say, smiling again, “But what’s your excuse for coming here for the first time a few days ago? You were trying to find me. Admit it. ’Cause you’re too mysterious to send a text.”

  “You think I’m mysterious, huh?” He smiles.

  I open my mouth and then close it, while playfully punching his arm. How’d he get me to say that?

  He laughs, “I put the pieces together … you said you do yoga. There’s only one yoga place in Gevali, and only two sessions per week. And before you go getting too excited, I only know that because of my mother.”

  “So,” I jest, “You figured I’d have to be at one of them.”

  He shrugs, “I took my chances.”

  He tucks his mat under his arm and stands, “It was good to see you again.”

  “You too,” I say, not expecting him to start walking toward the door.

  “Wait,” I call without thinking.

  He turns, “Hm?”

  “Um,” I say, standing, “What are you doing now?”

  He glances at his watch, “Well, my client canceled this morning, so I was gonna go check out the Maple Festival.”

  “Oh,” I smile, “I didn’t know they did that this time of year. I thought it was only in April.”

  He switches his mat to his left arm, “The big one in Saint Albans is in April. I’m talking about the little one on Maine Street that Mr. Cane is throwing this year.”

  “Mr. Cane is throwing his own Maple Festival?”

  “Yeah,” Liam smiles, “Is that not the cutest thing you ever heard?”

  I nod and stand there awkwardly for a second.

  “Do you … wanna come?”

  I shouldn’t.

  But then I think about what Aunt Kim had said … “Start enjoying life again. Don’t deprive yourself one more minute of joy over this. What’s done is done, so try to find a way to enjoy each little moment for what it is.

  “Yeah.” I smile.

  ***

  We took his car. A little grey Elantra with heated seats like Persia’s.

  The car ride isn’t long, but it’ll be too quiet if I say nothing at all, so I turn toward him and attempt small talk, “So you said one of your clients canceled on you this morning, right?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He nods.

  “What kind of jewelry are you making for them?”

  He smiles, “None, actually. Jewelry making is just my side hustle, remember? I actually have my Bachelor in Interpretation, so that’s my full time gig.”

  I eye him with interest, “What do you do with that?”

  His eyes are trained on the road, “Are you asking what I do with it, or what I’d like to do with it?”

  “Why not both?”

  His fingers grip and ungrip the wheel. “Well,” He says, “The dream is to be a world traveling translator, but the reality is that I teach foreign languages to people one-on-one. Some local, some over video call, but all in the U.S. so far.”

  “Languages?” I marvel, “As in plural?”

  He nods, “English, Hindi, and Italian.”

  I think of his voicemail, and how he has it recorded in two languages.

  “No way,” I smile, “I wanna hear you say something.”

  He laughs, “Okay, what do you want to hear?”

  “I dunno. Surprise me.”

  “Ah, okay, well let’s see … how about ‘yah ek raaj hai’.”

  “Whoa,” I clap my hands together, “What’d you say?”

  “It’s a secret.” He grins.

  “You’re not gonna tell me??”

  He shakes his head, trying to suppress his smile.

  “Come on,” I punch his arm and we swerve a little.

  “Hey!” He laughs, “Quit assaulting the driver.”

  “Tell me then!”

  “I can’t!” He says.

  I squint at him, “I’m gonna Google Translate it.”

  He laughs, “Good luck with the spelling.”

  I cross my arms.

  “Growing up, my mother spoke Hindi to us, and my father spoke English to us, so my sister and I picked up both. Later, my dad taught us the bits of Italian he learned when he went to Albania, and I pursued it further on my own. I guess I realized I have a knack for picking up languages.”

  “I’ll say …” I peek out my window, “Do you think you’ll learn any more?”

  “Maybe,” He says, “Though it’s not my focus right now.”

  We scour the crowded little strip for a parking spot, having to settle for a parallel space. If I’d been driving, I’d have butchered a parallel parking job. Maybe even parked far, far away to avoid the space altogether, but Liam pulled into the spot with ease.


  Across the walkway hangs a banner with an orange painted leaf: Cane’s Gevali Maple Fest.

  It’s exactly like the annual festival in Saint Albans, only miniature. The sun is shining on several little food stands, all promoting maple flavored products: maple coffee, fudge, ice cream, pancakes, nuts, butter, and even maple-glazed carrots. There’s a talented young boy strumming effortlessly on his guitar on the sidewalk, and a little grassy area with games like Cornhole and life-size Jenga. Signs on either side of the road promise a scheduled tour of Mr. Cane’s maple farm, where he will walk guests through his maple syrup process ‘From Tree to Bottle’, and a special stop at his gift shop afterwards.

  In a rocking chair on someone’s patio sits Mr. Cane himself. He waves hello to Liam and Me.

  “Hey, Mr. Cane!” I say, “Quite the event you’ve put on for us here.”

  “Oh, yes,” He smiles. “I usually go out to the annual festival … sell my maple treats there, you know, but I won’t be able to make it this year.”

  Liam frowns, “Why won’t you be able to?”

  “Oh,” He says sadly, “Patricia’s family will be coming up from Pennsylvania for a visit. They miss her like I do.”

  Mr. Cane’s wife passed away a little over a year ago now. The old man has been just pitiful without her. But Patricia’s family always loved Mr. Cane like their blood kin, so they still visit regularly.

  “They’ll be happy to see you,” I say, offering a smile.

  “So you just decided to host a festival of your own since you couldn’t make it?” Liam says, “Pretty savvy of you, I’d say.”

  “You know how I love it so!” His wrinkled face brightens, “The music, the children, the food … it makes me young again.”

  My heart melts.

  “Oh, would you listen to me carrying on?” He leans in, handing us two maple flavored candies from his pocket, “You two go on and have a good time.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cane.” I smile, accepting the candies.

  “That man is a saint.” Liam says when we’re out of earshot.

  “Mm-hmm. He offered to let my best friend have her wedding on his Maple farm free of charge.”