Edified

by Marissa Sail Fike

  41

  Grace - Friday

  Morning sunlight spills into our car, giving Rae and me the opportunity to pull out our sunglasses. I’ve dressed for comfort — a soft t-shirt and leggings with a flannel around my waist, and big, fabulous red sunglasses. Rae looks effortlessly, adorably athletic as always, wearing shorts, a fitted Nike tank, a snazzy pair of Ray-Ban, and to my surprise … no bracelets. She doesn’t mention it though, so neither do I.

  We stopped in town to fill the gas tank and grab a road snack. And now with the essential “road-trip cappuccinos” in-hand (decaf for me), we’re ready to leave Gevali.

  We kiss it goodbye from our windows, hearts beating expectantly as the GPS says, “In nine hours, you will arrive at your destination: Ocean City, Maryland.”

  Rae smiles, rolling back the sunroof. With a swipe of her hand, she turns the volume on our music way up and throws a hand up in the outside wind.

  I laugh, and it feels good. I throw up a hand with her and we belt the lyrics to Sheryl Crow’s, “Soak up the Sun”.

  We jam out for hours, nothing but shameless dancing, sun-soaked wind in our hair, and trying to sing louder than the volume of our music, which never quite happens despite our best efforts. When our voices are hoarse and ears ringing, we decide to take a break from music.

  “Okay, now that we got that out of our systems,” She says, breathless.

  I laugh, “It was much needed.”

  Rae takes a swig of her water bottle, “So update me. Tell me all the things you wanted to tell me at A&B, but couldn’t.”

  "Oh man," I sigh, "I feel like I had a lot to tell you then ... but even more has happened since then."

  She smiles, "Well, we've got seven straight hours of time, so tell away."

  I take a deep breath, "Okay, let's see ... I went to see my mom the day before yesterday."

  "Yeah?" Her expression is empathetic.

  "It wasn't bad actually," I say, since we've both come to associate me seeing my mom with an unhappy Grace, "After some prodding from Kaya and ... a couple other people, I felt compelled to see if we could mend our relationship a little ... or rather begin to form one at all."

  Rae looks unsure, "So what happened?"

  "Well, I showed up at her house, but she wasn't there. So I called her and asked her to come home from work. She actually did."

  Ray raises her brows.

  "Right? Then we got to talking ... and the surprising part is, she pretty much led the conversation, which makes me think it must have been on her heart too. But before I could say anything about why I came, she was already apologizing for everything and giving me these thorough explanations for the decisions she made as a young mom."

  "What?" Rae says, amazed, "She just delved in like that?"

  "Well, I showed her the sonogram, and I guess seeing it reminded her of looking at my picture years ago. She apologized for being so absent ... explained that working all the time was really her only choice to support us. And by the time she didn't have to be so diligent, I was already grown and gone."

  Rae frowns, "Oh my gosh, that's really kind of sad."

  "I know right? She was crying, Rae. I have never seen my mother cry like that. So of course, being the emotional wreck you know and love, I started crying too and we had this big conversation about how it could be different from here on out. How I need her now, and we can put all that stuff behind us."

  "You're kidding," Rae smiles, "Wow, I am so happy for you."

  I shake my head, "I almost can't believe it ... I have a mom all of a sudden.”

  She shakes hers in disbelief, “God is so good … that’s incredible. So how did this transpire? I understand Kaya, but who are these other people you said prodded you?"

  "Welllll," I say, "That's the rest of what I have to update you on. Big time."

  She raises a brow.

  "Do you … remember Liam?"

  She squints "Liam?"

  I nod, but she still doesn't know.

  "From Aroma Mocha?"

  It takes her a few more seconds, then her mouth drops, "Cinnamon bun guy??"

  I laugh sheepishly, "Yesss ... cinnamon bun guy. His name is Liam Cross."

  "Don't tell me you've been hanging out with cinnamon bun guy. Doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

  I chuckle, "No, he doesn't. And that's actually a long, funny story too ..."

  I go on to tell her about my snappy (righteous, at the time) phone call to him, getting stuck in a cab together on the way to Oakland, and spitefully accepting his dinner invitation just to prove I was right and he was wrong (about his own sister).

  “It just sort of developed from there,” I blush, “His family is just … absolutely lovely. They’re all so different but still so unified … together by choice. It warmed me to see a fully functioning family where each member loves the other. And they were so welcoming to me, Rae.”

  I continue to gush about Liam’s jewelry shop, how he’s trilingual, how his mom loves tea, how his father is a Christian and Liam veers more towards his father’s religion than his mother’s, and the details of our unofficial “dates”. I only realize that it sounds like I’m completely in love when Rae points it out with a skeptical eye.

  “Dang, girl. You better be careful. The way you’re braggin’ on him makes you sound a little smitten.”

  “Smitten?” I say, flabbergasted, “Heavens no. Certainly not smitten.”

  “You sure?” She says, “You’re all red.”

  “Focus on the road,” I smile, blushing all the more.

  She chuckles, but after a few minutes her smile fades.

  “Grace … I love you. I want you to be happy … but I really want you to tread lightly on this. You just broke up with Jayden … and, well …”

  “I’m pregnant,” I say for her, frowning.

  She purses her lips, “How do you know he’s the kind of guy to take that lightly? What if he’s the hopelessly jealous type?”

  I stare out my window, “I guess I don’t …”

  “It sounds like to me, before you proceed any further, a conversation needs to be had letting him in on that little detail.”

  “Well,” I say defensively, “I want to tell him. I mean, it’s not fair for me to keep doing whatever we’re doing without telling him. I can’t just have him over there thinking he’s got a great thing going and that I’m totally available when I’m clearly a package deal. But what if I’m reading too much into this, and he’s not even interested like that? I don’t want to freak him out by all the sudden being like, ‘Hey, I’m pregnant. Just so you know.’ when he’s not even into me. Then it’ll be awkward forever.”

  Rae snorts at me, “Well, based off what you told me, it sounds like he’s definitely interested. I don’t think letting him know about the pregnancy is totally irrelevant at this point. I just … want you to proceed with caution. Don’t rush into anything.”

  I smile at her, “I mean, just to ease your conscience here, I’m not trying to instantly delve into a relationship or anything. To me, this conversation would be like … a pre-pre dating step … to see if we even can proceed with maybe liking each other. If he says he’s not interested, I can just move on from this and quit obsessing. But if he’s willing to give it a try … knowing my baggage and all that I come with … well, then there’s that.”

  Rae laughs, “There is that. I love you, you crazy, wild girl.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I say, jabbing her.

  She flips on her turn signal and passes a car that doesn’t know the “five miles over” rule.

  “So,” she says more seriously, “Have you had some time to think about what you’re gonna do with …”

  She nods at my belly.

  I frown, “Yeah … I have.”

  She waits for me to continue, “And?”

  “Well,” I say, sipping my almost-gone cappuccino, “I mentioned Liam and his sister are adopted and all that … but I didn’t mention something Dhara showed me.”<
br />
  Rae waits as I type out the website on my phone. When it loads, I tap the “I’ve Been Adopted!” section and find Liam’s video.

  I pass it to her and she glances between the road and the video, her face falling as the adorable brown-haired, bespectacled boy showed the camera his favorite truck.

  “His mom showed you this?”

  “Yeah,” I say, pausing the video “That scored him his adoption with the Crosses.”

  She holds a hand to her heart, “He was so precious.”

  “I know …” I say, “After I saw that video … I don’t know, I just can’t imagine seeing my own sweet baby in one of those videos, listing off his or her favorite things, trying to make them sound really good, so that maybe someone will adopt them. A family that’ll love him for those favorite things.”

  Talking about it forms a lump in my throat, but I swallow it down.

  “I also had the chance to talk to Liam and how he felt about his mother after the adoption. He has very little interest in her now. I just can’t do it, Rae. I need to love my baby.”

  She nods, “And that’s totally your call. It’s yours, and I support you.”

  I take in a deep breath, feeling a surprising amount of relief after getting everything off my chest.

  “How about we listen to some more music?” Rae says, cueing the radio, “I know was a lot to share, Now let’s shake it all off and get ready for the beach.”

  I couldn’t agree more. She cranks the volume and we jam for another couple hours.

  42

  Rae - Friday

  “You have arrived,” My GPS announces as I pull into our new address for the weekend. Excitement flutters in my heart.

  The house is adorable on the outside with light blue paint, white shutters, potted plants spilling over the railing of the front patio, and a happy golden pineapple on the door to knock with.

  We step out onto the pavement, stretch our legs, take one look at each other, and squeal, dashing into the house. The kitchen is just as adorable as the picture hinted, and the decor screams beach house, but the real showstopper is the back patio. The sliding glass door opens to a gorgeous beachscape. We can see, hear, and even feel the gentle mist from the North Atlantic.

  After we have dinner and settle in, I step out onto the porch again and breathe in the salty air. Even though it's night, it’s still warmer here than in Vermont. Stars sprinkle out over the calm ocean. It seems to be beckoning me toward it.

  Grace steps out onto the porch too.

  I glance at her, adventure in my gaze, “You up for a late-night walk?”

  She perks up a little, “Always,”

  I grab two apple ales from the cooler we brought and toss her one.

  “Bring the stuff.”

  ***

  We stumble out onto the beach, laughing that Grace’s flip-flops already broke. The soft sand hisses and shifts beneath our feet.

  I carry my shoebox, while Grace carries a sizable shoulder bag filled with many more things — four years worth of things to be exact. The beach is vacant, which gives us no excuse to back out of our plan: Burn every. last. thing.

  “Sand can’t burn … can it?”

  “No, silly,” I affirm.

  We walk a good half mile down the endless strip of beach.

  When we reach a spot that feels right, we set our things down. I brought a lighter, but no sticks to start it with, so I wedge my entire shoebox into the sand and nod to Grace. She smiles and cues our music. Sean Kingston’s “Fire Burning” echoes faintly down the beach as I flick the lighter and hold it to the box. A little quicker than I thought it would, the whole thing ignites.

  The orangish yellow flames reflect in Grace’s eyes. She’s smiling.

  In her graceful sort of way, she rummages in her bag and pulls out some paper. There are lines of boyish handwriting on it. With a look of resolve, she tosses it into the fire and I cheer.

  “Hell yeah!”

  With each thing she tosses, she becomes looser — more joyful and light, like she’s lifting a weight off her shoulders.

  When she tosses the last thing … a necklace he gave her with ‘forever’ inscribed on the front, she’s a whole new Grace. Or rather, she’s back to her original self … beautiful, whimsical, and free.

  Something catches the corner of my eye and I turn to see what it is. Far down the beach, there are two sets of lights. Flashlights, I realize, as they begin to move in closer.

  “Shit,”

  “What?” Grace says, still euphoric.

  “Patrollers. We gotta put this out.”

  Grace’s eyes widen as she spots them too.

  I kneel down in the sand and quickly begin to smother the fire with it. Grace joins me with a sense of urgency as the flashlights inch down the beach.

  When we’re sure it’s out, we make a run for it, leaving a suspiciously large heap of sand behind us.

  As we run, wind blowing through our hair, helpless laughter bubbles out of Grace’s chest.

  I look over at my friend and feel only joy. Our lives may not be perfect, but moments like these make it all worth it.

  ***

  On Saturday, we decided to have our morning drinks on the beach — green tea for her and coffee for me. Later we’ll slather ourselves in tanning lotion and enjoy the sun, but on this blissful morning we agree to be intentional about spending time with God. Earlier I told Grace about my meeting with Kaya and how she reserves her whole Saturday for time with Him. It reminded her of the printout study Kaya passed out on Job, and she suggested spending time with Him

  ourselves this morning.

  So she lays on her belly on the towel we spread out, thoughtfully writing on the paper, while I start my second ever Pinterest board — one that doesn’t have anything to do with fitness and nutrition. The ocean waves cleanse my soul as I pin my favorite scriptures to the new board.

  “Do you regret last night?” Grace says, out of the blue.

  I raise a brow, “Burning stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No,” I say, “Why would I?”

  “Well, because Sam was a big chunk of your life.”

  I furrow my brow and shake my head, “Those letters aren’t something I’d feel comfortable bringing into my marriage. When we get married, I want it to be a clean slate for both of us, you know? Nothing of the past matters at that point. From then on it’s just me and him, because that’s the start of our life together.”

  She smiles, “I like that.”

  I take a sip of my coffee, “Why do you ask? Do you regret it?”

  She shakes her head, “No … not really. But I do feel some sort of … I don’t know, loss, I guess. It’s like I put a huge piece of me to rest for good, which naturally generates some feelings of loss, but it’s also freeing at the same time.”

  I smile at my friend, playing with a tendril of her hair, “Everything’s a process, Grace. This is just a part of it.”

  43

  Grace

  Two months later …

  I play the recording that I took on my phone again — my baby’s heartbeat rushes through the speakers and my mom grins widely on the computer screen.

  “Awww, my precious grandbaby.”

  I’ve already shown her my most recent sonogram. I can actually see the profile of my little love now and his or her tiny fingers.

  “Corinne,” A voice says on her end of the video call, “We need you back on the floor.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  When the person leaves, she rolls her eyes, “I wish they would give me a minute.”

  I smile. I’ve noticed I’ve been doing that a lot more lately.

  “I know you have to go,” I say, “But what are you doing tonight? I could use some help with nursery shopping.

  “Oh, honey,” She smiles apologetically, “I really want to, but it’s just … well … I have something.”

  I roll my eyes, “That clinic would fall apart without you.”

/>   “Well,” she blushes, “It’s not that actually … it’s just, well, it’s silly really.”

  I raise a brow, “What is it then?”

  She blushes more.

  “Mom?” I push.

  “Well, it’s sort of like a date thing.”

  My mouth drops open, “What? You’re going on a date?”

  She shushes me, glancing around, “Keep it down.”

  My still-open mouth smiles, “With who?”

  “Just a guy I met …” she says, “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal. You haven’t dated in years.”

  She winks, “As far as you know, that is.”

  My eyes widen.

  She laughs, “I’m just kidding. You’re right.”

  “So how long have you been seeing him?” I waggle my brows.

  She fidgets with a loose strand on her scrubs, “I don’t know … I guess a couple months now.”

  “Mom!” I say, giddy for her.

  “Okay, okay,” she says, smiling, “Enough of that talk. I gotta get going.”

  I chuckle, “Go get ‘em tiger.”

  I’ve never seen my mom so shy. It’s honestly adorable.

  My stomach growls angrily even though I just had a snack. It seems like my stomach is a bottomless pit lately, especially when it comes to my latest craving: olives.

  I slide off of my bed and eye my reflection in the mirror. Everything on me looks like the same old Grace except for my belly, which is just beginning to show the slightest bit. If I wear loose clothing, you still can’t tell.

  For about the fifth time this week, I think of Liam — how I left him hanging. I never got back with him about that Thursday … never told him what I meant to. And the sad part is, I don’t really even know why I didn’t.

  It started with being far too busy when I got home from Maryland. My clients were submitting orders left and right the previous week and I had a lot of catching up to do. But after that, I’m not sure what it was. Maybe I was just scared … every time I went to text him, I could feel myself chickening out. Making up a reason not to.

  Back in Maryland, Rae agreed that it seemed like he liked me, but now with so much time passed, there’s no telling if he’s still interested.