by Cronk, LN
But when Laci asked me what I was thinking about, I told her that I was just thinking about how much I loved her – which was true enough.
I didn’t tell her everything else, but I hoped that she knew.
~ ~ ~
THE TUESDAY AFTER we got back from our spring vacation, Jordan and I were sitting at my work table when his phone rang. Hoover’s fur had barely begun to fade, but I was still helping him with his math anyway.
“Hey . . . no, I’m over at Dave’s . . . probably about another fifteen minutes, I’m just about done. Okay. Bye.”
“Charlotte?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he closed his phone.
“What’s it to you?” he grinned.
“She’s like a little sister to me, you know. I don’t remember giving you permission to date her.”
“Oh, you did,” he assured me, still smiling. “You just don’t remember because you’re getting so old and you’ve got all that math stuff cluttering up your head.”
“Uh-huh. So I gather she knows that I’m helping you with math?”
“Of course she does,” he said, looking surprised that I’d ask. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I just wondered.”
“Oh . . . I get it. You figured I wouldn’t want her to know that I’m not a math genius like she is,” he said, smiling again. “I think she pretty much had that figured out in the third grade.”
“I just wondered,” I said again, laughing and holding up my hands. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her something that you didn’t want her to know about.”
“Thanks,” he said, smiling, “but don’t worry about it.”
He paused for a moment and then turned serious before finally saying, “I tell Charlotte everything.”
The next time Jordan came over, Charlotte called him again. He promised her he’d be done soon and that he’d see her in a few minutes.
“Ya know, there’s really no reason why Charlotte couldn’t just help you with this stuff,” I said, glancing at him, “since you two seem to have such a hard time being apart and everything . . .”
“We already tried that.”
“And?”
“And it didn’t go too good,” he grinned.
“I use to help Laci with math all the time!”
“Really?” He looked at me quite skeptically.
“Uh-huh,” I said, thinking back. “But I guess . . . well . . . maybe not so much after we actually started dating.”
Jordan smiled again.
“You’re right,” I said, smiling back at him as I remembered. “That didn’t go too good.”
Charlotte came over one Friday night to babysit. Laci was upstairs with Lily when she got there and Dorito was bouncing up and down like a wild man.
“Is it okay if Jordan comes over?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Jordan.”
“Jordan?” I asked, pointing my thumb toward the front door. “You mean Jordan from across the street?”
“Yes, David,” she sighed.
“Why would you want Jordan to come over?”
She tilted her head at me and smirked.
“What?” I asked her.
“Can I stay up until you get home, Daddy?” Dorito begged.
“So is it okay if he comes over?” Charlotte asked.
“Can I, Daddy? Please? Please?”
I looked back and forth between them both. It was probably going to be after eleven by the time our movie ended and we got home. I doubted if Dorito would make it that long.
“You,” I said finally, pointing at Charlotte, “can have Jordan come over, and you,” I went on, pointing at Dorito, “can stay up and keep an eye on ’em.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes at me and Dorito grinned.
When we got home that night the evening news was on TV and Jordan was sitting on the couch. Charlotte was sitting next to him, her head against his shoulder. Next to her, Dorito was slumped in her arms.
All three of them were sound asleep.
When school was over, Jordan came by with his final report card. He’d managed to pry himself away from Charlotte long enough to make a “B” on his geometry exam and finish out the semester with a low “A”. I knew that if he didn’t get any scholarship offers it wasn’t going to be because of his math grades.
“Imagine how good you could’ve done if you hadn’t skipped half of our tutoring sessions,” I chided him, leaning down and picking up Lily who’d come to the door with me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking dismayed.
“I’m just kidding, Jordan. You did great. Now go find Charlotte – enjoy your summer.”
He smiled and started to leave.
“Hey,” he said, turning around again. “When’s Lily’s surgery?”
“Two more weeks.”
“So how long’s she going to be in the hospital?”
“It’s outpatient,” I said, shifting her to my other side.
“Are you serious?”
“Yup,” I nodded. “As long as everything goes okay.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Everything’s going to go okay.”
He looked at Lily and smiled at her, signing as he spoke. “I’m sure I learned all this sign language for nothing.”
~ ~ ~
A WEEK LATER the doorbell rang. I ignored it because Laci usually took care of everything like that while I was working. It rang again and Dorito poked his head into my office.
“Can I get the door?”
“Where’s Mommy?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said, standing up and following him as he raced into the living room. Laci emerged from the basement with a laundry basket full of clothes.
“Sorry,” she said when she saw me.
“Charlotte!” Dorito cried as he opened the door.
“Hi, Dorito,” Charlotte said, glancing into the room and spotting me. She stepped into the living room and looked at Laci. “Hi.”
“Hi, Charlotte,” Laci said.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Ummm,” her voice caught and I could tell something was wrong. She looked down at Dorito. He was jumping up and down, trying to get her to pick him up.
“Hey, Dorito,” I said. “Go in your room and play with your train.”
“I wanna play with Charlotte,” he said.
“Now, Dorito!”
The sharpness in my voice startled him and he went to his room. Charlotte was looking down, as if he were still there at her feet.
“What’s wrong, Charlotte?”
She completely lost it. She drew her hands up to her face and just started sobbing. Laci dropped the laundry basket and we both led her over to the couch.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her again. I figured she’d had a fight with Jordan or something.
“I’m pregnant,” she sobbed.
Did NOT see that coming.
“I don’t know what to do,” she cried. “I don’t know what to do!”
“Does your mom know?” Laci asked softly.
Charlotte shook her head no.
“You have to tell her,” Laci said and Charlotte shook her head some more.
“Does Jordan know?” I asked.
Charlotte shook her head again.
“He needs to know too,” I said.
“No,” she said, starting to cry harder.
“Yes, Charlotte,” I said. “This is his responsibility too . . . he needs to know.”
“No,” she wept. “It’s not his . . .”
Now my head was spinning.
“How far along are you?” Laci asked her quietly.
“I don’t know. Maybe three or four months?”
She couldn’t be that far along . . . could she? She wasn’t even showing . . .
“Have you been to see a doctor yet?” I asked.
“No . . .”
“You’ve got to go see a doctor.”
“I don’t have any money,” she cried.
“Charlotte,” Laci said, “I’m sure your mom’s got insurance on you . . .”
“NO!” she wailed. “I can’t tell my mom. My mom can NOT find out about this!”
I think she’d been deluding herself into actually thinking that maybe she could just disappear for a few months and then come home without her mom ever finding out what had happened – we were probably fortunate that she hadn’t run away or something. It took a while, but we finally convinced her that there was no way her mom was not going to find out.
She agreed to let me go get Mrs. White while Laci waited with her at our house. It was four blocks to Greg’s (I would always think of it as Greg’s). Four long blocks.
“Hi, David,” Mrs. White said, smiling brightly at me as she opened the door. “Come in!”
“Actually,” I said, “would you mind coming over to our house?”
“Is everything okay?”
“Ummm, let’s talk about it at my house.”
“Are the kids okay?
“They’re fine . . .”
“It’s not Laci, is it?” she asked worriedly.
“Laci’s fine.”
“Please tell me her cancer’s not back . . .”
“No,” I said, smiling slightly. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Well, what’s wrong then?”
“Can we please just go to my house?” I asked. “Please?”
She finally nodded and closed the door behind her.
“You’re making me nervous,” she said as we set off down the sidewalk.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
It was an even longer four blocks home. When we finally got to our house we stepped into the living room where Dorito and Lily sat mesmerized in front of the television, watching some show Laci usually avoided letting them see.
“Laci?
“In here,” she called from my office.
I led Mrs. White down the hall and stepped through the door. Charlotte was sitting on the couch in my office and she started sobbing again as soon as she saw her mother, burying her face back into her hands. I let Mrs. White step past me and then I went back out into the hall and closed the door after me because I really didn’t want to be there.
Laci came out almost right behind me and together we walked down the hall to watch television with our kids.
~ ~ ~
AT YOUTH GROUP on Sunday night Ashlyn called everyone together and settled them down. It had been apparent from the bits and pieces of conversation that we’d heard that everyone already knew, so she just went right ahead and addressed it. Ashlyn told them that Charlotte needed their prayers and support right now and that we’d better not hear anyone saying something behind Charlotte’s back that they wouldn’t say to her face. I looked around at their faces and most of them were nodding. Lydia was crying.
After she’d finished talking to them about Charlotte, Ashlyn got the evening’s program underway. She passed out copies of the finalized calendar for the summer and before she started going over it with them she handed the extras to me. I folded one of them up and put it in my pocket, deciding I’d take it over to Jordan’s house when we were done.
It was the first youth group meeting that I ever remembered him missing.
I knocked on the door and Jordan’s mom answered.
“Hi, David,” she said, smiling at me.
“Hi.”
“Come on in . . .”
“Thanks . . . I just wanted to give Jordan a copy of our calendar. We missed him at youth group tonight.”
“Oh!” she said. “That’s nice of you. He decided to stay home, I don’t think he’s been feeling too good the last couple of days. I’m not sure exactly what’s wrong with him.”
I’ll bet I know . . .
“Is he home?”
“He’s up in his room,” she said, nodding toward the stairs. “You can go up if you want . . . I don’t think he’s contagious or anything.”
Probably not.
I trudged up the steps and knocked on his door.
“Yeah . . .”
I opened the door and peered into his room. He was lying on his bed, holding a baseball. He looked at me.
“Can I come in?”
He nodded, sat up, and stared at the wall. He was still clutching the baseball in one hand.
I tossed the youth group schedule onto his desk, turned his desk chair around and sat down in it, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I didn’t say anything.
“She knew . . .” he finally said, glancing at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she knew . . . she knew the whole time. She knew before Easter . . . she knew before the wedding . . . she knew before we even started going out. She knew the whole time!”
“Are you sure?” I asked, finding that pretty hard to believe.
“Yes, I’m sure! She told me! I asked her how long she’d known and she told me!”
“So you’ve talked to her . . .”
“Yeah,” he said, giving me a short, disgusted laugh and lying back down on the bed. “I’ve talked to her.”
He tossed the baseball into the air above his head and caught it.
I really didn’t know what to say so I kept quiet. He kept tossing the baseball.
“You know,” he said after a moment. “What bothers me the most is that she didn’t tell me. I mean, yeah . . . I probably would’ve been upset to find out that she’d slept with him or that she was pregnant or whatever. But I think I could have gotten over that . . . you know?”
He glanced at me just quick enough to see me nod.
“What gets me,” he said, still throwing the ball, “is that she let me . . .”
He stopped talking and stopped tossing the ball.
“She let you what?”
He stared at the ball for a long time.
“She let me get close to her.” he said very quietly, not taking his eyes off the ball. “She knew she was going to hurt me and she just let me get close to her anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Jordan.”
He started tossing the ball again.
“I was so stupid,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just so stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid, Jordan.”
“Yes, I was! You know what I did?”
I shook my head at him.
“I told her all about the conference you took me to and I told her what I’d decided and do you know what she said?”
I shook my head again.
“She thought it was a great idea! As a matter of fact, everything I ever told her . . . everything I ever shared with her . . . she was right on board with whatever I said. I couldn’t believe how much we had in common and I was thinking to myself, ‘Wow! This is unbelievable.’ I mean I’ve known her my whole life, but all of a sudden it was like God was showing me how perfect she was for me.”
He sat up on the edge of the bed and paused for a moment.
“I actually thought I loved her,” he finally said, shaking his head again. “Now that was stupid.”
“It wasn’t stupid . . .”
“You know what?” he asked, ignoring me. “The worst part is that she pretended that she loved me too . . .”
“I don’t think she was pretending, Jordan . . .”
“You don’t do that to someone that you love! You just don’t! How could you do something like that to somebody that you love?”
“Look, Jordan, I don’t have all the answers,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s nothing I can say that’s going to make everything all better. I just . . . I just came over here tonight because I wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need anything.”
He stood up and turned his back to me so that I couldn’t see his face.
“Thanks,” he said, walking over to his
desk. He picked up the schedule I’d thrown there earlier and started unfolding it. “What’s this?”
“Our calendar for the summer.”
“Thanks,” he said again, “but I don’t think I’m going to be going to youth group anymore.”
He crumpled it up and threw it toward the hoop on his wall. It swished through the net and landed in the trashcan underneath.
~ ~ ~
BY THE NEXT day I was as close to being angry with Charlotte as I’d ever been in my life and before I rang the bell I prayed for God to please not let me yell at her.
Mrs. White answered the door.
“Any chance you’re here to talk to Charlotte?” she asked and I nodded.
“That’s good,” she said. “She thinks you hate her.”
“Why in the world does she think I hate her?”
“She thinks everybody hates her,” Mrs. White explained, smiling slightly and I softened immediately.
“Where is she?”
“Down in the basement . . . ironing. She’s trying to make herself as miserable as possible.”
“Punishing herself?”
“Exactly.”
“Can I go down there?” I asked, pointing toward the basement door.
“I wish you would.”
She must not have heard the doorbell. I trudged down the stairs, but she apparently figured it was just her mom because she didn’t look up from her ironing. When I looked carefully, I could tell – just barely – that she was pregnant.
I spoke her name and when she realized I was there she let go of the iron and started crying.
I walked over to her and set the iron upright, unplugged it and then wrapped my arms around her.
“It’s okay, Charlotte.”
“No, it’s not,” she sobbed into my shoulder.
“Come over here and sit down.” We walked over to the steps and I kept one arm around her.
“I was going to go to college and be an engineer,” she said, covering her eyes. “I was going to make my dad and Greg so proud.”
