Falling Up

by Melody Carlson

  Dear Jamie,

  I think my mom has a gambling problem, and I don't know what to do about it. She used to play bingo all the time, and that was bad enough, but now she's been driving out to this casino during the day while no one's at home. I caught her coming home one time, and she was so happy (because she'd won) that she gave me some money and swore me to secrecy. The problem is that our family is going through some tough financial times (Mom handles our money), and my dad has no idea that she's gambling. What should I do?

  High Roller's Kid

  Dear Eid,

  It sounds like you could be onto something. I would suggest you talk directly to your mom. 1) Tell her your suspicions and that you think she needs help. 2) Ask her to come clean to your dad ASAP. 3) If she refuses, tell her that you're going to speak to your dad. It's not fat for your mom's addiction to drag down your whole family. It'll be tough, at first, but later on she will probably thank you for it. Hang in there!

  Just Jamie

  I'm thinking a gambling addiction couldn't be as harmful as drugs. I know it's bad and that it can bring financial ruin on a family, but drugs can literally kill. The next letter has to do with just that. It came right after Mom died, and the subject was so heavy I just couldn't force myself to answer it. Today I will.

  Dear Jamie,

  You're the only one I can tell this secret to. But I have to tell someone. I'm twelve, and I have two younger brothers who I help to take care of. My parents manufacture meth drugs in our house. They've done it for as long as I can remember. Sometimes they even make me help them. We always have plenty of money since business is pretty good. But lately I've been really scared. I know my parents are messed up, but I think our whole family is a mess too. Also, I'm worried that I'll end up jail if I tell, since I've helped them. Please, tell me what to do.

  Over Her Head

  Dear Over,

  I'm so glad you wrote. You are absolutely right-you do need to talk to someone. Bight away! Is there an adult in your life who you can tust? Like a grandparent or pastor or teacher or counselor? You need to go to that person and tell him or her what's going on now. Manufacturing meth isn't just illegal, it's extremely dangerous. There could be a fire or an explosion or serious chemical poisoning that could hurt you or your Me brothers. You kids need to get out of that house as soon as possible. But you will need a responsible adult to help you through this mess. And no, you do not need to worry about getting in trouble. You are the victim here. If nothing else, you could go direcüy to the police. Just make sure you do something. And do it today!

  Just Jamie

  Now I'm feeling seriously guilty that I didn't answer this sooner. Those poor kids! What was I thinking? I will definitely be praying for them—with all my heart. What kind of parents act like this anyway? Putting themselves and their children at such huge risk? Oh, yeah, ones like my aunt. But then she doesn't actually cook dope in her home—at least I don't think so. Maya didn't mention anything like this.

  Anyway, I plan to show Dad this pitiful letter tomorrow, and I'm hoping he can keep an eye on the news and keep me informed if there's a bust that fits the description of Over Her Head's stupid parents. And while I'm on the subject with Dad, I plan to tell him about Shannon and her little problems too.

  Man, life can be so sad sometimes.

  Four

  Friday, May 10

  As much as I hated having Shannon and Maya here with all their yelling and cursing and bickering, I have to say that I almost miss it now that they're gone. Our house is so freaky quiet that sometimes I feel like I'm going to scream, just so I can hear some noise. Oh, its not as if it was really noisy while Mom was alive, but there were sounds…comforting sounds I miss.

  Like the way she'd have the morning news show playing on her little kitchen TV while she tried to talk me into having something for breakfast, or the public radio station she sometimes listened to in the afternoon, or just the sound of her working in the kitchen, sometimes humming to herself if she didn't know anyone was listening. But now I come home from school, and its perfectly still and quiet. And even though it's May, it feels cold to me too. Like our house is dead.

  I tried playing my violin for a while today, but the sound of it echoing throughout the silent house just got to me—it was so lonely and desperate sounding that I had to stop. I put it away and closed the case and just wandered around until I came to my parents' room.

  Then I went inside and just looked around. Dad hasn't really changed anything yet. Shannon kept telling him that the sooner he got rid of Mom's stuff, the sooner he'd be able to move on with his life. But I don't think he wants to move on. Not like that anyway. Neither do I, for that matter. So I just stood there and looked and smelled and absorbed what little bits of my mother still remained.

  Finally, I went into her closet and leaned into her clothes, breathing in the air that once surrounded her. Then I closed the door and sat down, right there amid her shoes. And holding her bathrobe in my arms, 1 just cried and cried.

  I'm not sure how long I stayed in her closet, but I finally got worried that Dad might come home and freak out to find me in there like that, so I left. But I promised myself that I would come back and do it again if I need to. And I took her bathrobe to my room. I know it's childish, but I just can't help myself.

  I've been trying to make dinner for Dad and me the past couple of nights, but neither of us seems to have much appetite these days. Whether it's due to my less-than-polished cooking skills or missing Mom, I'm not sure. But tonight, Dad opted for takeout. I offered to pick it up, but he said he had to pick up something anyway.

  I wanted to ask him if I could come along, just for the company and also because I didn't want to be home alone again, but I could tell that he wanted to be alone. Still, it worries me that he's alone too much. He's so quiet about everything lately. I just really wanted to talk to him.

  So I decided to do what Mom used to do when Dad brought home takeout. She'd go ahead and set the table and make it look nice, just like a regular dinner. Maybe that would make Dad feel more at home and he'd want to sit around and talk. I even made a pot of tea since Dad was bringing home Chinese.

  But when he got back and sat down, it was just the same. We both ate in silence. Oh, I tried to bring up some things. I asked a couple of questions about the column and the newspaper, but I could tell he had no interest in really talking. And I know it's because he's hurting. But it hurts me too.

  When Matthew called to see whether or not I wanted to go out tonight—since I'd told him I wasn't too sure earlier—I said, “Why not?” I didn't add, “Since Dad won't talk to me anyway.” But that's how I felt as I cleaned up the kitchen and watched my dad hiding behind his “Newsweek” magazine in the family room.

  For the most part, Matthew has been being very considerate of my feelings lately. I know the whole thing with my mom is pretty unsettling to him, and he's not quite sure how to handle it. But at least he lets me vent if I need to. And tonight I needed to. Especially after the movie we saw.

  It was an Italian film with subtitles, and it started out pretty good. Matthew had heard it was amazing. But what he didn't realize was that it was about World War II and lots and lots of death. Just what I needed. By the time the flick was over, my head hurt from crying so much. Then we went out for coffee, and I really laid into him.

  “Why that movie?” I demanded. Then, of course, he told me that he was as surprised as I was. But I carried on for a while, and he just sat there and took it. Finally, he reached for my hand and said he was sorry. And I could tell that he really was.

  “No, I'm the one who should be sorry,” I said. “I'm making this into a great big deal. I know you didn't mean for it to be like this. I'm sorry.”

  And so we were okay. And maybe it was a good thing after all. Maybe I really did need to watch other people in pain. Maybe I did need to be reminded that I'm not the only one who's lost a loved one. And maybe I needed to cry again. So when it was all said and
done, I guess I felt a teeny bit better. But as Matthew drove me home, I could tell he was feeling down.

  “I'm sorry,” I said again, suddenly feeling guilty. “Are you feeling bad because of me? I really shouldn't have gotten so wigged out about that movie. I mean, now that I think about it, it was pretty good.”

  “No…” he said slowly. “That's not really it.”

  “What is it then?”

  ‘Tm not sure. Maybe its just a bunch of things.”

  “Like what?” I persisted.

  He shrugged. “You've got enough on your plate, Km. I don't want to dump on you. Besides, its small stuff compared to what you've been dealing with.”

  “Really, Matthew, I want to know,” I said in my most persuasive voice. “If something s bugging you, you should be able to tell me.”

  He smiled now. “Yeah. But not tonight, okay? I think you've had enough emotion for one night.”

  “You mean its something emotional?”

  He kind of laughed. “Not exactly. Lets just chill for now. Okay?”

  I said, “Okay,” but underneath I really wanted to know what was getting to him. And suddenly I worried that it might have something to do with our relationship. Naturally, I went to the worst-case scenario. Did Matthew want to break up with me?

  Finally we were at my house, and as usual, he walked me to the door, bending down to give me a little peck before he said, “Good night.” But as I went into the house, I was feeling even more certain that something between us was wrong. I really believed he was going to break up with me. That had to be it. But the idea of this sliced through me like a knife.

  Dad had already gone to bed. Not that I would ve discussed this with him. At least I didn't think so. But I suppose I did want to talk to someone. I considered calling Natalie, but it was pretty late, and besides she's still so bummed about her own life. So I went to my room and just sat down and thought about how things have been with Matthew and me. And now it seems more obvious than ever. I'm surprised I didn't see this coming.

  Our relationship has been pretty minimal for the past few weeks. Maybe even the last couple of months. But then what could you expect? When your mom is sick and dying—of course you're going to be preoccupied with that. I probably tried to pretend like everything was fine, and there was even a time when I thought Mom was better and that God was healing her. But I'm sure that Matthew sensed I was distracted. How could I not be?

  Even prom, which was surprisingly fun, was overshadowed with Mom's health. And then she died that very same night. So naturally I haven't been giving Matthew much attention. And this is his senior year, and his goal had been to have a good time. But then he hooked up with me. No wonder he's ready to dump me.

  But he's such a nice guy. I'm sure he's been postponing this break up because of everything that's gone on lately. I mean, you don't break up with a girl right after her mom dies—unless you're a jerk. And Matthew is not a jerk.

  So I decided to IM him, hoping he'd be home by now and possibly online. But he's not. Of course, I didn't mention my concern about breaking up. I just said, “hey, are you there?” But when he didn't answer, I signed off. And even though I'm trying to let it go, trying to pretend that I don't suspect what I do, I have a feeling I'm right on target. I am certain that Matthew, my first real boyfriend, is ready to move on—and it's killing me.

  And so in my usual distraction mode, I attacked some column letters. Maybe reading about someone else's heartache would cheer me up. And believe me, there's plenty of it. The number one topic teens write to me about has to do with romance gone badly. Usually, I skipped most of those letters, but tonight I was ready.

  Dear Jamie,

  There's a certain guy who I've been really good friends with for about a year now. We hang together a lot, and he's been like my very best friend. He's so easy to get along with, and I can tell him almost anything. I guess I've known for a while that I have kind of a crush on him. But I have never let on. I always act like we're just friends. And that's mostly cool since I get to be around him so much. Until last week. That's when he told me that he likes this girl, I mean, like he's totally into her. And he wants me to see if she's into him. He even thought maybe I could talk to her. And this whole thing is making me crazy. I really want to tell him how much I like him, but I'm afraid that will ruin everything. What should I do?

  Just Friends

  Dear Just,

  It must be hard to be in that position. But you need to accept that you put yourself in it First of all, you haven't been totally honest with this guy You're acting like you are “just friends” when you actually really like him. Isn't that a little deceptive? I mean, friends are open with each other, telling secrets and stuff, and he's been open with you. But you sort of took advantage of it by pretending to be “just Mends.” I think it's mostly your own fault that you got hurt, and now you have two choices: 1) You can let things continue as they've been, deceiving him and hurting yourself, or 2) you can tell him the truth and put your friendship at risk I recommend the second option because at least it shouldn't hurt for as long. And after this I suggest you be honest in any relationship that's important to you.

  Just Jamie

  Okay, that's probably not the kindest response I've written. Maybe Jamie is feeling cranky tonight. Lets see if I can do better on the next one.

  Dear Jamie,

  My parents wouldn't let me date until I was seventeen, which seemed totally unfair since all my friends were already dating long before that. But then “John* transferred to my school shortly after my seventeenth birthday, and I thought maybe my parents weren't so lame after all. Anyway John and I have been going together since Christmas, and he is the coolest guy I've even known. I love him with all my heart. And up until last week, I thought he loved me too. But then he broke up with me. Just like that. He says he likes someone else. I am totally devastated. I know my heart is broken into about a million pieces. I don't think I'll ever get over this. I wish I could die. What should I do?

  Shattered Girl

  Dear Shattered,

  I know it must feel like the end of your world, but trust me, it's not. Even so, it's got to feel really, really rotten. I wish I could say that time heals all wounds, but Tm not sure that's true. I think the only thing you can do is to just keep going, working your way through this pain until you reach the place where it doesn't hurt so much, I recommend that you reach out to God during this time-He's a great comforter when your heart is broken. Heartache, like grief, will probably have various stages (like denial, anger, depression…), but if you work through these things, you should finally get to a place of acceptance. In the meantime, don't isolate yourself. Spend time with good friends and do things you once enjoyed. Hopefully the shadows will pass. And next time, you'll be more careful before you give your heart away.

  Just Jamie

  I know I should be preparing myself to take this advice too. Because I still have the strongest feeling that Matthew is ready to call it quits. But before I turned off my computer for the night, I decided to just e-mail him. Why not take Jamie's advice and “just be honest”? Why not just ask? And so I do. I don't go into much detail, only that I'm concerned he wants to break up and feels uncomfortable about it. But I assure him that he can talk to me—that it's okay. I just hope I can be as strong as I am trying to appear. God help me. I will be praying myself to sleep tonight.

  Five

  Sunday, May 12

  As it turned out, Matthew had no intention of breaking up with me. Or so he assured me last night. He'd spent most of the day doing yard work at his grandparents' house and hadn't even seen my e-mail until he got home later in the afternoon. Worried that I might be sitting around freaking, he called me as soon as he read it.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Oh, no, I was thinking, here it comes. “Yeah?”

  “Can we do something tonight?”

  Well, I'd actually been thinking about going to youth group, but I quickly ditch
ed that plan, figuring it was more important to take care of this. And if I was about to get my heart broken, I'd prefer to do it on the weekend and in privacy if possible. So I agreed.

  “I'll pick you up at seven,” he said. And then we hung up. Of course, that left me feeling pretty antsy. As a result, I paced around the house like a caged tiger. Dad was doing something on his computer in his den, and I could tell he didn't want to be disturbed. Whether he was actually working or what, I wasn't sure. But as I slowly walked past the open door, I could tell by the serious tilt of his head and the way he focused on his screen that he wasn't in a talking mode. Not that I would've really wanted to talk to him, at least not about Matthew. That would be weird.

  Suddenly, I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to call Nat. Okay, I knew she was still acting all weird and sad about Benjamin and the breakup, but this could prove a good distraction for her, might even remind her she wasn't the only one with problems. Besides, Christians are supposed to support each other during hard times, right? Well, I was on hard times.

  “I need to talk,” I said shortly after she answered.

  “What's wrong?” she asked with what sounded like mild interest.

  “Can you come over?”

  But as usual, she was watching Krissy and Micah, so I went over to her house. Actually, this was a relief. I get so tired of the silence at my house that even her bickering siblings sound good to my ears. At least for a while.

  Finally, we were up in her room, which to my surprise looked pretty disgusting. “What happened in here?” I removed what appeared to be dirty laundry in order to sit on her chair.

  “Huh?” She looked around blankly, as if she didn't notice the change. Natalie used to be something of a neat freak. One of the things we used to have in common, although I was always more obsessive about it. She used to brag on how her room was the cleanest place in their whole house. And up until now that had been true.