It's My Life

by Melody Carlson

  But Jesus says we're supposed to love, not just our friends, but our enemies as well. Grrrr! And I think the Bible says we're even supposed to pray for them! Well, I'll need some serious help to honestly love Zach, but I guess I can try to pray for him–maybe then God will knock some sense into the stupid blockhead!

  DEAR GOD, HELP ME TO LOVE ZACH (BECAUSE RIGHT NOW I REALLY CAN'T STAND TO EVEN THINK OF HIM). AND PLEASE SHOW HIM WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT ALL THIS, AND PLEASE HELP HIM TO MAKE THE KIND OF DECISIONS THAT HONOR YOU. AND COULD YOU ALSO PLEASE SHOW ME HOW I CAN BE A BETTER FRIEND TO BEANIE–I KNOW SHE NEEDS ME, BUT WHY DOES SHE KEEP PUSHING ME AWAY?

  Wednesday, July 18 (happy birthday to me!)

  Yipeeee!!! I am now officially seventeen. You know, it's hard having one of those “late birthdays”–I mean, all your friends get to turn a year older during the school year, and you're just left behind. As a result, birthdays have always been sort of a big deal to me.

  And the day started out nice enough, with my family singing to me and Mom bringing me breakfast in bed. (Okay, it was just Cheerios, but she did put a flower on the tray.) But even my younger brother, Ben, was up (no small miracle), and my parents gave me a sweet card with a big, fat check to be used toward my Mexico trip! And then Mom had gotten me this very cool jacket that I'd admired in a catalog a couple weeks ago.

  Then some of the ladies at work threw a little party for me at break time (with a sweet little cake and several balloons). Of course, as a result, the word quickly circulated that “Caitlin, the receptionist, is only seventeen!” And I saw some surprised looks on some of the faces (like Todd Alberts's, for instance). But I just laughed it off. I don't mind when people think I'm older, but it's a relief having the truth out (not that I'd been hiding anything from anybody).

  All in all, I thought I was having a pretty good day, but then after dinner my dad talked me into going with him to get some ice cream to go with Mom's scrumptious chocolate-sour cream cake. And when we got back, I couldn't help but notice several extra cars parked around my house–and low and behold, the parents had planned a little surprise party for me. Mostly friends, family, and people from church. But it was nice.

  Beanie came with Aunt Steph (who I noticed spent most of the evening talking with Pastor Tony). But I realized this was the first time Beanie had been at my house (when my parents were both there) since they'd heard about her pregnancy. And suddenly I realized how she was probably still uncomfortable with this whole thing. Unfortunately, it seemed my parents were too. They both treated her sort of stiff and formal, kind of like, “Good to see you, Beanie. Hope you're feeling well these days.” No joking around or anything. It made me feel pretty bad for her. I'll have to ask them to loosen up for Beanie's sake. She feels lousy enough about her “mistake” without them getting all weirded out on her too.

  Which reminds me of another thing. My parents and I have never really discussed this whole thing very much (I mean Beanie's pregnancy). And I'm positive they have no idea, right now, that she might actually keep the baby. I'm sure they don't quite know what to think about this whole thing as it is, but I can't imagine what they'd say about my best friend being a teenage mom. Probably that's why we haven't really spoken of it. Maybe it's all for the best.

  And one more thing before I call it a night. Josh came tonight too. No big surprise there, since he's pretty involved with our youth group these days. But he'd given Andrea a ride. And I hate to admit it, but that bothered me. Now, I'm not exactly sure which bothered me more: the fact that Josh (the boy I used to swoon over) gave Andrea a ride, or that Andrea (my almost best friend) got a ride with Josh. And I'm sure that doesn't even make sense in writing. But I'm pretty sure it has to do with jealousy, I'm just not sure why. Well, sometimes life's just too complicated to figure it all out. And besides it's like my birthday, and hey, why should I even care?

  But for some mysterious reason I do. So, let me go on just a little here, if I may. Just as the party is winding down, Josh takes me aside and rather sweetly wishes me a happy birthday, and for a split second I almost think he's going to kiss me (and I can't even begin to sift through what I think about that!), but then he doesn't. Instead, he just looks into my eyes and tells me how much he loves me ”as a sister,” and then he says he's sorry for that stuff he said at the car wash last weekend, and that he was probably out of line for talking to me like that. Well, I just blink and say, “That's okay. I've forgotten all about it.” Which is almost true. I almost had forgotten it.

  But for some reason the whole incident left me feeling a little unsettled inside, and I'm wondering: Did I want him to kiss me? Which seems totally stupid. And then when I saw Josh and Andrea getting into his little Jeep Wrangler, something inside me just twisted, sort of. And so I plan to spend some time praying about all this before I go to bed tonight. I really would like to understand what's going on here. If that's even possible. If not, maybe I can just pray to forget the whole thing. Because if there's one thing I've learned this year–the heart is a fickle thing.

  DEAR GOD, WHY CAN'T SOMETHING LIKE GIVING UP BOYS AND DATING JUST BE EASY? YOU SAY IT, YOU DO IT, IT'S DONE. FINISHED. BUT IT'S JUST NOT THAT SIMPLE, IS IT? I NEED YOUR HELP TO LIVE THIS LIFE YOU'VE LAID BEFORE ME, GOD. I FEEL LIKE UNDERNEATH THIS SMOOTH EXTERIOR OF “CAITLIN SURE HAS IT ALL TOGETHER” I'M JUST A GREAT BIG MESS THAT'S FALLING APART FAST. I KNOW HOW I COULD EASILY BE IN BEANIE'S SHOES RIGHT NOW, OR EVEN IN THE FUTURE, IF I'M NOT CAREFUL. SO PLEEEEASE, GOD, HELP ME TO HONOR MY PROMISE TO YOU. PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR STRENGTH AND YOUR WISDOM TO FOLLOW YOU WITH EVERYTHING I'VE GOT. I JUST CAN'T SEE ANY OTHER WAY TO DO THIS THING. AMEN!

  Thursday, July 19 (whose life is this anyway?)

  Okay, I'm putting in a hard week at work. I even chauffeur my little brother and three of his buds to a baseball game this evening so my parents can go out. I'm living a responsible and mature sort of life, but then I want to go and spend the weekend with my friend, and my parents come totally unglued. What is it with parents anyway? They want you to act like an adult, but then they refuse to treat you like one.

  “This is so sudden,” says my mom. “We don't even know Andrea's father.” As if the man might be an ax murderer or child molester or something equally despicable. You see, Andrea's parents are divorced; her mom's remarried to a nice guy, and her dad's still single. But he has a girlfriend (or two, according to Andrea, which I did not tell my parents–no need to add fuel to their little fire). Anyway, her dad has this really cool cabin on a lake with a dock and a ski boat and everything. And he invited Andrea to come up this weekend and to bring along a friend, and she called me.

  “How do we know who's going to be up there?” asks my dad suspiciously.

  “Who do you think will be up there?” I toss back.

  “He might have friends. You know, it might be a party weekend, with who knows what going on–”

  “Why would a dad invite his daughter and her friend if he wanted to party, as you put it? I mean, think about it, Dad. Is that what you would do?” Thankfully, this seems to fluster him a little. And it's not that I want to be disrespectful exactly. I mean, really, I don't. But I want to go, and spending the weekend at the lake sounds so great!

  “But what if something happens? You say there's no phone,” says my ever–practical mother.

  “If you're that worried, you could just let me take your cell phone,” I wisely counter. “Really, Mom and Dad, I've been trying to show you how mature I can be and now you're treating me like a baby.” I eye Benjamin who, like a dog, is licking the remains of death–by–chocolate ice cream from his bowl. And to my surprise, this kid actually speaks up in my defense, probably trying to show some appreciation for me driving him and his friends around, which he should considering how Ryan Bender spilled a whole bag of popcorn all over the backseat of my car.

  “Yeah, you guys should lighten up on Cate,” he says as cool as can be, not realizing he has a brown smudge of ice cream on the tip of his nose. “She's been a good ol’ gal
lately.”

  My dad laughs at this, but then seems to consider the advice of this little male pubescent. “Yeah, maybe you're right, bud. Maybe we should let up on the ol’ gal.”

  And I bite my tongue, waiting for the consensus.

  “But what about–” my mom starts but thankfully never finishes.

  “She can take my cell phone,” offers my dad, taking control of the decision. “She's got her own car, and if for some reason something doesn't seem right, I'm sure she'll just phone us, climb in her car, and come straight home. Right, Catie?”

  “Of course,” I assure them. “It's not like I'm stupid or looking for trouble. And just for the record, I'm not the least bit worried. Besides, you've met Andrea's mom. Does she seem the sort of woman who would send her daughter and friend off into some bad situation?”

  “I guess not.” My mom seems slightly more at ease now. “It's just that we love you, sweetie.” Then we all hug, and it's settled. Cool, I get to go!

  But what bugs me is that we had to go through such turmoil just to get here. I don't see why they can't just trust my judgment about these things. I mean, some kids my age are already living out on their own. And I've been being all responsible and working and everything. So why are they so paranoid all the time? Good grief, this is my life! I sure don't want to mess it up. Don't they realize that?

  Okay, no more time for ranting. Right now I need to pack. We're leaving right after I finish work tomorrow, and the forecast is for hot, hot, hot. Ahh, to take a dip in a cool, mountain lake. Look out, fun times ahead!!!

  THREE

  Sunday, July 22 (not what I expected)

  Man, am I glad to be home. Not that I didn't have fun. Well, mostly, anyway. But Andrea's dad isn't the most mature adult I've ever met. And his girlfriend is a real piece of work too. In a way they both remind me of a couple of high school kids who haven't grown up yet. Maybe they never will. I felt pretty bad for Andrea a couple times. But I assured her I didn't hold her responsible for their behavior.

  Just the same we stuck it out. I know I probably should've come home sooner. But I honestly didn't feel like I was in any real danger. And I just couldn't bear to hear my parents say “I told you so,” which I know they'd think even if they didn't say the actual words. Someday I'll tell them they were partially right. Just not yet.

  Well, Andrea's dad, or Bobby, as he insisted I call him, has a pretty nice place at the lake, even if it was a total mess. And Jeanie (his girlfriend who looks just like a middle–aged cocktail waitress, which she is by the way) doesn't lift a finger to help out. So to start with, Andrea and I spent our first evening there cleaning house and doing laundry so we could have clean sheets, then we made a run to the nearby camp store where I paid $76.83 for two small bags of groceries!!! Then we proceeded to cook dinner for everyone. All the while, Bobby and Jeanie were just hanging around like a couple of overgrown kids, and never once offered to help. Too weird.

  I thought maybe things would change by the next day. I mean, which ones were supposed to be the guests here? But nothing changed. Andrea and I fixed breakfast and cleaned up again. Then Andrea talked Bobby into dragging us around the lake in the ski boat, but by noon he'd consumed so much beer that we decided we'd be safer to get him and the boat to dockside. Then we took out the canoe by ourselves (which was really pretty fun). But when we returned by midafternoon, Jeanie's younger sister and her boyfriend had just shown up. But did they offer to help or bring any food or anything? (Yeah, sure, you bet.) Nope, they were just a couple of freeloaders. Well, Andrea and I were getting kind of ticked by then. So we got ourselves all cleaned up, then sneaked out the back door, got in my car, and drove to the nearby town for pizza.

  Now that was fun! A couple of local boys began flirting with us, and at first we tried to ignore them, but then, being all inspired by our maturity, we decided we'd use this opportunity to tell them about Jesus (thinking that would either send the guys packing or perhaps do the Kingdom some good!). And can you believe it? They listened –eagerly. We told them all about how our dear friend, Clay Berringer, had been shot last spring (and of course, they'd read about it in the papers), and we told them about the impact this whole thing had had on us. And they were sincerely interested. And when we finally left, they thanked us for telling them all that stuff. Unbelievable! Andrea and I were on such a complete high as I drove us back to her dad's cabin.

  But it evaporated as soon as we got back, because when we walked in the front door, the place just reeked with pot smoke. That's when Andrea went totally ballistic. She just tore into her dad and his friends, telling them how irresponsible they all were and how she was completely sick of them. Then we went into our room and locked the door. It's not that we were afraid. Good grief, the four of them were so spaced out that her words probably went right over their dopey heads. But I guess we just wanted to separate ourselves from them. After that, we sat down on the bed and Andrea just burst into tears. She felt so humiliated by her dad's behavior. But I assured her it didn't matter to me. “He made those choices, not you,” I said. “And it's not a reflection on you.”

  “But I feel so stupid,” she said, wiping her tears with a beach towel.

  “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I can tell you all sorts of horror stories about things I've been through with Beanie and her mom over the years–I mean, Lynn Jacobs is a whole lot more messed up than your dad. So don't worry, this stuff is nothing new to me.” And fortunately that seemed to make her feel a little better.

  Then I did something I don't usually do (but perhaps our chat with those local boys had emboldened me a little). “Do you want us to pray for your dad?” I offered, feeling a little self–conscious once the words were out.

  At first, she got a real curious look on her face, but then she nodded. “Yes. Let's do that.”

  And so we did. We even prayed for Jeanie and her sister and her sister's boyfriend, and we prayed for those two local boys as well. Then, totally exhausted and not wanting to leave our room, we just visited a little while, then fell asleep.

  And the next morning we got up early, got dressed, then slipped out quietly and went back to town where we attended the service in a church we'd noticed the night before. It was nothing like our regular church, just a lot of old people, but they seemed genuinely glad to have us there with them. Then we ate lunch at a little deli in town, went back to the cabin for another swim and a row around the lake, then told everyone good–bye and even thank you, and headed back home. So all in all, it wasn't such a bad weekend. Still, I'm not ready to tell my parents all the details yet.

  DEAR GOD, THANK YOU FOR SHOWING ME THAT MY PARENTS MAY HAVE SOME DISCERNMENT AFTER ALL. AND HELP ME TO RESPECT THEM MORE. (ACTUALLY, AFTER THE LAST COUPLE DAYS, I REALLY DO!!!) BUT BY THE SAME TOKEN, I THANK YOU FOR TAKING WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN A REALLY CRUDDY SITUATION AND MAKING IT BETTER. AMEN.

  Tuesday, July 24 (Beanie's baby)

  It's very late, but I must get all this down before I collapse in bed. I got the call from Aunt Steph late this afternoon. Her voice was breathless as she quickly explained. “Cate, there's been an accident. It's Beanie. She's in the ER right now. Can you come?” I quickly got one of the office ladies to take over the switchboard and tried not to speed to the hospital, which is, thankfully, just a few blocks away. Holding back tears and waves of panic, I raced across the parking lot, praying for Beanie with each step. What had happened to her? Was she going to be okay?

  I found Steph and Mom standing in the ER waiting room and through bits and pieces they both told me what had happened.

  “She took oliver to the park, just like she often does,” began Steph. “He's okay. He's with Ben right now. But he was in his stroller and you know how he's just figured out how to undo everything. Apparently he undid the seat belt.” Then Steph began to cry.

  “It seems he got out while Beanie wasn't looking,” continued Mom. “And she saw him heading straight for the street, and a car was coming–”

  �
��And the driver said that Beanie shoved him out of the way just in time, but she got hit!” sobbed Steph, her voice shaking. “Beanie actually risked her own life for my baby!”

  I grabbed Steph's arms, tears now tumbling down my cheeks too. “But is she okay? Is Beanie okay? Please, tell me!”

  “We don't know.”

  And for the longest time, we didn't know. We waited and waited for what seemed like years. And finally, at about seven o'clock, the nurse said Beanie had been stabilized and was being moved to a private room for the night, and that one of us could go visit her shortly. After a brief discussion, Mom and Steph both decided that, as her best friend, I should go. And so I went in to see Beanie. Her head was bandaged and a tube came out of her arm, but she was awake and her eyes, though sad, were fairly clear. “Beanie?” I whispered as I gently touched her bruised hand. “Are you okay?”

  “I'm alive,” she said in a raspy voice.

  “I'm so thankful. I've really been praying. I couldn't stand to lose you, Beanie. I've just been realizing how important your friendship is to me.” I started crying all over again. But I didn't care. I was just so glad to see she was okay. “How do you feel?”

  “I've felt better.”

  I smiled. Same old Beanie. “But did you break anything?”

  “A couple ribs, and a concussion.” Then she began to cry, silently, but the tears were flowing down her cheeks in two steady streams, and I could see she was in bad pain.