Meant to Be

by Melody Carlson

  Just lamie

  Dear Jamie,

  My best friend broke up with her boyfriend last week. And her boyfriend and I have always gotten along pretty good-as friends, you know? Like I never put the move on him or anything, but we have fun joking around. The thing is I really do like him, and my question is, how long should I wait before I say anything to him? ?? afraid if I wait too long they could get back together.

  Ready % and Waiting

  Bear Heady,

  I see a serious problem here. You say this is your “best friend” and you're ready to make the move on her ex? Something isn't right. I think you're seriously risking your friendship if you try to hook up with her ex just one week after they broke up. Head All Alone's letter (above) if you need to see what it feels like to lose your best friend… because that's what I think willhappen if you follow through with this crazy schäme. Maybe in time (like a couple months at least) when you're certain they're not getting- back together and when you've discussed this with your best friend, maybe then it would be okay But if you care about your best friend, you better learn to practice some patience.

  Just Jamie

  Man, Fm thinking a friend like that could make you seriously rethink your enemies. And although Nat and Torrey aren't exactly good friends (more like acquaintances), it still seems tacky for Nat to make any sudden moves on Benjamin right now. Not that I think she's planning anything. I mean, Nat has more class than that. At least I hope so.

  Saturday, February 4

  Yesterday afternoon, Matthew left town to go snowboarding with his dad and will be gone for the whole weekend. And while I'm glad for him since he doesn't see his dad that much, I'm feeling a little lonely too. And that seems kind of pathetic since it's only been a couple of days. I hadn't realized how attached I've gotten to him. One thing, there is no way I would confess this bit of info to Natalie. In fact, I'm feeling a little irked at my best friend tonight.

  She called me this morning, saying that she'd decided to come to our youth group tonight and asking if it was okay for her to catch a ride with me. That was fine since I was planning on going solo anyway—something I'm not really used to but was willing to try. However, I had this sneaking suspicion that her sudden decision to come with me to youth group had as much to do with Benjamin as anything else. But I did not mention this to Nat.

  So we get to youth group, and Nat immediately zones in on Benjamin. Oh, not so as anyone would notice (besides me, that is), but I can see her making a very subtle but definite effort to get over to where Benjamin is talking to some of the guys over by the snack table.

  By the way, Torrey is nowhere to be seen, and I know by now it's a fact that these two have broken up. I don't know the details, but I do know it's true. Even so, its been less than a week, and in my opinion, too soon for anyone, including Nat, to move in on Benjamin.

  I watch as Nat fills a cup with ice and Diet Sprite (which she never drinks) then moves over to where several big bowls of chips are positioned on the table right behind where the guys are standing and talking. Now I know that Nat doesn't like chips because she says they're “nothing but fat,” but she goes ahead and takes a small handful, pausing there for a moment to, I'm sure in retrospect, consider her next move.

  Then to my total shock, she takes a big step backward, straight into Benjamin who turns around just in time to “accidentally” bump into her drink cup with his elbow and slop it onto the same sweater that her mom probably went into debt for during Christmas.

  “Oh!” Nat says with wide blue eyes, like she is so surprised, and I'm thinking, “No way, Nat. This is way too obvious.” But she continues her little charade, trying to brush the wet spot from her chest with the back of her hand.

  “Sorry,” Benjamin says as he runs to the table for a wad of napkins.

  “No, that's okay,” she says quickly as he hands her the napkins. “It was totally my fault. I'm so clumsy.”

  He stands there with his hands hanging helplessly down his sides as he watches her blotting the soggy spot on her pale blue angora sweater. “Man, I hope that's not ruined.”

  “No, no.” She looks at him with those big blue eyes again. “It's okay. And it's really my fault. I'm the one who ran into you. I should've looked before I backed up.” Now she gets this helpless kind of look on her face. “I feel so out of place here.” Then she looks around like a deer caught in the headlights that's about to run. “I probably shouldn't have come here at all—”

  “No,” Benjamin says, falling right into her clever trap. “It's great you came. I mean, I've never seen you here before.” He kind of laughs. “And dousing with soda isn't the ritual welcome for newcomers. Really, I'm so sorry— uh…1 guess I don't know your name.”

  “Natalie,” she says quietly, like she's suddenly feeling self-conscious now.

  “Yeah, I remember that. Didn't I have economics with you last term?”

  She nods with an expression that still looks somewhat unsure, like she doesn't quite remember who he is. Give me a break. “I think so.”

  He sticks out his hand. “I'm Ben O'Conner.”

  She shakes his hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Ben. I mean, I'm sure I've heard your name or seen you on the football field, but I don't think we've had an actual conversation before.”

  “Weren't you at the snow retreat last month?” he asks suddenly

  “Yeah. I came with my friend Kim Peterson.” She turns and waves at me now. Is this her signal for me to join them? I wonder what role I'm supposed to play

  “Hey, Kim,” Ben says as I walk up. “I didn't even see you over there. How's it going?”

  I just shrug, feeling embarrassed for my best friend. “Okay, I guess. I see you met Natalie.”

  Ben nods. “It seems like we should've met before…but hey, better late than never, right?”

  She smiles brightly. I mean, like her whole face is lighting up as if she's won the lottery. “Yeah, better late than never.”

  “And I hope you like this nutty group of kids,” he says. “The leader over there is going to be my brother-in-law before long.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Natalie says with what I know is fake realization. “Caitlin is your sister! Oh, I get it now. She is such a sweet person. I got to know her at the ski retreat. She is amazing.”

  “She's okay.” Then he laughs. “Okay, she's better than just okay. For a sister, she's pretty cool.”

  We talk for a while longer, then the music starts and it's time to sit down. “Wanna sit with me?” Ben asks, I think just to be polite since we're still all standing together.

  “Sure.” Nat smiles like this idea is a complete surprise to her. So we go to sit down, and not to my surprise, Nat sits right next to Ben. I don't know why this bugs me so much. Maybe I'm just missing Matthew, or maybe I'm having PMS, but I feel like smacking my best friend across the side of the head. Talk about Christian love!

  During the small group time, when we break into a group of three, Nat even asks him (and me too, of course) to pray for her since she's been “feeling a little out of things at her home church and doesn't know what to do about it.”

  “My mom's had a really hard year,” she tells us (which is totally true), “and I guess she kind of needs me for moral support right now.” And then she goes ahead and tells about her younger brother and sister and how much they miss their dad.

  This surprises me a little, since sometimes Nat tries to pretend (around people besides me) that her life is totally together and cool. For some reason she's being really open tonight. Unfortunately, I think the reason might be Ben. But this confuses me. Like does she think she might win this guy through pity?

  By the end of the evening, Nat and Ben are like old buddies. Ben is taking the role of helper and counselor, and Nat is proving herself adept at coming across as fairly needy and helpless. What is wrong with this picture?

  ’Til be praying for your family,” Ben assures Nat as we get ready to leave. “Let me know how it's going, okay?”
/>
  She nods and smiles. “Sure, if you really want to know.”

  He gets a very genuine expression now, and I know he's sincere. “I really do.” Then he turns and looks at me. “And I'm still praying for your mom, Kim.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “See you guys around,” he says.

  I can tell that Nat wouldve liked to have stayed longer, but I have already had more than enough. Its all I can do not to scold her as we walk toward my Jeep. Finally we re inside, and I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “What s up with you?” she asks innocently.

  I turn and look at her in the dim church parking lot lights. “Are you kidding?”

  She frowns. “What's wrong?”

  “That whole poor little me act. I could've sworn you had a script in your back pocket.”

  “Kim!” Now she looks hurt.

  “Nat!” I toss back at her.

  “It's not like I lied,” she says without looking directly atme.

  “How about playacting?” I challenge.

  “I didn't—”

  “What do you call it, Nat?”

  She shrugs. “Okay, I guess it was a little dramatic. But you know there's a little actress in me.” Then she laughs.

  “Try out for the next play,” I suggest as I start the engine.

  “Oh, Kim, don't be so down on me. I had to come up with a way to get his attention. What's it hurt if I spill a little diet soda on my sweater? It's my sweater.”

  This makes me laugh. “I knew something was up when you went for the Diet Sprite,” I say between giggles. “You hate diet soda, and I've never seen you drink Sprite.”

  “I thought it would be the most stain free.” She suppresses her own laughter.

  Soon we are both laughing and playing back the whole evening.

  “Oh, Ben,” I say in a bad imitation of Natalie then break into song. “I'm a poor little lamb who has lost my way, blah, blah, blah.”

  “It wasn't that bad.”

  But the truth is, it was that bad. At least from my perspective. To me it was insincere and disingenuous, and I'm very embarrassed for my best friend. To Nat, I'm sure it was merely strategic, a way for her to get Ben's attention and sympathy. Will it work for her? I don't really think so, but only time will tell.

  Ten

  Friday, February 10

  Go figure! Nat's harebrained scheme seems to have worked after all. Or maybe it's like she keeps telling me—maybe it's just God answering her prayer. Whatever the case, Ben asked her to go to the basketball game with him tonight, and she is flying high. I'm happy for her but still concerned about her tactics.

  “See,” she told me during lunch, right after Ben popped the question. “God was listening to my prayers.”

  “Just because Ben asked you out doesn't mean he's your new boyfriend.”

  “It's a beginning,” she said. “The Bible says ‘do not despise these small beginnings,’ Kim.”

  “I'm not despising anything, Nat. Just trying to keep your feet on the ground.”

  “I don't want rny feet on the ground,” she said happily.

  Now I really should be relieved that Nat's going to the game with Ben, since this means we won't be a threesome again with her tagging along with Matthew and me. That's been the case at the last couple home basketball games. “Do you want to sit together at the game?” I asked her.

  “You and Matthew?” Her brow kind of creased as she considered this. “Do Matthew and Ben get along?”

  I shrugged. “I don't think they know each other that well. Although Matthew did some snowboarding with Ben at the snow retreat.”

  “Well, I can mention it to Ben and then just see how it goes.”

  I nodded. But somehow I didn't think that Nat wanted Matthew and me to join them. Maybe it was because it's her first date with him. Or maybe it was because Matthew's “not saved.” I'm not sure. But I told myself that I didn't really care. Not that I don't like Ben. I do.

  So Matthew and I get to the game after it's already started, and the gym is totally packed out. We walk past the front row, and I spy Nat and Ben sitting in the midst of his friends. And I have to admit that Nat looks especially cute tonight and has on what I'm sure must be a new top. And for a moment, when Nat waves at me, I'm thinking maybe they can squeeze together and make a little bit of room so Matthew and I can join them. But it turns out it was only a wave, not an invitation to join them.

  So Matthew and I climb up the bleachers until we finally find a spot in the nosebleed section. The air is hot and smells like dirty gym socks, and someone has spilled a soda on the bench so its nice and sticky right where I'm going to sit. I don't want to sound like a whiner, so I go ahead and sit down, getting my jeans nice and sticky too.

  I can tell that neither of us are really enjoying the game, and I'm sure not enjoying sticking to the bleacher. So we both decide to split at halftone.

  “Want to get some coffee?” he asks as we walk through the icy parking lot to where he parked his pickup, about a mile away it seems.

  “Sure,” I tell him, relieved at the prospect of getting warm again. “Hopefully my jeans won't adhere themselves to a chair.”

  He laughs. “You should've told me about the sticky bench, Kim. I would've sat there.”

  “It's okay. These jeans are due for a wash anyway.” But as I say this, I experience this unexpected rush of guilt. I think about Mom and how she does all the laundry in our house. How I take it for granted and just pile my clothes into the hamper, knowing that they will “miraculously” reappear all clean and pressed and smelling nice.

  “You don't know how good you have it,” Nat is always telling me. “I've been doing my own laundry since I was twelve.”

  “You're being awfully quiet, Kim.” Matthew says when we finally get to the pickup, and he opens the door for me. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Oh?” I turn to him surprised. “Nothing really.”

  But once we're both inside, he pesters me to tell him. “It must sound pretty silly,” I say after I've confessed my guilt over Mom doing my laundry.

  “No, it's actually sweet. How's your mom doing anyway? You never seem to say much about her.”

  “We don't really talk about it much,” I admit. “And for the most part she seems okay I mean, she's tired a lot, and I know she takes naps during the day and then goes to bed earlier than usual at night. But she manages to keep everything going at home just like normal.”

  “So you don't really know what the doctors are saying? Or how her health really is?”

  “Not exactly. She still isn't taking any chemo or radiation or anything invasive like that. And she got herself this juicer from the Home Shopping Network, and she thinks that drinking lots of this gross-smelling vegetable juice is going to help her get well sooner. And maybe it is…”

  Then there's a fairly long silence as Matthew drives toward downtown. Once he finds a parking space directly in front of the Paradiso (since everyone else is probably still at the game), he finally says something. “Does it bother you to talk about your mom?”

  I consider this for a moment. I mean, I want to be honest with him. “Yeah, a little bit…” I finally admit. “But I guess it's just because I don't really know what's going on. It s like I kind of assume that she's mostly okay and that everything is going to be okay eventually…like God really is healing her. I believe that most of the time anyway.”

  “But not always?”

  “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I'm totally freaked, like having an honest-to-goodness panic attack, where my heart is racing and I'm sweating, and I feel absolutely certain that she's going to die from this. So I pray really, really hard, and I try to have strong faith and to believe that she's going to be healed. And then I feel better. But sometimes I feel like a yo-yo. It's a real up and down kind ofthing.”

  We talk about it some more once we're inside the Paradiso, and Matthew asks good questions. I open up more than u
sual, and I'm actually surprised at how good it feels to let some of this stuff out.

  “It's like I've been suppressing some things,” I finally say. “Like whenever I bring anything about my mom up to Natalie, she tells me to have more faith, to pray harder. And I know my dad doesn't want to talk about it. He gets really bummed if I bring up Mom's health or ask a question about a doctor's appointment. And since I hate seeing him like that, well, I just don't talk to him about it much.”

  Matthew nods. “You can talk to me about it— anytime, Kim.”

  “Thanks. But the fact is, I get kind of bummed talking about it too. I mean, who knows what's going to happen? She really could get well, you know. God does do miracles.”

  Then I tell him about Nat's desperate prayer for a Christian boyfriend, going into far more comedic detail than I really should, and we both end up laughing so hard that we're crying, and I actually have to use the restroom for fear of wetting my pants.

  “Okay,” I finally say after I come back to the table. “You must promise me, swear to me, that you will never let on to Nat that I told you about this. It was so wrong. She's my best friend, and I just made her sound like the village idiot. So wrong.

  He nods. “Yeah, but it was so funny”

  “But you promise?”

  “Of course, Kim. My lips are sealed.”

  And so I've come to the conclusion that the reason I really like being with Matthew is because he gets me. He totally gets me. Okay, it doesn't hurt that he looks like one of my favorite actors—Ashton Kutcher—or that he's a good kisser. But even without those surface things, I would still like him. Sure, it might be nice if he was a Christian, but that could happen. Even without being saved, he has a really good heart. And naturally, I am praying for him.