Falling Up (5 page)

She flopped down on her unmade bed and just looked at me. “What's up?”

So I told her my theory about Matthew, how I was certain he was about to break up, and how I needed to talk.

“So…” She just shrugged, like no big deal.

“So?” That was the best she could do?

“Yeah. So he's going to break up, Kim. It happens.”

I felt myself tensing up. I mean, when Ben broke up with Nat, she totally fell apart. I listened to her ranting
and raving for hours—and that was during the time when my mom was dying. I probably wasted precious time listening to Natalie obsessing over Ben when I could've been with my mom. The very idea of this made me feel like I was about to start crying.

“I know its tough, Kim,” she said in a flat-sounding voice, not the least bit compassionate sounding, “but you have to get over it, move on.” She narrowed her eyes, just a tiny bit. “Isn't that what you told me?”

“Well, maybe…” I wanted to leave now. “I can't remember exactly”

“But it hurts, doesn't it?”

I nodded, a big lump growing in my throat. Still, I was thinking it's not the getting dumped part that hurt so much—at least not yet. But it's this apathetic attitude of my supposedly best friend that hurts. That and knowing I really don't have anyone to talk to anymore. Not my mom, not Nat, and before long, not Matthew as well. It was pretty dismaying.

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said as I stood up.

“Hey, I'm just telling it like it is.”

“Right.” But I turned away and reached for the door. All I wanted was to get away from her. If I wasn't mistaken, I think she was actually enjoying my agony over Matthew. Okay, maybe it was just a case of “misery loves company.” I'm not sure, but it felt lousy And I'd had enough.

I fretted around the house for a while, doing a couple of chores. And then, I think as a result of seeing Natalie's
sorry room, I decided that mine could use a little help, so I spent about an hour tidying up. And I had to admit that made me feel just a teeny bit better. Then I spent some time getting dressed, trying on about six outfits before I found one that seemed right. I mean, if I'm going to be dumped, I'd like to go down looking good.

Finally it was nearly seven, and I went out to the kitchen to wait.

“Going out tonight?” my dad asked. Was that relief I heard in his voice? Was he glad to have me out of the house so he could be completely alone? And if so, what was up with that?

“Yeah.”

“With Matthew?”

“Yeah.”

“He's anice kid.”

“Yeah—” My voice kind of broke by the third “yeah.”

My dad looked at me with a concerned expression. “He is, isn't he?”

I nodded, maybe a bit too vigorously. “Oh, yeah, he definitely is. Very nice.”

“Are you okay, Kim?”

I glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was seven o'clock, and I knew Matthew would be here any second. No way did I want to break down into tears now. “I'm fine, Dad.” I held my chin up to bolster my sagging spirits. “How about you?” I looked directly at him, thinking it was his turn to sit on the hot seat.

He forced a pathetic little smile. “I'm fine too, I guess.”

And then I heard Matthew s pickup pulling into the driveway. But I just couldn't leave on such a lame note. So I threw my arms around Dad, hugged him, and said, “Yeah right, were both perfectly fine. What a couple of big fat liars!”

He kind of laughed now. “Well, we're trying anyway.”

See ya.

And as I headed out, meeting Matthew halfway up the walk, I realized how fragile Dad and I still are. Maybe we should wear a warning label like: “Caution, contents under pressure—may explode at slightest provocation.” Or maybe we should have a well-defined grieving period, like some cultures that require the bereaved to wear black or certain garments that remind everyone that they are still grieving.

I heard about a place in the South Pacific where the widow is draped in hundreds of long strands of seed necklaces so they cover her entire torso, and she's not allowed to remarry until all the seeds have withered or rotted away—and it could take years.

“Hey, Kim,” Matthew says as we hug in front of my house. “You okay?”

I shrug, still trying to maintain some composure. “Yeah, I guess.”

Then he opens the door and helps me into his truck. He's being so nice that it seems to confirm everything. He wants to dump me in a gentlemanly way. But I'd rather he just got it over with.

“It's so nice out that I thought we could go for a walk
or something,” he says as he drives down the street.

Right. Go someplace private where no one can witness me falling apart when he shares the news. Whatever. I sit in silence as he drives. He's talking about all the yard work he did for his grandparents and how he aches in places he didn't even know he had. Finally, he pulls over by a park not too far from my house. Convenient, Fm thinking as I get out. If things get really bad, I can walk home.

We walk over to where a little pond and fountain are situated in the center of the park. On really hot days, the neighborhood kids like to come here to cool off. My mom never liked me to do that. She worried that the water wasn't chlorinated and that I'd come home with some horrible disease. But Nat and I sneaked over a few times and got into some good water fights, but then after I got home I would worry that I'd contracted some weird illness. Of course, I never did.

Matthew and I sit on a bench in front of the pond. A couple of kids are trying to sail a boat, but it keeps listing to one side, and I think it's about to go under.

“It's been a while since we've really talked,” Matthew says in a somewhat serious tone. “And I know you've had a lot going on. But it's been two weeks since your mom died, and well, I was hoping—”

“Look,” I say, interrupting what appears to be a carefully constructed speech. “Just cut to the chase, okay? You want to break up with me, and you're worried that I'm—”

“No, Km, that's not it at all.”

Now Fm a little stunned. “Really?”

“Really. I just needed to talk, okay?”

“Really?” I say again, feeling stupid.

“I mean it.”

“You're certain?”

“Yeah. I was pretty surprised at your e-mail. Actually, I thought maybe you were kidding. Then I wondered if you wanted to break up with me.” He frowns. “Do you?”

Okay, now I'm feeling a little confused. Is this some new kind of tactic—a way to gently break up with a girl who's just lost her mother? You make her think she's doing the breaking up?

He looks a little hurt. “Do you, Kim? Is this your way of letting me—?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Not at all. But I just realized what a pathetic sort of girlfriend I've been these past couple of months. I mean, I'm either checked out, worried, distracted, or like last night, just losing it completely. Talk about your high-maintenance relationship.”

He smiles. “Have you heard me complaining?”

I feel a wave of relief. “No. You've been totally great, Matthew. But if you don't want to break up, what do you want to talk about?”

He sighs. “I just need to talk to someone…someone who knows me…someone I can trust.”

“Of course,” I assure him. “I'm so here for you. What's up?”

Then he tells me about how he wanted to stick
around after graduation, work during the summer, and go to community college for a year while he continues with his art. “I thought maybe after a year, maybe I could save up some money and get into a decent design school. Plus I'd have a few of my requirements out of the way, you know?” He smiles at me. “And I'd still be around for my best girl.”

I can't even describe how good this makes me feel. “That sounds like a cool plan to me. But then I could be a little biased.”

He nods. “Maybe. Or maybe you just get me.”

“So, what's the problem?”

“My grandparents.”

“Oh.” Now I know enough about Matthew to know that these are his paternal grandparents, and that even though his dad's been (shall I say?) a jerk, his grandparents have been very supportive of Matthew. Unfortunately they don't treat his mother with much respect, and this can be the source of conflict at times. Serious conflict.

“My grandpa wants me to go to his alma mater,” Matthew continues his tale. “And last fall, I think just to appease him, I applied to go. Naturally, I figured my less-than-stellar grades would insure my rejection.”

Matthew's grades, while not nearly as good as mine, aren't all that shabby either. He is, after all, in Honor Society.

As if reading my expression, he adds, “It's an Ivy League school.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I got my acceptance letter a few weeks ago.

“Really?” Now despite everything, I do think this is exciting. Matthew at an Ivy League school? Impressive!

“Yeah, I would've told you, but so much was going on. Besides, I wasn't even sure I wanted to consider it.”

“But you are?”

He shrugs. “I don't know.

I hear a kid yelling and look up to see that not only the boat, but one of the boys is now in the pond. But since it's only about a foot deep, I'm not worried that we'll need to practice any life-saving techniques.

“My grandpa is really putting pressure on me.”

“I'll bet.” I turn my attention back to Matthew. “I'm sure it would make him proud.”

“But I think it would hurt my mom.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know…they're always at each other. She thinks he's an arrogant jerk, and he thinks she's an over-the-hill hippie.” He kind of laughs.

“But I'd think your mom would be pleased to see you going to such an Impressive school, Matthew. Your mom respects education.”

“That's true. But she also resents my grandpa's influence.”

“But it's not like he'd be going to school with you.”

“I know.” He shoves his fingers through his hair, and
I can tell he's really frustrated by this little family tug-of-war that has him in the middle.

“What do you want, Matthew?”

He shakes his head. “I'm not sure.”

“I mean, if your mom and your grandparents had nothing to say about anything, what would you want?” I pause as he considers this. “What is best for you?”

“That's just it, Km. I can see that either plan would be good. I mean, I pretty much get free tuition if I go to Grandpas alma mater, but then I feel kind of like I'd owe him something. Besides that, he's not all that supportive of my art. But if I stick around here, I have to earn my tuition myself. And even though I'm hoping for a scholarship, it might not happen. What if I end up with nothing more than a couple of years of community college and a dead-end job?”

I frown. It's hard to imagine someone like Matthew not making an absolute success of his life, but then you never know. What would Jamie tell him?

“So you see they both have their pros and cons. The problem is, I need to make a decision soon. My grandpa already asked for an extension since I missed their first deadline. If he wasn't such good buddies with the dean, I wouldn't have a chance.”

“It must be hard for you,” I finally say

He nods.

“But if I were in your shoes, I'd have a distinct advantage.”

“And that would be?”

“God.”

He gives me that look, like here we go again. Not that I'm constantly preaching at him—I definitely am not—but I do express my faith when I feel the urge. And I'm feeling the urge now. “You know, Matthew, it really makes a difference when you have God leading you. It takes off a whole lot of pressure.”

“So I suppose you know exactly what you're doing for college and the rest of your life, for that matter.”

“No, silly. But I have some ideas, and I'm putting them before God. I'm asking Him to show me which way to go, to open the doors that need to be opened, and to close the doors to places I don't need to go. It really does simplify things.”

“For some people.”

I nod. “I remember feeling like that too, and not all that long ago. But having God really does make a difference, Matthew. Someday you might want to give Him a try.”

He's looking out across the pond now. I can't tell if I'm aggravating him, or if he's actually considering my words. But we both sit there for what seems like several minutes.

“Just the same,” I finally say, “I'm going to be praying that God will show you which direction is best. Hope you don't mind.”

He smiles. “I don't mind. But it might do as much good to try a Ouija board, or maybe I should get a Magic 8 Ball.”

I gently slug him in the arm. “Yeah, right.”

So here it is Sunday night, I've just finished my homework, and I'm thinking I should be relieved that Matthew and I didn't break up. And for the most part, I am. But I also feel a little frustrated, and I'm not even sure I can put my finger on why that is.

I suppose it has to do with Matthew's indecision about college and life in general—not to mention God. And okay, who knows if I'd be doing any better if I were in his shoes—if I had two sets of family pulling me in two totally different directions. But I do pray and then trust God to lead me. And I guess it bugs me that Matthew can't do that.

For the first time, I might be starting to experience what I've heard other Christians call being “unequally yoked,” and I guess it bothers me. Still, I really like Matthew. And he's probably the best friend I have right now, at least the only one I can actually talk to—besides God, that is.

Although it seems we've mostly talked about his life, his confusion about college, and his family disagreements—at least for these past two days. And come to think of it, that's probably only fair since so much of our focus has been on me and my problems up until recently. Maybe it's just his turn to have my attention for a change. I guess I have been a little self-centered lately

But like I told him, I am praying for him. Not only that God will direct his future, but also that He will get a
hold of Matthews heart. I just wish his heart was as open as the writer of this letter.