Falling Up (6 page)

Wednesday, May 15

My life used to be so simple. Its funny that I didn't really appreciate it then. I guess we just take the good times for granted. I remember when my biggest challenge was deciding which elective to take in school. I used to obsess over it for weeks. Now it seems as if I'm constantly bombarded with stuff.

Take Natalie. I wish someone would! Okay, that's not very kind or Christlike. But man, I have just about maxed out on her mood swings. I almost liked her better as Ghost Girl. Now you don't know what to expect. She can be callous and removed like the time I wanted some sympathy regarding Matthew. Or she can get angry over nothing—kind of like a time bomb, you never know when it's going to go off. Or she can be downright mean like she was today.

Now I know Natalie doesn't really like Marissa, but I thought she'd moved past her judgmental phase and had been trying to love her like Jesus would do. At least that's what Natalie told me several months ago when she was still on top of things. However, I'm not too sure that Nat even considers herself a Christian anymore. So I guess the rules have changed. And maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when the two of them got into it at lunch today. In all fairness, Marissa did push Nat's buttons. But it was still pretty embarrassing when Nat totally lost it with her.

It all starts when Marissa and Robert decide to make out at the lunch table. Unfortunately this isn't that unusual, and despite the fact that none of us really care for it, I guess they just can't help themselves. Yeah, right. Normally we make a couple of aggravated comments and then just try to ignore them as we carry on our own conversation. But for some reason, Natalie will not let it go today.

“Get a room,” she says (not a terribly clever line) when she first notices them sucking on each other's faces.

Naturally, they ignore her.

“I mean it,” she continues in a sharp tone. “You guys are grossing us out. Can't you take it outside?”

Still they ignore her. Or if anything Marissa starts really going at it. I'm surprised she doesn't climb right onto Roberts lap.

“You guys are sick,” Natalie finally mutters, giving up
and turning away from them, dearly exasperated by this public display of stupidity.

“You re just jealous,” Marissa says as she finally peels herself off Robert. “You've been acting like a total witch ever since you and lover boy Ben O'Conner broke up. Get over it, will ya, Nat? He certainly has.”

By the time Natalie turns around to face them, her face white with rage, Marissa and Robert have gone back to kissing.

“You're such a tramp, Marissa,” Natalie says, standing. “I'm surprised you don't just do it right here on the table.” Then she picks up her half-full soda cup. “Maybe this will help cool you off.” And she dumps it right over the two lunchroom lovers.

Okay, now I'm pretty sure we're going to have a catfight right here in the cafeteria. Marissa is so furious that she actually leaps at Natalie, who is looking a little scared as she moves back. Then Cesar and Jake grab Marissa, holding her at bay while Matthew and I whisk Natalie off to a safer location.

“How could you be so stupid?” I ask as we escort her from the cafeteria. “You know Marissa won't take—”

“I know Marissa is a tramp!” snaps Natalie. “And its about time someone stood up to—”

“So did you want to get in a fight with her? Do you want to go back in there and roll around on the floor, clawing and scratching and pulling hair, while everyone gathers around to watch?”

Natalie doesn't respond to that, and I guess it makes
her think. I want to lecture her some more, but I suspect she'll be feeling bad enough before long. It seems like Nat really is her own worst enemy these days.

Later on, Cesar talks to me about the little fiasco. “I've really been praying for her, but it's like she's stuck. Do you think it's just that she can't get over Ben…or is it something else?”

Of course, I can't tell Cesar that it's because she lost her virginity and consequently thinks her life is over and is too embarrassed to take it all to God. Nat would kill me. “Yeah,” I finally say. “She is kinda stuck.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Besides praying?”

“Yeah, I mean, is there anything we can say to her?” He kind of laughs. “Well, besides me giving up my non-dating vow and asking her out. That might cheer her up.”

“Or not,” I say.

He nods soberly. “I guess that was a little vain on my part.”

“No, that's not what I meant. For all I know she might still have that old crush on you. But I think her problems are deeper than that now.”

“Oh.”

“I guess I could try to talk to her again,” I say halfheartedly. “I mean, it's been a while since I really had a heart-to-heart with her. And I know that she's still pushing God away. I could try to get her to rethink that.”

Cesar looks encouraged. “That might be just what she needs, Km. And isn't it ironic?”

“How's that?”

“Well, she used to be the one who was trying to spiritually encourage you. Now the table has turned.”

“Yeah, the table just keeps turning, doesn't it?”

“I'll be praying for you guys,” he assures me as we both head to class.

So on the way home, I tell Nat that I'm really concerned about her spiritual well-being. And what does she do? She just laughs. But her laugh is different now. It's very cynical and hard. Nothing like the Natalie I used to know.

“What spiritual well-being?” she finally says.

“Yeah, that's what I mean. It's like you've totally given up on God. And that just doesn't make sense. I mean, it's not His fault that you blew your vow, Natalie. But it's like you're blaming Him.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” Then I try to bring it home by comparing her relationship with God to her friendship with me. I remind her that this thing with Ben has hurt me too. “And it's not like I had anything to do with it. But you've treated me pretty badly since it happened, Nat. How is that fair?”

Now she doesn't say anything.

“Because I want to be your friend,” I continue. “And I need you for my friend. But ever since you and Ben, well, you know, its like we're hardly even friends anymore.”

“I was there for you when your mom died,” she says defensively.

“Yeah, but that's about it. You were there that one night, and you were great. But that's where it ended. It's like you're not there anymore, Nat. Not for me and not for God. Even Cesar is worried about you. He thinks you're stuck.”

“You told Cesar about—”

“No,” I say quickly. “Of course not. I haven't told anyone. But everyone can see that you've changed. It's not like you're hiding it.”

“Do you think they know?”

I consider this. “No, probably not. But I wouldn't be surprised if they start guessing. I mean, most people don't go through a total personality change just because someone breaks up with them. You know?”

“So maybe I should start acting like everything's fine?”

I sigh and shake my head. “I don't know, Nat. Wouldn't it be better if you got on your knees before God and made stire that everything is fine? Then it wouldn't just be a show. Don't you realize how much better you'd feel?”

Now she gets quiet again. And soon we're on our block.

“Maybe you need help, Nat,” I finally say as I pull in front of her house. “Maybe you should see that counselor that your mom—”

“I'm not going to Marge!”

“How about Pastor Tony then?”

“Yeah, right. He's practically related to Ben.”

“Related?” I'm trying to figure this out.

“Caitlin's aunt is married to Pastor Tony,” she reminds me.

Oh, yeah.”

“Just forget about it, Kim.” She grabs her bag and climbs out. “This is my problem, not yours.” Then she slams the door.

“Right,” I say as I drive away. “Like I don't get to share in your problem, Nat. Yeah, you bet.”

Then I go in the house, and not for the first time, I desperately wish that the clock was turned back and Mom was puttering around in her kitchen. And I would sit down and tell her everything—even though I'd never really told her everything before. I would now. And while she might not have the answers, she would at least listen, and she would sympathize.

But the house was quiet as a tomb. Mom was not here. I'd call Matthew, but he's working on a mural at the library. Our art teacher, Mr. Fenton, set it up for him. Matthew is going to be able to use it as part of his portfolio.

“Does this mean you're still considering community college and then design school?” I asked him yesterday.

“I haven't decided,” he admitted. “But I might as well keep my options open.”

“How long until you have to decide?”

“Noon on Friday.”

So I figure all I can do is be supportive of him and wait. Fm not even sure what I'd want him to do, I mean,
if it were up to me. Which it's not, thank goodness. I suppose the selfish side of me would like to have him still living here and going to community college—at least for a year. But the academic side of me would be proud to have a boyfriend who's attending an Ivy League school. More than anything, I'd like to have Matthew surrender his life to God so that He could do the leading.

After walking around my silent house, I finally decided to practice my violin. Although I've memorized “Ave Maria” (the solo I'll be playing for Caitlin O'Conner's wedding in a couple of weeks), I know that it's good to practice it, to make sure that I've got it just right. Still, it's hard to play it sometimes…because it always makes me think of Mom. I first learned it so I could play it for her at Christmas.

And as I played this afternoon, I wondered what Mom was doing and if she could hear me playing. I wondered about heaven and tried to imagine what it would be like not to be living in an earthly body anymore. Finally, I couldn't focus on the notes because of the tears, and once again, I had to just put my violin away.

Then I remembered my mom's letter to me and how she told me to enjoy the sun and the birds and the flowers. So I went outside and walked around for a while. And I have to admit that it felt better out there. The sounds of birds, cars, lawn mowers—all of it was comforting to me. Still, how long will it take for this ache to go away? Or will it ever?

Then I heard the phone ringing inside and ran back in to get it. It was Natalie, and she was calling to tell me she was sorry. I asked her if this meant she was ready to get some kind of help, but she told me she didn't need any, and I just didn't know what to say to that. But I thanked her for apologizing, then told her unless she really wanted to talk, I had homework.

Of course, she didn't really want to talk—not really talk. So we hung up, and I went online to check my e-mail. I've had posts from Maya almost every day. And for the most part, they were gloomy and depressing. Her life is really sad. Aunt Shannon is either bouncing off the walls or practically in a coma. Maya plays the parent role, and how she manages to do any schoolwork (and it sounds like she doesn't do much) is a mystery.

I try my best to encourage her, but it feels like a lost cause. I think the best thing for Maya would be to go to school and just let Shannon take care of herself and clean up her own messes. But every time I say as much to Maya, she gets defensive. So then I think, maybe she likes her life just the way it is. But if that's true, why does she complain so much?

Now that I think about it, she reminds me of Natalie. Neither one of them are happy with their current status, and yet they don't do anything to change things. I don't get it. And so after I finish my homework, I answer some letters, and one of them is sort of along this line. The funny thing is, with my column, I can answer people's questions, and for all I know they actually take my advice.
Anyway, that's what I tell myself And so I suppose my column is kind of like a comfort zone—like I have some control—although Fm pretty sure its just a delusion.