Who I Am (19 page)

But the other incredibly great thing tonight was how Beanie and I got to talk with Natala and Shonda for a pretty long time. I think this thing with Jewel has shaken them up a lot more than they're letting on. And tonight Natala even admitted that she's afraid of death. She said she's afraid that if she died she would just cease to exist–poof–disappear forever.

“And I really do like living,” she said. “Oh sure, it's real hard and all, but I basically like life. And I'm not ready to just hang it up. But at the same time I don't think I can do all this goody-goody church girl stuff. It's not my style, if ya know what I mean.”

And so Beanie and I tried to explain about how God's not looking for a bunch of “goody-goody” people, but how He just wants us to let Jesus (His Son) into our hearts–to be our friend and to help us out.

“It's like it's up to God whether or not you need to make any changes in your life,” I tried to explain. “And He only asks us to change the things that either hurt us or hurt others.”

“And you have to understand He works differently with everyone,” said Beanie. “Like my mom. She's a Christian now, but she still smokes cigarettes and cusses and stuff. But that doesn't mean she's not a Christian.”

“That's right,” I added. “God doesn't expect us to automatically become perfect when we invite Jesus into our lives. He just wants us to be willing to obey Him. But He calls the shots.”

“Yeah, and my mom told me she wants to quit smoking and stuff, but she's going to need God's help to do it. In the meantime, I don't believe God's up there frowning down on her for it.”

“So they wouldn't like kick her out of church for smoking?” asked Shonda with disbelief.

Beanie and I both laughed.

“Well, smoking inside the church building isn't allowed,” I told her. “But she can smoke herself blue in the face out in the parking lot if she wants.”

“And I've seen her do it too,” said Beanie.

“And that's totally cool,” I added. “I don't think anyone at church really judges her for it, and if they do, they shouldn't.”

“The thing is,” began Beanie, looking intently at both Shonda and Natala, “Jesus loves you just the way you are. He accepts you ‘as is,’ you know? He doesn't care what's going on in your life–I mean, it's not like He
doesn't
care. But He doesn't hold it against you if you're making mistakes and stuff. Sure, He expects you to start changing and growing and stuff once you give your life to Him.

But the Bible says that even when we didn't know Him and were just totally blowing it that Jesus still loved us anyway.”

“Does that make any sense?” I asked them, since they both looked a little perplexed.

“Not really,” admitted Shonda. “I always thought you had to act really good to be a Christian.”

So we went over it again, this time focusing only on the part about Jesus loving them–unconditionally. And by the time we finished, I think they were getting it. But neither girl dropped onto her knees and prayed to be saved. Well, to be honest, I'm not sure what I would've done if they had. Although I feel confident that God would've led us. Still, I'm praying that our words will keep sinking in (and that they'll know God loves them). Also we invited them both to church tomorrow, but it didn't sound too likely that they'd come. Still you never know.

Well, Shonda and Natala weren't at church today. I guess I'm not too surprised. As Grandma says, Rome wasn't built in a day. Duh. Talk about stating the obvious. But speaking of grandmas, Grandma O'Conner called me up from Pasadena today. I had e-mailed her about our cultural fair a while back, asking her if she or Grandpa had anything I could use for an Irish booth. So far, all I've come up with is a bunch of Saint Patrick's
decorations that Mom told me I could use (from her school) as well as the possibility of baking loaves of Irish soda and brown bread (from recipes I found in one of Mom's old Irish cookbooks that used to belong to my dad's grandma). But I thought I'd start making and freezing loaves and then sell them for a few bucks each. (I plan to tie them with a green ribbon and a little paper shamrock.) Still, that doesn't seem quite enough for a whole booth.

So anyway Nana O'Conner called to tell me that she and Grandpa have gotten ahold of some Irish travel posters and stuff as well as some souvenirs that I could sell in the booth. She's sending a couple of big boxes this week. I asked her where she got the stuff (because I know they haven't been to Ireland lately–although they do go from time to time), and she told me that Grandpa has this friend over there who runs a tourist shop and he sold a bunch of stuff to Grandpa wholesale.

“Do I need to pay for it?” I asked, a little worried.

Nana just laughed. “Of course not. Just consider it our donation for your little Mexican orphans.”

Well, I couldn't thank her enough. And believe me I've thanked God too because I know He had a hand in this! Especially since I'd been specifically praying that He'd show me what to do with my booth (since this event is only a couple weeks away now). My family's going to help we with the booth (although Benjamin refuses to dress up like a leprechaun!). And Mom said she'll donate the ingredients for the breads as well as help me bake them. So
I'm feeling pretty hopeful that it will be a success. Now I just hope (and pray) the other booths are all falling into place as well.

Somehow with everything going on lately, I'd almost failed to realize that it's prom time again (not that I especially care since I'm obviously not going). But to be perfectly honest, I do feel kind of bad that I will be graduating from high school without ever having gone to the prom. I mean, both Beanie and Jenny and well, practically everyone else, it seems, has gone to the prom. But I'm trying not to think about that too much–or feel sorry for myself. And I'm believing that somehow God is going to make it up to me (since I'm trying to be obedient…). And if I start to feel sorry for myself, all I need to do is remember what it was like visiting Jewel at the hospital today. Because I'm sure she wishes she could go to the prom too.

I took Chloe with me, and although she was really quiet and seemed uncomfortable at first, she handled it pretty well. It's the second time I've actually seen Jewel in the hospital, but the first time was only briefly. (I waited outside her room while Anna visited for a few minutes yesterday.) But today was my first official “Scheduled” visit (from seven to eight o'clock), and I have to admit it was really challenging. First of all, I'm not all that comfortable in hospitals (even when it was my best friend or my own mom I had a hard time, although I tried
not to show it). But the truth is, I don't like the way hospitals smell or look or even sound. And I'm sure I could never be a nurse!

The way I feel isn't all that different from the way I reacted when I first saw the Mexican kids at the dump. It's like I don't want to touch anything or breathe the air or even be there. I know it's totally lame and slightly paranoid or phobic, (and I've never told anyone this) but to me, it's like the whole place is just crawling with germs and bacteria that I can't see. Still, I realize that Jesus told us to go visit the sick and the suffering, and so I'm learning to put these feelings aside. And I'm trying to trust God to protect me from germs (real or imagined).

Anyway, I'm not even sure if Jewel recognizes me. She mostly just lies there quietly (still with IV tubes and a shunt in her head and all that stuff that basically grosses me out), and she doesn't really react or do much of anything. But at least she's conscious and she seemed to look at both of us (with what seemed like interest). And so I just talked and talked to her. First I told her how I'd been praying for her and that I wanted her to know how much God loves her. I think I said a lot of the same things to her that Beanie and I had said to Natala and Shonda the other night (maybe that was good practice for me). I really felt pretty awkward and I kept wondering if she could understand anything I was saying at all. I just kept talking anyway. It's like I was afraid to allow a moment of silence (which I suppose is pretty silly), so I jabbered on and on like a battery-operated
talking doll high on Energizers. At one point it seemed like she was almost smiling (or trying to). I think I might've been talking about the cultural fair about then (I'm not even sure), but somehow her face (or maybe it was God) encouraged me to reach over and take her hand (and remember I don't like touching things–or even people–in the hospital). But when I did she gave my hand a squeeze and I wondered if that was her way of saying she was glad I was there. And as silly as that may sound, it really touched me. Now I'm not really sure that's what it meant; she might have been trying to shut me up. But somehow it seemed important, like a message, and it made me want to go back to visit her again. I mean, even if it wasn't real easy, it was still good. And I think it was good for Chloe too. But on the way home, she admitted that seeing Jewel like that was really hard on her.

“I feel really bad for her,” explained Chloe. “But it just looks so hopeless to me. Like I'm wondering wouldn't it be better if she had just died? I mean, who'd want to be stuck like that?”

“Obviously she wanted to die when she pulled the trigger, but I'm sure she must regret what she did by now. There's something about her that seems like she wants to be alive–even if it's like starting all over again.

Couldn't you tell there was this little bit of spark in her?”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe. But I really don't get it.”

Then I asked her if she wanted to go back with me on Thursday (my next scheduled visit), and to my surprise she agreed. I thought for certain she'd turn me down.

Even as I write this, I really do understand what Chloe meant. (Although I didn't want to admit it to her, considering she still acts like suicide isn't such a big deal.) And to be perfectly honest, I don't know if I'd want to live under the circumstances that Jewel is facing. Anna said that it's not likely she'll ever develop beyond the mental state of a child now, and she'll probably always have some physical challenges to deal with. Still, with medical technology these days, you never know for sure. And I think we need to just hope for the best.

Besides, I know of people who are mentally handicapped and live perfectly happy lives. Maybe Jewel can do that too. Especially with Jesus in her life. And despite how horrible her suicide attempt was, I really believe God has used it to touch a lot of people. So I guess good really can come out of evil.

Jenny pulled me aside
in the hallway this morning and told me we had to talk.

“I broke up with Trent last night,” she whispered as she pulled me into a quiet corner. “And he's really upset.”

I nodded, feeling slightly irked. “Yeah, well, what did you expect?”

“Well, he wanted me to go to the prom with him, and I just realized I couldn't. It wasn't fair. I mean, it's like he likes me so much, and I was feeling–well, like I could sort of take it or leave it. And it didn't seem fair for him to put all that money and energy into going to the prom with me feeling like that. Plus I'd feel so guilty I wouldn't want to break up with him right afterward, so I just decided to pull the plug and–”

“Yeah?” I interrupted her, glancing at my watch. “Hurry, Jenny, class is about to start.”

“Okay, this is the thing, Cate. He's feeling so down, I
thought maybe you could be really nice to him–”

“Me?” I stared at her in confusion. “Why me?”

She sighed. “Oh, It's a long story. And you need to go to class.”

I nodded. But then I noticed she was starting to cry. And I could barely remember the last time I'd seen Jenny cry. “What is it?” I asked, softening.

“Oh, nothing…” But now tears were streaming down her face.

“Jenny?”

She shook her head. “Go to class, Caitlin.”

Well, now I felt stuck between that old proverbial rock and a hard place. I really should go to class, but one of my best friends was out in the hallway totally losing it. “Want to slip out for a cup of coffee?”

“Really?” Jenny eyed me with suspicion (she knows I am normally hugely opposed to skipping).

“Yeah, it's just history and I'm all caught up and everything.” So we ducked out and zipped over to Starbucks, and Jenny told me what had happened.

“When I broke up with Trent he just started to totally fall apart. It was weird. I've never seen a guy act like that before. You know how Trent usually seems to have it all together and doesn't really show a lot of emotion. And anyway I just felt really bad for him–like a total creep. I mean, I had no idea that he cared that much for me. It was really kind of sweet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, really sweet to break a guy's heart.”

She frowned. “That's not what I mean.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Go on.”

“So anyway, I kept telling him I was sorry and that I never expected him to take it so hard. Finally I asked him if he was going to be okay.” Jenny paused and looked around, almost as if to check and see if anyone else was listening. But the only other people in there were a couple in business clothes and totally uninterested in us. “And that's when he told me.”

I waited. “What?”

She made a strange face, as if considering whether to tell me.

“What, Jenny?”

“You've got to promise not to tell.”

I held up my hand as if to make a pledge. “I promise. Now what?”

“Trent thinks he may be gay.”

“Gay?”

She nodded. “He told me that he'd been worried about his sexuality for some time now, and that's why he put the move on you last fall, and then when you rejected him, he put the move on me, thinking if I rejected him–it'd be like a sign or something. But he thought everything was cool when we were going out together. So did I. I mean, honestly, he never seemed gay to me. Of course, he never got real pushy about sex either.” She paused to think.