Edified

by Marissa Sail Fike

  She nods reassuringly at me and leaves me alone with the test. I stare at it a moment longer before unwrapping it from the foil. My chest feels jumpy, both excited to finally hear the answer and dreading what it might be.

  I follow the instructions that Rae gave me and place the test on the counter.

  I take out my phone and try to busy myself for the next few minutes, but I find myself peeking at the test every few seconds to see if the window is showing anything yet.

  Slowly, a single line becomes visible and I pick up the test for a closer look. I hold my breath, praying another line doesn’t appear in the next few seconds.

  It doesn’t.

  Relief floods through my whole body and my throat chokes back a sob. Tears stream down my face as I feel a heavy weight lifted off my shoulders.

  Negative. The pregnancy test is negative.

  There’s a light knock on the door, then it opens a tentative crack. When Rae sees me, she hurries over to look at the test. Her face softens as she smiles.

  I bury my face in my hands and she wraps her arms around me.

  “See? Nothing to worry about.”

  I feel lighter with every tear that leaves me. It’s like they’d all been pent-up inside me weighing me down.

  “I can’t even tell you how I feel right now,” I manage, “Maybe I can finally put this all behind me. Maybe I can finally get over Jayden.”

  She nods, squeezing my shoulders, “I think you owe yourself that much.”

  14

  Rae - Tuesday

  When Adam and Grace leave for the night, I settle into my favorite spot on my yellow rug and begin emptying the contents of my bookstore bag: a pack of colored pens (the kind that glide smoothly like a quill), and a notebook. Its cover is fashioned to look like brown cork, and the word Progress splays across the front in gold lettering.

  Honest spiritual notes begin with a welcoming keeper of your thoughts, right?

  I slide my Bible out from its place under my bed. My parents got for me when I turned eight, and having received it at such a young age, the cover is appropriately a powdery pink color. I used to detest the fact that they chose to engrave my full name on the bottom right corner of the book — Lacey Rae Brooks, instead of just Rae — but as always, my mother insisted that it was a perfectly lovely name. Delicate and dignified all at once.

  Despite the Bible’s unbecoming features, I’d never dream of buying a new one in its place. Daddy wrote his name personally in the front, and with him being in the Marines, I hold everything I have of him dear to my heart.

  He and my mother used to encourage us — my sister and I — to play a game with them around the dinner table where we challenged each other to see who could remember the most books of the Bible in order, and whoever won always got an extra helping of dessert. It’s because of this game that when I crack open the Bible, flipping over to Luke 16 is like second nature to me. I take a deep breath before delving into my study.

  Okay, Lord. This is our time together. I am doing what Kaya suggested … what we prayed about. Help me to see what you want me to see.

  The hair on my neck stands on edge as I scan down the page for verse 15.

  You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of others, but God knows your hearts. What people value highly is detestable in God’s sight.

  I write the scripture down and stare at it on my notebook page. It slowly becomes clear why Kaya had given me this one to ponder first, as it almost immediately redirects my mind to ask the question, what do people value? Moreover, what do I value?

  The first page in my notebook comes alive with color as I write down everything bouncing around my mind:

  Some things that people value: 1) Money. 2) Popularity. 3) Beauty/Looks.

  I circle number three several times to remind myself of the focal point for this study – that my particular insecurity would fall under the beauty category. I write,

  God is saying that people tend to put way too much value on these common, earthly things, and as a result lose sight of what is really important to him: Where our hearts are.

  I take a moment to think about where my heart has been and begin to feel guilty. My heart has been on enjoying my life with Adam. Using him as a remedy for my insecurities. It has been on intentionally ignoring what I’ve always been taught the Bible says about premarital sex, because of familiar it has become to me. Swallowing hard, I write these things down, and pause before reading any more.

  Lord, I am so sorry. I know what I am doing is wrong … and I’m finally coming before you to acknowledge it. I’ve been ignoring this for a long time, and I’m sorry. I don’t know how to overcome this, or how to make the knowledge of your love alone enough to feel secure. I feel so in need of reassurance from others. No … reassurance from Adam. Please give me strength. Help me to feel like your love is enough.

  Somewhere in the middle of my prayer, tears had started to form. One drops on my notebook page, blurring the purple ink I’d been writing with.

  I flip to the next scripture Kaya referred me to: Psalm 32:5,

  Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.” And you forgave the guilt of my sin.

  Through blurred vision and damp cheeks, I smile. I can see why Kaya told me to read them in order now. This active conversation between me and God … His response to my prayer … means everything to me. In my mind, there was a special emphasis on those final words: ‘You forgave the guilt of my sin.’ I mentally recount the many moments of guilt I’ve felt lately — how burdensome it’s felt. But here He is, freely offering to take it all away. This feeling of having a clean slate and the ability to start fresh inspires me anew, but there’s still this issue of God’s love being enough for me … of it being all I need to feel secure. I flip to the next chapter on my list: Psalm 139:13-16.

  For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

  This scripture fills me with warmth, the way a good cup of coffee does. It’s as though the first scripture had been God giving it to me straight, and this scripture is Him embracing me … wiping the tears from my face.

  Not only do I write down the scripture in my notebook, but I also highlight verse 15 in my Bible. God just gave me the most beautiful visual of what “the secret place” might look like: I imagine a place untouchable by man, deep in the earth’s core. It’s dark all around, save for one little spotlight shining down on a creation platform. There on the platform, I see myself standing before God, exactly the way I look today. He adds His finishing touches on me — the natural waves in my blonde hair, the dark flecks in my blue eyes, the light shade of my skin. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and smiles approvingly, saying, “This is good.”

  My heart warms as I look over my body. With this visual, everything about me feels intentional. Like I am exactly the way I should be, and that perhaps my most personal moment with God was when he created me … the moment just before he breathed life into my lungs and set me free in the world.

  Motivated by the experiences that followed reading the last two scriptures, I eagerly flip to the last scripture on my paper from Kaya: 1st Peter 3:3-4.

  Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

  I nod to myself, jotting down the scripture. I love everything about verse three, and how a person’s heart and inner self is emphasized throughout each scripture I’ve read so far, but unlike the first two
scriptures, my Bible has a section of commentary on verse four. It says,

  A quiet and gentle spirit is a surrendered spirit — one that is Christ-like and chooses God over and over again. This is, of course, something we should all strive for. But in context, Peter is speaking to Christian wives who are married to unbelievers. In having a gentle and quiet spirit (or one that is Christ-like), they may win over their husbands through their good examples and Christ-like spirit.

  I ponder this and how Adam might react when I propose being abstinent until the wedding, which is just over seven long months away. Though my spirit is not generally quiet, I certainly feel as though it’s more “surrendered” than it was before … and if that’s what it takes to spiritually win over your husband, or in my case, fiancé, at least I’ve taken the first step.

  Before I close the book, I flip over to a set of scriptures my parents had me memorize when I was little … the one that will solidify my reasons for doing this: Galatians 5:19 -23.

  “The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like … But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, I underline each fruit of the spirit, and circle one particular fruit of the flesh several times: sexual immorality. I also jot it down in my journal before closing the book and exhaling deeply.

  Alright, Lord … I hear you. I’m gonna need your help, but … Let’s do this.

  15

  Grace - Wednesday

  “So what do you think I should do?” I say, holding the phone to my ear, “I honestly really want to go back to A&B tonight, but when I think about Hadley being there, I want to throw up.”

  My stomach churns in response. I swallow to keep down the nausea.

  “Why are you letting her have that much power over you?” Aunt Kim says, “If you want to go, just go. Make her feel like none of this bothers you. Take the upper hand from her.”

  “Well, I don’t think ‘taking the upper hand’ is the point anymore.” I say, thinking back to what Rae said yesterday, “I’m starting to genuinely think Rae is right about Hadley’s innocence in all this.”

  “Mmm, so what is the point then?”

  I sigh, “It’s not so much that I don’t want to see her because I think she’s a snake. It's because seeing her just … hurts. Imagining her with him …”

  “Oh honey,” Aunt Kim hums, “I know it does.”

  I swallow hard, “But I still feel really moved to go to A&B. It’s like I’m fighting with myself. I want to avoid Hadley and save myself the pain, but I equally want set-in-stone answers that I feel like only she can give me.”

  “Well,” Aunt Kim says, “I want to preface this with saying I don’t think you should do anything if you don’t feel emotionally ready for the answers. Hadley will be dropping some pretty heavy topics on you, and pregnancy or no pregnancy, this is all still really fresh.”

  I’ve asked myself this question many times: Am I desensitized enough to Jayden’s affair? To the point of being able to hear what Jayden did with Hadley behind my back, and what it is that she has that I don’t have, all while keeping a straight face? I’d like to say that I am — desensitized to it, I mean — but it’s impossible to know for sure what I’ll feel in the moment. I might feel empowered by the knowledge, or I might break all over again.

  “But?” I say.

  “If you do decide to talk to her,” Aunt Kim continues, “I think it would be an excellent way to regain some control of the situation — Maybe even gain some closure.” Without having to beg Jayden for answers like a helpless wreck, swallowed by emotions that he no longer deserves to see.

  “So you do think I should go?” I say, “And talk to her too?”

  “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Aunt Kim lovingly responds, “But if that’s what you decide to do, I don’t think A&B is the place to do it.”

  I nod, “I agree with that. And I also think it’s going to take a lot of self-control on my part to come at this from exactly the right angle. Even though I’m pretty sure she’s unaware of what happened, part of me still so badly wants to lash out when I see her.”

  “Right … you don’t want this to come across like an interrogation,” She says. “Just try not to think of it like a confrontation. Go into it with an open mind. Try to hear what she has to say. But most of all, go into it with confidence. Just think, if Jayden had known from the get-go his girlfriend would be having margaritas with his mistress in the near future, he might have thought twice about being unfaithful, am I right?”

  I smile at that, “No doubt.”

  I hear some background chatter getting louder through the speaker, “I’m gonna have to let you go girlie. It’s almost my turn in the checkout line. I sure do love you, though, and I hope everything goes according to plan. Text me, okay?”

  “Of course,” I say, sending her love before ending the call.

  ***

  I spend the rest of my morning curled up on the couch, mapping out how the conversation will go: I'll go up to Hadley and be friendly. I'll find common ground with her by discussing something irrelevant to the situation — a shared hobby we have or something — and from there I’ll invite her to get a drink with me later in the evening. I'll even let her pick the place. Once there, I'll drop the heavy topics when the moment is right.

  As foolproof of a plan as it feels like, I still feel like I need more time to mentally prepare. So I get out my notebook and begin writing down the exact questions I want to ask Hadley. I scribble out anything that evokes unnecessary feelings of heartache or emptiness, narrowing it down to a few key questions.

  Satisfied with my conclusion, I scan the list one more time before shoving it in my purse. I take a deep breath and grab my keys off the coffee table, but I stop in my tracks as another wave of nausea rolls through my stomach.

  I drop the keys and make a dash for the bathroom, barely making it in time. I heave the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl.

  ***

  Something about the car ride to A&B had drained my confidence in my idea. Talking to Hadley seemed like a good plan all day until now. Now that it’s time to take action.

  My brain floods with possibilities: What if Hadley refuses to meet with me? If Rae and I are wrong, and Hadley knows exactly who I am, she may very well reject me.

  Nonsense — I remind myself. Everything points to Hadley being innocent.

  Her answers will be tainted … My mind hisses … You’ll only gain her version of the story. If she feels like telling you.

  I frown, arguing with myself that hearing some sort of the truth is better than none at all.

  As I push open the building’s door, I quickly become aware of how packed it is tonight. Even more so than last week.

  I recognize Kaya on the other end of the room greeting and laughing with members, but the path to get to her is too crowded. I spot Rae sitting in the same place as last time with her mom and sister. She waves me over. Livia smiles kindly at me and Mrs. Brooks gives me a kiss on the cheek before I take my seat by Rae, who has a little pink Bible and even a notebook in her lap. I set my new Bible on the table, feeling a bit proud that it has my name on it.

  I check the time on my phone, which shows I have a few minutes to spare until the session starts. I glance around the room, trying to locate Hadley, but I don’t see her yet. I wring my hands in anticipation.

  “Hey,” Rae pokes me, “You okay?”

  I frown, taking a moment to fill her in on my plan.

  At first, she seems receptive. Proud even. But as she watches me, her smile softens.

  “You know, if you’re feeling unsure about all this, maybe you should just give it awhile. Take some time to pray about it. Or maybe even
talk to Kaya about it … She’s great about offering perspective.”

  I nod, considering it.

  Kaya takes her seat among the tables. The session is about to start, and I see plenty of new faces, but none of them are Hadley’s. I frown, scanning the crowd one more time.

  As everyone finds their seats, I notice a silver platter on Kaya’s table with a domed lid. She grabs our attention by tapping the lid. It makes a light, tinny sound.

  “Ladies,” She says, smiling, “Tonight, I am presenting you with a rare delicacy.”

  She places her fingers on the handle, “Something that will satisfy each and every one of your appetites with just one little taste.”

  I sit a little straighter in my chair.

  “Tonight, I present you with …”

  She pauses with a flourish before lifting the lid.

  Sitting on the platter, she has revealed what looks to be nothing other than a can of yellow paint.

  This elicits some chuckles from the group.

  “You laugh now,” She says, “But just wait until you take a bite. It’s truly delicious.”

  Half of us look at Kaya like she’s off her rocker, but she says it with such conviction that we keep listening anyway.

  “Believe it or not,” She smiles knowingly, “This can of paint is actually edible. It has been scientifically engineered to be eaten, and testers have reported it to be mind-blowingly good. One tester commented that it changed their life, which may be a little extreme, but really now,” She gently pushes the tray forward, “You just have to try it.”

  We all stare at her with curiosity, no one making a move to try the mysterious edible paint. She waits patiently, glancing around at us.

  “So tell me this,” She says finally, “Why are none of you, in fact, eating the yellow paint?”

  At our silence, she adds, “Really. You can answer. It’s not meant to be rhetorical.”

  Livia sits forward, “Um, because you can’t consume turpentine?”

  Kaya counters, “Why not?”