When I get back to the apartment I still have time to get the first shower before Mom and Bree are even out of bed. It’s amazing.
“What’s up with you?” asks Bree as she spies me humming in the kitchen while I pour myself a tall glass of orange juice.
“Just feeling good,” I say with a smile. I have no doubts that I am totally confusing my little sister with my erratic behavior, but that’s okay. She might figure it out in time. Maybe I’ll even figure out how to tell her soon.
When my mom comes into the kitchen I realize that I need to tell her about skipping school yesterday. I’m not terribly proud of what I did, but considering the circumstances and how I felt at the time, I think it should be understandable.
“I was just really depressed, Mom,” I finish up my explanation. “But, honestly, I don’t think it’ll happen again.”
She’s looking at me curiously now. “And you’re feeling better today?”
“Yeah, I feel great today.”
“And you’re not taking drugs or anything?”
I know she’s only partially joking. “No, Mom, this is a natural high.” Okay, maybe it’s really a supernatural high. The truth is, I’m not really sure how to classify these things.
“Well, I know you’ve been feeling pretty down lately, Kara. And it is nice to see you feeling better. Maybe you just needed a mental health day yesterday. I have to take those from my work too, you know. Okay, I’ll write you an excuse if you’re positive that you won’t play hooky again.”
“I really don’t think I will,” I assure her. Now part of me wants to tell her why, but I guess I still have this tiny reservation that I might be imagining the whole thing about Jesus being inside of me. And so I’ve decided to let some time go by before I go announcing to the world that I have “become a Christian.” But I do think I might tell Edgar. And maybe even Felicia too. Or not. We’ll see. Anyway, I am totally excited about today and ready to go to school. Let my life begin!
Today as I walk down the hall I hold my head up high. I don’t care who I see or what they may or may not be thinking about me. All I care about is the fact that Jesus is inside me. I really believe that he is.
I see Jordan walking toward me now. Ashley and Shawna are with her. Normally this is just the type of scenario that would send ice water running through my veins. But today I am totally calm.
“Hey, Jordan,” I say to her as I smile and wave. “Hey, Ashley and Shawna.”
I get a thrill to see the slightly stunned looks on their faces. And I’m not terribly surprised to see that Shawna and Ashley don’t answer. But at least Jordan says, “Hey,” back. Of course, I’m sure those girls never expected the mealy-mouthed Kara Hendricks to actually speak to them first, and in public too. But why not?
I take a front-row seat in English and actually pay attention as Mr. Parker lectures in his usual monotone voice. I even take notes. It’s occurring to me that my midterm grades have suffered this fall and I plan to make up for it now.
The morning progresses in much this same way. And here’s what’s really weird. I’m actually beginning to think that people are way friendlier today. I’ve seen a lot more smiles and heard more greetings than ever before. I don’t even remember kids being this nice when I was best friends with Jordan, and she was pretty friendly with everyone. I wonder what has changed. Or is it just me?
By the time art rolls around I feel as if I’m about to burst. I can’t wait to tell Edgar the news. I know he will be happy for me. But to my dismay, he is not here.
“That’s odd,” says Felicia when she notices he’s missing. “I don’t think Edgar has ever been absent.”
“I hope he’s okay,” I say. But I’m sure he must be. After all, he is Edgar.
I work on my sketch and stay and have lunch with Felicia and Amy. It’s sort of nice just hanging with the girls today, although I do miss Edgar. And Amy seems a little down and Felicia is really absorbed in her painting of a rose.
I consider telling them about inviting Jesus into my heart, but for some reason it feels important to share this news with Edgar first. And so I stay quiet. But in my quietness I have discovered that I am having this ongoing conversation with Jesus. And it is so cool. It feels like he’s interested in everything about me. It feels like he’s really becoming my best friend. And it keeps making me smile.
“What are you so happy about today, Kara?” asks Amy as lunchtime is about to end. “You in love or something?”
“In love with life,” I tell her.
She peers at me with interest. “You on something?”
I shake my head. “Just a natural high.”
She rolls her eyes at me now. “Yeah, yeah, sure. You’re probably just going bipolar on us. I have this cousin who’s manic-depressive and she can be just flipping crazy sometimes.”
“Well, that’s not what’s going on with me,” I assure her. “But thanks anyway.”
Then the bell rings and I clean up my stuff and head on my way. I see Jordan again, alone this time, and I actually pause to ask her how she’s doing.
Looking at me funny, as if she thinks I might be a card or two short of a full deck, she answers, “I’m okay. But what’s with you?”
“Just feeling happy is all,” I say with a smile. Then I turn and walk away. And for the first time since Jordan and I quit being friends I feel absolutely no regrets. It’s not that I hate her or anything, but I just don’t feel like I so desperately need her anymore. For the first time since kindergarten I feel like I am a whole and complete person. Or nearly. But I realize this is only because I’ve allowed Jesus to come inside of me and fill up that old empty hole.
The second half of my day goes just as well as the first and I am now wondering why I didn’t invite Jesus into my heart years ago. Think of all the pain and suffering I might have avoided. Oh, well, at least it’s done now. And I can look forward to having this for the rest of my lifetime.
I still wonder about Edgar though. I haven’t seen him anywhere at school today. I wish I had his phone number, and I wonder if Amy might. Then I remember that she did his makeover last week. Perhaps she even knows where he lives. I search for her in the halls after school is out but can’t find her anywhere.
Finally, I remember her favorite haunt out by the parking lot. And sure enough, there she is with several of her friends, all enjoying their after-school cigarette. Although as I get closer I notice that Amy’s the only one not lighting up.
“Hi, Amy,” I call out as I approach. I can feel their curious stares and I know they’re wondering who I think I am to come onto their turf. But I just wave and smile as if I’m welcome here. And to my surprise they lighten up.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I tell Amy. “But I wondered if you know Edgar’s phone number.”
“You’re gonna call Edgar Peebles?” says a guy wearing a black ski hat pulled low down on his forehead.
“Yeah.” I look him in the eye as I answer. “Edgar’s my friend and I’m a little worried about him.”
The ski-hat dude snickers but doesn’t say anything else.
“I don’t have his phone number,” says Amy. “But I know where he lives.”
“Can you give me his address?” I reach into my backpack for a pen.
“I can do better than that.” Then Amy elbows Ski-hat Dude. “Max, can you give me a lift?”
He nods. “You wanna go now?”
Amy looks at me. “You in?”
“Sure.”
The next thing I know I’m climbing into the backseat of an old Toyota Corolla that smells like dirty socks and cigarettes.
“Wanna licorice?” offers Amy as she holds out a package of red licorice.
“Thanks.”
She grins as she chomps down on one. “This is my latest stop-smoking attempt. But at the rate I’m going, I’ll probably put on thirty pounds before I’m totally smoke-free.”
“That’s cool that you’re quitting,” I tell her as I look around for the seatbe
lt. I’m not sure what I think about Max’s driving, but as he swerves around the corner I’m not too embarrassed to dig around until I locate and fasten my seatbelt.
Edgar’s house is on the other side of town. It’s a rundown neighborhood where small houses are packed together between narrow, weedy yards. And their siding looks like cardboard.
“That’s it,” says Amy as she jabs Max in the shoulder. “The green one on the right.”
“You want me to stick around for you?” he asks as he pulls out a package of Camels.
“Sure,” says Amy. “Edgar might not even be home.”
So the two of us walk up the narrow cement path to Edgar’s door and Amy knocks, quite loudly. The house doesn’t look too big and I’m sure whoever lives here could hear her knocking clear into the back. We think we can hear someone moving around in there, and after a couple of minutes the door opens, and there is Edgar wearing a torn pair of gray sweat pants. That’s all. No shirt, no shoes, no smile.
“Hi, Edgar,” I say in a meek voice. “Are you okay? We missed you at school and were worried . . . ”
“What’s up, Edgar?” Amy takes her typical no-nonsense approach. “You don’t look so hot.”
He shrugs and I notice that his eyes are red. I think he’s actually been crying. “Edgar,” I say, reaching out for his hand. “What’s wrong?”
His face crumbles now and he turns and goes back into the house, leaving the front door open, I assume, as an invitation. So I walk in and Amy follows.
It’s dim and gloomy in the living room. The dingy-looking drapes are drawn and no lights are on. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. Then I notice Edgar sitting hunched on an old red sofa that dips down in the middle. His head is bent forward and his hands hang limply between his knees. He looks totally destitute, like he’s just lost his best friend. But somehow I can’t believe that could be true. I just don’t think that Jesus could’ve abandoned Edgar like this.
I sit down on the sofa next to Edgar and Amy sits on the opposite side. The three of us sit there for a few minutes in silence. I can tell by the movement in his shoulders that Edgar is crying, although he barely makes a sound. But it’s just breaking my heart to see him like this. Finally I can’t stand it a moment longer. I turn and look at him.
“Edgar,” I plead, “please, tell us what’s wrong. Is there something we can do to help?”
But he simply shakes his head. “There’s nothing you can do, Kara. Nothing anyone can do now.”
“What about Jesus?” I demand and he looks at me with surprise.
“Huh?”
“I know that he’s your best friend, Edgar,” I continue. “Surely there’s something that Jesus can do to help you.”
“It’s too late,” is all he says.
“Too late for what?” asks Amy. “Tell us what’s going on here, Edgar.”
He takes in a deep breath now, holds it then slowly exhales. “Too late for my mom,” he finally says.
“What happened?” I ask. “Is she still in prison?” I notice Amy’s eyes flash curiosity and I toss her a glance that says “later.” Hopefully Edgar doesn’t mind that I let this slip out.
“What’s going on with your mom?” I ask again, more gently this time. And I place my hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Edgar, we’re your friends. You can talk to us.”
He looks at me now as if he’s gauging my words, as if he’s weighing in on my authenticity.
“Really,” I reassure him. “And if it helps anything, I wanted you to know that I did it, Edgar. Last night, after I got home, I did it. I invited Jesus into my heart. I wanted you to be the first one I told. Only I was hoping it would be a happier occasion.”
He nods. “That’s cool, Kara. I’m really happy for you.” Then he puts his head down and begins to sob again.
I rub his back and just wait. But as I wait I am silently talking to Jesus, just like I’ve been doing on and off all day. I am asking Jesus to help me be a better friend to Edgar. And I’m asking him to help Edgar get through whatever it is that’s making him so upset.
Finally Edgar stops crying and looks up, just staring blankly across the shabby little living room. He wipes his hands on his cheeks then slowly shakes his head. “My mom was up for parole yesterday. It was denied. But I guess she didn’t take the news so well”—his voice breaks—“and she . . . she hung herself last night. She’s dead.”
Amy lets loose with a four-letter word.
“Oh, Edgar,” I say, reaching for his hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Now I am crying too. Just silently sitting there and holding his hand and crying. I’m not sure how long we sit there like that, but I notice that Amy is sobbing too. So I put my arms around both of them and now we are all huddled together in a big group hug, just the three of us crying together. I don’t know what else to do.
After a while, how long I don’t know, we stop crying and one-by-one lean back into the sofa.
“Thanks,” says Edgar with a sigh. “Thanks for coming, you guys. I don’t know when I’ve ever needed someone as much as today. I mean, Kara is right, I do have Jesus and I know that he’s here with me and that he’ll help me through this. But it makes a difference having real, physical people in your life too. Thanks.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I ask.
“Not that I know of. My dad kind of flipped out last night. He took off around midnight and I’m pretty sure he’s fallen off the wagon by now. I think he’s blaming himself for everything. It’s a real mess.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say again.
“Man,” says Amy as if she’s still taking it all in. “Your life really sucks, Edgar.”
“Yeah, I guess it looks like that.”
“When did you last eat?” I ask suddenly. I’m not even sure why. Maybe it was just seeing his ribs on his back, like I was thinking he was malnourished.
He shrugs. “Yesterday. Last night, I guess.”
“Well, why don’t you get on some clothes and we’ll take you out for some food. It won’t do anyone any good if you starve to death.”
“Good idea, Kara,” agrees Amy. She stands and pulls Edgar to his feet. “Besides, Max is probably getting impatient.”
Before long, we’re all parked around a sticky table at McDonald’s. Even Max joins us and seems honestly concerned about Edgar’s problems.
“My Uncle Rick wants me to come live with him,” says Edgar. “But I’ll only do that if my dad’s really fallen off the wagon for good. I’m thinking last night might just be a one-time thing. You can’t really blame him, you know.”
Amy pats Edgar’s hand. “No, you can’t. I’ve used all kinds of lame excuses to get drunk. But something like this could really rock your world.”
“I’ve had lots of excuses for getting wasted,” agrees Max. “But nothing as big as what’s happened to you and your dad. Man, it’s such a shame.”
We spend about an hour at McDonald’s and it seems like Edgar is beginning to feel a little better.
“I think I should get back now,” he says. “In case my dad comes home, you know. But thanks for the food, you guys.”
So we drive him back home and Amy and I both hug him again and tell him we love him.
“And I’ll be praying for you and your dad,” I promise.
“And if I knew how to pray or who to pray to, I would too,” says Amy. “As it is I’ll be thinking good thoughts about you.”
“Thanks,” says Edgar.
“And you’ve got our phone numbers now, so you call us if you need anything,” I remind him. “You know that we’re here for you. We’re your friends, Edgar.”
He nods. “I can really see that. Thanks.”
And then we leave. The car is quiet and somber as Max drives toward my apartment complex.
“Thanks for the ride, Max,” I finally tell him. “I really appreciate it.”
He smiles now. “No problem. See ya, Kara.”
“Take care, Kara,” says Amy.
<
br /> I feel exhausted as I go up the steps to our apartment. And I feel sad. In some ways, it’s not all that different from how I’ve felt in the past. Except that it’s totally different too. It’s like my exhaustion is coming from this deep place, a place where I have used all my energy and resources to do something that’s really worthwhile. And my sadness, for a change, is not centered on myself and my problems. It’s about Edgar and his mother and father.
It’s almost five o’clock, but the apartment is quiet and it looks like no one else is home yet. So I go straight to my room and fall down on my bed and I pray and pray for Edgar and his dad. I pray for them until I fall asleep. But when I wake up I feel oddly refreshed and almost hopeful. This amazes me in light of what’s happened to Edgar today. I’m thinking it can only be because of Jesus.
twenty-three
EDGAR’S DAD FINALLY CAME HOME. TO EVERYONE’S RELIEF HE HADN’T fallen off the wagon but had simply driven to the place where he and Edgar’s mother had first met back in the eighties. Edgar thinks it was his dad’s way of grieving, and shows that he actually loved his wife despite her drug problems.
The funeral for Edgar’s mother is today, and Amy and Max and I have decided to go. My mom even wrote me an excuse to leave school early. Max and Amy said they’re just ditching and will take the consequences, as usual. But I think it’s cool that we will be there to show our support for Edgar, to remind him that he has friends. Edgar asked us not to mention his mom’s suicide to anyone else at school and we’re respecting his wishes. I felt a little bad for not telling Felicia, because I think she really cares about Edgar. But I can understand him not wanting everyone to know. I mean, what good would it do? And I’m sure Edgar doesn’t want anyone’s pity. Besides, it seems like a tragedy like this is talked about and taken really seriously at first, but then time passes and some less-than-thoughtful kids can get kind of calloused and mean. I sure don’t want anyone saying anything cruel to Edgar.
After lunch Max drives us over to Edgar’s church. After a lot of discussion, Edgar’s dad finally agreed to have her funeral there. I guess it’s Edgar’s one concession in this whole sad affair. I have been praying all week that Jesus will help Edgar and his dad through this difficult time. I’m praying harder than ever today. I can’t imagine how sad this funeral will be. I’ve only been to one funeral before and it was for Grandma Elena a few years ago. Of course, it was really sad too, but at least she was older and had died of “natural causes.” Edgar’s mom was only thirty-six (twelve years younger than my mom!) and she’d spent the last five years of her life in prison. So tragic.
Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content Page 14