“Well, that’s not at all how it went for me. I knew right away what had happened, but I stayed in my room, shaking, too scared to come out. I huddled under my covers, trembling for over an hour before I could bring myself to go out there. I kept imagining the scene, and I didn’t want to see it because I knew there’d be no going back once I did. But no matter what I pictured in my head, the real sight was worse.”
Ju-Ju gripped the podium. “I often wonder to this day if they’d be alive if I’d been strong enough to get them help sooner instead of huddling in there like a coward.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “But there I was, facing my new reality of being all alone in the great big scary world. I knew they’d come for me and send me to some foster home, and I couldn’t let it happen ‘cause I’d heard stories. So I ran.” She shrugged as though the weight of her decision wasn’t a big deal. Like it had been the most natural thing in the world for her to do.
Alone on the streets at twelve? No family at all? And Carmen thought she had it bad. She glanced at some of the faces in the audience. Several men shook their heads in disbelief, and a few women in hats dabbed their eyes with a tissue. She moved her gaze to the teens in the front few rows, expecting them to be mocking and smirking, but they were riveted.
“So, over the next year, I kind of scrambled for food and begged for money. I found places to sleep wherever I could—benches, doorways, alleys, and sometimes a shelter had room, but I couldn’t stay too long or someone would call family services, and I’d get hauled off to foster care.”
She shrugged. “Eventually I figured out that big-city businessmen would let me stay in their nice warm hotel rooms and send me off with money the next morning if I gave them some company. So I did.”
Had Carmen heard that right? Was Ju-Ju talking about prostitution? Carmen leaned forward just a bit.
“Over time it got easier and easier, and I forgot what life was supposed to be like.” The young speaker gasped for breath. She’d let those words roll out so fast—probably wanted that part of her speech over as soon as possible.
Vibration in her pocket jolted Carmen out of the story. Would it be rude to check her messages? Of course it would. But she had to know if Nate had texted.
“Drugs, alcohol, prostitution. Who’d have thought all of that just by looking at me?” Julia shook her head. “I can hardly believe it myself sometimes. But the worst part? The decisions that stick with me to this day—the ones that will haunt me for the rest of my life—are the ones in which I chose to take the lives of my unborn babies.” She held up two fingers and wiped a tear from her cheek. “This is the hardest part to talk about, and I’m not going to stay on this for too long, but I do want to say one thing.” She made eye contact with the teens in front.
“Never, ever, ever is life so hard or is your situation so bad you have to resort to sin to get out of it. Ben will teach about that from the Bible in a minute. But it’s a promise from God in First Corinthians chapter ten that He’ll always make a way for you to not have to choose sin. I made the wrong choice, and I’ll regret it forever.”
Carmen glanced at her mom. Her makeup looked perfect, except one penciled-in eyebrow had smudged when she wiped away a tear. She still hadn’t gotten used to her new look and how to maintain it. But she sure did seem to be enjoying the guest speakers.
“But!”
Carmen gasped and jolted in her seat along with the rest of the congregation as Ju-Ju shouted, her face all lit up with joy.
“One day I wandered through the streets like I did every day, looking for a meal or a companion for the night. I passed over a few guys who gave me the creeps and then got hired for the entire night by an out-of-towner. An all-nighter was considered a cherry job because it usually meant a few hours of good sleep and a warm shower in the morning.”
Ju-Ju smiled. “The dude turned out to be an angel. Or at least the next best thing. Mark Stapleton happened to be a Chicago police officer serving as a short-term missionary in New York who posed as a john.”
On a mission trip and he hires a prostitute? What a hypocrite.
“He paid me well and then spent every minute he paid for telling me about Jesus. By morning I was lugging all of my possessions in one carry-on bag as I boarded a plane for Colorado. I moved into Diamond Estates and haven’t looked back since.”
Julia gazed out at the audience and locked eyes with several teens in the front then moved her gaze to Carmen. “Officer Mark Stapleton led me to Christ, but being at Diamond Estates has allowed me to learn and grow in my relationship with God. I’ve been healed, forgiven, and fully restored.”
The church broke into applause as Ju-Ju walked across the stage.
Wow. Quite a story. How would Carmen have handled the same situation? Could she have been so strong?
Ben jumped from his seat to assist Julia down the stairs.
Perfect timing. Carmen slipped her phone from her pocket to the empty seat beside her. With one finger she swiped it open to her most recent text.
C, CELL BATTERY DIED AND I COULDN’T FIND MY PHONE.
CHARGING NOW. WILL CALL U LATER.
Carmen fought the urge to squeal. He’d been concerned about worrying her. Phew. Should she sneak a quick reply? Nah. Waiting and wondering wouldn’t hurt him a bit. She slid the phone back into place and raised her eyes to listen to the speaker.
Grinning, Ben had taken the microphone again. “Ju-Ju graduated from our program about two months ago, and she lives with a local family serving in the church and the community. God radically changed her life.” He looked down at his companions and smiled.
“Next, I’m going to welcome Tricia to the stage.” He nodded to a statuesque African American who glided toward the front like she walked on air. Was it arrogance? No, not arrogance. She just had grace. Elegance bubbling up from deep within. Something Carmen would never have.
“Tricia came from a life of modeling. It’s very difficult for an insecure girl—even one from a large, happy, loving family—to thrive in a world demanding perfection. As a result, Tricia searched for love in all the wrong places, to quote an old song. She looked for identity and approval in the attention she got from boys. Tricia’s identity search eventually led her to Diamond Estates, where we’ve worked to teach her how Jesus sees her. Tricia’s going to talk a bit more about life at the center.”
That kind of made sense. Nate sure did fill Carmen’s soul. When he looked at her just right, she felt like the most beautiful woman on the planet. When he paid a lot of attention to her, she felt valuable. Then again, when he didn’t…
“Hi. I’m Tricia. Like Ben said, I’m going to graduate from Diamond Estates in about six months. Quite a long while after I should have.” Her lip twitched, and her bracelet clinked against the microphone as she gripped it with white-knuckled fingers. “This is the first time I’m telling my story to strangers, so bear with me. I’m a little nervous.”
What did she have to be nervous about? She could rival any of the contestants on those reality runway shows. Her presence captivated Carmen at first glance.
“I’ve been in modeling since I was a little girl. Maybe it all sounds glamorous to you, but it’s not.”
Right. Poor girl. Carmen didn’t want to hear the horrors of long photo shoots and other catastrophes of the lucky elite.
Tricia chuckled. “I see some of you are skeptical. I understand. I really I do. The thing is, being a model doesn’t change a girl into something better; it just highlights something meaningless and makes it the most important thing about her. In other words, my looks should be the least important thing about who I am. Yet, through the industry I was in, my looks defined me. Worth, potential, income, and ability rest solely on appearance. The pressure to be what’s expected and to conform in both looks and actions is so high.”
She twisted a ring on her finger. “But at Diamond Estates I was able to leave it all behind me. You see, if I had stayed in my hometown, surrounded by my old friends, I’d have never b
een able to pull myself away from their expectations and from my own reputation. It was like by entering Diamond Estates, I got a do-over. I tried really hard to change my thinking right away. I knew who I wanted to be, and I did everything I could to force myself into that mold. But old habits die hard. Eventually the same old physical issues snuck in, and I found myself back in a life of binging and purging in futile efforts to be rail thin. I spent all my time worried about my weight and fighting so hard to be skinny it almost killed me. It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom that I could identify my misplaced dependency. I needed to stop focusing on myself and turn my focus on God.”
Cue the God stuff.
“Once I did, everything became clear. I finally saw myself the way He sees me. I finally knew what it meant to be secure. I no longer needed the attention or approval of a boy or employment with a modeling agency. I was me, and that was enough. No matter what.”
Carmen’s head swam with confusion. What did it all mean? Focus on God? Dependency on Him? It didn’t make any sense. How could she have faith in someone who had proven to be completely uninterested in her life? In what hurt her. In what she lost. In what she wanted. It made no sense to think she should put blind trust in a being who hadn’t intervened a single time in the mess her parents had created. The last straw was tennis. How hard would it have been for God, supposedly the Creator of the universe, to work it out so she could keep playing? It was almost as though He wanted to watch her suffer. Like using the rays of the sun to burn a bug with a magnifying glass.
Nate, on the other hand, made her feel alive. He reached her soul and soothed the wrinkles away. He made everything good. Beside him, Carmen felt safe. Like she had worth and mattered to someone. If she had to choose between God or Nate, it was no contest. Mom would be horrified if she heard Carmen say all that. But it was true.
Mr. Bradley gripped the front of the wooden podium and pulled himself forward. His eyes gleamed like he wanted to bore his truth into the souls of the congregation.
Oops, Carmen had missed most of what he’d said. Probably for the best anyway.
“If you’re here today and you don’t have Jesus, you have a life-controlling problem. It’s out of hand. Some of you might deal with alcoholism, some with drugs, some with sexual sins or any number of things. For some of you, it may be simple unbelief controlling your life.”
Unbelief? Well, that described Carmen. But she was fine with it. Her unbelief made more sense to her than the blind devotion she witnessed all around her.
“He can take your pain, your sin, even your unbelief and heal it right here.…”
Yeah. No thanks. That’s where Carmen checked out. That’s where she clicked her ruby slippers and went to the place in her head with the Briarcliff Manor zip code. The place that had been taken from her. Where it was warm and solid like Nate’s arms. The place she felt whole.
There’s no place like home.
Chapter 9
Pink hand towels to match the pink soaps and new wastebasket. Looked like Mom had been taking a few too many sips of the Mary Kay Kool-Aid. At least she seemed happy. And she looked like a million bucks.
Carmen gripped the doorknob leading from the bathroom, a room she’d become more familiar with than her own these recent weeks. She took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped through. Walking down the hallway, she avoided the pink area rugs that had been strewn along the floor in the short time since she’d closed the door. How long had she been in the bathroom? Pink roses now towered on the hallway table.
The scent of cherry blossoms wafted through the air. Carmen clutched her churning abdomen. Where was that smell coming from? Oh. The new pink air freshener plugged into the outlet. She swallowed hard. “Mom, don’t you think this pink stuff is going a little too f—”
What on earth?
Mom stood in the center of the family room in front of an easel, wearing a pink business suit, lecturing an empty love seat about its responsibility to treat its Mary Kay career like a business.
“Uh, Mom. Did you convert the couch?”
“Ahh!” Mom tossed her pen in the air and waved her hands in front of her face like she was swatting away a swarm of bees. Carmen watched the pen flip end over end until it landed on the top of Mom’s pink pump.
If she weren’t about to throw up again, Carmen would have cracked up. Mom had been a fun one to startle ever since Carmen could remember. Recently Carmen and Daddy had started sneaking up on Mom from different angles and recording her reactions with the voice recorder app on their iPhones. Mom hated it when they posted her screams on Facebook. They couldn’t help themselves though. How had things gotten so far from those not-so-very-long-ago days when they could all have fun together—often at Mom’s expense?
“You okay?” Carmen squelched a giggle at Mom’s blanched expression.
“You guys have got to stop doing that. I’m going to have a heart attack one of these days.” She fanned herself with the cable guide. “You feeling okay?” Mom hurried to Carmen’s side and pressed a hand to her forehead.
Carmen stepped back from the hand. “I’m fine. Just ate something that didn’t agree with me.” How long would Carmen be able to sell that story? “What’s going on around here? It looks like this place is a stop on the Candy Land game board.”
“I’m having my girls over tonight for team training. It’s my first, so I’m a little nervous.” She flipped a page over to the back of the easel, revealing a glossy pie chart with numbers and percentages about women and makeup.
“What are you training? And who are your girls?” Great. People in the apartment. Would Mom expect Carmen to stick around and entertain them?
“You know. The consultants I’ve signed under me. They’re my team. So I have to train them if I ever hope to quit my day job.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal—should be fun.”
No big deal, huh? Then why the high-pitched squeal and clipped words? Totally nervous. “Your ankles are trembling, Mom. Better have some more pink Kool-Aid before they get here.”
Dear Nellie,
Those girls in church today, did you see them? Whoa. Talk about two sick tickets. What messed-up lives. I mean, it’s all good they got themselves together and are in a better place, but I think they could have done it all without leaning on God as a crutch. It just takes some willpower and motivation.
Take Ju-Ju for example. She’s so tiny and looks so young—anyone who would hire her as a prostitute would have to be like a pedophile or something. She risked her life every night just for a place to sleep? That’s crazy. Anyone would know there’s a better way with or without God. If she were smart—not saying she’s not, but we have to look at the evidence—she’d have tried out the foster program and then run away if it didn’t work out. It would sure have been worth a shot anyway.
Then look at Tricia. Oh, come on. She wants us to believe she had it so rough? I don’t think so. That’s just crazy. She’s gorgeous, graceful, and elegant. She comes from a good home. Her parents are still together. Puh-leeze. Binging and purging? I’m not buying it. Sounds like someone is an attention hog and just wasn’t getting enough in front of the camera. Or maybe it’s all just a publicity stunt. That’s probably it.
Whatever. Just goes to show you, Nellie, people are all kinds of crazy, and they’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.
Love,
Carmen
“So what’s your story?” Theresa Martinez, the girl who sat behind her in Home Ec, waited at Carmen’s locker.
“My story?” Sigh. Carmen simply wanted to get through the school day—no more, no less. She didn’t want to make small talk. Even more, she didn’t want to make friends. She lived on borrowed time in Hackensack…on her way out.
Kayla Ortega stepped up. “Yeah, your story. You know: Why are you here? Where did you come from? How do you know Diego? Trust me, you want to tell us because they’re already making up stories about you.”
“Who is? What kind of stories?”
“Oh, everyone. And Marco. Some of them have you pegged as a Narc. Others think you’re just crazy.”
A Narc? Like an informer to the cops? Hilarious. Maybe she should play that angle up a bit. “And you? What do you think?”
“I think you’re sad.” Kayla shrugged. “Theresa, not so much. She figures you’re probably on the run.”
“Yep. You found me out. I’m a mob princess from Chicago in the witness protection program.” Carmen slammed her locker door. “Tell them that story. Let ‘em chew on it for a while.”
“You probably want to get your truth out. Trust us.” Kayla leaned in. “The more you try to keep yourself above us, the harder it’s going to be for you.”
“I’m not trying to be better than you. I don’t think I am.” Carmen didn’t think it—she knew it. She wasn’t supposed to live here.
Kayla rolled her eyes. “It shows in everything you do. Even the way you move through the halls. But whatever, you tell yourself whatever you want to believe.” She shrugged. “It really makes no difference to me—I don’t care what you do. You should know, though, some of us heard you have a fancy college boyfriend, but you’re with Diego. So that doesn’t make sense. If you’re two-timing Diego, he won’t be happy. You don’t want Diego unhappy with you, trust me.”
Carmen looked at Theresa, who’d remained silent through the exchange and tipped her chin up. “What do you think?”
Theresa held her stare for a few heartbeats. “I think you’re in over your head.”
Someone finally talked some sense. In more ways than one.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Carmen! Happy birthday to you!”
“Now make a wish.” Nate grinned.
Carmen leaned over the dining table to reach the German chocolate cake with homemade pecan-coconut frosting she’d made herself earlier that day. Mom would have made it, but Carmen couldn’t stand the thought of cake mix from a box.
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