Meant to Be

by Melody Carlson

  “Yeah.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nods, and a tear streaks down her cheek. “I thought it was the only way to keep him. I thought that if he broke up with Torrey—” Now she starts crying harder. “I know it was stupid. Totally stupid! I am so stupid.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. I don't even know what to say

  “The thing is—” She gasps. “I had to talk him into it. He didn't even want to. I was the one pressuring him— and as it turned out, we both lost our virginity that night!”

  I glance uncomfortably at my door, hoping that neither of my parents are listening or anywhere nearby right now. Not that they're into eavesdropping. “Oh, Nat. I had no idea.”

  She's really sobbing now, and all I can do is hug her and tell her it's going to be okay. But what I'm thinking is, this is really, really sad. I mean, when I think about how Nat was nagging and warning me to be careful with Matthew all that time, and she's the one who gave in to temptation. Not only that, but she's partially responsible for Ben giving in too. It's just too much. I can't even wrap my mind around it.

  “And-and,” she sobs, still not ready to end her woeful tale, “it wasn't even fun! Not for either of us. It was just clumsy and messy and kinda gross. And after that night, things just kept getting worse between us. Oh, we had some great make-out sessions, and we actually tried it a couple more times, and I kept telling myself that this would change everything and that it would bind us together—that we'd really be one and get married and everything. But the truth is, I think it was what eventually drove us apart.”

  Oh, Nat.”

  “But you know the worst part, Kim?”

  I just shake my head. I can't even imagine.

  “I can't pray now. I can't talk to God anymore.”

  “But He forgives you, Nat. You know that.”

  “I might know that in my head, but the rest of me isn't convinced. I feel like such a loser, such a hypocrite. I mean, I'm the one who kept telling you to be careful—” She lets out a choked sounding sob. “And I'm the one— the one who messed up.”

  “But you're sorry,” I remind her. “God knows that, Natalie. You need to talk to Him. Just confess everything and ask Him to forgive you. You know that He will always forgive you. You've told me that very thing lots of times. But you need to go to Him and clean the slate.”

  “I know.”

  “And the sooner the better, Nat. Don't let it just pile up on you.”

  She nods. “Okay.” “And things will start getting better for you after you come clean with God. I'm sure you've learned a lot from this, and you're sure not going to make this same mistake again, right?”

  She takes in a deep breath then slowly exhales. “I sure hope not.”

  Then I hug her again. “It's going to be okay, Nat.”

  She nods and then stands up. “I should go.”

  “Be sure and take care of this,” I remind her as I walk her to the door. “Don't put it off, okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Kim.”

  Then she leaves, and I just stand and watch as she walks toward her house. There is absolutely no spring in her step, and in some ways she reminds me of a ghost—the ghost of Natalie McCabe.

  “Everything okay?”

  I kind of shake my head, suppressing tears. “Not exactly, Dad. Nat's having some, uh, personal problems.”

  “Oh.”

  I sense by his expression that he has no desire to hear about it. I know his jobs been stressful lately, and that combined with worrying about Mom, well, it's like I can see him aging right before my eyes. In fact, I'm sure he has way more gray hair than he had last fall.

  “But she'll be okay,” I tell him quickly. “You know what they say, Dad. Time heals all wounds.”

  “Or wounds all heels.”

  I kind of laugh. “Yeah, that too.”

  Then he hugs me. “You're a good girl, Kim.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  As comforting as my dad's hug is, I feel even worse for Nat as I go back to my room. If her dad hadn't left them like that, cutting out on them when they really needed him, maybe things would've gone differently for Nat.

  But then who knows? I do take time to pray for her when I'm in my room. I even spend about an hour going over my prayer list before I go back and write my response to the “jerk” guy who wrote the letter about dumping his girlfriend without hurting her—yeah, right. Just the same, I suppose it helps me to cut him some grace after hearing about Ben. I can't believe that Ben's the one who got pressured into having sex for the first time. So weird. It's no wonder he feels so badly about the whole thing. Not that it makes him innocent—no way—but it does cast a totally different kind of light on everything.

  Dear Moving On,

  You say you've shown your girlfriend that you “really care about her” and that she can “trust” you, and yet it seems all you're really interested in is sex. Why not just be honest with her about this and see how she reacts. It's entirely possible that she'll want to break up with you, and you won't have to concern yourself with the “best way to break up.” Especially because there really is no “best way” And speaking from experience, most girls want to be appreciated as more than just a sex object. But if that's what you're looking for, it sounds like you'll just have to keep looking.

  Just Jamie

  Seventeen

  Saturday, April 15

  I've never seen Natalie so down before. Not even when her dad left, and she was pretty devastated by that. When I see her at school, she reminds me of the walking dead, like a shadow of herself skulking down the halls. I try to spend as much time with her as I can, but even then she hardly talks to me, and by the end of the week, I felt like she was actually avoiding me. Its like she doesn't want to feel better. Or maybe she just can't. On Thursday, I asked her if she'd talked to God about this whole thing yet.

  “Please don't preach at me, Kim,” she said in a flat voice, ironic coming from the girl who's preached at me for years. But since I do remember what it feels like to be preached at, I am trying not to do this. Still, I'm worried about her.

  “What's up with Ghost Girl today?” Matthew asked me this afternoon. He started calling her Ghost Girl the other day when she wouldn't even speak to him. And I must admit the name is fitting with her pale blond hair just hanging around her paler-than-usual face (since she's not using any makeup these days), and then she's been constantly wearing this gray hoodie sweatshirt. It's really kind of eerie.

  “She's not really talking to me either,” I told him. “I don't know why she can't get over it.” Of course, I haven't told Matthew the details of how Nat talked Ben into having sex and how she's beating herself up about it now. Somehow it just doesn't seem right.

  “Give her time. Maybe another week…and I'll bet she'll pop out of it. Maybe she'll even pray for another boyfriend.”

  I frowned. “Don't make fun of her, Matthew.”

  “I'm not. I'm serious. My guess is that Nat is the kind of person who will pop back.”

  “Normally, I'd agree with you. I mean, I've seen her pop back from a lot of hard stuff. She's usually the perennial optimist who's getting on my case trying to get. me to see the brighter side—a real Pollyanna.”

  He gave me a sideways hug. “Hey, I like that you're a realist.”

  “A realist with faith,” I reminded him.

  Then he asked how my mom was doing, and I felt my faith taking a nosedive. “Not so good. She seems to really be slowing down.”

  He frowned. “Bummer.” Then he looked at me with the most sincere expression. “You know I almost wish I was a Christian so I could pray for her too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she's the sweetest lady I know, and it's like there's nothing anyone can really do for her.

  “Besides pray?”

  He shrugged. “I guess it kind of feels like that.”

  “No one's stopping you from coming to God, Matthew.”

  “No o
ne but me, you mean. But I couldn't fake it, Kim. If I ever take the big step—and I'm not saying I will—but it will be my way or no way.”

  “That's the only way to do it.”

  And as much as I'd like Matthew to have a relationship with God, it's gotten fairly low on my priority list. Not that I don't pray for him; I do. But with Nat's new zombie act and my mom looking sicker than ever, well, there's just a lot weighing me down right now. As a result, I told Matthew that I couldn't go out with him last night. Instead I stayed home and intentionally spent some time with my parents.

  “Why aren't you going out tonight?” my mom asks as she watches me cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

  “I didn't want to.” I put the last glass in the dishwasher.

  “How about a comedy tonight?” Dad asks as he comes in holding two videos in his hands. His new theory is that laughter is very healing. And maybe it is. “’Groundhog Day’ or The Great Outdoors’?”

  “Thanks, honey, but not tonight,” my mom says, slowly standing. “I don't think I can stay awake that long.”

  I don't mention the fact that it's not even seven yet. “Want some ginger tea, Mom?” Her stomach has really been bothering her, and ginger tea seems to soothe it a little.

  “Sure. I'm going into the living room to put my feet up for a while.”

  So I make a pot of tea, then go in there to join her. Her head is leaning back against a pillow, her eyes are closed, and for a moment I think she's asleep.

  “Oh, thanks, sweetheart,” she says when she realizes I'm there. “Are you going to have some with me?”

  “Sure.” So I pour us both a cup of tea and sit down.

  “I've been thinking about something lately,” she says after a slow first sip. “Something that you might be able to help me with.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Well, I've told you about my younger sister before…”

  “The one who left home when she was seventeen, and you never heard from since?”

  Mom nods. “Shannon.”

  “Wasn't it after your mom died that she left?” I say, trying to remember how the story went since it's been a few years since I heard it.

  “Yes, Shannon was a senior in high school…1 was just finishing college…and, well, our dad wasn't handling our mother's death too well…it was hard on Shannon.”

  “And she just took off/’

  “That's right. She called me a few times during that first year, mostly for money, but then we lost touch and I never heard from her since.”

  “And you're thinking about her now?”

  “I wonder if…how she's doing…if she's okay…you know our mother died of ovarian cancer…and it's genetic and…”

  “You wonder if Shannon has had it too?”

  “I do.”

  “But what does this have to do with me, Mom?”

  “Well, I know how good you are at searching up things on your computer, and I wondered if.

  “If I could locate Shannon?”

  She makes a sad half smile. “Do you think it's even possible, Kim?”

  “I do. But you'll have to give me as much information as you've got on her. I mean, I know your maiden name was Busche, and that's not terribly common, at least with that spelling. That will help, but do you have anything else on her? Like a social security number?”

  “I don't have a social security number, but I do have a box with some memorabilia.” She takes a last sip of tea and sets her cup down. “It's in my room.”

  So I help her up and slowly walk with her to her bedroom. When we get to her room, she is so tired that she needs to sit down. I help to ease her into the armchair by the bed, then get her comfy blanket and lay it on her lap. “Okay?” I ask, feeling uncertain because she seems to be breathing so heavily.

  She nods. “Not very strong these days.

  I sit on the bed and wait for her to catch her breath. I wish there was something I could say or do that would change this. I wish I could share some of my energy and health with her. Instead I just look at my hands in my lap, and I pray. I silently beg God to heal her. “Do it now!” I am shouting in my head. “Please, heal her right now, God! I'm begging You, asking You, please, do a miracle! Please, please, please!”

  “The box is in the bottom right-hand drawer of my bureau,” she finally says, jerking me back to reality.

  “Oh.” I go over, pull open the drawer, take out a pale blue cloth-covered box, and bring it over to her. Then I sit and watch as she slowly unties the faded ribbon that holds it closed and then removes the lid. There's not much in the box: papers, some photos, a yearbook. Mom picks up a photo and holds it up for me to see. It's a teenaged girl with long dark brown hair. She's wearing a fringed leather vest, wild-colored flared pants that are straight from the sixties, and a big smile.

  “She was really pretty,” I say as I look at her even features and big brown eyes. “Kind of reminds me of Julia Roberts, well, when she was younger.”

  “Yes.” Mom hands me another photo. “She was very pretty. And that wasn't even a great picture of her.”

  I take the second photo, a head and shoulders shot that looks like it must've been taken for school. “Wow, she was beautiful.”

  “Shannon was a free spirit.” Mom leans back in her chair, looking at another picture with two girls this time. I can tell that one of the girls is Shannon. She has on a very short orange and hot-pink dress and white knee-high boots. The other one I suspect is Mom.

  “Is that you?” I point to the serious-looking college-aged girl wearing a somber gray jumper over a neat white blouse.

  “Yes. It was shortly before Mother died.”

  “Oh…”

  “Shannon and father argued a lot,” Mom continues. “Over her clothes and appearance and the boys she dated and staying out late. I think all the fighting just made it easier for her to leave after Mother died.”

  “That's too bad.”

  “Shannon was certain that she was going to make it big in Hollywood.”

  I study the pretty, bright-eyed girl and think perhaps she might've had a real chance. “Did she?”

  “Not that we ever heard.”

  “Oh.”

  “I just wonder what became of her, Kim. Do you think you can find out?”

  “G? do my best.”

  “What's going on here?” my dad says as he peeks his head into the bedroom. “You girls taking some kind of sentimental journey? No guys allowed?”

  Mom laughs. “Of course you're allowed, Men. I was just showing Kim some pictures of Shannon.”

  “I see.”

  “Did you ever meet her, Dad?”

  He shakes his head and comes over to look. “No. But your mom's told me a little about her.”

  “I've asked Kim to see if she can find Shannon on her computer. I know it's a long shot, but I'm just curious. I wonder what's become of her…if she's still around.”

  Dad puts a hand on Mom's shoulder. “Well, if anyone can find her, I'm sure Kim's your girl.”

  Mom smiles. “Kim's my girl whether or not she finds her.”

  “Do you mind if I get started?” I say. Tm pretty curious.”

  “Please, do,” says Mom. “I'm curious too.”

  So I begin my search tonight. But after trying several things, getting a couple of false starts and a few disappointments, I finally give up. Just for the night. I will continue my search tomorrow. Then I take a few minutes to e-mail both Matthew and Natalie before I force myself to answer some Just Jamie letters. And if you ask me, the first one I read is totally whacked.

  Dear Jamie,

  I'm fifteen, but everyone says ?? mature for my age, plus I look older. I can easily pass for eighteen. Also most of my friends are older than me. Here's my problem. I really like Tom” (my soccer coach), and he really likes me. I babysit his two little boys quite a lot-I adore them and they totally love me-and when Tom takes me home afterward, we always have these really great discussions, and he treats me
like ?? an adult. Lately he's started kissing me good night-on the lips. The problem is that Tom is still married to his wife. He says he's definitely going to leave her, but that she's going through some hard stuff, and he doesn't want to make things worse. See, that's how thoughtful he is. Anyway, I'm afraid to tell anyone about our relationship because I know they won't understand. But Tom and I are really in love, and I'm certain that someday he will marry me. But what should I do in the meantime?

  15 going on 3D

  Dear 15,

  A married man (with children!) has no business getting romantically involved with a fifteen-year-old girl. And any smart fifteen-year-old girl should keep a safe distance from him. “Tom” is putting you (as well as himself) in an extremely dangerous position. You need to cut off your relationship with him immediately if he gets any more involved with you, he is at risk of being arrested for serious charges like child molestation or child abuse or statutory rape. You say you are “mature/ and if that's true, you need to make the mature decision to get out of this situation ASAP. Otherwise you could be seeing Tom arrested, charged, convicted, serving timewhile his wife and children suffer for his poor choices at home. Do you really want to have any part in something like that?

  Just Jamie

  Okay, I was probably a little harsh. But I want this girl to get the point. And maybe that stupid “Tom” will read my column and get a clue too. What on earth makes some people think that crud like that is acceptable? I mean, I've seen this stuff in the news, but you like to think it happens someplace else, not your hometown.

  Eighteen

  Thursday, April 20

  I feel like darkness is closing in on me. Not to sound overly dramatic, but the pressure is intense. First of all, Natalie is not getting over the Ben thing. She's more depressed than ever. Even her mom is concerned. She called me from work yesterday and asked if I knew what was wrong.

  “Natalie won't talk to me,” she told me.

  “Join the club,” I said. Probably not encouraging, but I feel like I'm hitting my head against the wall trying to get through to Nat these days. I'm ready to give up.