Rendezvous

by Zondervan

  “Yeah,” I agree. “I mean, it’s not like it’s my birthday or something.”

  “Okay, fine. No surprises.” Paige makes a face at me. “Our first show is going to be about us arriving in Paris, and the first thing we’ll do when we get there is go to Salon Dominique.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Just one of the hottest beauty salons in Paris. The world for that matter.”

  “Why did you want to keep that from me?” I ask.

  “Because Fran has made appointments for both of us.”

  “For…?”

  “For new hairstyles. Something très français.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’ve agreed to get my hair cut,” she says nervously. “Something similar to Grace Kelly.”

  “Really?” Mom glances at Paige in surprise.

  “I know.” Paige nods. “A bold step.”

  “That’s the surprise?” I ask.

  “I told Fran that you’ll get your hair cut like Audrey Hepburn when she played Sabrina.”

  “You told her what?” I touch my shoulder-length hair, which had been long until last December, when Paige decided it needed to be chopped. And, okay, maybe she was right. But to cut more…I’m not so sure.

  “I thought we agreed on this, Erin.”

  “What?”

  “That if I cut my hair, you’d cut yours. Remember when we were watching To Catch a Thief?”

  “Yeah, but I thought we were kidding.”

  “I think it sounds like fun,” Mom says as she turns onto our street.

  “It will be,” Paige assures me. “I’m taking a bigger risk than you, Erin. I’ll have more hair cut off and I’m the star of the show.”

  “But it’s your choice,” I point out.

  “I can’t do it if you don’t.” She makes a pouty face.

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s how we planned it. Both of us getting a new Parisian-inspired look. You have to do it.”

  “I think you’d look lovely in short hair,” Mom tells me. “You have the perfect face for it, Erin.”

  “And it really will make for a great show. They’re going to give us complete makeovers. Come on, Erin, it’ll be fun.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll do it.” I decide to give in. It’s not like Paige is going to back down.

  “You won’t be sorry,” Paige promises as Mom parks her car. “We’ll go to Paris looking like a couple of regular California girls and we’ll come home looking like—”

  “Like Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn,” Mom finishes.

  “Or like a couple of French girls.” Paige launches into fluent French. I know she’s been listening to French CDs and practicing. That, combined with the three years she took in high school, reminds me that I’ll be lost when it comes to communicating over there.

  “More likely we’ll look like Grace Kelly and her weird-looking kid brother,” I say as we’re getting out of the car. “With my hair cut as short as Paige wants, I’ll probably look like a boy.”

  “A very chic Parisian boy.” Paige fluffs the back of my hair with her hand and laughs. “Just trust me, sis. I won’t let you look bad.”

  I try not to think too hard about that as I go to my room and check my phone messages. There are a couple of texts from Lionel. One is asking me why I’m not at fellowship group tonight. The second is telling me to have fun in Paris and to call him if I get the chance. I text him back, keeping it brief, and promise to call him when I return to LA. The next one’s from Mollie, also asking about why I’m not at fellowship group. I text her back, explaining about dinner with Mom, promising to call her later.

  There is nothing from Blake, and suddenly I’m concerned. He could simply be acting childish, or maybe I really hurt his feelings by going out with Lionel. Since I’ve considered Blake to be my good friend these past several months, even my best friend during the time when Mollie wasn’t speaking to me, I decide it’s time for me to call him.

  He sounds a little off when he answers and so I decide to cut right to the chase. “Are you mad at me?” I ask.

  “Mad?”

  “You know, for going out with Lionel. Are you upset or something? Because it feels like you’ve been avoiding me and—”

  “You mean because I wasn’t at fellowship group tonight?”

  “You weren’t?”

  “You didn’t even notice I was missing?” Now he sounds sad.

  “No, that’s not it. I wasn’t there either.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, anyway, are you mad at me about Lionel?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Well, no, of course not.”

  “Then I’m not.”

  “It feels like you’ve been ignoring me.”

  “I’ve been kind of sick. I think I’ve got the flu.”

  “Oh.” Is this for real or is he trying to make some excuse? “The flu?”

  “Yeah. Kind of a stomach thing. Not much fun. Mom keeps telling me I should go see a doctor. But it’s Saturday, so I’ll probably just wait and see how it goes.”

  I realize that he actually does sound different, like he’s really not feeling too well. “It’s not about me then? You’re just sick?”

  He makes a weak laugh. “Yeah, Erin, it’s not always about you.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that, but I’ve been worried about you. Now it seems like there was a reason to be. Want me to make you some chicken soup or something?”

  Another weak-sounding laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks. My stomach’s not up to it. No offense, I’m sure you make a mean chicken soup. But I can barely keep Sprite down.”

  “Wow, Blake, I’m sorry. Do you think it’s anything serious?”

  He sighs. “Mom’s all worried that it could be food poisoning or stomach cancer or something equally serious. You know she’s kind of a hypochondriac. It’s probably just the flu. Hopefully not one of those bad strains though. I think I’d prefer food poisoning. At least it gets over with sooner.”

  “Now I feel really bad,” I admit. “I wish I’d called you yesterday. I would’ve come to visit. I hope you get better soon.”

  “Me too.”

  “We leave for Paris in the morning.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning to see how you’re doing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You sound tired,” I tell him. “I should probably let you go.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty wiped out.”

  “Okay. You take care.”

  We say good-bye and hang up and I feel like such a heel. Here I’ve been thinking that Blake’s being a big baby and acting jealous and all sorts of silly things and the poor guy is just plain sick. For sure I’ll check on him tomorrow to make sure he’s getting better. Maybe I can send him a get well something from the airport.

  Next I call Mollie and I can tell by her voice that something is wrong. “What’s up?” I ask, concerned. “You sound a little bummed.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably because Tony and I broke up,” she says glumly.

  “Oh, Mollie…” I sit on my bed, preparing myself for what I’m guessing will be a long chat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “So how are you doing?”

  “I’ve had better days.”

  “Yeah…so tell me what happened. How did he do it?”

  “Actually we both did it. It was a mutual breakup.”

  “Oh?”

  “We got into this big fight on our way home from fellowship group tonight.” She gives a halfhearted laugh. “I was actually feeling kind of hopeful and happy after hearing the message—it was about how God can turn what seems to be bad into something good, and I was thinking that was kind of like an unplanned pregnancy. I mentioned something about how this baby was going to be a real blessing and Tony started acting weird.”

  “Weird? How do you mean?”

  “For starters, it’s like he’s in some big k
ind of denial. Like he wants to act like there is no baby, like I’m not pregnant, like life is going to be just the same as before.”

  “Oh.”

  “And when I made it clear that life as we knew it is over and done with, and that he either better get used to this new reality or just beat it, he pretty much lost it.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Then he told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t ready to be a dad and that he wouldn’t be ready for about ten years, and that I should give the baby up for adoption. Naturally, I told him there was no way I was going to do that. That’s when he got really mad and told me he should have a say in this—that it was his baby too and that he should have a choice about the baby’s future.”

  “Wow.” I actually don’t know how to respond to this. I think Tony is partially right. And yet it’s so complicated. So messy.

  “What do you think, Erin? Should Tony have a say?”

  “Well, it is his baby too. But on the other hand, you’re the one who gets stuck with it so—”

  “Stuck with it?” Her tone is angry.

  “I didn’t mean stuck with it like that.”

  “Look, I’m perfectly aware that no one seems to get this, but I am happy about this baby, Erin. I want it and I love it already. I know it won’t be easy, but I plan to keep the baby and I plan to be a good mom and—”

  “I know, I know,” I say quickly. “You will be a good mom, Moll. What I meant was Tony doesn’t really have to deal with it like you do. He’s not carrying the baby inside of him. He’s not the one who will have to go through delivering the baby or any of the other stuff. Maybe for that reason he shouldn’t have as much of a say in it as you do.” I pause to catch my breath, hoping that this will appease my slightly moody friend.

  “Oh…okay.”

  “Did you tell your dad yet?” This is my attempt to shift the subject away from Tony.

  “No, he left on a business trip yesterday. I’ll tell him when he gets back.”

  “Right. I’ll be praying for you, Mollie, that it goes okay when you break the news to him.”

  “Thanks.” She sniffs like maybe she’s crying.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just so bummed about Tony.”

  “I’m sorry, Mollie. Maybe it’s for the best that you know where he stands.”

  “But I didn’t expect him to act like this. I had hoped he’d want to do the right thing.”

  The right thing? I’m trying to wrap my head around this. What is the right thing? I guess only Mollie knows. And God. “I promise you, Mollie,” I tell her. “I will be praying for you every day. That everything with you and the baby will go exactly the way God wants it to go. Okay?”

  “Thanks.” Another sniff. “You’re a good friend.”

  “I just wish I wasn’t going to be gone so much. I’d like to be here for you more.”

  “Yeah, I wish that too.”

  “On the bright side, it’s cool that your mom knows.” I try to inject some brightness into my voice. “I’m sure that must make it easier.”

  “Yeah. We’re going to the OB doctor together next week. I’d been hoping that Tony would go with me. But I guess having Mom along will be better than going alone.”

  “When will you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not even sure I want to know.”

  “Because I was thinking maybe I could find some interesting baby stuff in France.”

  “Oh, yeah, that would be great, Erin. I’d love my baby to have something from Paris.”

  “I’ll just look for something that works for boys or girls.”

  “Cool.”

  We talk awhile longer and I think maybe I’ve cheered her up some. But as we say good-bye, I feel bad once again for not being more here for her. I know life’s not easy for Mollie right now. But, really, what can I do?

  Chapter 5

  The town car picks us up at nine on Sunday morning. Our flight doesn’t leave until 12:10, but Fran said that we need to be to LAX earlier since it’s an international flight.

  “What time will it be when we arrive in Paris?” I ask.

  “I think the flight’s about twelve hours,” she tells me. “That means it’ll be well after midnight Pacific time before we make it through customs and collect our bags, and since Paris is nine hours ahead, it’ll actually be about nine or ten in the morning there.”

  “Oh.” I nod as I try to absorb this. “So it’s kind of like we’ll miss one night.”

  “I plan to sleep on the flight,” she says. “Hopefully I’ll arrive in Paris energized and refreshed and adjusted to their time zone. I suggest you girls do the same.”

  Fortunately we make it through security without any of the accidental carry-on item problems we experienced on our way to New York last month. We make our way to our gate and get settled to wait another hour until boarding time. We take turns watching our bags, using the restroom, getting snacks, and using our phones. The first person I call is Blake. I’m curious as to how he’s doing. To my surprise his mom answers his cell phone.

  “Mrs. Josephson?”

  “Yes?”

  “Oh, I thought I called Blake’s cell phone. This is Erin.”

  “It is Blake’s cell phone, Erin. Blake is in surgery.”

  “Surgery?”

  “Emergency surgery.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was suffering from acute appendicitis,” she tells me in a dramatic voice. “I told him I thought something was seriously wrong, but he kept telling me it was just a bug. Then this morning, he woke up in so much pain that I called for an ambulance.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible that his appendix could have ruptured.”

  “Oh no!”

  “He’s been in there for a couple of hours now. I’m so worried, Erin.”

  “Poor Blake. He sounded pretty bad last night, but I had no idea it was so serious.”

  “I wish he’d listened to me. I wanted him to see a doctor yesterday. A ruptured appendix is very dangerous.”

  “Well, I’ll really be praying for him, Mrs. Josephson. I’m at the airport right now. Our flight to Paris is supposed to board in about forty minutes. If you don’t mind, I’ll call back before we leave to check on him again.”

  “Yes, that’s fine. Hopefully we’ll know his condition by then. We didn’t think he’d be in surgery this long.”

  I close my phone and just shake my head. Poor Blake! I feel a lump growing in my throat. I wish I could go and be there with him. I wish I’d been nicer to him these past few days. I can’t believe I never even spent any time with him before leaving for this trip. What kind of a friend am I anyway?

  “What’s wrong?” Paige asks as she comes back to join me at the gate. She’s got an armful of magazines, a large water bottle, and some other things.

  “It’s Blake,” I tell her. “He’s in emergency surgery.” I spill out the story and try not to cry. “His mom’s really worried.”

  Paige frowns. “That’s too bad. I wish there was something we could do.” She pats me on the back. “Don’t worry too much. Remember when my friend Kelsey had her appendix out a couple years ago? It was no big deal.”

  “But his mom said his appendix might be ruptured,” I tell her again.

  “Whose appendix is ruptured?” Fran is joining us.

  “Blake’s,” I tell her, quickly explaining the situation.

  Fran gets a somber expression. “Oh, dear.”

  “I was just telling Erin about my friend who had her appendix out,” Paige says quickly. “She was fine within a week.”

  “But if his appendix is ruptured…” Fran shakes her head. “I don’t want to alarm you, Erin. But I had an aunt who died from that.”

  Now the tears are coming. “Do you think he’s—”

  “No, no,” Fran says quickly. “That was awhile back. I’m sure that medical technology is much better now.
”

  “Here, have some water,” Paige says as she hands me her water bottle. “He’ll be okay, Erin.”

  I quickly text this news to Mollie, who is probably in church right now. I ask her to be sure and put Blake on the church’s prayer chain. Then I sit and listen to Paige and Fran’s reassurances, telling me that he’s going to be okay. I decide to go look for something I can send to Blake—something that might help cheer him up and show that I really do care about him. I finally stop at a rather swanky-looking gift shop, where a sign is posted: We ship anywhere.

  I look around until I see a very nice model sailboat. I remember how Blake loves sailing and dreams of having his own boat someday. So I splurge—and it’s not cheap. Hurrying to pay with my credit card, I fill out the sheet for shipping and write a quick get-well card, signing Love, Erin, then hurry back to our gate just as they are starting to board.

  With Paige and Fran waiting—patiently too, considering we could’ve boarded first since we’re in first class—I call Blake’s cell again and once again his mom answers. “Sorry, Erin,” she says. “There’s no news.”

  “Oh.” I swallow hard. “Well, when he comes out of surgery, please, tell him I called. Tell him I’m thinking of him and praying for him. And I’ll call him from Paris, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s a direct flight and I’m guessing we can’t use cell phones on it.”

  “The last I heard you’re not allowed to.”

  “And it’s an eleven-hour flight,” I say sadly.

  “Well, I’ll tell him you called.”

  “I got him a get-well gift that I’m sending to your house,” I say quickly. “It should be there in a day or two.”

  “That was sweet of you, Erin.”

  “Tell Blake I wish I was there with him, Mrs. Josephson.”

  “He’ll appreciate that. Now you go and have a good flight to Paris, Erin. We’re all proud of you and your sister and your TV show. Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure Blake will be just fine.” But I can still hear traces of worry in her voice. I’m sure she’s not nearly as optimistic as she’s trying to sound.

  “I’m praying for him,” I finally say. “Tell him that, okay?”

  “I will.”

  We hang up and I follow Paige and Fran as they get at the end of the line to board the plane. Once again, I’m fighting against the tears. I feel so badly about Blake. And I feel extremely guilty too. Why was I being so stubborn? Why hadn’t I called him sooner?