Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content (16 page)

T
HE IDEA OF HAVING ANOTHER WHOLE, LONG, LONELY WEEKEND LOOM
ing before me is fairly daunting as I lie in bed on this dreary Saturday morning. It’s like I’m afraid to even get up. Like I don’t even want to begin this day that promises to be so boring and empty. Did I mention that it’s raining outside?

And I already know that Mom has a sales seminar to go to. She’s probably already left by now. And Bree plans to hang with Sunny again today. Nice that someone has friends.

I entertain myself by thinking of things I might possibly do today.

1. I could clean my room. Not.

2. I could redecorate my room. Doubtful.

3. I could go to the library and do homework. Ugh.

4. I could take a soggy run. Yuck.

5. I could surprise Mom by cleaning house.
Puh-leeze.

6. I could get on a bus and see where it takes me. Interesting . . .

But the phone is ringing now, and since it sounds like Bree is in the shower, I suppose it’s up to me to answer. And who knows, maybe it’s someone wanting to be interviewed for the position of Kara’s new best friend.

“Hi, Kara?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Suzy next door. I know this is last-minute, but something unexpected just came up. Could you possibly babysit the boys all day today?”

And so it’s settled. I guess it’s better than nothing and at least I’ll make some money. But honestly, what a pitiful excuse for a life.

Fortunately Jeffy and Justin seem happy to see me and the day goes fairly well, although Suzy’s apartment is pretty much trashed by five o’clock. I’m actually sort of relieved when she calls and asks if I could feed the boys dinner and put them to bed since she’s afraid she’ll be gone later than expected.

Suzy doesn’t get home until nearly midnight. And by then I have her apartment looking even better than when she left. I’ve discovered this is a good way to get paid extra when babysitting. And it works because Suzy is quite grateful and generous when she gets home.

“Thanks so much, Kara. You’re the best babysitter in the world.”

I smile and say goodnight and wonder if that’s the kind of thing I’d like to be remembered for—“the best babysitter in the world.” Hmmm.

Somehow I make it through the next day and then I wonder why I dreaded the weekend so much when I realize I now have a whole week of school to face. And really, which is worse? A couple of days without friends or an entire week? Besides that, I remember how angry Betsy Mosler was and how she probably really hates my guts now.

As I walk to school, I replay the unhappy events at the dance. I replay the things that Jordan said to me, and by the time I reach the school I am ready to turn around and go home.

But what has really changed? I mean, Jordan was ignoring me before and she’ll probably ignore me even more now. So what? Still,
as hard as I try to make myself believe that I am nonchalant, that I don’t care, that those stupid, shallow kids have absolutely no hold over me, I know that it’s not true. Because I do care. I do worry and fret over the snide little comments and the hurtful looks. I do wish that everyone could just be nice to everyone for a change. And here’s what’s really pathetic: I still wish that life would return to what it was last summer. I still wish that Jordan and I were best friends. Why am I such a fool?

I’m early enough for English that I can slip into the back of the room, open my book, and pretend to be absorbed by
Ivanhoe
. I glance up through the strand of hair that’s fallen across my face to observe Jordan and a couple of her friends walking into class. As usual they are laughing and joking. It seems their life is nothing but one big, happy party. And it makes me sick. They chat with Mr. Parker, acting like they really love his fish tie, but I’m sure it’s just a big schmoozing act for the benefit of their midterm grades. I’m sure they really think he looks ridiculous in a tie that resembles a dead fish.

I watch them as they take seats, all clustered together as if they might feel isolated or alone should they have to sit a desk or two apart from each other. Poor things. I feel so sorry for them.

I notice that I’m chewing on my pencil again. It looks like it’s been through the shredder. It’s a recently acquired habit that I’m not terribly thrilled about but seem unable to shake. I’m sure it’s stress-related, and once again I can feel the tightness in my stomach and my head is beginning to throb. I realize that I need to get the upper hand in this thing. I can’t let this consume me. But how do I not?

When first period ends, I wait until Jordan and her friends have exited before I make my way to the door. But just as I’m coming out the door I see the girls clustered together again. I can tell by the way their heads are tilted toward each other that they are gossiping. I’d
never really considered Jordan to be into gossip. I suppose it’s because we never had much to gossip about, but at the time I probably assumed it was because we were above such petty and juvenile behavior. Seems I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.

I see no alternative than to walk directly past them and so I do. But as I do, I see them pause and I notice Jordan looking my way. But it’s the expression that totally devastates me. It’s like she’s looking right through me. Like I don’t even exist, or maybe she wishes that she’d never known me, never been my friend, or that I was simply dead. They say that words are painful, but I think looks can kill.

As I walk toward economics class, I feel that I am dying a slow and painful death. It’s like the life is draining out of me and I don’t even care. I know I’m probably just being melodramatic, but I am so convinced that my life totally sucks that I wonder why I don’t just turn around and walk out of here and go lie down on some train tracks somewhere. Unfortunately we don’t have any train tracks nearby.

Somehow I make it to art class. But I can still feel that look from Jordan, still burning through me, cutting me to the core. I pull out my latest art project and begin to work. I don’t even bother to go join the others at the big table in back. I don’t really want to talk to anyone today. And I’m thinking I’ll just duck out of here when class is over and skip the lunch-bunch thing. Maybe I’ll just go home and go to bed. Maybe I’ll sleep until I’m eighteen then get up and see if I can get accepted into a decent college. Or join the army. I think I might make a good soldier.

“What’s up?” asks Edgar. He’s leaning onto the table and looking at my sketch.

I just shrug without looking at him.

“You okay, Kara?”

I can hear the concern in his voice, but somehow that’s just
not
what I need right now. In fact, I’m sure it’s going to make me cry if he keeps this up.

“I just want to work,” I manage to say in a husky voice that probably sounds as if I’ve been out smoking in the parking lot with Amy’s friends.

“Okay.” He backs off now and I think my act must be quite convincing.

But now I am unable to sketch. All I can do is look at my half-finished project and the glossy photo that I was attempting to recreate. And before long both of these images become blurry. Then I go up to Ms. Clark and ask permission to go to the bathroom. But instead of going to the bathroom, I just walk out the side door, across the school grounds, through the security gates, and toward home. I unlock the apartment, go directly to my room, and climb into bed. I feel like my body is made of heavy stones and I am so very, very tired. I hope that I can sleep all day. Maybe all week. Maybe forever.

I’
M AWAKENED BY THE PHONE RINGING
. I
T’S LIGHT OUTSIDE AND I WONDER
what day it is as I stumble through the apartment to answer the stupid phone and silence its obnoxious ringing.

“Kara?” It’s a guy’s voice.

“Yeah.”

“This is Edgar. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“I was asleep.”

“Sorry. I was kind of worried about you today. I noticed that you left art early and then I didn’t see you around anywhere after that. Are you okay?”

“Okay?” I consider this word and wonder what it really means.

“Are you sick?” he persists.

“Not exactly. Maybe.”

“Are you depressed?”

Bingo,
I’m thinking.
You got that right.
But instead I just say, “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ve really been praying for you, Kara. I feel like God is really trying to get your attention. And as hard as things might feel to you, I think it’s all going to work together for something really great.”

“Something really great?” I’m sure he can hear the disbelief in my voice. But I don’t care.

“Yeah. I think you’re going to invite Jesus to be your best friend too. And then your life is going to really improve.”

I want to laugh at this, and I even make a feeble attempt which unfortunately sounds more like I’m gasping or gagging or strangling.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, Edgar, I’m fine.”

“Anyway, I wanted to invite you to a Bible study tonight. It’s at my church—”

“Oh, I don’t know about—”

“It’s with high school and college kids and it’s really pretty cool, Kara. Wouldn’t you please just give it a try? Just this once? And if you don’t like it, I’ll never ask you to come again.”

“Meaning that you plan to keep asking me until I give it a try.”

“Something like that.”

“And it’ll get you off my back if I come tonight?”

“Yeah.”

I consider this and for whatever reason I finally agree to go. I think it’s mostly to shut him up. I mean, I like having Edgar for my friend, but I just wish he’d put a lid on the religious stuff.

“Great. I’ll pick you up a little before seven.”

So it’s all settled. I am going with Edgar Peebles, class nerd, to a Bible study at a church. Just when I thought Kara Hendricks had sunk about as low as she could get. Go figure.

It’s not until I’m sitting next to Edgar on this long, lumpy blue sofa that I realize I never bothered to brush my hair, let alone my teeth. Not that I cared earlier, since it’s only a Bible study for heaven’s sake! But then when I get here and see all these kids who look fairly normal and almost cool, I begin to feel a bit self-conscious at my lack of personal hygiene, not to mention fashion sense. Now that’s pretty weird.

So I sit here pretending that I’m just another lump in the sofa as I listen to this guy named Mike speaking. And to my surprise some of the things he’s saying make sense. It’s like he’s talking to me, like he knows how I’m feeling inside.

“You see, God designed us to feel lonely,” Mike’s saying. “And it seems like a bad thing at first, but it’s really not. God created this space, this vacuum, inside of us that will always feel empty and void and aching. So naturally we try to fill this space up. We might try to fill it with activities or even material things. But usually we try to fill it with friends or romantic relationships. But whatever we fill it with will eventually let us down. Then we become lonelier than ever.”

I glance over at Edgar now, wondering if he told Mike about me so that he could preach a sermon targeted at the new girl. But Edgar looks oblivious as he listens intently, as if Mike is directing this little sermon to him. Then Mike begins telling us about a time in high school when he thought he was in love with this girl. They went together for three years then she broke up and broke his heart.

“I thought I was going to die,” he says, and I can hear him choking up a bit. “It’s still hard to talk about, but I think I need to share this.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee now. “You see, I had tried to fill that void inside of me with Sarah. And I suppose it put a lot of pressure on our relationship. It’s like I was looking to her for everything. I thought all my fulfillment in life was supposed to come from her. I guess it’s no wonder that she broke up with me.” He smiles now and I wonder why any girl in her right mind would break up with this great-looking guy.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I was totally crushed when she broke up. I didn’t want to do anything or see anyone. I guess I was pretty depressed, but it eventually turned me back to God. And it wasn’t long before I realized that I had been trying to put Sarah in the place
that is designed for only God to fill. When I invited Jesus into my heart, I realized that he was the one I needed to go to for my fulfillment. He is the only one who can make that space inside of me whole. For the first time in my life I understood that God made a special space inside of me for Jesus to fill. And now Jesus really is my best friend.”

I glance over at Edgar again and this time he is smiling and nodding. I can tell that he totally relates. It’s what he was basically telling me the other day. Only I suppose it makes more sense now.

Mike continues talking about how he knows God is going to bring the perfect girl into his life someday, but that it will be different. He won’t be expecting her to be his everything anymore. “She’ll have to be in second place to Jesus,” he continues. “But that second place is actually a higher position than where I’d put Sarah, because it’s the right position. It’s like everything is in order, in its proper place.” He glances around the room now, making eye contact with each kid there.

Well, except for me, because I quickly look down when he comes to the lumpy blue sofa. I’m afraid he’s going to ask us something individually, like he’s looking for some kind of a personal response here, which I am frankly not into. I do
not
wish to be subjected to coercion or to become a public spectacle. I think I would walk out if that happened.

But fortunately this doesn’t seem to be his plan. “I know that you guys can relate to this. Because I know that you realize you are made this same way. Now some of you have already filled this empty void with God and you are living happier and more fulfilled lives. Oh, I know that it’s not all perfect, but it’s a whole lot better than before. Right?” And most of the kids say “right” or “amen.”

Then Mike continues. “But some of you are still struggling with
that lonely emptiness. You are still trying to fill that space, maybe it’s with a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or whatever you think it will take to make your life happy. And like I said, there’s nothing wrong with those things. In their proper places. But they will never fit or fill the space that God designed for Jesus to live in. Until you invite Jesus into your heart, you will always be striving for something else. Something or someone newer, better, nicer. But, believe me, you’ll never find it. Not until you find Jesus.”