Meant to Be (14 page)

Okay, the reason I'm struggling with this particular letter is that I feel a little conviction coming on myself. I mean, Matthew and I aren't considering having sex—at least I'm not—but we do spend quite a bit of time together, and sometimes I think we get a little carried away in our make-out sessions. And I suppose the more you push things, the easier it would be to just give in. So maybe G? have to take my own advice and suggest that Matthew and I start doing things with others and in groups. At least I convinced him to come to youth group with me tonight. And it should be fun since it's an April Fools’ party, and we're supposed to dress up in goofy costumes.

Matthew invited me to go to the prom with him today! Now, I fully realize that if I hadn't been asked to the prom, I probably would just act like, hey, the prom's just a silly formal function anyway, and who cares whether you go or not? But the truth is, I've always wanted to go to the prom, and I actually thought I might never get the chance. So I am feeling kind of thrilled. Of course, I was all chill about it when I told Matthew, “Sure, that sounds cool.”

But it was fun when I got home and told my mom. She was sitting in the living room reading her Bible, and I could tell by the shadows under her eyes and the creases in her forehead that she wasn't feeling well. This seems to be more the case lately, and I guess it's got me worried. But she really brightened up when I told her the good news.

“Oh, Kim.” She set down her Bible and clapped her hands. “That's wonderful. When is it?”

“Saturday, April 29.”

Her face grew serious as she considered this, and I could almost see her counting off the days until then. “That's about three weeks. I suppose that's plenty of time to get everything together.”

I smiled. “Oh, I could probably get it together within a week if I had to.”

“Well, let's not waste any time,” she said suddenly. “Why don't we go shopping this weekend before the
dresses get all picked over? Maybe we could even go into the city where the selection is better.”

“Really?” I said in surprise. “You feel up to that?” “Of course,” she said happily. “It's not every day my little girl gets to go to the prom!”

So now I'm thinking maybe I was just reading more into it. Maybe Mom was just needing her nap and not really getting sicker. I know she goes to the doctor on Friday though. I hope she doesn't come home feeling all discouraged. Although a shopping excursion might cheer her up, if it doesn't wear her out. But maybe I should run this by Dad too. He might not like the idea of her going to the city to shop for prom dresses with me.

As it turned out, Dad decided to drive Mom and me to the city today. He even got off work early to do this. I protested at first, not sure that I wanted a guy along. “Its for your mom's sake, Kim,” he told me when we were alone yesterday. “She really wants to do this with you, but I know she's not very strong. I want her to be as comfortable as possible, and she can even nap in the car if she needs to.”

But to our surprise, Mom was more energetic than usual. Dad thinks it may have to do with her new pain pills, but I think maybe she's making a turn around— maybe God is finally healing her.

For starters we went to a nice restaurant for lunch,
and Mom surprised us both by eating a small sirloin steak and a baked potato. It's the most we've seen her eat at one sitting in weeks. And to be honest, it had me a little worried because I thought she might feel sick to her stomach later, but she didn't.

I had already decided that I couldn't be too picky about my dress. There's no way I was going to drag Mom from store to store trying to find some absolutely perfect but nonexistent dress. I mean, there are times when you have to settle.

But after one store where absolutely nothing was right, I felt a little discouraged. It seemed like everything was strapless, backless, and without much more coverage than swimwear. In other words, it wasn't me. It's not like I'm afraid to show a little skin; I just don't like the idea of having my dress falling off or exposing any personal parts—especially not at something as public as a prom!

“Don't worry,” Mom assured me as we went into the second store. “There's got to be a dress that's right for you, Kim. And we'll find it if it takes all day.”

I exchanged a glance with Dad that was meant to reassure him that I had no intention of taking all day. Then I shot up a little “please, God, help me find a dress that'll be okay for the prom” prayer.

After a couple of racks of formal gowns that were all wrong, I was ready to give up, but Mom called, “Over here, Kim.”

I went to the back of the store to see that she'd
found another rack. Unfortunately it turned out to be a more expensive selection of designer gowns, but it wasn't long before Mom pulled out a turquoise blue dress that was made out of this really exquisite fabric. Not only that, but it had straps, and although the back was cut down a little, it wasn't nearly as low as most of them.

She held up the dress. “I think it's your size too.”

“Maybe, but it's probably too long.”

The next thing I knew, the saleslady was leading me into the dressing room. And before long I had it on. When I looked in the mirror, I could see that it was really quite nice. Its style was similar to some of the strapless gowns I actually think look pretty on some girls, but not quite right for me, and having those thin little straps over my shoulders made me feel a lot better. And if I stood on my toes, pretending to have on heels, I could see that the length and uneven hem was going to be just fine.

When I stepped out of the dressing room, Mom, who had been seated in a comfy looking chair, actually stood up and clapped her hands. “That's absolutely beautiful, Kim!” She came closer to see it better. “That color with your skin tone is just gorgeous.”

I looked at myself in the big three-way mirror, and whether it was the soft lighting, my mom's enthusiasm, or the bit of tan that still remained after our cruise, I had to agree with her. It did look good.

“Very pretty,” Dad said from where he was standing off to one side and obviously not feeling too comfortable in this very female-focused setting.

“I forgot to look at the price.” I turned my head to see if I could spy a tag, which I couldn't.

“Don't worry about it, Kim,” said Dad. “The dress is perfect, and I'm sure it can't be too much.”

I kind of frowned. “Don't be too sure, Dad.” I'd already done a little research online and knew that formal dresses could be outrageously expensive.

“It's lovely on you,” said the saleslady. “As if it were made for you.”

“That's it,” said Mom. “We're taking it!”

Without protesting, I went back to the room, carefully removed the gown, and replaced it on its hanger. But as I zipped it up, I looked at the tag. Gulp! It was way more than I had planned on.

I carried the dress back out and sighed loudly. “It's really expensive. I think we should keep looking.”

“No,” Mom said firmly “I think we should get it.”

Dad nodded, although I suspect he was curious about the price and might have balked if he'd had a chance to see it before the saleslady happily rang it up, wrapped it in tissue, then zipped it into a long garment bag.

“I know you'll be happy with it,” she assured me. For that price, I was thinking, I better be ecstatic in it.

“I'm so happy,” Mom said as we went to the car. I'd told them that I could look for shoes later or possibly find a pair online. “That dress is absolutely perfect on you, Kim.”

Then to my relief she napped as Dad drove us
home. And now as I sit here, looking at the dress hanging on my closet door, I can't argue that it's gorgeous. And despite the fact that we barely talk anymore, I can't help myself. I pick up the phone and call Natalie.

“What's up?” she asks with obvious surprise.

“I know it's weird,” I tell her, suddenly wondering why I've done this. “But I just got the most gorgeous prom dress and—”

“You're going to the prom?”

“Yeah,” I say with a tone that probably sounds like ‘duh,’ although I don't mean to offend her. “Aren't you?”

“Ben hasn't asked me…yet.”

“Oh.”

“So you already got a dress?” she says with what sounds like genuine interest. “What's it like?”

“You want to come see it?”

“Sure, I'll be over in a few minutes.”

And to my complete astonishment, Nat comes over, and I try on my dress at her urging, and she totally approves. “It's beautiful, Kim.” And before I know it, I'm back in my jeans, and we're sitting on my bed and talking just like the old days.

“I've missed you,” she says.

“Me too.”

“How's it going?”

I shrug, unsure of what she means. “Okay, I guess.”

“I mean, how's your mom doing?”

“Well, she's slowed down a lot. But she went
shopping with Dad and me today, and we were surprised at how she hung in there.” I don't mention her new pain pills.

“Maybe God is healing her.” Nat nods. “I'm still praying for her. And I've been thinking God might want to drag this all out so that our faith will grow, you know?”

“Maybe.”

“How are things with you and Matthew?” she asks now.

“Good. How about you and Ben?”

She looks down at the throw pillow she has cradled in her lap. “Okay, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Then she looks up at me, and there are tears in her eyes.

“What is it, Nat?”

“Oh, nothing.”

I'm tempted to push her, urging her to get whatever is wrong out in the open, but I also realize that this is the first time we've really talked in weeks. I don't want to scare her away.

Then she looks at her watch. “I should probably go. I need to get ready for youth group.”

“Do you need a ride or anything? Matthew and I are going tonight.”

“No. Ben's picking me up.”

“Oh, good.” I feel somewhat relieved to know that she and Ben are still together. I was worried that he'd
broken up with her, and now she was brokenhearted about it. Even so, I can tell something is troubling her as I walk her to the door. “If you ever need to talk,” I say hesitantly then sort of laugh, “well, you know where I live.”

Then to my surprise she gives me a big hug. “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Kim.”

It's still almost an hour before youth group, and I decide to answer a letter for my new syndicated column. Unfortunately its a really tough letter, and I feel very sorry for the writer. Hopefully he or she has reached a turning point. But Burnt and Scared is definitely going on my prayer list.

I'm thinking its just a normal Monday morning— especially nice because the sun is out, and it actually feels as if spring may really be here to stay now—and then I run into Natalie right before first period, and her face looks like a train wreck.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

Then she grabs me and drags me off to the bathroom where she completely falls apart. “B-Ben—” She gasps then stops as a girl comes in and gives us a strange look.

“What happened?” I ask after the girl goes into a stall. “Has he been hurt? A car wreck? What?”

“No-no,” she blubbers, going for the paper towels to wipe her face with. “Let's get out of here,” she says quickly, grabbing me again.

The next thing I know, we're outside and I hear the
bell ringing, which means ?? late for my AP history which is probably not too serious since my grades are up and ?? not usually late.

“What is going on, Nat?” I demand as we both sit on the cement steps. “Talk to me. What happened to Ben?” Now ?? preparing myself for the worst. He has brain cancer or he's in a coma or—

“He broke up with me!” she exclaims like that's the end of life as we know it. And maybe it is for her, but ?? not so sure I think its worthy of all this drama myself. Even so, I manage to conceal my disappointment in her theatrics and ask her what happened.

She takes in a deep breath, I'm sure to steady herself, and begins. “I kind of knew it was coming… I could tell something wasn't, well, right, you know.

“I kind of sensed that on Saturday,” I say, hoping to encourage her to spill her story as quickly as possible.

“Well, you know, we were at youth group, ‘cause we saw you and Matthew there. And even though Ben was acting kind of different, everything seemed pretty much okay when he took me home. I thought we were just fine…”

“And?” I probe.

Now Nat is choking up again, and I have to wait for her to get it together. Still, I resist the urge to check my watch. I may have to just give up on AP history for today.

“So…he never called me yesterday, and well, I
thought that was kind of weird because we usually talk almost every day And you know how he's been picking me up for school.