It's My Life (3 page)

Okay, I'm putting in a hard week at work. I even chauffeur my little brother and three of his buds to a baseball game this evening so my parents can go out. I'm living a responsible and mature sort of life, but then I want to go and spend the weekend with my friend, and my parents come totally unglued. What is it with parents anyway? They want you to act like an adult, but then they refuse to treat you like one.

“This is so sudden,” says my mom. “We don't even know Andrea's father.” As if the man might be an ax murderer or child molester or something equally despicable. You see, Andrea's parents are divorced; her mom's remarried to
a nice guy, and her dad's still single. But he has a girlfriend (or two, according to Andrea, which I did
not
tell my parents–no need to add fuel to their little fire). Anyway, her dad has this really cool cabin on a lake with a dock and a ski boat and everything. And he invited Andrea to come up this weekend and to bring along a friend, and she called
me
.

“How do we know who's going to be up there?” asks my dad suspiciously.

“Who do you
think
will be up there?” I toss back.

“He might have friends. You know, it might be a party weekend, with who knows what going on–”

“Why would a dad invite his daughter and her friend if he wanted to
party
, as you put it? I mean, think about it, Dad. Is that what
you
would do?” Thankfully, this seems to fluster him a little. And it's not that I want to be disrespectful exactly. I mean, really, I don't. But I want to go, and spending the weekend at the lake sounds so great!

“But what if something happens? You say there's no phone,” says my ever–practical mother.

“If you're that worried, you could just let me take your cell phone,” I wisely counter. “Really, Mom and Dad, I've been trying to show you how mature I can be and now you're treating me like a baby.” I eye Benjamin who, like a dog, is licking the remains of death–by–chocolate ice cream from his bowl. And to my surprise, this kid actually speaks up in my defense, probably trying to show some appreciation for me driving him and his friends around,
which he should considering how Ryan Bender spilled a whole bag of popcorn all over the backseat of my car.

“Yeah, you guys should lighten up on Cate,” he says as cool as can be, not realizing he has a brown smudge of ice cream on the tip of his nose. “She's been a good ol’ gal lately.”

My dad laughs at this, but then seems to consider the advice of this little male pubescent. “Yeah, maybe you're right, bud. Maybe we should let up on the ol’ gal.”

And I bite my tongue, waiting for the consensus.

“But what about–” my mom starts but thankfully never finishes.

“She can take my cell phone,” offers my dad, taking control of the decision. “She's got her own car, and if for some reason something doesn't seem right, I'm sure she'll just phone us, climb in her car, and come straight home. Right, Catie?”

“Of course,” I assure them. “It's not like I'm stupid or looking for trouble. And just for the record, I'm not the least bit worried. Besides, you've met Andrea's mom. Does she seem the sort of woman who would send her daughter and friend off into some bad situation?”

“I guess not.” My mom seems slightly more at ease now. “It's just that we love you, sweetie.” Then we all hug, and it's settled. Cool, I get to go!

But what bugs me is that we had to go through such turmoil just to get here. I don't see why they can't just trust my judgment about these things. I mean, some kids my age are already living out on their own. And I've been
being all responsible and working and everything. So why are they so paranoid all the time? Good grief, this is
my
life! I sure don't want to mess it up. Don't they realize that?

Okay, no more time for ranting. Right now I need to pack. We're leaving right after I finish work tomorrow, and the forecast is for hot, hot, hot. Ahh, to take a dip in a cool, mountain lake. Look out, fun times ahead!!!

Man, am I glad
to be home. Not that I didn't have fun. Well, mostly, anyway. But Andrea's dad isn't the most mature adult I've ever met. And his girlfriend is a real piece of work too. In a way they both remind me of a couple of high school kids who haven't grown up yet. Maybe they never will. I felt pretty bad for Andrea a couple times. But I assured her I didn't hold her responsible for their behavior.

Just the same we stuck it out. I know I probably should've come home sooner. But I honestly didn't feel like I was in any real danger. And I just couldn't bear to hear my parents say “I told you so,” which I know they'd
think
even if they didn't say the actual words. Someday I'll tell them they were partially right. Just not yet.

Well, Andrea's dad, or Bobby, as he insisted I call him, has a pretty nice place at the lake, even if it was a total mess. And Jeanie (his girlfriend who looks just like a middle–aged cocktail waitress, which she is by the way) doesn't lift a finger to help out. So to start with, Andrea and I spent our first evening there cleaning house and
doing laundry so we could have clean sheets, then we made a run to the nearby camp store where I paid $76.83 for two small bags of groceries!!! Then we proceeded to cook dinner for
everyone.
All the while, Bobby and Jeanie were just hanging around like a couple of overgrown kids, and never once offered to help. Too weird.

I thought maybe things would change by the next day. I mean, which ones were supposed to be the guests here? But nothing changed. Andrea and I fixed breakfast and cleaned up again. Then Andrea talked Bobby into dragging us around the lake in the ski boat, but by noon he'd consumed so much beer that we decided we'd be safer to get him and the boat to dockside. Then we took out the canoe by ourselves (which was really pretty fun). But when we returned by midafternoon, Jeanie's younger sister and her boyfriend had just shown up. But did they offer to help or bring any food or anything? (Yeah, sure, you bet.) Nope, they were just a couple of freeloaders. Well, Andrea and I were getting kind of ticked by then. So we got ourselves all cleaned up, then sneaked out the back door, got in my car, and drove to the nearby town for pizza.

Now
that
was fun! A couple of local boys began flirting with us, and at first we tried to ignore them, but then, being all inspired by our maturity, we decided we'd use this opportunity to tell them about Jesus (thinking that would either send the guys packing or perhaps do the Kingdom some good!). And can you believe it? They listened
–eagerly. We told them all about how our dear friend, Clay Berringer, had been shot last spring (and of course, they'd read about it in the papers), and we told them about the impact this whole thing had had on us. And they were sincerely interested. And when we finally left, they thanked us for telling them all that stuff.
Unbelievable!
Andrea and I were on such a complete high as I drove us back to her dad's cabin.

But it evaporated as soon as we got back, because when we walked in the front door, the place just reeked with pot smoke. That's when Andrea went totally ballistic. She just tore into her dad and his friends, telling them how irresponsible they all were and how she was completely sick of them. Then we went into our room and locked the door. It's not that we were afraid. Good grief, the four of them were so spaced out that her words probably went right over their dopey heads. But I guess we just wanted to separate ourselves from them. After that, we sat down on the bed and Andrea just burst into tears. She felt so humiliated by her dad's behavior. But I assured her it didn't matter to me. “He made those choices, not you,” I said. “And it's not a reflection on you.”

“But I feel so stupid,” she said, wiping her tears with a beach towel.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, I can tell you all sorts of horror stories about things I've been through with Beanie and her mom over the years–I mean, Lynn Jacobs is a whole lot more messed up than your dad. So don't worry, this stuff is nothing new to me.” And fortunately
that seemed to make her feel a little better.

Then I did something I don't usually do (but perhaps our chat with those local boys had emboldened me a little). “Do you want us to pray for your dad?” I offered, feeling a little self–conscious once the words were out.

At first, she got a real curious look on her face, but then she nodded. “Yes. Let's do that.”

And so we did. We even prayed for Jeanie and her sister and her sister's boyfriend, and we prayed for those two local boys as well. Then, totally exhausted and not wanting to leave our room, we just visited a little while, then fell asleep.

And the next morning we got up early, got dressed, then slipped out quietly and went back to town where we attended the service in a church we'd noticed the night before. It was nothing like our regular church, just a lot of old people, but they seemed genuinely glad to have us there with them. Then we ate lunch at a little deli in town, went back to the cabin for another swim and a row around the lake, then told everyone good–bye and even thank you, and headed back home. So all in all, it wasn't such a bad weekend. Still, I'm not ready to tell my parents all the details yet.

It's very late, but I must get all this down before I collapse in bed. I got the call from Aunt Steph late this afternoon. Her voice was breathless as she quickly explained. “Cate, there's been an accident. It's Beanie. She's in the ER right now. Can you come?” I quickly got one of the office ladies to take over the switchboard and tried not to speed to the hospital, which is, thankfully, just a few blocks away. Holding back tears and waves of panic, I raced across the parking lot, praying for Beanie with each step. What had happened to her? Was she going to be okay?

I found Steph and Mom standing in the ER waiting room and through bits and pieces they both told me what had happened.

“She took oliver to the park, just like she often does,” began Steph. “He's okay. He's with Ben right now. But he was in his stroller and you know how he's just figured out how to undo everything. Apparently he undid the seat belt.” Then Steph began to cry.

“It seems he got out while Beanie wasn't looking,” continued Mom. “And she saw him heading straight for the street, and a car was coming–”

“And the driver said that Beanie shoved him out of
the way just in time, but she got hit!” sobbed Steph, her voice shaking. “Beanie actually risked her own life for my baby!”

I grabbed Steph's arms, tears now tumbling down my cheeks too. “But is she okay? Is Beanie okay? Please, tell me!”

“We don't know.”

And for the longest time, we didn't know. We waited and waited for what seemed like years. And finally, at about seven o'clock, the nurse said Beanie had been stabilized and was being moved to a private room for the night, and that one of us could go visit her shortly. After a brief discussion, Mom and Steph both decided that, as her best friend, I should go. And so I went in to see Beanie. Her head was bandaged and a tube came out of her arm, but she was awake and her eyes, though sad, were fairly clear. “Beanie?” I whispered as I gently touched her bruised hand. “Are you okay?”

“I'm alive,” she said in a raspy voice.

“I'm so thankful. I've really been praying. I couldn't stand to lose you, Beanie. I've just been realizing how important your friendship is to me.” I started crying all over again. But I didn't care. I was just so glad to see she was okay. “How do you feel?”

“I've felt better.”

I smiled. Same old Beanie. “But did you break anything?”

“A couple ribs, and a concussion.” Then she began to cry, silently, but the tears were flowing down her cheeks
in two steady streams, and I could see she was in bad pain.

“Are you okay?”

“I lost my baby.” She choked on the words.

I just stared at her, not knowing what to say. I was sad for her, but to be perfectly honest, part of me was relieved. And even as I write these words, I know it's so very wrong of me (PLEASE FORGIVE ME, GOD!), but I actually thought, at least this is one less thing for Beanie to bear. But somehow (THANK GOD!) I knew that wasn't what she needed to hear. “I'm so sorry,” was all I said, and then I carefully put my arms around her, not wanting to hurt her further, and then we both cried together for what seemed a pretty long time.

I pulled up a chair and just listened as she talked about all the things she wouldn't get to do with her baby. Once again, I must be honest and say I really didn't understand much of what she was saying, and I'd had no idea she was looking forward to having a child like that. And I just kept thinking this whole thing was a real blessing in disguise. But believe me, I NEVER said it. Not even once. I just listened and nodded and told her everything was going to be okay, that it'd get better, and that she'd get over this in time.

I could tell by the commotion in the hallway that Lynn Jacobs was here and she was demanding to see her daughter immediately. I could hear Steph trying to reason with her, but finally it was of no use and Lynn just burst right into Beanie's room. I stayed in the chair, positioning
myself between Lynn and Beanie, determined to lay down my life if necessary to protect Beanie from Lynn's wrath. But I couldn't protect her from her mother's cruel and heartless words.

“I just learned from the doctor that you lost
your baby!”
Lynn exploded. “What I want to know is
what
baby? What the – is going on with you, Sabrina Jacobs? You went and got yourself knocked up and then you didn't even tell your own mother–” Thankfully that was when a strong orderly (I later learned he was accosted by an angry Aunt Stephie) came in and literally dragged Lynn out of the room, loudly warning her that they could have the police there within minutes. Then Steph came in and comforted Beanie. I was so glad to hear Steph soothing Beanie, saying all those important things that I could never have thought of.