On My Own (2 page)

“We'll e-mail,” I promised, suddenly feeling the gulf that would soon separate us. “We won't lose touch.”

“Right.” She stepped back and wiped her nose. “And Jenny says that if we miss you too badly, we'll just hop in her car and drive on over.”

I forced a laugh. “That's about three hundred miles, Beanie.”

“Jenny drives fast.”

“Well, tell her to take it easy.” Then I waved to Beanie as I climbed into Dad's SW, wishing I'd said something more meaningful, something profound and memorable. But I suppose that's kind of silly. I mean, it's not like I'm never going to see her again. In fact, I think I'll e-mail her tonight and see how their trip went.

I got an e-mail from Josh yesterday. He wrote to me as if he were personally welcoming me to the university (like he was still here). He invited me to attend his fellowship group, told me the best place to get coffee, reminded me not to be late to registration (which is tomorrow, by the way), and then warned me that dorm food usually stinks. I e-mailed back assuring him that I'm fitting into things just fine, thank you very much. Not
that I didn't want his advice, but it did come across as a little overbearing. And this is something we specifically discussed several times this summer.

You see, as much as I like Josh, he sometimes has this annoying habit of coming across as–hmmm, how do I say this nicely–acting slightly superior or perhaps even chauvinistic. Okay, maybe those aren't exactly the right words. I'm not even sure how to describe it. But sometimes I almost feel as if he's telling me what to do or how to think. And I really don't appreciate it.

Now it's not that I don't respect or appreciate his wisdom, but it's more that I don't care for how he dishes it out sometimes. Of course, I never put it to him in quite those words. But that's kind of how I felt, and for the sake of our friendship, I did try to communicate it to him. And I must give him this: He does listen. And he says he wants to change. I just think it's an old habit or something. His little sister Chloe said he's always been like that. She calls it “just plain pigheaded,” but I think that's a bit strong. Still, I'm glad I can be honest with him and he doesn't get mad.

I guess that's one of the things I like about our friendship–I feel free to tell him things that bother me, and he doesn't take offense. And I think our friendship really grew this summer. Although to be honest, it made me a little uneasy to have him around so much. He was working in town, and as a result, it seemed as if we spent a fair amount of spare time together. Now, despite Jenny and Beanie's teasing, it wasn't a dating situation. Not
really. I mean, both Josh and I had agreed from the get-go that we were not dating or romantically involved. And to prove our point, we almost always had either my little brother Ben or Chloe or one or more of our other friends with us when we went anywhere. I know it sounds silly, but I also know it was for the best. And since this is a diary–and a secret place–I will say why I know this to be true.

You see, early in the summer, shortly after graduation, Josh stopped by our house one afternoon and just sort of hung out. He and Ben and I shot baskets for a while until it got too hot; then Ben went inside to get ready for a baseball game, and Josh and I decided to make an ice cream run. No big deal, right? We got double cones and then drove down by the lake just to talk and catch up and stuff. We walked out to the end of the dock, took off our shoes, dangled our feet in the water just like a couple of kids, and chatted away. But somehow, we started splashing each other with our feet. Just goofing around, it seemed.

But the next thing I knew, we're really going at it, kicking up water and screaming and laughing, and I thought I was actually getting the best of him. So then he grabbed me, and before I knew what hit me, we're both in the water, still laughing hysterically. And then we got quiet. I remember looking up at him and thinking how, even sopping wet, he looked totally handsome with his dripping blond hair hanging into his eyes–and maybe it was the lake, but his eyes seemed bluer than ever.
And suddenly–I can't even remember exactly how it happened–he kissed me! And I was TOTALLY kissing him back! Right there in the water.

Oh, man! Even as I write this, my face is burning with embarrassment and well, who knows what else? But I knew it was wrong. And he knew it was wrong. But the truth is, we didn't stop kissing right away. And when we did finally stop, there was just this dead silence. All we could hear was the lapping sound of the lake and crickets chirping. We climbed out of the water and both sat there stunned and humiliated, and I'm sure a little breathless. I know I didn't know what to say, and I suppose I felt like it was all my fault somehow. I mean, hadn't I been the one to start splashing in the first place?

“I'm Sorry,” he told me in a quiet voice.

“I'm sorry too,” I echoed back, feeling slightly numb inside.

“Guess we better go now.”

I nodded. Then we both stood and tried to shake off the water, which was drying fast thanks to the heat. Then we walked back to his Jeep without even speaking.

We didn't even talk as he drove me home. He apologized again at my house, and I just nodded and walked away, feeling like a total fool. What would Beanie and Jenny think if they knew? I wondered if I would ever tell them (as it turned out, I didn't). And even now that makes me feel like a hypocrite. But I immediately went up to my room and got down on my knees and prayed.

It had been more than a year since I first made my commitment to God not to date. And the main reason I made that promise was because of the way things had gone between Josh and me–it's like we could never keep our hands off each other when we were going out.

So anyway, I told God I was really sorry and that I was wrong. I asked Him to forgive me, and I know that He did. But I must admit it took me a while to really forgive myself. Some people would think this is nothing, but to me it was something. I felt I'd disappointed God–and myself. Still, I reminded myself that I'm human and God doesn't expect me to be perfect–just to be changing daily and becoming more like Him. So I pretty much tried to forget about it. In fact, this is the first time I've given it much thought since then.

Josh e-mailed me that same night, saying once again how sorry he was and how it would never happen again. He also promised to make sure we didn't set ourselves up for that kind of situation again.

But even now I am humbled to think how susceptible I was (and still am) to that sort of thing. To be perfectly honest, I think I had some sort of misplaced pride (like I was above falling into that kind of trap again), but God showed me differently–I'm simply human. And I think it was the same for Josh.

The good thing is, as summer progressed, we did avoid falling into that kind of temptation again. And I believe our friendship deepened and grew. As long as Josh wasn't telling me what to do (in that superior way he
sometimes has), we got along fine. Even Chloe mentioned (just last week) how cool it was to see a guy and a girl who could be such good friends without being all romantically involved. I do plan to set her straight on some parts of that theory though–without incriminating her brother, that is. I mean, it is possible for guys and girls to be “just friends,” but you have to keep a pretty close eye on things to succeed at it. Unless you're a saint, which I certainly am not!

This morning was registration
, and I set my alarm early to make sure I got there in plenty of time to get the classes I needed. As it turned out, I did, for the most part anyway. Unfortunately, my English class was already full, so I have to take it on Tuesday evenings at six. I didn't really want a night class, but the good news is that I only have to go to it once a week. At least that's something.

I was surprised that my roommate still hadn't made an appearance by last night. In fact, I felt a little worried that she might've missed registration altogether, but it seems she got here this morning and registered just before it closed. That's cutting it pretty close, but I'll keep these thoughts to myself. I sense Elizabeth (or Liz as she likes to be called) wouldn't care what I think anyway.

Let me describe Liz. She's a tall brunette and kind of big-boned, not heavy though. In a way she reminds me of Minnie Driver, except she doesn't have that same sweet smile. Liz's smile (well, the only one I've seen so far) is much more cynical looking. Kind of a knowing smile, like she thinks she's seen a lot more than everyone else–particularly me. And I could tell right off the bat that she's really sarcastic and skeptical. It's hard to categorize Liz (and I don't really like doing that anyway), but after our brief encounter today, I guess I'd call her an intellectual realist with a great big chip on her shoulder. Okay, I know that's not fair and is probably judgmental, but it's my first impression. And this is a diary to record my honest feelings.

“Oh, you're here,” she said with obvious disappointment right after she burst into my room. (I'd already gotten to thinking of it as “my” room and felt slightly stunned to have a stranger just walk right in without even knocking.) “Are you Caitlin O'Conner?” And the way she said my name sounded like she was talking to a little girl.

I stood up, trying to hide my surprise. I smiled and stuck out my hand. “Yes. Are you Elizabeth?”

Next came a half smile and weak handshake. “Yeah. My friends call me Liz.” There was a slight pause as she carefully looked me up and down, taking in my striped sweater, worn jeans, and pink bunny slippers (which had never embarrassed me until now). And suddenly it's like I knew what she was thinking–like she was
mentally replaying every dumb blonde joke she'd ever heard, like she immediately assumed that due to my looks I was nothing more than a superficial airhead. And I resented it.

“I suppose you can call me Liz too.”

I could hear the obvious disdain in her voice. I'm sure she meant for me to hear it, but I still tried not to appear too flustered. “I, uh, I was worried something might be wrong,” I began as she turned her back to me and dumped a couple of duffel bags onto her bed. “You didn't miss registration, did you–?”

“First off, Caitlin–” she turned around and again spoke in a way that made me feel as if I were about five years old–“I don't expect you to think you need to keep tabs on me. I don't need a sister or a mother or a baby-sitter. Understand?”

I'm sure I must've blinked and stepped back. “Sure.”

“And just because we're roommates doesn't mean we have to be all buddy-buddy, sharing secrets, giggling in the middle of the night, that kind of childish tripe. If I'd wanted that crud, I'd have joined a stupid sorority.” She eyed me suspiciously. “In fact, you look like you'd fit in just fine with a sorority.”

I felt pretty sure this was meant as an insult. “Well, looks can be deceiving.” I was really on the defensive now.

She laughed but not with humor. “So, do you get me then? Do you see where I'm coming from? This is just a room that we have to share, that's all. Understand? Capisce?”

“Yeah, sure, that's fine.”

“Good.” Her face relaxed a little.

Without thinking I spoke again. “But I guess I hoped we could at least be, you know, just casual friends.” Okay, big mistake.

She turned back around from her unpacking, with a black leather belt hanging limply in her hand, then looked at me hard–actually it felt like she glared at me, but that could've been an overreaction on my part. “Do you mind if I'm blunt with you, Caitlin?”

“No, of course not.” But to be honest I was worried she might actually walk over and smack me with her belt.

“I don't have many friends. But it's for a good reason. You see, I think that only shallow people fill their lives with too many friends and acquaintances. I, on the other hand, choose my friends very judiciously.”

I think I said, “Oh,” or something else equally impressive.

“So, if you don't mind, I'd like to unpack in peace.”

“No problem.” I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. “I was on my way to the bookstore anyway–”

“Caitlin. You
don't
have to tell me where you're going. Don't you get it? We
don't
have to check in with each other. Let's be adults here.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Well, let me tell you I got out of there as quickly as possible. And immediately a flood of emotions tumbled
through me. The old Caitlin (the-before-I-knew-God Caitlin) was screaming: “What a complete jerk! What a total idiot! Liz Banks is an absolute moron! How can I possibly room with someone like that?” Another, more logical part of me began to consider the practical steps for switching roommates–should I do it now or wait until next week? Then I even started to wonder if Liz might simply have a really devastating case of PMS!

But fortunately, by the time I was halfway to the bookstore, I began to actually pray about this whole situation. First I asked God
why
He'd put me in a room with someone like Liz Banks. Then I asked Him if I should seek to change rooms. Finally, I decided to earnestly pray for Liz, and I asked God to lead me in what I was supposed to do next. Even now I'm not totally sure what's best. I mean, I've known some difficult people in the last couple years, but I'm not sure that I've ever met anyone who came across quite as cold and hard as Liz. And this is only the first day! On the other hand, it might just be her natural defenses popping up. I suppose she could actually be feeling somewhat insecure right now. And who knows, there could be a really soft heart underneath that tough facade.

Right now, I'm in the coffee shop (the one Josh recommended) writing all this down in my diary. I think it's helping me to sort out my thoughts.

Saturday, September 7 (Darkness meets light) yesterday was filled with a lot of freshman orientation activities, but it's been a pretty lonely day today. To be honest, I think I'm slightly homesick. I suppose it'll get better next week when classes actually start. I plan to go to church tomorrow (the one Josh told me about), and hopefully I'll make some friends. Despite what Liz says, I happen to think friends ARE a good thing. And I'm not even sure you can have too many.