On My Own (8 page)

In some ways I envy her. I wish I could be more out there in my appearance–and even in my personality. Like Liz (not that I want to be
like
her), but sometimes I sort of envy the way she just plows through life being her own person–as obnoxious as that can sometimes be. And yet here I am all bent out of shape because I have a hard
time asking her to “please, don't eat my cookies.” Good grief! I almost make myself sick!

But then I remember that God made me the way He did for a reason. I mean, what would it be like if everyone were the same? Pretty boring I suppose …or perhaps we'd all just kill each other. Anyway, I guess I need to be more thankful for who I am and pray that God will show me the areas that I need to change. In the meantime, I'll have to think of some way to nicely let Liz know that she's really bugging me!

Well, I did the deed. The other day, I told Liz that I didn't mind sharing stuff with her, but that I'd appreciate if she'd ask first. She just kind of looked blankly at me and said, “Sure, whatever.” And since then, I haven't really noticed anything missing, so maybe she was actually listening. Then I got up the nerve to ask her about Jordan yesterday. He'd been noticeably absent for the last few days.

“Oh, we broke up,” she said lightly as if it didn't even matter.

“Again?”

She rolled her eyes at me then flopped onto her bed.

“Well, maybe it's for the best.” Okay, I should've known better than to express an opinion about someone else's dating life. After all, I've had lots of bad experiences with my own friends (and they actually
like
me!).

She narrowed her eyes at me. “How would you know?”

“Oh, I don't know. But it didn't seem like that relationship was doing you much good.”

She made a growling sound, then sat up straight and glared at me. “And what makes you an expert on relationships, Miss Goody Two-Shoes?”

Well, I'm really getting tired of this “Miss Goody Two-Shoes” business, but I tried to ignore it. “I'm not saying I'm an expert, but it's not too difficult to see when something's not good for someone. I mean, if someone's taking drugs and it's wrecking her life, it doesn't take a genius to observe it. Or if someone's in a relationship that makes her act like a witch–” Oops, but it was too late.

“You think I act like a witch?” her voice raised itself a notch.

“Well, I don't think Jordan brings out the best in you.”

“And what makes you such an expert on what's the best in me?”

“All I'm saying is you don't seem all that happy when you and Jordan are together. And I don't think he's the most dependable kind of guy–I mean, remember what happened with Rachel–?”

She pressed her hands over her ears and made a loud groan. “Sometimes you sound just like my moronic mother!”

Gulp. How do you respond to something like that? “Sorry,” I said quietly, “but you asked.”

“Well, have you ever considered the possibility that it might be
you
who's making me act like a witch? Assuming
that I even am! What with your little Miss Perfect ways and your Sunday school smiles! Crud, you could drive anyone over the edge.”

Ouch! Still, I considered her words. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes! Probably the only reason I've lasted this long with you was because I kept holding out that Jordan and I would be moving in together before too long.” She punched her pillow. “And now that's not very likely!”

“Do you want to see if we can get switched?” I asked, and I have to admit that my feelings were pretty hurt just then. I mean, here I thought I was the one doing all the putting up with, and then she unloads on me that I'm the one who's the real pain in the behind (well, at least in her opinion).

“I've already looked into it, and right now there's nothing available. But don't worry, I'm first on the waiting list.”

“Oh.” I pretended to busy myself with straightening up my desk, my back to her, but tears of anger mixed with humiliation burned in my eyes. And no way did I want her to see them.

“So, did I hurt your feelings?” But the way she asked this sounded slightly taunting, like maybe she hoped she had.

I turned around and faced her. “Yeah, to be honest, you did. Are you happy now?”

She pressed her lips together but said nothing.

“Look, Liz, this hasn't been a lot of fun for me either.
I've wanted to switch roommates a lot of times, but then I kept thinking maybe there was a reason for this–”

“Like maybe you could save me?” Her eyes had that hard, flinty look.

“Nooo, not exactly. But maybe I could become your friend.”

She looked down at her lap for a moment, then spoke in a low voice that was laced with an emotion I still can't quite put my finger on. But my best guess is that it was hostility mixed with desperation. “Sorry, but you don't have what it takes to be my friend.”

“How do you know that?” I sat down on my bed now, praying silently that God would somehow break through Liz's hard shell.

“Because I've known people like you. Yeah, you say you want to be my friend, but all you really want is for me to become just like you–plain, boring, vanilla, white-bread … You don't have the slightest interest in knowing, not to mention accepting, who I really am. If you knew who I
really
was–man, you'd be so freaked out and appalled that you'd probably run home, crying to Mommy and Daddy.”

Well, now that one got to me, and I suppose it pushed me into my old sarcastic mode–not something I'm terribly proud of. “So who are you really, Liz? A serial murderer? Drug pusher? Or do you sacrifice children on the devil's altar? What exactly is it that I'd find so appalling about you?”

“For starters I am a woman who doesn't need your
God. I can think for myself, and I can stand on my own two feet. I can have sex with any guy I like, and I can get wasted whenever I feel the urge. I can break the rules and still come out on top. I'm everything you're not, Caitlin, and I know that you hate me for it.”

I tried not to blink or register any reaction. “You do drugs too?”

For some reason, although I was perfectly serious, this made her laugh. “Well, I tried them in high school. But I didn't like the way I felt afterward and decided it wasn't my thing. Why do you ask?”

“I don't know. Just curious.”

“So you see, Little Goody Two-Shoes, we can never be friends.”

“Only because you're not willing to give it a try. I think the truth is you're afraid of me because I make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, sure, you bet.” She crossed her legs and acted like she was suppressing a big laugh.

“Then why do you work so hard keeping me at arm's length all the time? Why do you go out of your way to be so mean, to shove me away from you? What are you afraid of anyway?”

“I'm not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, I think you are. And as sad as it seems to me, I think you're afraid of God.”

“See, I knew it would come down to this. Sooner or later you people always bring everything back to
God. God this, God that. Blah, blah, blah. I'm sick of it!”

“You wouldn't react so strongly if you weren't afraid.” I looked evenly at her. “And you wouldn't reject my friendship if you weren't attempting to reject God.”

“So you're saying that you can only offer me your friendship if I take your God right along with you?”

I thought about that for a moment. I considered how Jesus had reached out to people–fishermen and tax collectors and harlots. Didn't He simply invite them to come along with Him, to see what developed along the way? But then He's Jesus and I'm me. Still, I thought it might be worth a try. “No, I'm just offering my friendship to you, Liz, plain and simple. That's all. What you do with my offer is entirely up to you.”

“So are you saying that should I become your friend, you wouldn't drag me off to your church or preach at me or even criticize me for the way I live?”

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn't drag you to church. And hopefully I wouldn't preach at you, although I've been known to do it from time to time. Still, it's a habit I've been trying to break.” I glanced at her and thought I noticed her face soften a little. “And as far as criticizing, well, sometimes that's just what friends do, isn't it? I mean, when you really care about someone and you see them doing something harmful or stupid, don't you want to tell them?”

“And what if I think going to church is harmful or stupid for you?”

“Well, I guess I'd be interested to hear your opinions–if we were friends, that is.”

She seemed to be considering all this, and I thought perhaps progress had actually been made.

“Sooo.” She looked at me with a little spark in her eye. “What if I said I wanted us to be friends and then invited you to go out with me for a few drinks?”

“I'd have to ask what kind of drinks.”

“You know what I mean. A brewsky or two. Would you do it?”

“First of all, I'm only eighteen–”

“I can get you a fake ID.”

“That's not the point. Besides being legally underage, I have absolutely no desire to drink alcohol.”

“How would you even know, Goody Two-Shoes?”

“Because I tried it. Like you said about drugs, I tried drinking in high school and discovered that I felt totally rotten afterward. It doesn't do anything for me. I'd rather get high on God.”

She laughed in that hard way. “So if we were friends, what exactly would we do together? Have little tea parties? Bake cookies? Play Parcheesi?”

Now I laughed. “I suppose we'd just hang out and talk, and hopefully be there for each other. Don't you know what friends do?”

Her eyes flashed now, and I knew I'd gone one step too far. She stood up. “My friends know how to have a good time. They know how to party and enjoy life.”

“And so do mine. We just do it in such a way that we still feel great when the party's over.”

Well, that made her really mad, and she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Still, I think progress was made tonight.

At last, I can honestly say
I had a really good weekend here at school. The day after Liz and I had our big “friendship” talk (which was really getting to me, especially considering that I don't exactly have a plethora of friends here at college), Kim invited me to join her and some others for the homecoming festivities this weekend. And it was really fun! I got to know Kim and her roommate Lindsey better, as well as a bunch of other kids from the fellowship group. It makes me look forward to not having a night class next semester.

Anyway, we went to the game and the dance and just had a good time hanging out as a group. Amazingly, there hasn't been much pairing off yet, although I did notice Stephen around Lindsey a lot. But I really like that these guys seem happy to just hang out as a group.
And they're planning all sorts of fun stuff for this year–things to look forward to.

I felt a little bad about Liz this weekend because she seemed really bummed and lonely. I even invited her to join our group for the homecoming events. Of course, she just laughed that one off. “Yeah, sure, and maybe I'll bring along a Bible to the football game too,” she sniped as I bundled up.

“Are you going to do anything?” I asked with my hand on the door.

“Don't worry.” She rolled her eyes. “I think this will be my weekend to finally hit the books.”

I tried not to look too surprised. “Well, happy studying then.” Fortunately I missed most of her last derogatory comment as I slipped out the door. Poor Liz.

Unfortunately for her, the weekend only got worse. I had already suspected that Rachel and Jordan were seeing each other again since I noticed them together outside the dorm last week. But I wasn't sure if Liz knew, or if she did, maybe she just didn't care. I did know this, however: I didn't plan on being the one to spill the beans to her. As it turned out, I didn't need to. And this is where the story gets really good (or bad, depending on how you look at it).

This afternoon after I'd been to church then out for burgers with Kim and some of the other girls, we walked into the dorm lobby just in time to see Liz and Rachel really getting into it. Apparently Liz had gone up to Rachel's room to borrow a CD but then discovered
Jordan there. And let's just say the fur did fly!

I later learned that the three of them had come downstairs, yelling and cussing all the way and even gathering a small audience. Then Jordan somehow slipped out the front door while Rachel and Liz were still arguing. Just as Kim and Lindsey and I walked in, the two girls were actually getting physical. Rachel had Liz by the hair, and they were both swinging and clawing and screaming, and it was really ugly!

I felt bad for Liz but didn't quite know what to do, and everyone else was just standing around and watching. Kim didn't waste a moment as she immediately screamed at them to stop. Then I decided to jump in and see if I could break them apart. I grabbed hold of Rachel's sweatshirt, trying to pull her away from Liz (who actually appeared to be getting the worst of it). Thankfully, Lindsey (a sturdy girl) jumped in to help me and then Kim actually started pulling on Liz. I can't imagine what the five of us must've looked like. Talk about a catfight.

Finally we got the two girls apart and everyone was breathing hard. You could almost feel the adrenaline in the air. Rachel had a bright red scratch on her cheek and a clump of Liz's dark hair in her hand. Both girls actually looked like they were on the verge of tears. At this point I honestly didn't know what to do, but fortunately Kim is one of those take-charge kinds of people.

“What are you two trying to do?” she demanded. “Kill each other?”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “It's her fault!”

I felt Rachel jerk and Lindsey and I both tightened our grips on her arms. “Take it easy,” I said in what I hoped was a calm voice. By now I'd already been praying silently, pleading with God to do something miraculous. “Fighting isn't going to solve anything.”

Rachel turned and looked at me with angry blue eyes. “Then why don't you tell your freaked-out roommate to keep her hands off me?”