What I Want Page 16

  I nodded at her reluctantly.

  “Promise?” she asked, and I nodded again.

  ~ ~ ~

  NO BOOK WAS going to fix things for me . . . I was sure of that. But – because I had promised – I started reading about the beloved disciple the day after Lily flew home.

  Some people have a mountaintop experience – a watershed moment in their lives where suddenly everything changes, God reveals who He is to them, and their relationship with Him is great from then on.

  That’s not at all how it happened with me.

  I didn’t read Lily’s book and find myself miraculously transported to the top of a mountain, marveling at God’s splendor and sovereignty.

  I had to climb that mountain – step by step – and it took a very long time.

  But it was while reading that book that I finally found the escape Josette’s mother had talked about. And it was while reading that book that I finally started thinking about something besides Josette.

  My first step.

  Lily checked up on me regularly. Naturally she was pleased to find out that I was reading (and actually enjoying) the book she’d given me, yet she was horrified to find out that it was the only thing I’d been reading.

  It probably comes as no surprise that I hadn’t read my Bible since the day I lost Josette, but in reality I had started slipping away from that habit even before she’d left . . . during the short time we’d dated. Several mornings I had awakened and grabbed my computer instead of my Bible, using my normal reading time instead to go online to look for umbrellas or perfume or apartments with carbon monoxide detectors. Other mornings, I had opened my Bible – intending to read – but my mind had almost immediately drifted off to thoughts about Josette and the last time I had kissed her or the next time I was going to.

  That was when my focus had first started getting off track.

  “You have got to start reading the Bible again,” Lily scolded me now. And she pestered and hounded me until I promised her that I’d read that every day, too.

  A second step.

  Lily also chided me about going back to church. She reminded me that I was in control of what went into my mind, and she convinced me that going back to church was another opportunity to focus on God.

  And so I went back.

  The Sunday School class greeted me enthusiastically with huge smiles and hugs when I walked through the door. Naturally they asked me about Josette, but if they suspected that the two of us had ever become anything more than friends, they didn’t let on when I told them where she was.

  They didn’t pry.

  They just nodded understandingly and promised me that they were praying, and then they swept me right up in their lesson.

  A third step.

  I wasn’t anywhere close to where I needed to be . . . I wasn’t even close to where I’d once been . . .

  But by the time nine months had gone by since I’d last seen Josette, at least I was headed in the right direction.

  ~ ~ ~

  MY CAR NEEDED new tires.

  I was going to sell it before I moved back to the States and I knew that it would go a lot quicker with better tires, so I dropped it off at a tire place on a drizzly Tuesday morning and hopped a bus to the university. That afternoon I took another bus back to pick it up, paid my bill and headed home, remembering that I needed to stop somewhere for shampoo and cereal.

  I normally shopped at the grocery store near campus that I passed every day on my way home, but it wasn’t on my way today. I hated shopping at other stores because it was always so hard to find anything, but when I saw a supermarket ahead and the light changed in my favor, I decided to pull in. I only needed two things . . . how long could it possibly take?

  I parked and walked in, immediately spotting the produce section and grabbing a cart, deciding that I might as well pick up some bananas while I was there, too.

  After I selected three that looked promising, I passed by the store’s display of muntries. I let myself remember – for just a moment – the day Josette had led me into the backyard to show me all the little berries that covered my muntrie bush, but then I made myself move on.

  All of a sudden, though, there she was . . .

  And I couldn’t move on.

  She was right in front of me, and even though she had her back to me, I recognized her instantly. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and she had one hand on her hip. She was weighing something and I knew without even seeing her face that she was biting her lip in concentration as she studied the numbers on the scale. The sight of her took my breath away, but somehow I actually managed to pray.

  I asked God what He wanted me to do, fully expecting to hear Him say, Run!

  But I didn’t hear anything.

  Nothing at all.

  I stood and I watched.

  And I kept praying.

  But still, I heard nothing.

  After what seemed like a very long while, I decided that I had given God plenty of time.

  I walked up behind her.

  “Josie.”

  She startled and turned to face me.

  “Marco,” she said in a whisper.

  “Hi, Josie.”

  “Hi,” she said, still whispering.

  “How’re you doing?”

  She cleared her throat and nodded.

  “Good,” she said, finding her voice and bobbing her head. “I’m good.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Good.”

  We stared at each other for a moment.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I had to get new tires on my car,” I said, motioning in the direction from which I had just come.

  “Oh.”

  There was another moment of silence.

  “You grew your moustache back,” she finally said.

  “Yeah,” I nodded, reaching up and rubbing it. “I figured since Dad paid all that money for it I probably better have one.”

  “How’s he doing?” she asked gently.

  “Umm, he’s getting worse,” I admitted. “I went home at Christmas . . . I could definitely see a change.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded at her again.

  “How’s Stuart?” I asked.

  She dropped her eyes and shook her head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hesitated for a long moment before facing me again.

  “He went back to Rebecca four weeks ago,” she told me.

  “He left you again?” I asked in disbelief.

  She gave a tiny nod.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I cried.

  “You . . . I thought you were back with Bizzy . . .”

  “Why in the world would I be back with Bizzy?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I was going to leave at the end of next month,” I cried. “I would have gotten on that plane and never would have seen you again! Why didn’t you call me?”

  She looked at me quietly for another moment and then said, “We need to go somewhere where we can talk.”

  Two minutes later we were sitting in the front seat of my car, our shopping carts abandoned in the produce section.

  “Talk,” I said.

  She looked down at her lap and didn’t say anything for a long time.

  I didn’t say anything either. I just waited.

  Finally she looked back up at me.

  “I’m twelve weeks pregnant.”

  I can handle that.

  She looked away.

  “Does Stuart know?” I asked gently.

  “Yes.”

  “He knew you were pregnant and he still left you?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Rebecca’s pregnant too,” Josette said.

  I stared at her in disbelief and then closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat and sighing.

  “I hate him,” I muttered under my breath.<
br />
  “No,” Josette said, reaching out and touching my arm. “Don’t say that.”

  I opened my eyes to look at her and – when I did – she quickly took her hand away.

  “I do,” I said. “I hate him and I hate the way he treats you.”

  “Things have been hard for him–” she began, but I cut her off.

  “Why are you making excuses for him?” I cried.

  “Because,” she said quietly. “I know what he’s been through.”

  I shook my head in disgust and stared out the window.

  “Please don’t be mad,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “I’m not mad, Josie,” I said gently, turning back to her. “But I care about you and I’m worried about you.” I reached my hand out and rested it on her cheek. “And I love you . . .”

  “I’m still married,” she said, and I took my hand off her cheek.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded and stared out the front windshield.

  “If he decides to stay with Rebecca this time,” she said softly, “we’ll be divorced in eleven months. If he wants to try to work things out with me between now and then . . .”

  She paused before going on.

  “Then I have to do everything I can to make that happen,” she finished.

  “And then Rebecca’s going to be left to raise a baby all alone instead of you?” I asked. “How’s that going to be a good situation?”

  “I didn’t say any of this was good,” she answered, turning back to me. “I’m saying that I’m still married and he’s still my husband and I can’t forget that this time.”

  I stared at her for a long moment.

  “Where are you staying?” I finally asked.

  “About three blocks from here . . . just off of Nicholson.”

  “Let’s go back in there and get the rest of your groceries,” I suggested, nodding toward the store, “and then I’ll drive you home.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m taking the bus.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I argued. “I’m right here. Let me drive you home.”

  “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” she asked. “I’m married. I’m married, I’m married, I’m married.”

  “Married people can’t have friends?”

  She looked at me miserably.

  “Nothing will happen,” I vowed, holding up one hand. “We’ll just be friends.”

  “No, Marco,” she said, shaking her head. “We can’t do that.”

  “Yes we can,” I insisted.

  “No.”

  “Please, Josie,” I begged. “I know you. I know you’re going to need help getting through this.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Please? Please let me be your friend.”

  She looked at me dubiously.

  “Just friends,” I promised quietly. “Nothing will happen.”

  She hesitated and glanced down at her lap.

  “You need a friend,” I whispered, “just a friend.”

  She finally looked back up at me. And she nodded.

  ~ ~ ~

  AS SOON AS I got home I called Lily.

  “Ohhh, this is not a good idea,” she said as soon as I’d filled her in on everything.

  “We’re just going to be friends . . .”

  “You can’t just be friends with her.”

  “Yes I can.”

  “You’re skating on very thin ice.”

  “I can handle it,” I assured her. “All I’ve got to do is get through the next eleven months.”

  “And what if God wants them to get back together?”

  “Why would He want that?”

  She sighed into the phone.

  “Marco–” she began.

  “I know, I know.”

  “I mean it, Marco,” Lily said. “I don’t like this at all. You’re putting yourself in a very dangerous situation.”

  “I won’t let anything happen,” I promised.

  “It’s not going to be as easy as you think,” Lily warned. “You two already have a history together and now you’ve got pregnancy hormones to worry about on top of everything else.”

  “Pregnancy hormones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You mean, like, she’s going to be emotional and stuff?”

  “No,” Lily said. “I mean like she’s going to be . . .”

  “What?”

  There was a long pause.

  “I can’t say it.”

  “Huh?”

  “I can’t say that word to my brother.”

  “What word?”

  “Are you absolutely clueless, Marco?” she cried.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about how if Josette had to move out last time because the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, it’s going to be a million times worse now.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes!”

  “Because of pregnancy hormones?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would pregnancy hormones do that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Marco, they just do.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes!” she shouted. “I’m sure!”

  “But, I mean, from a biological standpoint, why would–”

  “I don’t know, Marco,” she said again, cutting me off, “but I’m not having this conversation with you anymore. All I’m telling you is that if you insist on trying to be friends with her, you need to be very, very careful.”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t touch her.”

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘Don’t touch her’.”

  “I can’t touch her?”

  “No.”

  “O-kay,” I said slowly.

  “And be super careful.”

  “Okay,” I said again. “I promise. I’ll be super careful.”

  ~ ~ ~

  NATURALLY I DIDN’T listen to Lily. I was fairly confident that Josette and I could touch each other. What could possibly be wrong with an innocent hug hello or a quick hug goodbye?

  It only took about a week for that to unravel.

  One evening I stopped by the library (where Brenda had managed to give Josette back her work-study position) to see if she would let me drive her home. She not only accepted but also agreed to let me take her out to eat – just as friends, of course.

  We had a nice dinner together, talking about work and other things of no consequence, and afterward I drove her to her apartment. Our conversation turned to her new flatmate, Fran. I had only met Fran once, but she seemed to dislike me immensely and I mentioned this to Josette.

  “I wouldn’t take it too personally,” Josette said. “I think she pretty much hates everyone.”

  “Even you?”

  “Yeah. I think she’d rather live alone, but she can’t afford it.”

  “Is she mean to you?” I asked worriedly.

  “Not really.”

  I looked at her with concern.

  “She’s just rude,” Josette assured me. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle it.”

  We pulled in to the parking lot of their complex and I noticed that the lights were off in the apartment.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s here,” I said. “That’s good, right?”

  “It’s not bad,” she admitted.

  “What does she do that’s rude?” I asked as we headed up the stairs.

  “I don’t know.” Josette shrugged. “If I leave a bowl or something on the counter and she sees it she’ll let out this great big sigh and then slam it all dramatically into the sink like I’m the bane of her existence. And heaven forbid if I should need to use the bathroom while she’s sleeping. She comes out in the hall and is all like, ‘What are you doing?’ and I’m like, ‘Just flushing the toilet, Fran. C
alm down’.”

  “Do you really say that?”

  “No,” Josette said, as we trudged up the steps to her landing. “But I feel like it.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I just tell her I’m sorry and I scuttle back to my room.”

  “Why don’t we find you somewhere else to live?” I suggested.

  “Because I have a year-long lease,” she replied with a sigh. “Year-long.”

  I sighed too.

  “I don’t like it,” I said, shaking my head.

  “It’s okay, Marco,” she said as we arrived at her door. “She’s the least of my worries.”

  This made me look at her even more worriedly and she tried to lighten the mood.

  “It’s not that big of a deal,” she assured me, laying her hand on my arm. “I’m just saying that she’s not exactly the best flatmate I’ve ever had in my life, that’s all.”

  I’m sure she hadn’t meant anything by it, but both of us stopped and looked at each other much longer than we should have.

  “Well, I . . . I’d better get going,” she said hastily, removing her hand and looking down into her purse to find her keys.

  She pulled them out and turned to unlock the door. Once she had it open she faced me again and said, “Thank you for dinner. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” I said, and I reached to give her one of those quick and innocent hugs.

  But it wasn’t quick. And then it wasn’t innocent.

  We didn’t pull away from each other like we were supposed to. We lingered. My arms stayed around her waist . . . hers rested on my shoulders. And we stood there like that, just holding each other. Josette pressed her body even closer to mine and my pulse somehow quickened. I hesitated for only a second before pulling her tighter, and when I did, I could feel the gentle swell of her belly against me and her warm breath against my neck.

  I buried my face in her hair, my mouth near her ear . . .