Day 7
The day drags on its fierce heat rays the more I think of him. Signs of him are everywhere in the house; half the bedroom closet is filled with his dress shirts, dress pants, camouflage, camping gear, and shoes. Half the bed is empty. Half the plaid coach in the living room is empty. But he still smiles inside the picture frames on the walls, his fingers twirled in my wedding veil. After all, this is Rain's house, and it's waiting for his return. The ferns by the window are thirsty for his notice. The remote control by the television is dusty from anticipating his touch.
And yesterday I found out there are signs of him inside of me, too. I have to smile when I put my hand up to my stomach and rub it slowly. There is a tiny baby forming inside me. When the nurse told me for sure, I was shocked; I had thought I had probably been imagining things, that the pregnancy tests had been wrong. For being natural, pregnancy just seems so supernatural. I think of holding a little baby, seeing Rain and me both in the tiny features. I think about names. Copeland, Sailor, Patrick. Kristin, Lydia, Meridith. I think about the little being in my womb, growing, growing, growing, through each trying stage of life, through each joy and each trial, to be something like me someday and something like Rain.
I look out the window now. Just by gazing into the sunlight, I can almost feel the intensity of the sun and the heaviness of the humidity. The heat slows me, and forces me to question myself. Should I tell him now? Should I write to him and tell him?
He's two thousand miles away in Fort Lewis, Washington at the Leadership Development and Assessment Course for Army ROTC. Today he's been gone for one week and he has four more weeks to go. I want to be able to see his reaction when he hears about this. He wanted to wait until we graduated from college and then try for a baby because we're just making ends, and we still have one more year of college. He's happy right now with the prospect of our future and we're okay with where we are. We don't even want to have everything, but I know he wants to have enough to provide. At the same time, though, I know he will marvel at the idea of us having a baby no matter what this means for us.
His last night here we bought a bottle of sparkling white grape juice. He made a toast to the Providence of God in our lives in the past, present, and future. I guess he's right. God has worked everything out in the past, even when it didn't seem like it. I understand more now, and yet it's hard to trust God is at work here when Rain is away and our lives are changing before I even know quite what to think.
I remember when I met him. I was friends with James, Laura, Kendall, Parker—any of those easy going people who liked adventures and tried to push the limits on teachers, parents, laws. Sometimes we smoked, drank bear, or sneaked into R-rated movies.
The first day of the eighth grade school year, Rain was sitting two seats to my left in Reading. Mrs. Simms asked him what he wanted to be called because his full name was Theodore Rainer Matthews. “I go by Rain,” he said, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. I turned, too, of course. He was wearing camouflage pants and a black polo shirt (because collared shirts were part of the dress code). “Rain?” voices said in hushed tones all across the room, like the first sprinkles before a storm.
Rain seemed reserved most of the time. He listened attentively in class, studied, and made good grades. Reggie, the guy behind me who always put his feet on the back of my desk, would ask him things like, “You actually studied for this test?” and, “What are you gonna be up to this weekend, reading through the dictionary again?” But Rain didn't tense up and close off the way most people would do when Reggie would pick on them, and neither did he respond by insulting Reggie. Instead, Rain would just laugh, like he appreciated Reggie's sense of humor, and say, “Yeah, I did study for this test a little last night,” and, “No, I'm not that bad; dictionaries get a little tedious after a while, but encyclopedias on the other hand...” He made Reggie laugh, too.
“Your weird,” Laura, who sat in front of Rain, told him constantly the first few weeks of the semester.
He always just said, “I know,” and smiled like he was proud of it.
I started noticing a pattern with Rain. He wore either camouflage pants or a camouflage shirt every single day. “Rain, why do you dress like that?” I asked him.
“I like camouflage. I play paintball and I'm a boyscout. And someday I want to join the military.”
“That's nice,” I said enthusiastically. Joining the military was an amiable ambition, but it automatically meant that he was off my list. Yes, I had a mental list of possible husbands; any guy who was interesting and available had a place there. Someone who would probably be on the other side of the world for half of our lives did not qualify as available. I had another list, though, of possible friends. Anyone remotely interesting, which constituted pretty much everyone, was on this list—and Rain was exceptionally interesting.
Rain had been homeschooled from kindergarten through seventh grade, but over the summer his dad had discovered he had brain cancer. It was a serious case and Rain's mom had to take a job to make ends meet. Rain had an older sister and brother who were away at college, but were coming home as much as possible on the weekends to visit their dad in the hospital. They were one of those families that was completely into homeschooling and never planned on sending Rain to school.
“You know, you're not like most homeschoolers,” Karly said. “You actually know how to talk to people.”
He just said, “Yeah, it's quite a challenge to figure out how to talk to you guys.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Rain just laughed in his charming way.
“So,” Rain said one day at lunch, “do you go to church anywhere, Catherine?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Do you want to come with me sometime?”
“Sure, as long as they don't split us up into guys and girls and make us talk about modesty and anorexia.”
“I think I can work that out for you if you come on a Wednesday night.”
That Wednesday before Reading started, I told Rain I was going to hang out at James's house that night.
“No, you're not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you're not. You're going to church with me, remember?”
“I haven't committed to anything.”
“Yeah you did. You told me you would come.”
“Did not!”
“Did, too!”
“Shut up, Rain. You don't rule me.” I smiled as the whole class was watching us by now.
Rain looked at me hard. At that time, I thought it was just pain and disappointment in his eyes, which made me feel a little guilty. However, I kind of liked the control that look gave me over him. Now I know that he was grieved for me. He knew about my friends and the kinds of things we did.
That night, I went to James's house. He got his hands on a couple of his dad's beers and he, Laura, Kendall, and I were drinking them and eating frozen pizza. A storm came and we could hear the rumbling of thunder and the pounding of rain against the roof. As we talked, anytime one of them used the word “rain” I wouldn't think about the weather.
“What do you guys think about Rain?” I said at last.
“It's alright sometimes,” James said.
“No, the guy Rain.”
“He's weird,” said Laura.
“What does it matter to you anyway, Catherine, after you the way told him off today?” Kendall asked.
“You heard about that? I didn't tell him off. We were just joking around.”
“That's not what I heard,” Kendall said.
“That's the way it was. I like Rain.”
“Uw!”
“No, I like Rain the way I like you guys.”
“Right. So, why did you embarrass him like that?”
“Come on. Rain doesn't get embarrassed.”
“By you he might. I bet he likes you.”
“No way. We're nothing alike. He's just trying to be nice.”
“So, why didn't you go to church with him tonight?”
“So, why don't you just forget I brought him up?”
It's strange to think about the way I was then. I've changed so much. And yet, it didn't happen all at once. I have to wonder why I'm so scared of change now when I can see that God's work in the past was good. Somehow it seems like this time, things are going to turn out all wrong. I sigh and put on my black pants and white collared shirt to go wait table at Sandy's Sandwiches and More.
Day 12
My younger sister, Mallory, is here to visit me on my day off work. She's sixteen and so she still lives back home Spiro with Mom and Dad. I'm sure neither of them said much of anything when she wanted to drive the two and a half hours to come see me.
Mallory and I eat vanilla ice cream on my back porch this evening. Our immediate view is only a little grass in need of mowing and a wood fence, but the sky takes my breath away. The sun sets steadily, putting a pink glow over everything. Mallory closes her eyes, letting the creamy substance settle in her mouth. “It's so peaceful here,” she says.
“I guess it's still not too peaceful back home?”
“Are you kidding? Kevin's still so out of control. Now that he's twelve, I'm scared it will always be this way. He still gets everything he wants.”
“You have to admit, though, it wasn't too much different with us. You know, I did a lot of stupid stuff in middle school and Mom and Dad really didn't care.”
“I remember you and your friends sneaking stuff into our house when Mom and Dad were at work. I didn't know what it was half the time.”
“I wasn't too good of a big sister I guess. You had to figure everything out for yourself.” I look up at the display of colors in the sky—blue, purple, pink, yellow, orange—and run my fingers over the cup of ice cream. Then I gaze at Mallory. She has long, blond wavy hair and blue eyes like I do. “I'm gonna tell you something.”
She looks at me, fully alert.
“I haven't told anyone this yet, not even Rain.”
She waits.
“Six days ago I found out I'm pregnant.”
“What? Are you serious? Catherine!” Her voice lifts and her face glows.
“Yes, I'm definitely pregnant, as in, I'm gonna have a baby, as in, I'm gonna be a mom.”
Mallory hugs me and shrieks several times. “Why haven't you told anyone about this? Aren't you glad?”
“I am glad. I am, but I just don't see how I could possibly be ready for this. And Rain doesn't want this yet.”
“Don't say that. Rain will want it when he hears the news. You know that.”
“I know, I know, but I'm not ready, Mallory. I just, I don't know how to handle this. I don't even have a good example to follow. Let's face it, Mom and Dad didn't raise me. Rain raised me, and he can't teach me to be a mother.”
“But can't God teach you somehow, Catherine? Where's your faith?”
I'm silent. I'm out of ice cream now, just licking the sweet, sticky particles from my lips.
“You need to tell Rain.”
“I want to tell him in person.”
“You can't wait for that. He won't be home for more than three weeks. And you tell him everything. It'll stress you out if he doesn't know.”
“I know. I know.” Uninvited tears cover my cheeks and I say, “I need him to be here right now.”
Mallory clutches me. “It's okay. He's coming back. It won't be too long.”
I can't talk anymore because my throat feels so hard.
“It's like this for a reason,” Mallory says. “God has a reason.”
When the tears finally dry from my cheeks and it's dark outside so that mosquitoes are biting at us, Mallory says, “You know, you were a good big sister. I saw how God changed your life. And that's how God showed me that real Christianity is more than a bunch of phrases and church visits and fake smiles. God used you, Catherine; He used you to get me to believe.”
Mallory has such as a hard determined look. She's so much stronger than me about things that sometimes I hate to admit that I'm five years older. “You know, we should go inside before we get eaten up by these mosquitoes,” I say.
Now I lay in bed. Mallory is sleeping in the other room. It feels good to have someone else in the house even if it it's not Rain. I remember the first time I asked Rain to come over after school.
“Will your parents be home?” he said.
“No, why does that matter?”
“I can't go to your house if your parents aren't home.”
“If your parents make a big deal about that kind of thing just tell them you went to Chris's house instead.”
“It's not about my parents; it's about me. It just wouldn't be appropriate for me to go over to your house if your parents aren't home.”
“Appropriate? If you're worried about that, I'm not going to seduce you or anything.” I laughed, but this was one thing he didn't seem to think was funny.
“My answer is no, okay? I don't want to talk about this anymore.”
I went to church with him off and on during eighth grade. People were nice there. I didn't tell them, of course, about all the bad stuff I did. It wasn't that I felt bad about the way I was; I just didn't want them to have to think about it. I knew they were different. The teachers at church taught us not to make decisions based on questions like, “How do I feel about this?” and “How do others feel about this?” but instead to ask questions like, “What does the Bible have to say about this?” and “Will it please God for me to do this?” Crazy enough, I knew Rain actually followed this advice. It would be nice to be like him, to be so unconcerned about the opinions of others, but I knew I couldn't actually do that. Even if I quit the smoking and drinking, I knew I couldn't actually think about God instead of myself. That just wasn't me.
Day 18
The solemn feeling of responsibility is settling in on me like another day's heat. I'm watering the daisies in front of our house before work. Rain surprised me one day by buying and planting them while I was working. When I came home I thought our house finally looked like a home. He usually watered them every couple days; he could do it just right. Surprisingly, the flowers are beginning to bloom unlike plants usually do under my care. I just wonder if I can really handle a baby, a human being fully dependent on me.
After all, I've done so many stupid things. One night, the summer after eighth grade, Kendall and I were beading bracelets in my room, listening to Monster Magnet. It was hot like today and we were sweating as we tried to tie little bracelet strings. Then, through the window we saw James walking alongside the road toward my house, shuffling along in a large shirt, large shorts, and a untied tennis shoes—his normal attire. We went to the front door.
“Hey, James,” I said leaning against the door frame. “Hot enough for you?”
He smiled slightly and pulled up his shorts a little so they showed less of his boxers. “Hey, guys, can I come in? I've got something to show you.”
I looked at Kendall. She shrugged and so I shrugged at James. He walked past me into the house. I noted his yellow plastic bag. “What's in it?”
“Patience, patience. Are Mally and Kevin home?”
“Yeah, they're in their rooms.”
“Let's go back to your room then.” We followed him. He laid the yellow bag down on my carpet and pulled out a clear sandwich bag with white powder inside.
“What's that?” Kendall said.
“Try it and see.” He tried to hand her a white, plastic tube that looked like a cigarette.
“What is it?”
“My brother gave it to me.”
“It's coke,” I said.
Kendall shifted. “You do it first, James. Show us how.”
“I'll do it,” I said. “I know how.” I did know how. I had already found a website that explained the process precisely and I knew James hadn't tried the stuff without us. I took the white tube James was holding. It wasn't really like a cigarette because I could see through it if I looked through long-ways. James poured some of the white powder on my dresser and I put one end of the little tub up to my nose and the other down to the powder. I inhaled so that I could feel the powder going up my nostrils. I nodded. “Alright, your turn.” I handed it to James.
He did as I had done. Then he handed it to Kendall.
“How did it feel?” she said.
“Fine. Just do it,” James said.
She did. Then we all looked at each other.
“How do you feel?” Kendall asked.
“I feel good,” I said enthusiastically. “Let's go take over the world or something.”
They laughed.
“Seriously, guys,” I said. “What do you want to do? Hey, let's go see if Parker's home. He would like this.”
James laughed. “Catherine, Parker's mom would flip.”
“We're not gonna tell her, smart one. A plastic bag looks innocent enough. What do you say?”
“Let's do it,” said Kendall.
“Alright, I'm in,” said James, “but I vote we go to Rain's house instead. What do ya'll think about that?”
Kendall laughed.
“Cut it,” I said. “Ya'll wanna walk or take a car?”
“Your suggesting you drive your dad's old junker that he doesn't trust to get him to work?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Have at it. I'll meet you there on foot.”
“Come on, James, where's your sense of adventure?”
“I'm just back to the whole Parker's mom thing. When she sees you driving that thing...”
“What day is it? Wednesday, right? Parker's mom's never there on Wednesday afternoon. She's always helping with that Mother's Day Out or something.”
“Yeah, you're right.”
“So, you in?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Your dad actually leaves the key here and trusts you like that?”
“Of course he trusts me. Why should he not?”
I made it the half-mile to Parker's house, but I started feeling really sad while we there and I wasn't sure why. While I drove James and Kendall back to my house we didn't say anything. I put the car in park back where it had been in the garage.
“I liked that,” Kendall said.
“I liked it, too,” I said.
“You were pretty fun on that high,” James told me. “We should do that again.”
We did do it again whenever we got our hands on some cocaine, which was about once every month or two. We still did other things, but smoking and drinking had lost a lot of their appeal in comparison with this new stuff. I didn't mention it to Rain of course. We just talked about school, church, and fun legal things like paintball and video games. This stuff was enough for him and I couldn't understand why.
Day 22
We're slow at work tonight. Molly and I are cleaning tables. “So, why couldn't you take my shift yesterday morning? You always take everybody's shifts.”
“I was just feeling bad.”
“And you're feeling better now?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What is it, like morning sickness or something?”
“Yeah,” I say in a sarcastic tone, “morning sickness.”
“Hey, you don't have to tell me. I'm just trying to look out for you.”
I look out the restaurant window into the darkness. The thought comes to me of standing with a baby in my arms, singing to it, and looking out into that. I can never know quite what is out in that darkness I'm a mother now and I have to be strong and trust God that He knows what is around us and ahead of us and that He will take care of things. I know all at once this is a good thing. God must know I'm ready for this, as ready as He wants me to be. Patrick, Sailor. Kristin, Lydia. We can turn our office/spare bedroom into a nursery/office/spare bedroom. If the baby is a boy, Rain can teach him to play video games and paintball and be a mighty warrior, and I can rock him to sleep at night. If the baby is a girl, I can teach her to play with dolls, cook, be a wife and mother someday, and rock her to sleep at night. I'm not going to be afraid anymore. God knows what is best.
“No, I'm serious,” I say to Molly, “it is morning sickness. Why does that surprise you?”
“What? You could have told me that before!”
I shrug.
“No, really? You're pregnant?”
“Yeah. And you know what's crazy? Rain's still gone and he doesn't even know.”
“Uh, I think he's gonna find out sooner or later... unless you're not planning on keeping the baby.”
“I'm keeping my baby. God gave it to me and I'm gonna keep it.”
“Good for you.”
I'm five weeks along. I have to tell Rain. This is a good thing and he'll be happy. He's always been in favor of right things.
It was the spring of ninth grade when he took me to that revival at his church. There was a loud band and an energetic speaker with sweat dripping from his red forehead. He talked about hell and how if I didn't pray a prayer to ask Jesus to come into my heart, I was going to hell. All I had to do to go to heaven instead was pray this prayer. I might have thought the message was a little far stretched but when I whispered to Rain, “Is this really what I need to do?” he said, “Yeah, Catherine, this is what you need.” So I walked up the aisle like the man with the red forehead told me to do. There was a man in a suit who met me at the front of the aisle and I followed him to a room right outside the sanctuary. This man told me we were all sinners, that God had sent Jesus to die on the cross to pay for our sins, and that if we believe in Jesus we go to heaven instead of hell. After that, the man told me I would have to change the way I lived, stop sinning and start living right, but this wasn't going to save me. The initial praying the prayer to ask Jesus into my heart was going to save me.
“Do you understand?” the man asked.
“Yeah, but why do I have to live right if that's not what's gonna save me?”
“You don't really have to worry about that right now. You take this one step toward Jesus and He'll take it from there.”
“Okay.”
The man led me in a prayer, admitting I was a sinner, thanking Jesus for dying on the cross, and saying I believed in Him. Then he gave me a Bible and told me I needed to be baptized.
Rain found me outside of the room. “You okay? What happened?”
“I prayed and asked Jesus to come into my heart.”
“That's good.” He hugged me. It was the first time that he hugged me.
Rain's mom drove me home and Rain and I were in the backseat. We didn't talk for a while. Then Rain sad, “Are you sure you're okay?” Rain's mom had the radio on and I don't think she could hear us well.
“Yeah, I just don't know what I'm supposed to do now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guy said I needed to stop sinning and start living right.”
“He's right. You need to stop, you know, that stuff you do that's bad for you and against the law, and you need to start doing good stuff like going to church and reading the Bible.”
“But I don't understand why. He said it wasn't my actions that saved me. Is that good stuff just like extra for if I want to?”
“No, no, it's not. It's important.”
“You know, I think the problem is you grew up knowing about all this stuff, and I didn't. We're different okay? Let's face it, we're totally different. I'm never gonna understand this stuff.”
“Don't say that, Catherine.”
“I'm just saying how I feel.” He was quiet the rest of the drive home. He seemed sad and I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to be what he wanted me to be.
So I quit smoking and drinking and most other things. When my friends asked me about it, I just said, “I just don't care about that stuff anymore.”
“What? Is Rain getting to you?” someone would always say. “He's gonna ruin your life, you know that?”
“Don't say that, he's the best thing that's happened to me.”
“Sounds pretty serious.”
“No, it's not. We're just friends. I just need to change.” The problem was I wasn't really changing, and I hated that. James had found a somewhat constant supply of cocaine and as soon as I had turned fifteen back in November I had gotten a job at a grocery store and was paying him for the stuff. I just did it about once a week, but I loved the way it made me feel so much that I found myself thinking about getting high throughout the week. When I was high, I felt like I could do anything. When I crashed, I usually felt a little angry with myself. I would tell myself it was stupid for me to do the drug and I shouldn't do it anymore, but at the same time, I couldn't imagine never doing it again. It had become a part of me. I needed it.
Day 23
I see the morning light shining through the window as I slowly open my eyes. It's only seven o'clock. I remember that I got home from work late last night and didn't go to bed until one. I'd like a little more sleep. I smile to myself as I close my eyes again. I know what I'm going to do today. I'm going to write to Rain and reveal everything, or better yet, if he gets to call me, I can tell him everything. I know he'll be so happy once it all settles in on him. I can already imagine him holding his hand up to me and feeling the baby move in the months to come. He has such a touch for everything. I know he'll be a perfect father once the baby is born.
My stomach feels different this morning, though, and all at once I know I'm bleeding. But I'm pregnant; this isn't supposed to be happening. Now I remember the doctor told me that bleeding is common in early pregnancy, but he said to come in if it happens because it could also be a sign of a possible miscarriage.
The afternoon sun is covering me now. I'm sitting on the coach in the living room, rocking myself back and forth, replaying the doctor's words in my mind. “You're cervix is expanding in preparation to excrete pregnancy tissues. When you came in last week, the baby had a heart beat.” I can still hear the doctor's voice. I think I will always hear it. “There's no heartbeat anymore.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?”
“I suggest you just wait. The miscarriage should be complete within a week. If it's not, you can come back and we'll talk about other options.” Wait with this dead child inside of me. Wait on my body to give it up. I'm sitting here, starring into the dusty, black television screen.
I call in sick for work tonight. “I'm sorry, but I'll probably be sick for at least a week.”
“Uh, usually you don't know that kind of thing,” the manager said.
“I've got a doctor's note.” I have tears streaming down my cheeks. “I don't want to do this to ya'll. You know that.”
“Okay, would you mind just telling me what's wrong? You don't sound bad or anything.”
I sighed. “I'm miscarrying my baby.”
“Okay, alright, I'm sorry.” He just hung up.
Oh, God, I need Rain to be here right now. I need him to hold me. Mallory knows about all this. I guess everybody at work knows about all this. But Rain doesn't know and I can't put this kind of thing on him while he's in training. Oh, God, I'm angry with you and I don't want to be. I know how it is to be angry with you.
By the summer after eighth grade, my life was together, from what most people could tell at least. Not many people knew about my fixation with cocaine. Rain had no idea. I was so angry with God for not letting me be like Rain and the people at his church even though I was trying to do all the right things.
Rain started asking me to do things with him—get ice cream, go to the movie theater, eat dinner at his house. We did things with his church friends, too, and they started teasing us about our relationship. In September, Rain turned sixteen and got his driver's license. In November, for my birthday, he gave me a wooden jewelry box with my name carved on the top; he had made it himself. I thought it was sweet, how slowly and progressively he was going about the process. I knew what was coming next and I wanted it. He was the kindest person I knew and I wanted him to be my boyfriend. He was still talking about joining the military, but at this point that felt like a long time from the present. I just wanted this.
One night in December we were in his kitchen, drinking hot chocolate. Along the kitchen walls, pink and blue flowers spread out in the wallpaper. By the window, there was a plant stand that held an assortment of flowers, all bright and warm.
“Catherine,” Rain said, catching my eye, “I really like you.”
I smiled. “You know we're not really anything alike.”
“That's okay. I just like you because... you're beautiful, you're nice, you don't ignore people when they're weird, you're funny. I just like being around you. It gets stressful around my house a lot with my dad's sickness and all. It just makes me feel better to see you.”
“I like you too, Rain, a lot.” Both my hands clung to the warm mug of hot chocolate. I was scared that if I took a sip I would disturb his thought process. He was quiet for a while and I almost said something two or three times like, “So, are we official now?”
He said something just in time. “If we're going to start going out, I need you to promise me something.”
“What is it?”
“You can't do any of those things you used to do—smoking, drinking, all that stuff.”
“I don't do that stuff.”
“I know. I'm not saying you do. I'm just saying I don't want you to go back.”
“I'm not gonna go back. Why do you have to assume the worst?”
“Look, I just care about you, Catherine. I just care about you, and that means I'm going to need some control in our relationship, unless you don't want a relationship.”
I finished drinking the hot chocolate, got up, and put the mug in the sink. Rain was sitting at the kitchen table, starring into his own mug. He wasn't tall, but he was strong. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and so were his eyes. Somehow, I found myself incapable of saying no to him. I could stop the cocaine. Anything I did just once a week I could stop. I would stop.
I came back to the table and sat down. “I do want this. I'm sorry.”
He smiled and put his hand gently on the side of my face.
At my doorstep that night, he kissed my forehead. I thought he must be afraid of anything else. It was three weeks before he said, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah.” When he did, I knew it was his first time. I had done it several times in fifth and sixth grade when I first had crushes. The thrill of kissing was then like smoking and drinking in middle school, like drugs in high school.
Day 27
I'm bleeding so heavy right now that it must be almost time. I've kept trying to read the Bible. I've kept trying to pray. Hannah, a woman from church, has come to visit me. She has brown bangs and a beautiful smile. She had a miscarriage four years ago and now she has a two-year-old girl who has her smile. Rain and I have only been at this church since we moved here a three years ago and I didn't know about Hannah's miscarriage until now.
“It was a little boy,” she says. “We named him Brandon. We planted a tree in our backyard when I miscarried so we would always remember. Then we planted a tree for Hannah, too.”
We are sitting in my living room on the plaid sofa.
“Why does God do this?” I say.
“I don't think I have an exact answer. But I know this has helped me to trust God more. And God doesn't seem to hesitate to bring hardship in our lives if it means we'll trust Him more.”
“It just seems like there has to be an easier way.”
“Yeah, God asks us to do hard things, but not without setting an example, not without giving His own Son to suffer and die so that we can be made right with God, so that we can know what it means to trust Him and live through Him.”
“Yeah.”
For such a long time, I didn't understand salvation the way I do now. Rain and I dated for most of tenth grade. We spent a lot of time together. We spent a lot of time at his church back home, but I began getting frustrated with it, frustrated with the lives that the people there lived. I was still on cocaine. I hated it and loved it. It seemed to separate me from Rain in a way he didn't realize. I acted like I was fine. I acted like I was like him. I just couldn't tell him about my addiction, but I couldn't break the addiction either. I needed cocaine, at least every once in a while, on those boring afternoons that come about once a week.
Then one night Rain came over without calling first. I happened to be on a cocaine crash. I must have looked miserable.
“What's wrong, baby?”
We were sitting in my room with our backs against my bed.
“Nothing's wrong.”
“Did somebody die or something?”
“No, everything's fine.”
“Catherine, I need you to tell me what's going on. I don't like to see you like this.”
I started crying. He held me in his arms. “I need you to talk to me, baby. Maybe I can help. Is it something with your parents?”
I was still crying when I said, “You need to go home, okay, Rain? Please go.”
“I can't leave you like this.”
I pulled away from him. “I'll be okay. Just go.”
He sat there for a few minutes and then got up and left. I tried to tell myself this wouldn't happen again, but I knew that wasn't true. Things couldn't go on this way. Something would have to give.
Day 28
Rain and I had fun in tenth grade though. He liked to take me down to the Arkansas River and watch the water surge along its course. He liked to twist his fingers in my hair. He liked to take me with him to visit his dad and we would sit in the waiting room and play card games. He liked to sit in my backyard at night and point out different stars; I saw my first two falling stars that year.
Then on March 17th it was raining and Rain had come over to take me to a movie. I told him I had an umbrella in my closet on the floor. I also had several plastic grocery bags on the floor, one with some cocaine hidden in the bottom. I thought the umbrella was in an obvious enough place at the front of the closet that he would never think of looking through the bags.
He came out into the living room. “Catherine, what is this?” He held the bag of cocaine.
“I don't know. What does it look like? It's probably powdered sugar or something.”
“Okay, well, why don't you go ask your mom about it?”
“Why is it such a big deal?”
“I don't know. I just figured you would know what you're keeping your closet.”
“Why are you looking through my whole closet? Couldn't you find the umbrella?”
He sat down on the couch. “Catherine.” He put his head in his hands. In that moment I wished more than ever that I had told him long ago, that I had quit long ago.
“It's time for you to tell me the truth,” he said. “Maybe I'm a little sheltered, but I know this isn't powdered sugar.”
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I do cocaine sometimes. I'm not addicted or anything. I just have to do it sometimes.”
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“Because I thought I was going to quit.”
“Well, obviously, I'm not helping you to quit.” We sat there a long time. I cried just guessing what he was about to say. “I want the best for you, Catherine. So, we've gotta end our relationship. I want you to be able to get clean. Don't you want that?”
“You talk like I'm addicted or something.”
“You can't stop. That means you're addicted.”
“You don't understand.”
“Maybe not, but I know the best thing I can do for you right now is to break up.”
He hugged me and then he let me go. My umbrella was by the door; I had forgotten I had taken it out the day before.
Today it's raining steadily. I wait within my house and drink iced chamomile tea. I remember so many rains that I used to sit through in my room through the summer after tenth grade, and then on into the fall. I was waiting then, too, but I didn't know what I was waiting for. I missed Rain. I missed the things we used to do together, the way he used touch my face and kiss me. When I felt really sad, which was almost every day, I did cocaine. I stopped going to church. Maybe they had found out about me now there. They couldn't understand; I just wasn't like them and I couldn't ever be. I passed Rain at school sometimes, but we didn't talk. I started hanging out with James, Kendall, Laura, and Parker again. They were all deep into smoking, drinking, and whatever else they could get their hands.
One night at Kendall's house, she was drunk, and I was getting there.
“I knew you and Rain weren't going to work out. Ya'll are so different. He just couldn't understand. You're one of us. You need beer to get you through life. He was just trying to change you. You don't want a guy that wants to change you.”
“I do want to change. I just can't. That's what he doesn't understand. I just can't.”
Day 30
Finally, I think I just passed everything, so I'm laying in the floor in the hallway. Hannah has been staying with me because the doctor said someone should be here. She's calling the doctor to tell him.
“He wants you to go in tomorrow so he can make sure it was complete,” she tells me.
I remember hearing that Rain's father was doing badly, about to die. It was the spring of my junior year in high school. I toyed with the idea of going to the hospital. I wanted to, but I didn't. Then I heard he had died and I knew Rain had to be taking it hard. He had never stopped praying for a miracle. No one asked me to attend the funeral, but I did go to Rain's house a few days later.
Rain opened the door. “Hi.”
I tried to hug him, but he backed away.
“I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.”
We stood there in the doorway staring at each other for a moment. “Please don't do this to me right now,” he finally said.
“Do what?”
“I need you to go.” I saw a tear slip down his cheek. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. I wanted so much to touch him. Instead, I turned around and left.
“I hate him,” I told myself, “him and all those people. They just don't understand. I can't be like them and it's not that I'm an evil person. It's just that I don't have the will power or something. I don't know what it is.”
Some days I got so frustrated with myself, and the fact that all those church people didn't understand and the fact that all those people like me didn't care, that I started cutting myself sometimes. It just relieved some of my stress. It hurt, but it felt good. I seemed to be loosing more and more control of my life and cutting was a way to gain control.
Day 35
Rain is coming home today. When I went to the doctor, he told me everything had passed and I was going to be fine. So I'm waiting for Rain to get home now. I'm going to tell him everything. Then we're going to name the baby, something gender neutral because I never found out whether the baby was a boy or girl. Rain will carve the name into wood and we will bury it in the backyard. Maybe I can bury much of my sorrow there, too. It will be easier with Rain here again.
But there was a time the peace I can have now would have been impossible. The beginning of the summer before my senior year, Parker was having a party at his house while his parents were out of town. It got late and we had already drunk a lot and danced a lot.
Kendall was talking to Laura. “Yeah, Rain was getting on to me the other day. He was like, 'You say you're a Christian and yet you get drunk?' And I was like, 'Yeah, I'm a Christian. Does that mean I can't have any fun?'”
Laura laughed. “You remember back when he came to school like three or four years ago? I thought he was alright then; weird, but alright. But I think he's gotten worse. All he talks about these days is God.”
I was listening carefully because I didn't know what he was talking about these days. I swallowed. I was sobering. “Ya'll should give Rain a break. I mean, his dad just died like two months ago.”
Kendall was still pretty drunk. “Aw, well, I've never even met my dad, and I don't go around damning people to hell.”
“Shut up. You don't know what you're saying.”
“Sounds like you still love him,” said Karly.
“I don't love him. I don't even like him. I just think he needs a break.”
“You know,” Kendall said, “ever since you started dating that guy, you haven't quite been your old self. You've either been Miss Perfect or down in the dumps. You don't know how to have fun anymore.”
“Well, maybe it's because all my friends have turned on me. Ya'll wouldn't let me be who I used to be. Ya'll wouldn't let me live down being the girlfriend of the most eccentric guy in school because, you know, you're all so very normal. Look, that's why I liked you guys to begin with, because you were different, because you just liked to have fun, and now you're all about pointing fingers.”
Kendall just laughed. “And we were supposed to be totally cool with you dating a guy who was damning us all to hell!”
I just turned around and left the party right then. Now I knew the whole truth, the destiny of my life. My friends hated me. Rain wouldn't have anything to do with me. And God didn't seem to care. I got back to my bedroom and took out my knife to cut myself. I had so much to release right now that I wasn't sure I could ever get through cutting. I cut a little for my friends, a little for Rain, a little for God, and it turned into one deep slit across my wrist. I saw the blood coming out fast and then all I could see was darkness.
I woke up to the white of a hospital room with tubes attached to me. My parents were there. Mallory and Kevin were there. Rain was there.
“What happened?” I said.
“You tried to commit suicide,” Mom said with tears in her eyes.
“If Mallory hadn't found you, you might not have made it,” Dad said.
I looked at Mallory. She smiled weakly. “You looked horrible.”
“Thanks.”
I looked at Rain. I couldn't stop looking at Rain. His eyes were still dark brown and steadily fixed on me.
“Well, maybe we all should clear out and let you get some rest,” Mom said, “except for Rain of course.”
My family filed out of the room and I looked up at Rain again.
“How do you feel?” he said.
“Like I just slit my wrist and got rushed to the emergency room and drugged.”
“Sounds about right now.” Rain played with his hands. “So, if it's okay to ask, why did you do it?”
“It's complicated. I hate my life.” We were silent for a while.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I don't think I explained salvation very well back when we were freshman. When we went to that revival that time, I encouraged you to do something and that speaker coerced you to do something that we shouldn't have pushed on you like that.”
I smiled. “What? I'm just a drunkard, a druggie, and now suicidal. Are you trying to tell me you don't think I'm really saved or something?”
He smiled. “Yeah. See, here all this time I've been telling you should live this certain way, but there's no way for you to just stop sinning. That's just what you do as a natural person. Adam sinned and now we all, the human race, we just sin. We love to sin. We're in bondage to sin. We'd like to think can stop if want, but we can't.”
“I can't, but you can.”
“No, no one can. See, that's what the Bible's talking about when it says, 'All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.' And God is full of wrath toward humanity because of all of our sin. That's why people go to hell. But when God sent Jesus to die on the cross, Jesus satisfied the wrath of God, so that those who would believe in him would be saved from the wrath to come. Jesus was sinless, so God accepted His sacrifice and glorified Him by raising Him from the dead, ascending Him to heaven, making sure the name of Jesus was spread everywhere, and one day having everyone, church-goers, druggies, Muslims, Hindus, atheists, even Satan himself, bow before Jesus. At that time Jesus will say who is His and who isn't and it won't be for anyone else to decide.
“But, Catherine, I have confidence before God that I am one of his because he has brought me to believe in the name of Jesus. This doesn't just mean believing what I want to believe about Jesus or just the things that seem nice. It means believing all that the Bible tells me about Jesus, and this includes his statements like, 'If you love me, keep my commandments.' Always having been a sinner, though, I'm not used to obeying Jesus, and sometimes I still mess up. But when I was saved, God gave me his Holy Spirit which works in me to do the will of God. That means when I do good things it's because of the Holy Spirit's good work in me. So, it's not at all my works that save me. It's the grace of God that saves me, but the good works that the Holy Spirit does through me are the signs I have been saved by him.”
I nodded. “Yeah, you know, Rain, I tried. I've been trying for such a long time and I can't change.”
“Yeah, I know. Look, I want to challenge you to do something. Start reading the Bible in the New Testament and try to figure out if it's telling you what I'm telling you.”
I nodded.
“Catherine, I'm praying for you.” He grabbed my healthy hand. It was so good to feel his touch after all that time, like the evening moisture of rain after a day full of parching heat.
After I got out of the hospital, I started reading the New Testament like Rain had suggested. I thought about his explanation and I understood. His words and the Bible worked in harmony. Sometimes he would call me. Sometimes he would come over to check on me. He would read scripture with me. “Okay,” I told him one day, “I've gotta get clean. I'm not doing cocaine as much as I have been, but still, I need to get clean.”
“Alright,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“I just need you to take this cocaine I've got hidden here in my closet and get rid of it.”
“Catherine, are you sure it will be good for you to quit cold turkey like that?”
“I've tried everything else. I just know this isn't good for me. I don't want to live this way anymore. And the Bible says that nothing is impossible with God.”
“But this going to be hard. I don't want you to take this lightly.”
“I know it's going to be hard to get clean, stay clean, and I know it's impossible for me. I'm going to trust in God for this.”
“Okay.” He got up and opened my closet door. “You've gotta make sure I get it all.”
“I think I'm down to one bag.” I looked at the bag with the white powder he was pulling out of the closet. I wondered if I could really go my whole life without one more sniff. I got that old feeling that I needed it. I always knew where to get more. But, no, God was going to get me through. God was going to get me and keep me clean.
The first week was the hardest. It didn't feel natural for me to be without that stuff. When I felt like I really needed it, I said, “No, I need you, God. I need to be clean for your service.” I tried to do things so I didn't think about cocaine so much. I played games with Mallory and Kevin and had long theological discussions with Rain. Finally, it got easier, but I knew the longing would never totally go away.
“It's just like the way we as Christians still have our old sin nature,” Rain said, “but we also have the new nature of the Holy Spirit to keep us from giving into temptation.” These days, Rain related everything in life back to God in some way. My old friends hated it, but I liked it. It was so good to know him again, so good to know that he cared again.
After I quit drinking and cocaine, I quit smoking. Then when I felt like I needed something to lift my spirit or something to calm me down, I just prayed and read the Bible. I found comfort and hope there. “For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses,” I read in Hebrews, “but one who has been tempted in all ways as we are, yet without sin. Therefore, let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
I started loving Rain's church. Now I understood those people. I understood why they lived right and why they didn't need drugs to keep them going. Jesus was enough for them. When I got to know the people in that church and told them about the things God had done in my life, it made me even more grateful to God.
It was March of twelfth grade when Rain finally asked me to start going out with him again. We made plans to go to the same college two and a half hours from our hometown in Spiro, Oklahoma. He asked me to marry him right before the spring semester of our sophomore year started and we had a small wedding the following summer. That was a year ago now.
It still amazes me that God had everything in my life under His control and was working it out so that I would be saved back when I still hated Him. I don't know why I even worry. I don't know why I question God about my little baby.
The doorbell finally rings. Rain is looking into my eyes with his eyes still so dark and steady. He holds me for a while and then looks at me again. “What's wrong, baby? Did somebody die or something?” I bring him into the living room, we sit down, and the whole house sighs with his arrival.
