Crossing Paths

Crossing Paths, 12.15.13

Dear Levi,

Another Sunday. I was pretty sure you would still be here, although the other Heartland students have all gone. Last night I took Bailey and Pearl out to Yukon to see the lights. We stopped by Panera to get hot chocolates and shared soup for dinner in the abandoned dorms so we could open our Christmas gifts. Bailey hand crafted my box and designed a vintage black and gold Paris coffee mug for me. I was speechless when I noticed she included a small jar of country raspberry jam, remembering how I’d told her once that was traditional Russian for good health for the cold winter months. Since she’s American, she also tucked in tea, hot chocolate, and marshmellows. I was at a loss what to get her and ended up with a bracelet from Gordon’s jewelers where you add on a charm each year. I started out with simple sterling silver bead with diamond flecks. She said it was her first diamonds ever! Part of me is so afraid on the inside, calmly accepting the risk that someday she may walk away from me, too, like Andrea and you whom I also invested so much money and time and love into. I hope my heart will be ready if that ever happens. I don’t know what to do now that she isn’t around. Washington seems farther away than ever…

Sunday morning was so unusual. Since Kendon started working the night shift, he is used to be awake at insanely early hours. He couldn’t sleep so he came banging into my room to announce he was going grocery shopping. On a Sunday morning. At five a.m. Because he couldn’t sleep and did I need anything? I had to laugh through my yawns. We had bought tickets last night and gone to see Homefront at the theatre in Tinseltown. That theatre always makes me sad, always reminds me of my best friend. I had to ask to get off of work early from Panera but Mary let me. That was so nice.

I found a place to fix my car. I’m not going to bother with the locks, it costs too much and still leaves the car vulnerable. But a place down the road is going to take the car Wednesday and install a keyless entry and alarm. It seems to fancy in my head… for this poor little beat up junker of a car. And part of me is sad, because you won’t be able to get in anymore with your copy of my key that you interestingly enough never returned. I don’t want change. I want you to be closer, not farther away…

We had sound checks for our ensamble song, Away in the Manger, Flow Gently Sweet Afton. An old carol set to vintage Irish lullaby. It is so pretty. I wasn’t sure you would be there so I wore the outfit you didn’t see that week you away in Still water – the tight, curvy black pencil skirt with fluer d lis design, and a flowing white Grecian blouse with shimmering gold circles. I added a long, glittery beaded necklace for an extra touch of shine to help lighten up the dark nylons and sexy black booties that Nina bought with me during my trip home in August. The curls turned out pretty great, as usual, but they have grown out so much the roots look awful. I need to do my hair… but all my funds are going to the car this month. Sigh. At least there is the bittersweet knowledge you won’t be close enough to notice.

I was walking up to the Crossbearers with dread when out the big windows of the foyer I saw Brittany and Anna walking up, arm in arm, looking perfect in big curls and bows and a short, very short jean skirt and a lovely canary yellow peacoat that I wanted to find so badly. I’m sure you love it. Your color, yellow. Wow. She looked so perfect, like a little princess, that I walked away and felt the same old tears burning in my eyes and clawing at my throat.

I walked into Sunday School, and faced an empty class. I sat by Jen, but it was so quiet. So awful. I fidgeted for about ten minutes, then gave up and made my escape, leaving my bulky purse and binder to mark my space.

I wandered down the hall to the big windows and watched the cars pulling in and families get out and make their way like little ants across the asphalt. The verse God had given me from Psalms a while back echoed in my head, “He has put the solitary in families.” But as I watched little kids holding their dad’s hands and the moms all pretty and secure at their sides, I had to wonder where my family was.

And then I saw the green of Santana, way off in the bus cage. It intrigued me that you park there. It’s not like you are late or the spots closer up are crowded. But I watched you get out, in a green shirt I knew so well, and put on your suitcoat. No McDonald’s frappe today. You walked around to the passenger side, and it was locked. You stopped to dig back out your keys, inlock it, and pull out your Bible. Then you turned and started the long walk in the blissful sunshine to the building. I wondered if you would see me. Notice. Care. Be angry.

I stepped back a little, but couldn’t help but watch. You looked so agonizingly beautiful. So happy, and carefree… and my little Levi. Turning down a ride from the golf cart with practiced ease, hurring on to church. I watched you and felt like I was dead, and watching from heaven. Maybe then I wouldn’t mind so much that you were hurrying in to your new princess, the one with perfect hair and bows and short skirts and a yellow coat. As it was, I watched until you disappeared inside and even then, I stared out some more.

The people down below blurred out of my vision as the tears slowly began to trickle down my face. Empty tears, tired tears, wordless tears of sadness. There just are no words for the hollowness I feel in my soul. Seeing you… all I could hear was your sweet, gentle voice talking to me in days long gone by.

Hi there little Noelle! You look so cute! I love you baby girl… my little turtle… my princess… Thank you for always being there for me.

I stood there and let time drift by and people drift by and stayed in the past, in those memories. They didn’t hurt as much as the present. Where you would be hurrying by me and rushing in to the safety of Anna’s little circle. Where you would be welcomed in the Heartland class, where I was not. Where someone would see the warmth of your caramel eyes this beautiful morning, and I had nothing but a dull view out the big, lonely windows.

After Sunday school, I decided I had to speak with someone about getting into a ministry one Sunday morning. It was killing me, ripping me open on the inside, this one hour that was a constant reminder of what I have lost. More than just my best friend. My whole world.

In choir, I vaguely spotted you and Anna all alone up in the balcony in a cattycorner pew. Well, that was cozy. I tried to tone down the jealousy with a blanket of deadness. I was dead. How could I feel anything? As long as she made you happy. As long as she takes better care of you than I did. That is all that should matter now. I made sure not to look that direction and was slightly proud of myself in a masochistic way that I successfully kept my eyes down and a fixed, pleasant smile on my face the whole dang service.

When it was time for my ensamble to sing, it was horrible not to be able to look up and see your reaction. See your face. I wonder what my presence in the special music does to you. Does it make you proud? Angry? Does it make Anna jealous? Or do you not even notice at all? Not knowing is so hard, but I refused to allow myself to even look that way. Because my specials aren’t about you or me. They are about God. About his goodness to me in this darkness, and praising him with the voice he has given me. It’s about God.

After church, I went to my car in a hurry to go home and sleep. As I buckled in, I saw you getting in Santana across the lot. Which is pretty amazing considering all the cars and distance between us. I wondered by God let me see it. See any of it. Obviously, there is a reason.

And I decided not avoid the temptation to wait, and hurried along my usual route home. I did check the rear view mirrors, in case you appeared on my bumper like that wonderful, excruciating afternoon in the autumn, but there was nothing there. And then I had to laugh… because I spotted you ahead of me by about six cars.

What were the odds?

Pretty good, maybe, since this was apparently your usual route, too. I figure it is going to either Anna’s or the Medrano’s, since my hunch is she is living with them. And I’m sure you get on 44 south and end up in some nice, fancy neighborhood in Moore or Norman. Probably why you two had such an easy summer, living in the green plains to the south while I was exiled to the far bitter north above the lake. Probably helping each other out during the tornados. Probably just perfect… everything seems perfect about her.

You got ahead when I got stopped by two red lights and I gave up. I knew where you were headed, anyways. In the opposite direction of me.

I drove home… fed Patrick. Cooked fajitas for Kendon and we shared a simple prayer at the table. Spoke with Mom and Dad on the phone, then crawled into bed. Before I fell into an exhausted sleep, I said a prayer for you. I don’t remember it because I fell asleep so hard.

Tonight was special music meeting. Bro Don got on people for using Trevor too much. I guess I should be lucky he played my Sunday School special. I asked him about singing in church, and he hedged about so many people on the roster already. I just calmly conversed with him and got him to fix the way my name was spelled on the sheet (both names wrong!) and he told me I wouldn’t need to speak with him again because he would be trying to work me in eventually and I’d just get a notice a month in advance through the mail. I decided I’d wait three months and then ask him again in April. I want to sing in church.

Bless her heart, Kate Walley was ready to save me a spot. And as I hurried over to the teen department, feeling completely safe… I was shocked to see you and Anna and Brittany sitting with the teens. I was used of seeing her there on Wednesday’s… but not you. Not once.

I stopped a few rows back, staggering in surprise, and quickly texted Kate.

HELP!

I decided it wouldn’t be so bad to sit in front of you a good number of rows. I didn’t mind you having to see me when I look so put together. As long as I didn’t have to be near you at all. And as long as I didn’t have to sit and watch you and her.

But while I waited for Kate, I noticed Anna was wearing a thin, sheer yellow blouse showing off her bra straps and chunks of flesh down her back. Wow. Her hair was curled and huge and perfect. But you two weren’t talking. All talked out over the afternoon? I was too tired to try to figure it out. All I know is I felt so… plain and withered… compared to her. Why would you ever look at me again? I’ll never be as pretty as her. Can’t happen.

Bless her heart, Kate came back and offered to sit on the very back row with me. I laughed because I didn’t want to be thwarted from our spot because of him. I was so done with being exiled all over the place. I was going to stake my space. Maybe if it made him uncomfortable enough, he would make sure never to sit there again. And if not, then he would see me having a good time with a good friend.

So we waltzed passed you and found a seat and I had to laugh because despite my inner bravado, my knees were shaking and my hands were icy and I was completley out of breath. It’s ridiculous, the way you can affect me. I love you. You have my heart. And living without you is agony. That’s all there is to it, no matter how much I lie to myself.

We sang the First Noel as a hymn, and I had to chuckle when Kate asked, “I bet Levi likes singing this song next to his new girlfriend!” And to my horror she turned around and craned across the crowd to see. “Dang, I can’t see his facial expression!”

I yanked on her arm to calm her down. “Kate!” I was so embarressed. Usually people were more delicate about my feelings towards Levi. They knew I still wished him well. But Kate seeme to be a little more defensive over me, and I felt an endearingness towards her. God has given me such good friends.

And the PeeWee club sang The First Noel as well, and my eyes welled up as I watched the little boys and girls and thought of baby Levi and Chardonnay as I dreamed of them. I ached, literally ached, on the inside where my barren womb is. I will never carry his child. I will never have a little Levi to hold close and sing my name and give me hugs around the neck. I will never have a little girl to put bows in her hair and admire her dad’s freckles across her little nose. The thought hurt so badly… the tears gently trickled down my face. I was afraid of my new makeup running, so I had to wipe at them which made it quite obvious I was crying. Sigh.

But the sermon was so good. From Micah 5:2. About the tiny town of Bethlehem that became something so great for God. And Pastor Gaddis called his sermon, “Though Tho Be Little,” and it was just like he was preaching to me! To little Noelle. I underlined the verse and then high lighted it, and then drew an arror with the date, and then added stars for good measure.

After church, you guys disappeared. So did Kate to be with the teens. Kendon was at work. I was already all alone in Oklahoma City. I drove through the dark streets to OnCue to fill the tank and wipe the windows and get everything cleaned out. Then to Starbucks on the Expressway to begin uploading these letters I’ve written but never had internet access to publish.

I wonder where you are for Christmas break. The dorms? The Medrano’s? Will you go home? I don’t know. I just pray. I pray that God would give you another heart, like I read about him doing for Saul, when he made him king.

All I know is that I love you so much.

And I wish the very best for you this Christmas season. It’s so hard… knowing the one year mark is coming up. I’m terrified. I know it will come, and pass, and it’ll be gone… but I’m still so scared. So sad.

I’m so sorry, Levi.

Please be happy.

Please… think of your litle Noelle.

Your star,

Rigel