Baby Jared

Dear Levi,


1.8.14


I'm worried there is something wrong with Santana.... you had her parked out on the side the other day when I was headed to Best Buy, and I know you should be at work. I've seen you carpooling with people and part of me thought maybe you're just being really social but then again.... I'm worried. Is everything okay with your car? Do you need funds to fix her? I want to help so badly. I ache to be a part of your world. But you don't want me or my help or my concern. You don't care about me at all, to make it even worse.


At church, I got to see baby Jared, the little boy I got to hold just after he was born. My very first time ever. He has gotten so big! His head, mostly. Too huge and oddly-shaped. Poor, ugly baby. Now two months old. But I loved his eyes, so quiet and calm and observant. I didn't get to hold him but I did get to hold Uriah's hand as I walked with him and Ms. Grace to the gym. It thrilled my heart. She didn't really ask much about me, and I'm tired of being the sad story so I just stayed to simple, pleasant conversation. But I ache to just cry and get a hug. She hasn't asked how I'm doing even though she and Bro. Jon met with me last summer. Maybe I'm too proud now. I feel so... hollow.


At church, Kate was in the nursery. So I was on my own. I went to the balcony and staked out my space and sat alone. It was fine. I don't mine being alone. It was fuller than before, as this is the last service before all the Heartland students are back. I felt happy but then again.... sad. So sad. Always sad, nowadays. When was the last time I was happy? But part of me was glad to be alone in church. This was more honest, more real, more true.


I saw Tim out of the corner of my eye. Sitting in the balcony, too, now. Which surprised me. During handshake song, which I dreaded, he came over. Which surprised me, even more. I was the opposite way of the crowd. When I saw him headed to my empty pew, I froze. Literally. It was like my stomach died and my mouth went completely dry. I wanted to step back a pew. It was crazy, the flight instinct that rushed into my brain at his approach. I don't know why I react this way to him. But he scares me. And it makes my heart hurt. It's like a claustrophobic person stepping into an elevator. The rush of paranoia, fear, and blood through the skin. Knowing there's really not a reason to be afraid, but then again... there could be....


I wanted to close my eyes and not see him. To just will it away. But I couldn't. On Sunday, I'd been able to duck out of a legitimate encounter by just looking down and letting the crowd pull me away. This time, I was completely exposed. I didn't want to stand there assuming he was coming for me, maybe it was someone beyond me? But I didn't want to turn and find someone else to save me and blatantly declare that I'm a coward or trying to avoid him... because I'm not... at least, technically...

He kept it mercifully brief. Sure enough, shook my hand. The same genuine, probing question, "How are you doing, Noelle?" I kept my lies firmly in place. "Great, thanks. How about you?"

"I'm doing good."

And that was all that was required. To say anything else would be deliberate prolongation. But since he was still standing there, I wracked up a safe, impersonal question. "Ready for classes?"

He shrugged, so nonchalant. "Eh. Maybe." But he was turning to go, now, and I let out a deep breath. Had I been holding it? I wasn't aware. I thought the choking sensation was purely psychotic.

"Well, you don't have a lot of time to prepare!" and I smiled brightly, like I cared.

"Eh.... maybe I will. Maybe not." He was heading away, but still turned towards me. I didn't recognize the apethy. It wasn't like his normal coolness or superiority. But what do I know about him. All my brain could think was the deliberate word: Traitor. "It will be good to have people back. Less lonely."

I wanted to gag. What do you know about loneliness, Tim? Instead, I focused my eyes away from him and across the balcony to the invisible distance. "Yes, it will be..." and let the conversation dangle off.

He was gone.

The music was finishing up.

I grabbed my songbook and missed Bailey and Pearl next to me. You're so lonely, Tim? With three guys and your sister next to you? Don't tell me about being alone. I found my hands shaking so badly I couldn't read. But that was okay, it I knew it by heart. I folded my arms across my ribs and wrapped myself up as tightly as I could. And I defaulted to my normal defense from all the Sundays in the choir and on stage, facing the gladiator lions of glowing Anna and elusive Levi. I sang. Fully volume, from the bottom of my diaphragm, near my aching stomach. Just sang, and blocked out the exchange.

And let my cheeks cool down, because they were apparently blazing. And waiting for the shakes to calm down, because they were like live wires through my limbs. And my heartbeat to calm down, because it was lurching so painfully that I was afraid it was truly on the verge of a breakdown. It was amazing.

I remember Chicago, the neuro-science university. When they were doing studies on me. When they shot a chemical into my drip-line that surged through my arteries and set all my fluids on fire. Scorching, bitter bile through my head, my stomach, even my fingertips. I was powerless to control it, amazed by it and my helplessness to control what was going on with my body. Tonight... felt so much like that. Completely out of control, completely powerless.

And Pastor Gaddis preached from Ephesians 3. About restoration. About unity. And I let the tears curl down my cheeks and drop onto my lap and no one was around to notice. Because there is no restoration, no matter how much I pray about it. Somehow, maybe, Tim's unsettling politeness is an answer of God. But I don't understand it. And Levi? Levi is farther away than ever.

Later that night, looking into baby Jared's calm ocean eyes, I mourned the child I would never have as my own. My own little baby Levi, baby Matthew. Baby Francesca or Chardonnay.

And I drove home all alone.

Because this is my life now.

Your star,
Rigel