That Was Then... (8 page)

She frowned. “Are you saying my baby’s not worth the good stuff?”

“Not at all. But I happen to like Target.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

Of course, as we left the mall, I was plagued with guilt. I do not want to have another shower for Nat. It seems like I barely recovered from the last one. Maybe someone from church will do it. Or someone from Ben’s family. Maybe even Caitlin!

I’ve been working part time at the Paradiso, and I really like it. For one thing, it gets me out of the house, but besides that, it’s a great way to meet new people. And I’m finding out I actually like that.

“Want to jam with us on Saturday?” Chloe asked me tonight as I was wiping down the espresso machine just before closing.

“But I work.”

“Not until the afternoon.” She points to the schedule. “We can quit by noon.”

“Sounds great!”

“And if we work something out, maybe you’ll want to play with us during open mike too.”

“That’d be awesome,” I told her.

“Can I ask you something?” she said after the last couple left the coffeehouse.

“Sure.” I rinsed the dishrag out in the sink and turned to look at her. I could tell by the tone of her voice that this was something serious. I hoped I hadn’t done something wrong. I was usually very careful, but you never know.

“You and Nat are best friends,” she began in a hesitant voice. “And I don’t want to be nosy, but Caitlin’s been really worried about Ben. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the planet. And I realize he’s working and they’re newlyweds and stuff, but do you know how they’re doing? Is everything okay?”

I took a deep breath and considered my answer.

“I wouldn’t ask,” she said quickly, “but Caitlin is such a good friend to me. And she’s too nice to ask anyone herself. She keeps saying they probably need to give Ben space. But he hasn’t talked to Josh or Cesar or anyone. And that just doesn’t seem right to me.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I can understand the concern.”

“But if you can’t tell me, I’ll understand.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to decide what to do. “Nat has told me not to tell anyone…But I will say this—there are some problems.”

Chloe nodded. “That’s understandable. I mean, seriously, what a hard way to start a marriage.”

“It’s been hard. On both of them, Chloe. And the truth is—I’m really worried about both of them. And
without revealing too much, I think that Josh should go have a talk with Ben.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t tell you anything, did I?”

“No. Not really. But I’ll tell Josh to give Ben a call.”

“Not just a call,” I said suddenly. “I mean Josh should make a point to actually see Ben. Even if he has to pop in at work, or at the apartment, or whatever.” Okay, I knew I was starting to sound urgent then. But I really wanted someone else—someone besides me—to know what was going on.

And as I sit here writing this, I’m thinking that Nat’s black eye wasn’t from the cupboard. Ben had probably been drinking, gotten angry like Nat said he does sometimes, and hit her. And that just makes me sick. In fact, if Josh doesn’t follow up on this, I think I will. I will ask Nat to tell me what’s going on, and I will tell someone. Maybe not their parents. But I could tell Caitlin and Josh or Pastor Tony. They should know what to do.

Making this decision feels like a heavy load’s been lifted from me. And before I go to bed tonight, I will really be praying for Nat and Ben. I’ll be asking God to get them some real help.

This was our first Thanksgiving without Mom. And it was weird how it hit both Dad and me pretty hard. Earlier this week, Dad found out that ski season would open on
Thanksgiving Day, and he suggested we go on up there. At the time it sounded great. And maybe it was, but it was tough too.

The snow was fairly good, and it was awesome being on my snowboard again, but the slopes were conspicuously empty, and my guess was that everyone else was home having turkey with their families. I’m sure Dad felt this too. So instead of being a good distraction from what—rather who—we were missing, it felt as if our grief was in the spotlight. But we never mentioned this as we took advantage of the short lift lines, until the place finally started to dose at four.

“I thought we could grab a bite to eat on our way home,” Dad said as he stuck our equipment in the back of my Jeep. I’d offered to drive today, hoping this would be good practice for me and maybe Dad wouldn’t worry so much if I came back up here again for snowboarding.

“Sounds good.” I climbed in and started the ignition. We didn’t talk much as I drove to the nearest town. And we quickly discovered that the only place open was a very nice restaurant, where they were serving a special Thanksgiving menu.

“Hey, we’ll get our turkey, after all,” I told Dad as we went inside.

But I could tell that he wasn’t too happy with this. And finally, after the waiter brought our food, I had to ask him what was wrong.

“I’m sorry, Kimmy,” he said sadly. “I was just remembering…”

“Mom?”

He nodded.

“I’ve been missing her too.”

He nodded again.

“But we’ll get through this.” I tried to sound more hopeful than I felt at the moment.

“Yes. I know.” But I could see his eyes glistening.

“I’ve heard that holidays are the worst,” I said, a lump growing in my throat.

“Yes.” Now he looked around the restaurant, as if taking it all in—the wood beams, the pine-paneled walls. Finally his gaze fixed on the large stone fireplace that was burning cheerfully. “This is where I brought your mother last New Year’s Eve.”

I stared at the fireplace. “Oh.”

“She loved this place.”

Now I looked back at his untouched food. “We can go, Dad,” I said quickly. “I’m really not that hungry.”

“No…” He shook his head and reached for his fork.

Then we both picked at our food in silence. And before I knew what hit me, tears were slipping down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kim,” he said when he noticed me blotting my eyes with my napkin. “I didn’t mean to upset you too.”

“No…” I waved my napkin at him. “It’s not your fault, Dad. I just, you know, miss her—a lot. I mean, I was thinking about her pumpkin pie today. I don’t like anyone else’s pumpkin pie. And now we’ll never have it again.”

“Maybe you could make it,” he suggested with a hopeful expression. “Use her recipe.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“She’d like that, Kim.”

“I know.” I looked around the restaurant again. No wonder Mom loved this place. It was really pretty cool with the softly burning oil lamps and old pieces of art on the wall. “I think she’s glad that we’re eating here, Dad.”

His eyes lit up a little. “I think you’re right.”

Finally, we’d eaten as much as we wanted, and the waiter came over. “We’ve got a really good pumpkin pie to go with the special,” he told us with a bright smile.

But we both declined. My dad asked for the check, and I carefully drove us home. Happy Thanksgiving. Okay, I guess it could’ve been worse. The good thing is that it’s over. One less holiday to get through this year.

Yesterday was so cool. I jammed with Redemption. They’re trying some new things, some quieter, mellower songs, and I actually worked pretty well with them. And so later that night, I joined them for an open mike performance, and it was so awesome. Okay, I know they won’t be inviting me to join their band anytime soon, but it was pretty cool just the same.

Chloe didn’t mention anything about Ben today. And I was sort of glad. I’m sure she passed along to her brother what I said by now. And hopefully he’s on it. But
to my disappointment, Ben and Nat weren’t at church today. And when I called their apartment this afternoon, Nat sounded pretty gloomy. I really wanted to mention my conversation with Chloe to her but knew that would be a dead giveaway that I’d said something. Even if I didn’t give any specifics. Instead, I just kept the conversation light and finally told Nat to call me if she needed to talk or anything.

“Thanks,” she said as if she really meant it. “I really do appreciate you, Kim.”

And, okay, that just broke my heart. I mean, I was thinking about poor Natalie living in that horrible little apartment, going to the pregnant girl school, putting up with Ben’s anger and drinking binges—and was it possible that he was abusing her too? It just made me feel really sick.

I’d be tempted to go over there right now, but it’s Ben’s day off, and I can’t stand the thought of seeing him face to face. I’m getting really mad at this guy. I’m thinking, grow up! I mean, sure, Ben never wanted this, but he made all the choices that landed him here. No one forced him to have sex with Nat. No one held a gun to his head to marry her. And I’m sorry, but if he’s feeling trapped right now, well, it’s a trap of his own making. Get over it, Benjamin O’Conner!

I didn’t have much success talking to Nat this week. It felt like she was trying to shut me out, acting like everything between her and Ben was perfectly fine and good and brushing off any questions that got too close.

And when I talked to her yesterday, she actually sounded pretty good. She told me how she and Ben had gone to his parents for Thanksgiving and how great it had been and how cool it was to be part of their family. “Josh and Caitlin were there too,” she gushed. “And everyone is getting so excited about the baby. And it sounds like Caitlin is going to give me a baby shower.”

Well, I must admit that’s a relief.

So what was to prepare me for what happens today? On second thought, it might be better not to expect these kinds of things. Anyway, it starts off with a
frantic phone call, early in the morning. My dad sleepily brings the phone to my room, telling me it’s Natalie.

“Kim,” she says in a frantic voice. “I need help!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come over?”

“I—uh—I guess.”

“Right now?”

“I’m not even dressed.”

“Please, Kim. I need you right now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask again. “Is it the baby?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just hurry.”

So I’m feeling a little freaked as I pull on some clothes and rush through the house.

“Anything wrong?” my dad asks as he measures out the coffee.

“I don’t know. Natalie sounds pretty upset.”

“Is she having the baby?”

“I don’t think so,” I say as I dig in my bag for my keys. “She wouldn’t say what was wrong. She just wanted me to come.”

He frowns. “Hopefully she’s just being dramatic.”

“Hopefully,” I say as I leave.

But as I drive downtown I feel fairly sure that she’s not just being dramatic. And when I go into her apartment, it’s obvious that something is wrong. Really wrong. Although there’s no vomit on the floor this time, the place is a wreck, and I see what appear to be broken
dishes swept into a pile in a comer and a broken chair that’s sitting in a heap.

“What happened?” I ask in a voice that’s much calmer than I feel.

“Ben flipped out.” She’s pacing back and forth in the tiny living room now, wringing her hands as tears pour down her face. “He was drunk—and—and he was being mean—and—and he told me he hated me and that he didn’t want to be married and that he’d—he’d rather be dead.”

“Oh, Nat.” I go over and put my arms around her, and I’m amazed at how big her stomach has gotten. But she is shaking, and it feels like she’s about to fall completely apart.

“I—I don’t know what to do, Kim.”

“Sit down,” I tell her as I lead her to the futon, which is still in one piece. “Just sit here and try to breathe.” Then I go to the kitchen, where the cupboard doors are hanging open, some by only one hinge, and I find a glass and fill it with water. Who knows why I do this? But I take it back and tell her to drink it slowly. And she does.

I glance toward the closed bedroom door. “Is Ben in there?”

She shakes her head and hands me back the glass. “He left.”

“In his car?”

She shrugs.

“He was driving his car, Nat? Drunk?”

“I guess…”

This is
not
good. Nat is still shaking, and I’m afraid I’m not helping much. “Have you had anything to eat, Nat?”

She just gives me this blank look.

So I go back in the kitchen and pour her a glass of orange juice and bring it back. “Drink this. Remember it’s not just you…it’s the baby too.”

So she drinks it, and I think maybe she’s not shaking so much. But as I sit there, I do not know what to do. It’s like I can’t wrap my mind around this whole situation—a situation that I’ve felt was wrong from the get-go. Not that I’m glad to have been right about this. I would’ve much rather been wrong.

“I don’t know what to do, Kim,” she says again. “I’ve just been walking around the apartment for hours, trying to figure out what to do.”