Everything’s Coming Up Josey, page 25
Hmm.
I open it. And something inside me lets out a wail.
Caleb? What?
Oh, my heart be still!
I sit there, watching the cursor blink, feeling nauseous. How could she do this? Did she do it from my identity? She must have, then deleted his name from my user list.
I’m going to kill her. Take her furs and wrap them around her skinny neck and dangle her from the balcony.
I open the next file. More correspondence, more lies. More Chase saying how he misses me. Chitchat about his day. Fairly innocuous stuff, if you’ve known someone for a lifetime and are just enjoying friendship. If you’re not spearing your roomie who’s shared her popcorn with you through the heart.
I hear her key, then the door opens. I exit quickly and close the computer. But my heartbeat is in my ears, cutting off all thought. Tracey walks in, smiling, and all I can think is, two steps and a lunge and she’s on her back while I pummel her.
Missionary Kills Roommate Over False IM Identity.
Maybe that’s not the etching I want to make on the landscape of Russia. I swallow, rise, grab my computer and go to my room, manufacturing a smile that, with the right outfit, would confuse me with a Siberian Tiger.
“She used your identity?”
I am so thankful to hear the disbelief in Caleb’s voice. It’s been nearly a week since discovering Tracey’s double-cross, and while I haven’t yet dangled her from the balcony, I have spent a lot of time asking forgiveness for the litany of names that rise from the depths of my mind like flotsam.
“I can’t believe it. And, when I fished through the deleted files, I found two letters from Chase and one from Milton, telling me about Jasmine. Not only that, she deleted my outgoing letter to Chase, the one where I told him…that I, umm…well, I am going to kill her.”
Caleb and I are sitting in McDonald’s, the scene of our first non-date, and like the true friend he is, he’s treated me to a shake and fries. He’s looking Hawaiian today in a floral shirt, cargo shorts and Birks. And I was right about the business trip.
“Don’t kill her, Jose.” He reaches out and touches my arm. He still has kind eyes, and he uses them now with humbling effect.
“I am kidding, Caleb.”
“I know, but your heart isn’t. You want to hate her. And that’s normal. But the fact is, you have a chance here to be someone more than what you want to be.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
“Ephesians 2:4. ‘But, because of His great love for us, God, Who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you’ve been saved.’”
I deliberately suck my shake loudly, hoping he sees I’m not buying. I pull out my straw and run my tongue along the end. “Nope.”
“Josey, c’mon. All year you’ve been praying for Tracey. This is your chance to show her a taste of that mercy and grace God gave you. It could be the very reason why God sent you here this year.”
And here I thought it was because we shared a similar heartbreak, not because she was going to pull a Jasmine in my life.
I stare at him, however, and with a cha-ching in my heart, I understand.
To the Praise of His Glory. That’s what it means. To do the hard thing not because I can, but because God can. Because He is trustworthy to work it all out, and because He loves me. And by forgiving Tracey in the face of betrayal reveals the very essence of Christ.
Wow. Not sure I’m up for that task. Again, maybe that’s the point.
Still, I cringe, shove the straw into the cup and bury my face in my hands. “No. I’m not forgiving her. N. O. T.”
I feel Caleb’s hand on my arm. Again, no tingles, but it’s warm and strong and in it I feel his very displaced hope. “Jose, what have you learned this year?”
I swallow, breathe deep. “I don’t know, Caleb. Maybe that I’m an utter failure at this missionary stuff?”
Caleb laughs and it brings my gaze to his. His eyes are sweet, full of humor. Excuse me, what part of my roomie homing in on my non-boyfriend is funny?
“For one, if I know Chase, you have nothing to fear. And two, I don’t know a perfect missionary, Jose. The fact that you’re not is a good thing. If we had it all together, then we wouldn’t need God, would we?”
I frown at him, because, as usual, he’s so much deeper than I ever hope to be.
“‘For it is by grace that you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works so that no one can boast.’ It means that we’ll never get it right, but that God saves us anyway. He knows you can’t forgive Tracey on your own. But He’ll give you the power you need.”
The power I need. The power to pack up my life in two suitcases and move to Moscow, the power to surf the subway, eat liver peroshke, wear leather, hug a muddy Tracey, and grit my teeth and speak the truth to Rebecca.
The power to trust the process, even when it seems like I’m at a standstill. Or headed south.
I take Caleb’s hand. “Okay, fine. I’ll forgive her, if you pray for me.”
“Done.” He grins and it feeds the wounded places in my chest. “And, by the way, here is the letter Chase left you.”
Dear Josey,
I miss you. I should have said that when I was standing there looking at you and your Russian boyfriend, but I was so shocked, well, words couldn’t form in my brain fast enough. I felt like I’d been skewered.
And then I realized it was my fault.
Because, up until this point, I felt like you needed to wake up and realize that you loved me. But maybe that’s the problem. You never will, because you don’t.
I was just kidding, sorta, about going to Irian Jaya. Because I wanted to see your reaction. I wanted to see if you’d be heartbroken, if you truly loved me, or not.
Now I know the truth. You were right when you told me before I went away to UND that we’d only be friends. And, I tried to accept that. Even dated other girls, including Elizabeth. But the thing is, although that might be true for you, it will never be enough for me.
Because I love you. You’re in my every thought, in my breath, in my heartbeat. I think about you all the time, and have since I asked you to marry me while we were making our tree fort.
I put too much stock in your “of course” answer. It’s taken me years to realize that you don’t even remember that.
I came to Russia to see if you missed me half as much as I missed you. And, I got my answer. As painful as it was to see you with your friend, I don’t want to stand in your way. I want you to be that girl God wants you to be even if it is a million miles from me.
I am still so very proud of you. And, even if you can’t see it, I see God working in your life. I know that following Him, you’ll be okay. And so, I resign as your protector, your Chase-Me. (You didn’t think I knew about that, did you?)
But I will always love you.
Chase
I hear nothing but the scribbling of pencils and I feel like my English professor on the last day of class, peering out upon her subjects. Evgeny glances up now and again, gives me a smile. All those extra hours in private tutoring have cemented his place in my heart, and if he doesn’t pass this exam, it’s going to cut a chunk out of me. Vera and Lera are sitting across the room from each other—my move. Not that I think they’d cheat…okay, yes, it crossed my mind. Because although I believe Lera a billion times more than Matthew, the fact is that she probably did have some part to play in the Matthew fiasco. Matthew and Rebecca and family are in France, and I received an e-mail yesterday filled with smiley face icons from Rebecca. I think that’s a good sign.
I’m not sure yet how I feel about that.
The evening air carries with it the essence of summer. Freshly cut grass, the chirp of sparrows, the sun still high and pushing into the room. After the test, we’re all going out to the American Grill, where Matthew is going to treat us to Oreo malts. (Okay, no, he doesn’t know it yet, but that’s what happens when you leave me with the petty ruble envelope!)
I fold my hands on the desk, still mulling over my conversation with Caleb, and the ensuing one with Tracey.
Alas, it wasn’t pretty, despite my prayers.
Tracey: Are you accusing me of stealing your boyfriend? Excuse me, but I didn’t think you and Chase were an item.
Me: Then why did you say you, alias me, had broken up with Vovka?
Tracey: Because you didn’t see what you had, and I knew, in time, he’d come to love me. In fact, he already does, he just doesn’t know it.
Me: (Trying not to choke) Tracey, listen, it doesn’t matter why you did it. Or that Chase thought he was talking to me. There are only two important things here. 1. You can’t write to Chase on my computer anymore. (Which then leaves her free to write to him on her new one, right? Gulp.) 2. I forgive you.
Tracey: (Frowning. Swallowing. Turning red.) Whatever.
See, all that angst, the bruises on my knees, for naught! I hate it when I’m right.
Only, I’m not right. Because forgiving her has not only stretched me, it’s made me realize that maybe God is doing something good in me. It makes me feel at peace. Whole. Happy.
Sadly, now I don’t know what to do about Chase. I look down at that desk and again, I’m doodling his name. That’s about as far as I get. Because, what, exactly, do I say to him?
Hi, Chase, Just a note to let you know you were hornswaggled, and the woman you were talking to was my roomie, but that’s okay, because I really love you….
Yeah, and then he deletes my e-mail and packs for Indonesia.
Probably I’m overreacting, but still, I’m wondering if this conversation might be better eyeball-to-eyeball. Or lip to lip. Yes, I have been thinking about that scenario more than that is healthy.
Only, what if he really is in love with Tracey? Her humor, her wit, her words?
Yeah, but I have home-court advantage.
Still, the fear haunts me, and has paralyzed all action.
I will always love you.
I feel a smile creep up my face as I hear Sergei rise and thump to the front of the room. He hands in his paper with a grin. “Maladyets,” I say to him in congratulations.
He gives me a “hang loose.” Thanks again, Chase, for that sign language lesson.
I “peace” him back, and watch him clomp out of the room. He works on a construction crew by day, and I’ll miss the smell of sawdust as well as his smile.
In fact, I’ll miss them all. Evgeny’s melted-chocolate eyes, Lera and Vera’s giggles, Sergei’s I-ron. I’ll miss the way they look at me like I might have answers, even wisdom. I’ll miss their chuckles when I try and use my own pitiful, Tonto Russian.
In fact, I think that, without knowing it, I’ve given them a rather large chunk of my heart. The thought sweeps my breath away and my eyes burn.
Lord, I pray that You would give them a spirit of wisdom and revelation so that they might know You better. Know their salvation, the richness of being Your children and the resurrection power that You give.
Yeah, that feels right.
Evgeny rises, brings his exam to the front. “Spaceeba,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” he answers with a grin. I could easily enjoy his smile for the next decade.
There is one consolation in my leaving—every member of my class is saved. They’re all headed to Bible college, or ministry.
But, you know, I’ll be leaving Tracey and Vovka and even Auntie Milla for eternity.
I put a hand to my chest, push against the sudden rush of pain. I can’t help but feel that if I were taking the exam, it wouldn’t take long for God to grade.
One by one, they finish and an hour later I’m locking Matthew’s office. Evgeny is waiting for me, as are a handful of other students. “Let’s party,” says Evgeny. Another Chase phrase.
I can’t escape him.
It’s nearly midnight and about a thousand calories later when Evgeny walks me home. I leave him at the lift (which I ride up, just for a change of pace) and my heart stops dead in my throat when I see a figure hunched over at my door.
Chase?
No, Vovka.
I try not to cringe as I draw closer, but really, didn’t we talk about this? Except, he’s wearing a crumpled expression, one that streaks ice through my veins. He stands and for a second I think he’s going to cry.
“Vovka, what’s the matter?”
He does cry. And you know how that makes me feel. I can already feel my inside start to cook.
“It’s my babushka. She’s had a stroke.”
What? No! I brace my hand against the wall, feeling the corridor sway. “Is she okay?”
He nods. “But she wants to see you before you leave.”
I know it is probably a bad idea, but I reach out and give him a hug. He wraps those gorgeous, muscular arms around me and holds tight. I can hear his heartbeat against his mesh shirt, feel him tremble. But there are no tingles, and any lingering doubts I had about dumping him are scuttled.
“How about we visit her in the morning?” I still have a couple days until my flight leaves, and about a billion people to shop for, but I can certainly sacrifice a morning for the woman who taught me how to use my stove, among other things.
“Thank you, Zhozey.”
Not sure why he’s thanking me, especially since my breaking up with him is probably the thing that drove her over the edge.
Ouch. Missionary Causes Death of Neighbor.
Not quite what I meant when I said I wanted to add a soul to the eternal attendance ledger.
Chapter Eighteen:
The Gold Ring
I am up early, due to the summer sun and the noises in the kitchen. Even for Tracey this is early….
She’s packed. And hauling her bags out the door with the help of a taxi driver. While I feel like an idiot standing in my Taz T-shirt, I’m even more stunned at the cold look she gives me.
“Where are you going?”
She smiles, and yes, I feel a shiver. She’s wearing a pair of black-and-orange stretch pants and a nearly mesh black top. “Gull Lake, Minnesota.”
I want to lunge for her throat, but I’m paralyzed. Frozen. My mouth opens, but no words emerge. What?
“I told you. Chase loves me, not you, and I just have to tell him who he’s been writing to and he’ll get it. Besides, when I add in the fact that you’re still dating Vovka, what can he say?”
I blink, racing to keep up. “You’re going to Gull Lake?”
She laughs, hands her bag out to the driver.
“But I’m not dating Vovka.”
“That’s not what it looked like last night in the hallway.”
Huh? Oh, no, the hug!
“Tracey, you can’t do this—”
She rounds on me and I freeze, because she is taller, and wears all those animal skins. Still, if she thinks she’s stealing Chase…
“I’m sick of you having all the right answers, and your happy attitude all the time. You didn’t even get angry when you saw I stole your computer ID—you don’t deserve Chase. You dumped him and he’s free game. He loves me now.”
If she wants to see me angry…“Oh, please. He doesn’t even know you.”
“He will. He’ll see that I’m the one who can make him happy.” She has tears in her eyes, and I’m not sure if that is an edge of desperation in her voice, or challenge. “Besides…you don’t need Chase like I do.”
She turns and before I can protest, slams the door behind her.
Need Chase? I’ve always needed Chase. But more importantly, she’s going to Gull Lake? I should have tossed her over the balcony when I had the chance.
I’m still standing there, feeling like someone scraped me over a glacier when I hear another knock. Excuse me, it’s only 6:00 a.m.
It’s Vovka. “You should change.”
Really? Because I thought I’d run out in my jammies. “I’ll be out in a bit.”
“I’ll be next door.”
Right. I shut the door, lean against it. I’ve sent my neighbor to the hospital and my roommate is going to sabotage the last chance I have with the man I love. Not that I have great fears that Tracey will snag him, but certainly the Vovka thing is the last thing Chase needs to hear.
