I HATE the word obligation. Well, no, I don't. I don't mind obligation. Like my obligations to go to choir every day. But I hate when people feel that it applies to them concerning me. Like when people feel obligated to call me. When, really, they're not. I couldn't care LESS whether they called or not. Well, I probably could, but still. I'd honestly rather they didn't call at all than simply calling out of obligation. I don't know why it bothers me so much. I guess because I want to feel like my friends are actually friends, rather than just friends because they feel "obligated" for whatever reason.
And just for the record, if you're reading this, think how degrading it is to wonder if you're just calling because she told you to. Not because you just want to talk to me, or even because you're BORED (although I gotta say, that one bothered me a bit, too. I'm just the object that keeps you from being bored? Like a game of cards or a computer? Yeah. Thanks.) Still, I hate that you just call when someone tells you to.
And you know, who knows. I may be blowing it way out of proportion. Maybe you don't feel obligated at all and you really did just call because you wanted to, but where does the fact that I even have to wonder put us? I'm not as bothered as I sound, I promise. You can do whatever you freaking want and it's certainly no skin off my nose. But for future reference, don't call out of some stupid save the world complex obligation. It drives me up the wall, and honestly, now be ready for this, because the truth hurts, but I really don't NEED you.
Gah. The teenage years. Although, I'm starting to wonder, does stupid stuff like this really end when you get out of the teens? I mean, I used to think so, but I gotta admit, I'm not really so sure anymore. lol. It's like that saying. "Growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional." Huh. Thought for the day, I guess. <3
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Golden Birthdays and Caramel Macchiatos
So this is a little thing that I started in Barnes and Noble while I was in Bismarck this last weekend. You all may feel no desire to read it, but if anyone's interested, here it is. It's currently titled Golden Birthdays and Caramel Macchiatos, for lack of a better title, and I'm sure you'll see why if you read the first chapter. ;) I don't have any specific plotline, but I've gotten a long ways in just a couple of days, so hopefully it'll stick. *crosses fingers* anyway, here goes. Blogspot won't format it all pretty like Word Processor, and I don't think it indented anything, either, and I'm too lazy to go through and do it, so you'll just have to bear it. haha. sorry dears. <3 anyway, here it is. Golden Birthdays and Caramel Macchiatos.
Chapter One
Jericho
I stared at my blank laptop screen, taping my finger impatiently against my coffee cup. I was settled in at the little local café, and they had free Wi-fi, thus the attraction to the place. My caramel macchiato was half gone, and I was still waiting for inspiration to hit. I had read once that if you sat around waiting for the inspiration to write, you would never get anything done. I agreed full heartedly, however, how was one supposed to write without inspiration?
I took another sip from the macchiato. I didn’t particularly like the taste of the drink; however, it was loaded with caffeine. And that was required. I couldn’t get anything done ever without my caffeine fix. Yes, I was, and still am, actually, a bit of an addict.
I sighed, the fingers not wrapped around my coffee cup drumming impatiently on the table. It was a paper on angels. How hard could it be? I had all my reference books, including my Bible, piled on the little round table, and I had read all of them. All the information was in my head, and what wasn’t, I could find in one of the reference books. I had everything I needed…except inspiration. I hadn’t the slightest clue how to start this stupid paper; I had never been a writer.
I glanced up as a movement caught my eye. I recognized a boy from my Cherubim Theory class. He sat two seats down, and he had always seemed rather shy, but he seemed to have a pretty good handle on the class, as he was apparently acing it.
“Um, hi. You have Reuben’s 8 o’clock, right?” he asked. His cheeks were scarlet, and he had an unmistakable British accent. I smiled brightly and nodded.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure you sit two seats down from me,” I said with a smile. “Brad, right?”
He nodded, offering me a radiant smile. “Yeah!” he said with a slight laugh. “Um, I was wondering if I could sit?” he asked, gesturing around the room. “Popular place tonight,” he said. The little café was, indeed, packed out, and, at least from my sitting position, I couldn’t see a single open seat.
I smiled and nodded, reaching forward to pull my reference books closer, out of the way, closing my laptop, and gesturing to the chair. “Have a seat,” I said.
Brad smiled again, looking totally relieved. Then another blush lit his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to remember your name,” he said, sounding abashed.
I offered another smile, feeling a small surge of pity for the poor boy; I had never been socially awkward. In fact, I had always been an outgoing little girl. I started up conversations with anyone from practically the moment I started talking. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s Jericho. Jericho Saunders.”
“I thought it started with a J,” Brad said.
I nodded a little. “Yeah, it’s a weird one,” I said. “People never remember my name.”
Brad nodded, looking like he felt a little better, anyway. “So why Jericho?” he asked.
I shrugged a bit. “My mom’s dying wish. I’m not sure why her heart was so set on it. I think there was a story behind it, but Dad won’t say anything.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he said softly. It struck me how proper, how grammatically correct he was. No slang, no abbreviations, no nothing. Then again, I supposed that I spoke “American” to his proper “English.”
I shrugged again. “It’s not really that big a deal to me. I mean, she died in labor, so it’s not like I ever knew her. My dad took it pretty hard, though, I guess. Everyone says it changed him a lot. Again, I wouldn’t know. He’s still a good guy, I mean it’s not like he went off the deep end or anything. He just…changed.”
Brad was gazing at the rim of my coffee cup. “I guess. It still must have been hard not having a mom around.”
“Not really,” I said simply. “I never knew anything different. How can you miss what you’ve never had?”
“I suppose,” Brad said thoughtfully. “I still can’t imagine growing up without my mother.” He nodded toward the books, apparently not fond of such heavy subjects. “Working on Reuben’s paper, eh?” he asked with a slight smirk.
I groaned. “Yeees,” I mumbled. “It’s killing me. I’ve never been a writer. Researcher, yes, definitely. Writer, not so much.”
He laughed. “I’m the exact opposite. I love writing, I hate trying to do research.”
I shook my head. “Are you crazy? Writing is the hardest part. Research is easy! It’s all just plain facts!”
Brad laughed again, and I noticed he had dimples, the adorable kind. “Hardly,” he said simply.
I sighed dramatically. “Apparently you’re just hopeless.”
“I think you’re in more trouble than me. You can do all the research you want, but if you don’t have the paper in by next Friday you’re dead meat.”
I groaned again. “I know,” I said. “I so hate writing.”
He shook his head in a rather amused manner. “Well, if you need help with it, let me know.”
I smiled brightly. “I just might do that,” I said.
He leaned back in his chair, and you could practically see him tense up. What an interesting fellow. Apparently he was even more awkward with new people than I had originally thought. And he wasn’t one for silences.
“So where did you grow up?” I asked, genuinely curious, but trying to get him to calm down a bit as well.
He smiled a little. “Manchester, England,” he said. “You?”
“Aberdeen, South Dakota,” I said easily, trying not to show him how impressed I was by the fact that he was foreign. After all, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already known. He had an accent!
“So we’re both a long ways from home,” he said with a slight smile.
I shook my head. “Not so much for me,” I replied. “My mom grew up in the Washington Oregon area, and most of her family is out here, my grandparents and aunt, namely. My dad used to send me out here every summer to stay with Aunt Harriet, so I’m pretty familiar with the area. We’d always come up here to Cannon Beach and explore the tide pools and stuff. Aunt Harriet’s kind of my mother figure, I guess, and this area was always kind of a second home for me,” I explained. “I’ve been planning to come here to Ecola as soon as I was out of high school since I was like, six,” I added with a slight laugh.
He nodded thoughtfully. “So where is your Aunt Harriet from?” he asked curiously.
“A little town called Stevenson. It’s up by the Columbia Gorge.”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I know it. Then again, I’m not particularly familiar with the area.”
I laughed a little and nodded. “You wouldn’t be. So what brought you from England to Oregon?” I asked curiously. “Why Ecola?”
The expression on his face changed, and I knew instantly that this was an unwelcome subject. “I just needed to get away for a while,” he said stiffly.
“Far away, apparently,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Pardon?” he asked.
I shook my head quickly, glad that I didn’t blush easily. “Oh, I was just talking to myself,” I said, but I thought I probably looked a little too guilty. I moved quickly to change the subject. “So how old are you?”
He smiled a little, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I thought that was a rude question to ask?”
I laughed and shrugged a little guiltily. “It was the first thing that popped into my head,” I replied.
Brad just laughed, and again, I was relieved. I couldn’t quite get his size figured out. One second he was awkward, the next he was open and chatty, and the next he was throwing barriers up left and right. I didn’t think I’d ever met such a mercurial person. “Well, I turned nineteen in August. Yourself?”
“I’ll turn nineteen on…the nineteenth of November,” I said with a grin. “Golden birthday.”
He gave me a curious look. “Golden birthday?” he asked curiously, obviously unfamiliar with the custom.
“They say that the birthday when the day of the month and your age are the same is your golden birthday. So like, if your birthday was the twenty-ninth, the year you turned twenty-nine would be your golden birthday. Mine’s nineteen.”
He nodded, though he still looked a little puzzled. Still, I didn’t know how to elaborate. It was no wonder I was a horrible writer. I was bad at articulating my thoughts. Bradley, on the other hand, seemed to me to be a very articulate person.
I had to admit, my curiosity was aroused by this mercurial English boy, so far from home and apparently brimming with secrets. I couldn’t help it. The fact that he was good looking, with curly, nutmeg brown hair and blue eyes with long lashes, and those dimples! I couldn’t get over those. Not to mention he was tall, at least six feet, and of a sturdy build. I liked the looks of him, and I liked his personality. Or at least, what I had seen thus far, which, I have to say, wasn’t much. Usually I was better at bringing people out of their shell on the first conversation. Still, Brad was very unlike anyone I had ever known.
Chapter Two
Bradley
I had to admit, I hadn’t been sure the girl would be so open. I had seen her in class, sure, but I had never exactly been an outgoing person. In fact, I was especially awkward when it came to social situations. I was the bane of my parents’ existence. I couldn’t stand social gatherings. In fact, when I was young, I would get panic attacks before big parties. It drove them crazy, but I couldn’t help it. Luckily, it was something I had outgrown, at least to an extent, with age.
I found Jericho to be a particularly easy person to be with. She was perhaps one of the most open people I had ever met, very bubbly not prone to making judgments. Or at least it certainly seemed that way. She was also easy to talk to. Neither of us realized the time until the manager’s voice came over the intercom and announced that it was nearly closing time. Being part of a mostly college town, the little café stayed open until midnight for the college students cramming, like Jericho. I was pretty sure it had been eight when I came in. Four hours had flown by.
“Do you think I could have coffee again with you sometime?” I asked, feeling shy again, and wishing that I hadn’t been so cursed. My eldest brother, William, was a lady’s man. Still, Jericho seemed innocent in a way that Will would have loved, and taken direct advantage of. I shuddered to think of a person like Will interacting with Jericho.
She was smiling at me and digging in her bag, and came out with a planner. “Don’t laugh!” she exclaimed, seeing the amused expression on my face. “I live and die by this thing, alright? My life would spin out of control if I didn’t keep it handy. It’s the only way I manage to keep track of my school schedule and everything else besides!” She was flipping through the pages, apparently until she came to the month of October. “Ugh,” she huffed. She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “Stupid work.” Then she spoke to me. “I work every night this coming week. What about next Saturday?” she asked.
I nodded, trying to think that far in advance. I was sure I didn’t have anything going. She dug around in her purse again and then grabbed my hand, flipping my palm up and beginning to write on it. I found out that night that my palm is especially ticklish. “Don’t twitch!” she scolded lightly as she continued to write. When she finally gave my hand back, I examined what she had written. “Jericho” was written in happy little girly letters, and, below that, a phone number. “That’s my cell. Give me a call if something comes up and that doesn’t work for you or anything like that.”
She was writing in her planner, I assumed putting in that we were meeting.
“Can I call you just to call?” I asked, surprised at myself. I was never so forward.
Jericho’s gaze jerked up, fixing me with emerald green eyes in a look that was totally surprised. I felt a moment of panic as I wondered if I had been too up front. Then she smiled an absolutely dazzling smile that nearly took my breath away. “Well sure, if you want to,” she said with a slight grin, flipping the planner closed and shoving it roughly into her bag again. “Don’t be offended if I don’t answer though,” she said. She grabbed her lap top and began to shove it into its case. “I’m almost always doing something, so it’s nothing personal.”
I couldn’t help but examine her as she bent over, concentrating on getting a rather stubborn laptop into the case. She had flame red hair that curled in neat ringlets, and that peaches and cream complexion. Her skin was as smooth as glass; my sisters would have killed to have her skin. They were always fighting acne and uneven sun tans, but Jericho didn’t have a single blemish on her face. She had a cute little button nose and rose petal colored lips. The most entrancing thing about her, though, was her mobile green eyes. They were the exact color of emeralds, and somehow they reminded me of the sea. Perhaps it was their openness. There were no walls in her gaze; what you saw there was exactly what she was feeling, be it anger or sadness or joy. There was also a depth to them, as if her eyes really were the window to her very soul. I couldn’t help thinking of her as a beauty, but perhaps a wild one. Not the type at all who liked to be told what to do, but instead marched to the beat of her own drum.
She was getting to her feet, and I quickly followed. “I’m really glad you came over, Brad,” she said. Her voice was totally genuine; there was nothing in it to suggest that she was just conforming to social niceties. “It was cool to meet you. I’m looking forward to Saturday.”
I smiled a little. “Me too,” I murmured, falling into step beside her as she walked toward the door. I quickly stepped in front to open it for her. She looked a little surprised, then flashed me that grin and I realized just how badly I wanted to see it again.
“Shall I walk you to your car?” I asked.
For some reason, this seemed to amuse her. “Sure,” she responded with a smile. She dug around in her bag for a moment, pulling out a set of car keys on a horse head key chain. She clicked the automatic lock, and the lights of a little gray/blue Nissan Ultima flashed. I stepped forward quickly, again opening her door for her. She slid in with another little smile, sliding the key into the ignition before turning to me.
“Thanks again for the great evening, Brad,” she said sweetly. “I really enjoyed it. And I guess, if all else fails, I’ll see you in Reuben’s 8 o’clock, right?”
I grinned and nodded. “I’ll be there,” I responded, and gently pushed her door closed. Oh, I would have climbed mountains to make Reuben’s 8 o’clock.
Chapter Three
Bradley
Professor Clyde Reuben was, shall we say, a rather portly man. He was the jovial sort of person who would have played Santa Clause, and, indeed, he had. He had been married for fifty-three years, before his wife died of cancer a few years ago. He had two children, a son and a daughter, and five grand children, two boys and three girls. I knew all this because he had told us a little about himself the very first day of class. He was, perhaps, my favorite professor, an easy going man, but quick witted. And a genius. He was the leading authority on anything angelic. Whatever you wanted to know, from the archangels to the seraphim to the cherubim, Professor Reuben was the man to go to.
I slipped into his class five minutes early on Monday morning, settling into my usual seat. The class started filling in. I kept my eyes open for Jericho, but I didn’t see her. I had nearly given up hope when she came rushing in, her feet skidding inside the door just as the bell rang.
“Punctuality truly is an art, my friends. Some of you have it naturally.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought perhaps he looked at me as he spoke. “Others, like Miss Saunders and myself, have to learn it. However, Jericho, my dear, I assure you, it is an art well worth learning.”
Jericho looked up from rummaging around in her bag, a blush heating her cheeks. I hadn’t seen her blush before. “Yes, sir,” she responded promptly, flashing a sheepish smile before continuing to dig in her bag. A slightly panicked look crossed her face, and then relief. Apparently she had found whatever she had been looking for, because she came out with a notebook and a pen.
She looked harried today, in a way that she hadn’t last Friday at the café. I couldn’t quite explain it. Perhaps it was the slightly wild look in her eyes, or the way curly cues stood up in her hair at random, giving her a frazzled, rather strained appearance. Perhaps it was just her whole demeanor.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before popping them open to fix her eyes on the board Professor Reuben was already beginning to write on. She glanced down and wrote something on the page. I couldn’t help thinking what a funny critter she was. She was so organized, what with her planner and her little notebook for keeping notes, and yet, at the same time, so unorganized. She seemed to have to dig through that bag, (which, I might add, to all appearances seemed bottomless) for everything. It apparently had no organization or rhyme or reason. Things seemed to just get dumped inside, and she dug through for it when she needed it later. I had never met anyone quite like her before. Then again, I had never met anyone quite like a lot of the Americans I had met. They seemed a totally different breed from the rather stiff Englanders I had grown up with. Still, it was a breath of fresh air and I certainly wasn’t complaining. I was finding America rather to my liking.
The class went by quickly. It always did, it seemed. Reuben’s was perhaps one of my favorite classes. There was something about the man that I liked, from his personality o the way he taught, I just got along with him well. It wasn’t long before we were all filing out of the room, though, and I found Jericho walking next to me. She seemed to hardly even notice. She was rummaging around in her bag, yet again.
“Jericho?” I asked, suddenly shy and unsure all over again.
She flashed a brilliant, rather strained smile. “Hey, Brad,” she said brightly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve really gotta fly…” she trailed off, rummaging in her bag again and striding off down the hall.
I stopped dead, not entirely sure what to make of the whole situation. She had been so friendly on Friday, but now she was totally aloof. I wondered if she was just busy, but I couldn’t help feeling a little self conscience, wondering if it was that she hadn’t liked me as much as she seemed to have on Friday night. Who knew what was going through her mind? I realized with a slight start that she might just have been acting. She seemed like the sort who could have done whatever she wanted.
I wandered down the hall slowly, sifting through my thoughts and feeling a little unsure. There wasn’t a time in my life that I could remember feeling just totally comfortable in a place, where I wasn’t trying to conform. Even here I was still trying to figure out the ropes, though I was certainly more comfortable than I had been back in England. Still, I had thought maybe Jericho was the one who would change that. Now, though, I was having my doubts.
Chapter Four
Jericho
I could see the surprised look on Brad’s face when I blew him off. I felt horrible, but it couldn’t be helped. I had a class directly following Reuben’s, and I was running all day after that. There was a reason I hadn’t been able to get together with him until this Saturday, even though for the life of me I had wanted to fit it in sooner. Still, Saturday would probably be for the best anyway. That way there wouldn’t be any stress or time crunches for me, things I had to be back for. I probably could have squeezed him in earlier, but it wouldn’t have been enjoyable if I was always checking my watch. I hated doing that to people anyway, and I really wanted time to get to know Brad better. Time was, of course, the key word in that sentence.
I skidded into my next class and settled into my chair, relieved that I wasn’t late for this one, at any rate. I had never been punctual, but I wasn’t usually late, either. This Old Testament class was pretty basic, but I still enjoyed it. Then again, I enjoyed everything about Ecola, especially the classes.
The day seemed to drag by. Sure, I enjoyed school, but some days were just longer than others, and this was one of those days. I only had two classes on Mondays, Reuben’s 8 o’clock and the Old Testament class immediately following. From there I went straight to work. I was a waitress at a little local diner on Mondays, starting at noon and going until closing time at nine. I didn’t mind the job at all, and getting to run around on roller skates was kind of fun. Still, I was a little worn out today, although I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe just the fact that it was a Monday had me tired. It happened sometimes. Mondays were always the hardest day of the week.
It was a fast night at Timmy’s, leaving me running from the time I stepped in the door until I flipped the sign to closed at nine. It left me feeling drained, and I still had to help the kitchen clean up. Well, I didn’t have to, but I always did, even if I did still clock out at nine. The kitchen staff appreciated it, and they tended to try and give me at least part of the tips that I split with them, even if I wouldn’t take them. I usually found something extra in my paycheck, though, and I was pretty sure Dan, the head cook, had a word with the boss about it. I really didn’t mind staying late. The kitchen staff were mostly good people, better than the waitresses sometimes. One of the dishwashers was even in my Old Testament class, and he came in at the same time I did.
It was still a relief to step out the door and slide into my car. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to ten, which meant it was a quarter to eleven my dad’s time. It was too late to call my dad, but I was pretty sure my older brother would still be up. I tried to get at least one call to both my father and my brother every week, more when I could manage it, which wasn’t often. I really did keep busy. That was how I liked it.
I drew a deep breath as I turned my car on and grabbed my cell phone, pressing the number three speed dial until it rang.
“Little sister!” the answer came almost too loud, and I hurried to turn my phone down.
“Hey, big brother,” I said, grinning, despite my exhaustion.
Jude was only 3 years older than me, about to turn twenty-two to my nineteen. We had been close growing up. He had spent two years in Iraq after joining the Marines, once as a regular, and another tour as a sniper. The relief was indescribable when he came home, and, while we were tight before, we were even closer when he got back.
“How’s life?” I asked, slipping my car into reverse and twisting to look over my shoulder as I backed out of my parking space.
“Pretty good,” he replied with a slight smile that I could hear in his voice.. “Guess what?” he asked, sounding like a little kid about to give the best Christmas present ever.
“What?” I demanded, catching his excitement.
“I’m asking Katie to marry me tomorrow!”
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. “Are you serious?” I yelled, beating the steering wheel in my excitement. Katie and I had been best friends since kindergarten. She was my age, and, although it had been a little awkward when my brother first started dating her, but I couldn't have been happier for them now.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy, though it was quickly suppressed. My best friend had stumbled across the love of her life without even trying. When would it be my turn? I wasn’t desperate, by any means. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to have a real relationship. Still, I was almost nineteen. I had always pictured myself being married just out of high school. Obviously, that hadn’t happened. Then again, the options were pretty limited in a small town. There hadn’t been a single guy in my high school that had any kind of faith, and certainly who was willing to drop drinking for a life of apparent “no fun.” I had always been a little on the outside because I had promised not to drink, and because of the purity ring on my left hand. I had been lucky enough to find a girlfriend who shared my faith. Katie had been my Godsend, and I hers. We had gotten each other through some rough times in high school, not the least of which when Katie’s brother nearly died of alcohol poisoning. There had been struggles and tears, triumphs and failures, but it was proving to be more than worth it.
I sighed, and Jude clucked his tongue. “What’s up, little sis?” he asked. He knew me too well.
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just thinking about love,” I said with a smile.
“Aw, don’t worry little sis. God’s got someone out there for you.”
“I know,” I murmured. “I’m just tired right now.
I could hear his slight laugh. “Long day, huh?” he asked sympathetically, and I wondered where in the world I had been blessed with such a great brother.
I blew out a long breath. “Oh, you have no idea,” I said with a short laugh.
“Well, go home and get some sleep, little sis. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I smiled a little. “I know,” I said softly, and forced myself to brighten my tone. “But I didn’t call to whine about me. How are you? Where are you planning to propose?!” I demanded, bringing in a reserve of energy that wasn’t really there. Still, this time I even faked Jude out. Or maybe he was just too excited to notice. I knew I had played the right card simply by listening to him as he filled me in. He was clearly more excited about this than even words can tell, and had just been biting his tongue trying to be sympathetic about my trials. It was something I appreciated about my brother. We were both alike that way. Still, he had stepped back and let me take the pedestal more times than I cared to count, listening to me ramble on and whine and cry. It was his turn to shine.
He told me everything, down to the smallest detail. Even in my tired, half asleep state, I was happy for him. When I reached my apartment, I slowly turned my car off, grabbing my purse and locking it, tucking my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I made the way up the steps to my attic apartment and unlocked the door.
“Hey, Jude,” I said, when I was pretty sure he had finally gotten himself wound down. “I just got home, so I’ll let you go. But you better call and tell me how it goes, ya hear?!” I said, again mustering up energy I didn’t feel.
Jude laughed enthusiastically, and the sound made the effort more than worth it. “If Katie doesn’t get to you first,” he teased. We said our good byes and hung up, with promises to talk again as soon as we could.
With a sigh, I dropped the phone on the mattress that served as my bed. Part of the reason I worked so many hours was to keep this apartment. I could have lived on campus, but I liked the freedom of having my own place. Ecola had curfew which, sometimes with my waitressing gig, I couldn’t keep. I was sure there were exceptions for the kids who worked late, but it was easier not to deal with it at all. Plus, I liked the privacy of my apartment.
The place was quaint, the upper level of a house that belonged to an older couple. They had remodeled the attic for their grandson, while he attended Ecola, funnily enough, and had offered to rent it out to me since he had moved on to go to med school.
I drew a deep breath as I started to shimmy into my pajamas. I stopped dead as my phone rang. I stared at it like it was a foreign object. I was hitting the point where I was almost too tired to function. A glance at the clock told me it was only ten. I sighed picked it up, glancing at the caller ID. It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Oh, Jericho. I didn’t think you were going to answer.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded both relieved and a little nervous. I couldn’t figure out who it was. I sat in silence. “This is Brad, by the way,” the voice said.
Recognition finally dawned. “Oh, hey Brad!” I said, wondering if I sounded as phony and tired as I felt like I did. I forced a laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” he said lightly. “I’m sorry to call so late…”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I interrupted quickly. “I just got home from work, so you’re fine.”
“Okay,” he said, although he still sounded unsure. “Well, I was just wondering if you were okay. You seemed a little stressed out today.”
I paused. My first reaction was irritation. He had barely met me. Why was he bothering to be concerned about my welfare? I knew that was just my exhaustion talking, though, and I gave myself another moment to let the next reaction process. My next thought was “what a sweetie,” as I had known it would be.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said lightly. “I was just in a major hurry. I’m really sorry about blowing you off like that. I know it was rude, but I really didn’t want to be late for Old Testament Studies.”
He laughed, but he sounded more relieved than he probably would have liked to admit. “It’s okay. I figured it had to be something like that. Anyway, I was just wondering if you were alright and if we were still on for Saturday?”
I smiled a little. Wow. He really was a sweetheart. “Yeah, we’re definitely still on. How about eleven a.m.?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” he said, sounding absolutely ecstatic. It made me smile a little, how easy it was to make his day, and I liked making people happy.
“Okay, awesome. Thanks for the call, Brad. I really appreciate it. But hey, I’m like, exhausted, so I’m going to let you go, and I guess I’ll see you on Saturday if not before, right?”
“Right,” he agreed. With another few rounds of good bye, we hung up, and I finally fell into bed, barely registering the relief of the soft mattress before I was out like a light.
Chapter One
Jericho
I stared at my blank laptop screen, taping my finger impatiently against my coffee cup. I was settled in at the little local café, and they had free Wi-fi, thus the attraction to the place. My caramel macchiato was half gone, and I was still waiting for inspiration to hit. I had read once that if you sat around waiting for the inspiration to write, you would never get anything done. I agreed full heartedly, however, how was one supposed to write without inspiration?
I took another sip from the macchiato. I didn’t particularly like the taste of the drink; however, it was loaded with caffeine. And that was required. I couldn’t get anything done ever without my caffeine fix. Yes, I was, and still am, actually, a bit of an addict.
I sighed, the fingers not wrapped around my coffee cup drumming impatiently on the table. It was a paper on angels. How hard could it be? I had all my reference books, including my Bible, piled on the little round table, and I had read all of them. All the information was in my head, and what wasn’t, I could find in one of the reference books. I had everything I needed…except inspiration. I hadn’t the slightest clue how to start this stupid paper; I had never been a writer.
I glanced up as a movement caught my eye. I recognized a boy from my Cherubim Theory class. He sat two seats down, and he had always seemed rather shy, but he seemed to have a pretty good handle on the class, as he was apparently acing it.
“Um, hi. You have Reuben’s 8 o’clock, right?” he asked. His cheeks were scarlet, and he had an unmistakable British accent. I smiled brightly and nodded.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure you sit two seats down from me,” I said with a smile. “Brad, right?”
He nodded, offering me a radiant smile. “Yeah!” he said with a slight laugh. “Um, I was wondering if I could sit?” he asked, gesturing around the room. “Popular place tonight,” he said. The little café was, indeed, packed out, and, at least from my sitting position, I couldn’t see a single open seat.
I smiled and nodded, reaching forward to pull my reference books closer, out of the way, closing my laptop, and gesturing to the chair. “Have a seat,” I said.
Brad smiled again, looking totally relieved. Then another blush lit his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to remember your name,” he said, sounding abashed.
I offered another smile, feeling a small surge of pity for the poor boy; I had never been socially awkward. In fact, I had always been an outgoing little girl. I started up conversations with anyone from practically the moment I started talking. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s Jericho. Jericho Saunders.”
“I thought it started with a J,” Brad said.
I nodded a little. “Yeah, it’s a weird one,” I said. “People never remember my name.”
Brad nodded, looking like he felt a little better, anyway. “So why Jericho?” he asked.
I shrugged a bit. “My mom’s dying wish. I’m not sure why her heart was so set on it. I think there was a story behind it, but Dad won’t say anything.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mother,” he said softly. It struck me how proper, how grammatically correct he was. No slang, no abbreviations, no nothing. Then again, I supposed that I spoke “American” to his proper “English.”
I shrugged again. “It’s not really that big a deal to me. I mean, she died in labor, so it’s not like I ever knew her. My dad took it pretty hard, though, I guess. Everyone says it changed him a lot. Again, I wouldn’t know. He’s still a good guy, I mean it’s not like he went off the deep end or anything. He just…changed.”
Brad was gazing at the rim of my coffee cup. “I guess. It still must have been hard not having a mom around.”
“Not really,” I said simply. “I never knew anything different. How can you miss what you’ve never had?”
“I suppose,” Brad said thoughtfully. “I still can’t imagine growing up without my mother.” He nodded toward the books, apparently not fond of such heavy subjects. “Working on Reuben’s paper, eh?” he asked with a slight smirk.
I groaned. “Yeees,” I mumbled. “It’s killing me. I’ve never been a writer. Researcher, yes, definitely. Writer, not so much.”
He laughed. “I’m the exact opposite. I love writing, I hate trying to do research.”
I shook my head. “Are you crazy? Writing is the hardest part. Research is easy! It’s all just plain facts!”
Brad laughed again, and I noticed he had dimples, the adorable kind. “Hardly,” he said simply.
I sighed dramatically. “Apparently you’re just hopeless.”
“I think you’re in more trouble than me. You can do all the research you want, but if you don’t have the paper in by next Friday you’re dead meat.”
I groaned again. “I know,” I said. “I so hate writing.”
He shook his head in a rather amused manner. “Well, if you need help with it, let me know.”
I smiled brightly. “I just might do that,” I said.
He leaned back in his chair, and you could practically see him tense up. What an interesting fellow. Apparently he was even more awkward with new people than I had originally thought. And he wasn’t one for silences.
“So where did you grow up?” I asked, genuinely curious, but trying to get him to calm down a bit as well.
He smiled a little. “Manchester, England,” he said. “You?”
“Aberdeen, South Dakota,” I said easily, trying not to show him how impressed I was by the fact that he was foreign. After all, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already known. He had an accent!
“So we’re both a long ways from home,” he said with a slight smile.
I shook my head. “Not so much for me,” I replied. “My mom grew up in the Washington Oregon area, and most of her family is out here, my grandparents and aunt, namely. My dad used to send me out here every summer to stay with Aunt Harriet, so I’m pretty familiar with the area. We’d always come up here to Cannon Beach and explore the tide pools and stuff. Aunt Harriet’s kind of my mother figure, I guess, and this area was always kind of a second home for me,” I explained. “I’ve been planning to come here to Ecola as soon as I was out of high school since I was like, six,” I added with a slight laugh.
He nodded thoughtfully. “So where is your Aunt Harriet from?” he asked curiously.
“A little town called Stevenson. It’s up by the Columbia Gorge.”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I know it. Then again, I’m not particularly familiar with the area.”
I laughed a little and nodded. “You wouldn’t be. So what brought you from England to Oregon?” I asked curiously. “Why Ecola?”
The expression on his face changed, and I knew instantly that this was an unwelcome subject. “I just needed to get away for a while,” he said stiffly.
“Far away, apparently,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Pardon?” he asked.
I shook my head quickly, glad that I didn’t blush easily. “Oh, I was just talking to myself,” I said, but I thought I probably looked a little too guilty. I moved quickly to change the subject. “So how old are you?”
He smiled a little, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I thought that was a rude question to ask?”
I laughed and shrugged a little guiltily. “It was the first thing that popped into my head,” I replied.
Brad just laughed, and again, I was relieved. I couldn’t quite get his size figured out. One second he was awkward, the next he was open and chatty, and the next he was throwing barriers up left and right. I didn’t think I’d ever met such a mercurial person. “Well, I turned nineteen in August. Yourself?”
“I’ll turn nineteen on…the nineteenth of November,” I said with a grin. “Golden birthday.”
He gave me a curious look. “Golden birthday?” he asked curiously, obviously unfamiliar with the custom.
“They say that the birthday when the day of the month and your age are the same is your golden birthday. So like, if your birthday was the twenty-ninth, the year you turned twenty-nine would be your golden birthday. Mine’s nineteen.”
He nodded, though he still looked a little puzzled. Still, I didn’t know how to elaborate. It was no wonder I was a horrible writer. I was bad at articulating my thoughts. Bradley, on the other hand, seemed to me to be a very articulate person.
I had to admit, my curiosity was aroused by this mercurial English boy, so far from home and apparently brimming with secrets. I couldn’t help it. The fact that he was good looking, with curly, nutmeg brown hair and blue eyes with long lashes, and those dimples! I couldn’t get over those. Not to mention he was tall, at least six feet, and of a sturdy build. I liked the looks of him, and I liked his personality. Or at least, what I had seen thus far, which, I have to say, wasn’t much. Usually I was better at bringing people out of their shell on the first conversation. Still, Brad was very unlike anyone I had ever known.
Chapter Two
Bradley
I had to admit, I hadn’t been sure the girl would be so open. I had seen her in class, sure, but I had never exactly been an outgoing person. In fact, I was especially awkward when it came to social situations. I was the bane of my parents’ existence. I couldn’t stand social gatherings. In fact, when I was young, I would get panic attacks before big parties. It drove them crazy, but I couldn’t help it. Luckily, it was something I had outgrown, at least to an extent, with age.
I found Jericho to be a particularly easy person to be with. She was perhaps one of the most open people I had ever met, very bubbly not prone to making judgments. Or at least it certainly seemed that way. She was also easy to talk to. Neither of us realized the time until the manager’s voice came over the intercom and announced that it was nearly closing time. Being part of a mostly college town, the little café stayed open until midnight for the college students cramming, like Jericho. I was pretty sure it had been eight when I came in. Four hours had flown by.
“Do you think I could have coffee again with you sometime?” I asked, feeling shy again, and wishing that I hadn’t been so cursed. My eldest brother, William, was a lady’s man. Still, Jericho seemed innocent in a way that Will would have loved, and taken direct advantage of. I shuddered to think of a person like Will interacting with Jericho.
She was smiling at me and digging in her bag, and came out with a planner. “Don’t laugh!” she exclaimed, seeing the amused expression on my face. “I live and die by this thing, alright? My life would spin out of control if I didn’t keep it handy. It’s the only way I manage to keep track of my school schedule and everything else besides!” She was flipping through the pages, apparently until she came to the month of October. “Ugh,” she huffed. She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “Stupid work.” Then she spoke to me. “I work every night this coming week. What about next Saturday?” she asked.
I nodded, trying to think that far in advance. I was sure I didn’t have anything going. She dug around in her purse again and then grabbed my hand, flipping my palm up and beginning to write on it. I found out that night that my palm is especially ticklish. “Don’t twitch!” she scolded lightly as she continued to write. When she finally gave my hand back, I examined what she had written. “Jericho” was written in happy little girly letters, and, below that, a phone number. “That’s my cell. Give me a call if something comes up and that doesn’t work for you or anything like that.”
She was writing in her planner, I assumed putting in that we were meeting.
“Can I call you just to call?” I asked, surprised at myself. I was never so forward.
Jericho’s gaze jerked up, fixing me with emerald green eyes in a look that was totally surprised. I felt a moment of panic as I wondered if I had been too up front. Then she smiled an absolutely dazzling smile that nearly took my breath away. “Well sure, if you want to,” she said with a slight grin, flipping the planner closed and shoving it roughly into her bag again. “Don’t be offended if I don’t answer though,” she said. She grabbed her lap top and began to shove it into its case. “I’m almost always doing something, so it’s nothing personal.”
I couldn’t help but examine her as she bent over, concentrating on getting a rather stubborn laptop into the case. She had flame red hair that curled in neat ringlets, and that peaches and cream complexion. Her skin was as smooth as glass; my sisters would have killed to have her skin. They were always fighting acne and uneven sun tans, but Jericho didn’t have a single blemish on her face. She had a cute little button nose and rose petal colored lips. The most entrancing thing about her, though, was her mobile green eyes. They were the exact color of emeralds, and somehow they reminded me of the sea. Perhaps it was their openness. There were no walls in her gaze; what you saw there was exactly what she was feeling, be it anger or sadness or joy. There was also a depth to them, as if her eyes really were the window to her very soul. I couldn’t help thinking of her as a beauty, but perhaps a wild one. Not the type at all who liked to be told what to do, but instead marched to the beat of her own drum.
She was getting to her feet, and I quickly followed. “I’m really glad you came over, Brad,” she said. Her voice was totally genuine; there was nothing in it to suggest that she was just conforming to social niceties. “It was cool to meet you. I’m looking forward to Saturday.”
I smiled a little. “Me too,” I murmured, falling into step beside her as she walked toward the door. I quickly stepped in front to open it for her. She looked a little surprised, then flashed me that grin and I realized just how badly I wanted to see it again.
“Shall I walk you to your car?” I asked.
For some reason, this seemed to amuse her. “Sure,” she responded with a smile. She dug around in her bag for a moment, pulling out a set of car keys on a horse head key chain. She clicked the automatic lock, and the lights of a little gray/blue Nissan Ultima flashed. I stepped forward quickly, again opening her door for her. She slid in with another little smile, sliding the key into the ignition before turning to me.
“Thanks again for the great evening, Brad,” she said sweetly. “I really enjoyed it. And I guess, if all else fails, I’ll see you in Reuben’s 8 o’clock, right?”
I grinned and nodded. “I’ll be there,” I responded, and gently pushed her door closed. Oh, I would have climbed mountains to make Reuben’s 8 o’clock.
Chapter Three
Bradley
Professor Clyde Reuben was, shall we say, a rather portly man. He was the jovial sort of person who would have played Santa Clause, and, indeed, he had. He had been married for fifty-three years, before his wife died of cancer a few years ago. He had two children, a son and a daughter, and five grand children, two boys and three girls. I knew all this because he had told us a little about himself the very first day of class. He was, perhaps, my favorite professor, an easy going man, but quick witted. And a genius. He was the leading authority on anything angelic. Whatever you wanted to know, from the archangels to the seraphim to the cherubim, Professor Reuben was the man to go to.
I slipped into his class five minutes early on Monday morning, settling into my usual seat. The class started filling in. I kept my eyes open for Jericho, but I didn’t see her. I had nearly given up hope when she came rushing in, her feet skidding inside the door just as the bell rang.
“Punctuality truly is an art, my friends. Some of you have it naturally.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought perhaps he looked at me as he spoke. “Others, like Miss Saunders and myself, have to learn it. However, Jericho, my dear, I assure you, it is an art well worth learning.”
Jericho looked up from rummaging around in her bag, a blush heating her cheeks. I hadn’t seen her blush before. “Yes, sir,” she responded promptly, flashing a sheepish smile before continuing to dig in her bag. A slightly panicked look crossed her face, and then relief. Apparently she had found whatever she had been looking for, because she came out with a notebook and a pen.
She looked harried today, in a way that she hadn’t last Friday at the café. I couldn’t quite explain it. Perhaps it was the slightly wild look in her eyes, or the way curly cues stood up in her hair at random, giving her a frazzled, rather strained appearance. Perhaps it was just her whole demeanor.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before popping them open to fix her eyes on the board Professor Reuben was already beginning to write on. She glanced down and wrote something on the page. I couldn’t help thinking what a funny critter she was. She was so organized, what with her planner and her little notebook for keeping notes, and yet, at the same time, so unorganized. She seemed to have to dig through that bag, (which, I might add, to all appearances seemed bottomless) for everything. It apparently had no organization or rhyme or reason. Things seemed to just get dumped inside, and she dug through for it when she needed it later. I had never met anyone quite like her before. Then again, I had never met anyone quite like a lot of the Americans I had met. They seemed a totally different breed from the rather stiff Englanders I had grown up with. Still, it was a breath of fresh air and I certainly wasn’t complaining. I was finding America rather to my liking.
The class went by quickly. It always did, it seemed. Reuben’s was perhaps one of my favorite classes. There was something about the man that I liked, from his personality o the way he taught, I just got along with him well. It wasn’t long before we were all filing out of the room, though, and I found Jericho walking next to me. She seemed to hardly even notice. She was rummaging around in her bag, yet again.
“Jericho?” I asked, suddenly shy and unsure all over again.
She flashed a brilliant, rather strained smile. “Hey, Brad,” she said brightly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve really gotta fly…” she trailed off, rummaging in her bag again and striding off down the hall.
I stopped dead, not entirely sure what to make of the whole situation. She had been so friendly on Friday, but now she was totally aloof. I wondered if she was just busy, but I couldn’t help feeling a little self conscience, wondering if it was that she hadn’t liked me as much as she seemed to have on Friday night. Who knew what was going through her mind? I realized with a slight start that she might just have been acting. She seemed like the sort who could have done whatever she wanted.
I wandered down the hall slowly, sifting through my thoughts and feeling a little unsure. There wasn’t a time in my life that I could remember feeling just totally comfortable in a place, where I wasn’t trying to conform. Even here I was still trying to figure out the ropes, though I was certainly more comfortable than I had been back in England. Still, I had thought maybe Jericho was the one who would change that. Now, though, I was having my doubts.
Chapter Four
Jericho
I could see the surprised look on Brad’s face when I blew him off. I felt horrible, but it couldn’t be helped. I had a class directly following Reuben’s, and I was running all day after that. There was a reason I hadn’t been able to get together with him until this Saturday, even though for the life of me I had wanted to fit it in sooner. Still, Saturday would probably be for the best anyway. That way there wouldn’t be any stress or time crunches for me, things I had to be back for. I probably could have squeezed him in earlier, but it wouldn’t have been enjoyable if I was always checking my watch. I hated doing that to people anyway, and I really wanted time to get to know Brad better. Time was, of course, the key word in that sentence.
I skidded into my next class and settled into my chair, relieved that I wasn’t late for this one, at any rate. I had never been punctual, but I wasn’t usually late, either. This Old Testament class was pretty basic, but I still enjoyed it. Then again, I enjoyed everything about Ecola, especially the classes.
The day seemed to drag by. Sure, I enjoyed school, but some days were just longer than others, and this was one of those days. I only had two classes on Mondays, Reuben’s 8 o’clock and the Old Testament class immediately following. From there I went straight to work. I was a waitress at a little local diner on Mondays, starting at noon and going until closing time at nine. I didn’t mind the job at all, and getting to run around on roller skates was kind of fun. Still, I was a little worn out today, although I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe just the fact that it was a Monday had me tired. It happened sometimes. Mondays were always the hardest day of the week.
It was a fast night at Timmy’s, leaving me running from the time I stepped in the door until I flipped the sign to closed at nine. It left me feeling drained, and I still had to help the kitchen clean up. Well, I didn’t have to, but I always did, even if I did still clock out at nine. The kitchen staff appreciated it, and they tended to try and give me at least part of the tips that I split with them, even if I wouldn’t take them. I usually found something extra in my paycheck, though, and I was pretty sure Dan, the head cook, had a word with the boss about it. I really didn’t mind staying late. The kitchen staff were mostly good people, better than the waitresses sometimes. One of the dishwashers was even in my Old Testament class, and he came in at the same time I did.
It was still a relief to step out the door and slide into my car. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter to ten, which meant it was a quarter to eleven my dad’s time. It was too late to call my dad, but I was pretty sure my older brother would still be up. I tried to get at least one call to both my father and my brother every week, more when I could manage it, which wasn’t often. I really did keep busy. That was how I liked it.
I drew a deep breath as I turned my car on and grabbed my cell phone, pressing the number three speed dial until it rang.
“Little sister!” the answer came almost too loud, and I hurried to turn my phone down.
“Hey, big brother,” I said, grinning, despite my exhaustion.
Jude was only 3 years older than me, about to turn twenty-two to my nineteen. We had been close growing up. He had spent two years in Iraq after joining the Marines, once as a regular, and another tour as a sniper. The relief was indescribable when he came home, and, while we were tight before, we were even closer when he got back.
“How’s life?” I asked, slipping my car into reverse and twisting to look over my shoulder as I backed out of my parking space.
“Pretty good,” he replied with a slight smile that I could hear in his voice.. “Guess what?” he asked, sounding like a little kid about to give the best Christmas present ever.
“What?” I demanded, catching his excitement.
“I’m asking Katie to marry me tomorrow!”
I screamed. I couldn’t help it. “Are you serious?” I yelled, beating the steering wheel in my excitement. Katie and I had been best friends since kindergarten. She was my age, and, although it had been a little awkward when my brother first started dating her, but I couldn't have been happier for them now.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy, though it was quickly suppressed. My best friend had stumbled across the love of her life without even trying. When would it be my turn? I wasn’t desperate, by any means. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to have a real relationship. Still, I was almost nineteen. I had always pictured myself being married just out of high school. Obviously, that hadn’t happened. Then again, the options were pretty limited in a small town. There hadn’t been a single guy in my high school that had any kind of faith, and certainly who was willing to drop drinking for a life of apparent “no fun.” I had always been a little on the outside because I had promised not to drink, and because of the purity ring on my left hand. I had been lucky enough to find a girlfriend who shared my faith. Katie had been my Godsend, and I hers. We had gotten each other through some rough times in high school, not the least of which when Katie’s brother nearly died of alcohol poisoning. There had been struggles and tears, triumphs and failures, but it was proving to be more than worth it.
I sighed, and Jude clucked his tongue. “What’s up, little sis?” he asked. He knew me too well.
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Just thinking about love,” I said with a smile.
“Aw, don’t worry little sis. God’s got someone out there for you.”
“I know,” I murmured. “I’m just tired right now.
I could hear his slight laugh. “Long day, huh?” he asked sympathetically, and I wondered where in the world I had been blessed with such a great brother.
I blew out a long breath. “Oh, you have no idea,” I said with a short laugh.
“Well, go home and get some sleep, little sis. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I smiled a little. “I know,” I said softly, and forced myself to brighten my tone. “But I didn’t call to whine about me. How are you? Where are you planning to propose?!” I demanded, bringing in a reserve of energy that wasn’t really there. Still, this time I even faked Jude out. Or maybe he was just too excited to notice. I knew I had played the right card simply by listening to him as he filled me in. He was clearly more excited about this than even words can tell, and had just been biting his tongue trying to be sympathetic about my trials. It was something I appreciated about my brother. We were both alike that way. Still, he had stepped back and let me take the pedestal more times than I cared to count, listening to me ramble on and whine and cry. It was his turn to shine.
He told me everything, down to the smallest detail. Even in my tired, half asleep state, I was happy for him. When I reached my apartment, I slowly turned my car off, grabbing my purse and locking it, tucking my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I made the way up the steps to my attic apartment and unlocked the door.
“Hey, Jude,” I said, when I was pretty sure he had finally gotten himself wound down. “I just got home, so I’ll let you go. But you better call and tell me how it goes, ya hear?!” I said, again mustering up energy I didn’t feel.
Jude laughed enthusiastically, and the sound made the effort more than worth it. “If Katie doesn’t get to you first,” he teased. We said our good byes and hung up, with promises to talk again as soon as we could.
With a sigh, I dropped the phone on the mattress that served as my bed. Part of the reason I worked so many hours was to keep this apartment. I could have lived on campus, but I liked the freedom of having my own place. Ecola had curfew which, sometimes with my waitressing gig, I couldn’t keep. I was sure there were exceptions for the kids who worked late, but it was easier not to deal with it at all. Plus, I liked the privacy of my apartment.
The place was quaint, the upper level of a house that belonged to an older couple. They had remodeled the attic for their grandson, while he attended Ecola, funnily enough, and had offered to rent it out to me since he had moved on to go to med school.
I drew a deep breath as I started to shimmy into my pajamas. I stopped dead as my phone rang. I stared at it like it was a foreign object. I was hitting the point where I was almost too tired to function. A glance at the clock told me it was only ten. I sighed picked it up, glancing at the caller ID. It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Oh, Jericho. I didn’t think you were going to answer.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded both relieved and a little nervous. I couldn’t figure out who it was. I sat in silence. “This is Brad, by the way,” the voice said.
Recognition finally dawned. “Oh, hey Brad!” I said, wondering if I sounded as phony and tired as I felt like I did. I forced a laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” he said lightly. “I’m sorry to call so late…”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I interrupted quickly. “I just got home from work, so you’re fine.”
“Okay,” he said, although he still sounded unsure. “Well, I was just wondering if you were okay. You seemed a little stressed out today.”
I paused. My first reaction was irritation. He had barely met me. Why was he bothering to be concerned about my welfare? I knew that was just my exhaustion talking, though, and I gave myself another moment to let the next reaction process. My next thought was “what a sweetie,” as I had known it would be.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said lightly. “I was just in a major hurry. I’m really sorry about blowing you off like that. I know it was rude, but I really didn’t want to be late for Old Testament Studies.”
He laughed, but he sounded more relieved than he probably would have liked to admit. “It’s okay. I figured it had to be something like that. Anyway, I was just wondering if you were alright and if we were still on for Saturday?”
I smiled a little. Wow. He really was a sweetheart. “Yeah, we’re definitely still on. How about eleven a.m.?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” he said, sounding absolutely ecstatic. It made me smile a little, how easy it was to make his day, and I liked making people happy.
“Okay, awesome. Thanks for the call, Brad. I really appreciate it. But hey, I’m like, exhausted, so I’m going to let you go, and I guess I’ll see you on Saturday if not before, right?”
“Right,” he agreed. With another few rounds of good bye, we hung up, and I finally fell into bed, barely registering the relief of the soft mattress before I was out like a light.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
blah blah blah
I am going to have Hero by Nickelback stuck in my head alllllll night. It's a good song though. Ya'll should go listen to it.
I really don't feel like blogging, but I feel like I'm getting lazy and ought to put SOMETHING up. Baha. I'm fifteen now. I don't feel any different. lol. But I still have this on top of the world high. Sort of. I'm pretty drained right now. Long day. Getting up early to go to the dentist, then helping Dad and Grandpa move cows. And I gotta say, nobody can complain to me about the cold until they've been out in 32 degrees (not counting wind chill!) moving cattle on a four wheeler. It was FRIGID. Needless to say , I'm pretty tired right now.
Buuut things still look good. Haha. I gotta say, I'm a little skeptical. I don't really expect this little high to last. Hope it does, but don't really expect it, and I'm not really sure what's gonna happen if it wears off. SO we're all going to pray that it doesn't, yes? Bwahaha.
We're headed to Bismarck this weekend. I'm so stoked to go shopping and just BLOW this town. Haha. I'm so excited to just be getting out of Wibaux for a while. Like, I LOVE this town, but I'm just getting sick of it. Getting away for the weekend will be lovely. Annd I think I'm putting in my last few shifts at the Hut on Wednesday and Thursday. I'm sure I'll put in some time next week or whatever, but that's okay. It'll be kind of sad to see it close, but it's kind of a relief in a way, too. One less thing that I need to worry about. I'm going to try really hard not to overload myself this year. I'm already dropping praise team, unless they need me, and it'll be nice not to have to worry about work until next spring, too. I won't have to go back until AFTER basketball is over, which is a relief. I can't imagine trying to keep up with basketball AND work. It would be impossible. It exhausts me just to think about it. xD lol
Speaking of which, I gotta say, I am REALLY excited for basketball. It starts in..Oh my gosh, like, almost a month. It is CRAZY how fast this year is flying by already. Like, I feel like I just started school. How is it October? It seems like when I was little the time between the beginning of school and my birthday just DRAGGED by. Now it's like, Christmas is practically upon us! AH! Now I know why my mother starts Christmas s hopping in July. HA HA HA. I love my mother.
At any rate, that's pretty much all that's going on with me these days. Annd. I'm gonna go do some math, so that I'm not behind tomorrow, and hopefully do some Bible Study. And then I'm off to bed.
xoxo
Erika Rose.
I really don't feel like blogging, but I feel like I'm getting lazy and ought to put SOMETHING up. Baha. I'm fifteen now. I don't feel any different. lol. But I still have this on top of the world high. Sort of. I'm pretty drained right now. Long day. Getting up early to go to the dentist, then helping Dad and Grandpa move cows. And I gotta say, nobody can complain to me about the cold until they've been out in 32 degrees (not counting wind chill!) moving cattle on a four wheeler. It was FRIGID. Needless to say , I'm pretty tired right now.
Buuut things still look good. Haha. I gotta say, I'm a little skeptical. I don't really expect this little high to last. Hope it does, but don't really expect it, and I'm not really sure what's gonna happen if it wears off. SO we're all going to pray that it doesn't, yes? Bwahaha.
We're headed to Bismarck this weekend. I'm so stoked to go shopping and just BLOW this town. Haha. I'm so excited to just be getting out of Wibaux for a while. Like, I LOVE this town, but I'm just getting sick of it. Getting away for the weekend will be lovely. Annd I think I'm putting in my last few shifts at the Hut on Wednesday and Thursday. I'm sure I'll put in some time next week or whatever, but that's okay. It'll be kind of sad to see it close, but it's kind of a relief in a way, too. One less thing that I need to worry about. I'm going to try really hard not to overload myself this year. I'm already dropping praise team, unless they need me, and it'll be nice not to have to worry about work until next spring, too. I won't have to go back until AFTER basketball is over, which is a relief. I can't imagine trying to keep up with basketball AND work. It would be impossible. It exhausts me just to think about it. xD lol
Speaking of which, I gotta say, I am REALLY excited for basketball. It starts in..Oh my gosh, like, almost a month. It is CRAZY how fast this year is flying by already. Like, I feel like I just started school. How is it October? It seems like when I was little the time between the beginning of school and my birthday just DRAGGED by. Now it's like, Christmas is practically upon us! AH! Now I know why my mother starts Christmas s hopping in July. HA HA HA. I love my mother.
At any rate, that's pretty much all that's going on with me these days. Annd. I'm gonna go do some math, so that I'm not behind tomorrow, and hopefully do some Bible Study. And then I'm off to bed.
xoxo
Erika Rose.
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