Bridge to a Distant Star (29 page)

By the time Beth had finished her comedy routine, the paper seemed much less important. Because Dr. Brown was less important, less intimidating. Michal attributed the A- she got on her next paper to Beth’s “magic.” From then on, she realized how fiercely she’d come to love Beth. And vowed to be her friend forever.

Lately, though, it seemed like Beth had moved away from Michal. Not physically, obviously; she was there every morning when they woke to the dreaded alarm; they marched off to chapel together (though where Beth disappeared to once they arrived was anyone’s guess); they shared lunch and a couple classes, and dinner was always a “community event” for all the suitemates. (Unless one temporarily snagged an interested male. Which Michal and Beth vowed was “so not on our agenda.”)

When they came back to their suite after dinner, both would socialize, teasing about who was seen with whom, discussing gospel teams, sharing a gripe session about professors and tedious assignments and tricky exams. But usually Michal and Beth were the first ones to excuse themselves to study.

Lately, though, Beth studied only a short time until her head would begin to droop. Then it was only a matter of minutes before she’d announce, “I’m too tired to study,” or “This is a waste of time,” and get ready for bed. Sometimes she didn’t even bother to brush her teeth, change out of her clothes, or put on pajamas. She’d pull down the sheet and ratty quilt and climb in. Fully dressed.

The worst change of all, however, was how Beth’s laughter had faded like the tide slipping away from the beach. As Michal fretted over her beloved friend, she realized she hadn’t actually ever seen the tide recede; it was too gradual, too furtive. And it was the same with Beth.
Was it that I couldn’t notice, the changes so slow, so slight?
Michal quizzed herself.
Or that I didn’t want to notice?

But now Michal was encouraged by Beth’s animation, wondering,
Maybe I’ve been imagining it all?
Aloud she offered, “No. What do you really need, roommate? Your wish is my command.”

“Chocolate.”

The glistening sparkle in Beth’s eyes was so wicked Michal erupted with laughter. Between giggles, she lamented, “But we don’t have any more chocolate, remember? We polished it off over two weeks ago.”

Beth stood, imitating Dr. Brown’s gait (eliciting more laughter from Michal) as she stiffly walked over to their “stash”—the drawer where they kept a popcorn popper and snacks. At the start of the semester, they’d enjoyed assorted candy bars, bags of chips, cookies, and granola bars. But the drawer had sadly dwindled in supplies, and was now empty except for the dreaded popcorn.

Michal watched curiously as Beth rummaged around, making an exaggerated show of her search. Dramatically drawing out a scarf like a magician pulling one from a sleeve (from Michal: “How did that get in there?”), Samantha’s stuffed teddy bear (“Beth, Sam’s been looking for him for days … she’s going to strangle you when she finds out you’re the one who snitched him”), and finally, the objects of their desire: two candy bars.

Beth held them up, one in each hand. “A-ha. Once again Beth the Magnificent has shocked the world with her brilliant powers.”

Michal laughed delightedly as Beth tossed one to her. “Yum. Where did these come from?”

“Revealing my source means I’d have to shoot you.” The sly look she gave Michal seemed to strongly hint the source was male.

Instantly curious, Michal raised an eyebrow. Like Michal, Beth had precious little money to spend on extravagances. Candy bars certainly weren’t expensive, but just the day before Beth was complaining she was completely broke—except for the exact amount of gas money to ride with another student to her grandparents’ home over spring break.

For Beth to claim a secret source was equally suspicious. She had the same circle of friends as Michal: suitemates and classmates. Michal knew them all—at least, she assumed so. And like Michal, Beth had steadfastly avoided any relationships with guys, stating emphatically she didn’t have time. And besides, both agreed guys were too immature, too simplistic, too much like … well, boys.

“Secret source? A guy maybe?” Michal probed, as she polished off the last of the chocolate, licking her fingers.

Beth shook her head and then lay down on the bed; she was taking such tiny bites she still had half of hers left. Pulling herself up onto one elbow, Beth gave Michal a hard stare. “You’re one to talk. What’s this about Allistair? And Stephen Jones?”

Michal sat at her desk. She spread out books and notebooks, situating them in the order needed to tackle assignments.

“You’re stalling, Michal. Spill it.”

Michal grinned at her, shyly. “Well … turns out Stephen’s not such a nerd after all. He’s really nice, actually. And without that awful hat, he’s pretty good-looking, too.”

Beth gave her a look of astonishment as she wadded up the wrapper and tossed it toward the trash can. “No way.”

“Seriously. He’s got nice blond hair.”

“But he scowls all the time, Michal. And he’s such a … such a hunchback. Honestly, the way he skulks around the campus. Gives me the creeps.”

“I know you won’t believe this.”

“What?”

“Stephen is more spiritually mature than Allistair.”

Beth laughed, scoffing. “Now you’re really losing it. Allistair’s what? President of the student body?” She scrunched her pillow, molding it just the way she liked.

Intently chewing on a nail, Michal merely nodded.

“And he’s on the best ministry team?”

Michal popped the finger out of her mouth, studying the nail’s ragged edge. “Told me they’re off to Georgia and North Carolina over spring break. He’s in the quartet. I’m pretty sure he preaches, too.”

“I know he does ’cause he’s taking Homiletics. All the guys in there are required to preach at least five times.”

“How on earth would you know that?”

“’Cause I tried to sign up.”

“For Homiletics?” Michal’s mouth dropped open. “No. You never told me that. Girls aren’t allowed, are they?”

“Apparently not. They wouldn’t let me in, anyway.” Beth yawned. “I’m getting sleepy. Hurry and tell me about your date with Allistair before I fall asleep.”

“Not gonna be any date.” Michal opened her notebook for New Testament, ruffled through the pages. “I’m really wondering if Allistair’s a fake, Beth. You wouldn’t believe what he said about today’s chapel speaker.” She noted Beth’s eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. “Beth?”

When there was no answer, Michal sighed, concerned that Beth wasn’t studying for the exam. She chewed on the nail again—Michal reverted to the childish habit whenever feeling anxious—and studied until it was time for dinner. Noting Beth was still sound asleep, Michal tiptoed out the door, meeting her suitemates in the lounge.

Samantha gave Michal a look. “Beth not going with us?”

“She’s sleeping. I think she’s sick again.”

No one commented, but the quick glances indicated the four of them had discussed Beth earlier.

Eager to change the mood, Ruth gave Michal a friendly shove. “So are you going to tell us now about Allistair?”

“Yup.” But she stubbornly remained silent.

“Well?” from Ruth.

Samantha gave Michal a playful smack on the arm. “Michal.”

She glanced around, checking out who might overhear their conversation. “Let’s wait until we’re seated in the dining hall, okay? I don’t want anyone else to know about this.”

Jenny shook her head in amazement. “Anyone else on this campus—well, maybe not Beth—but anyone else would just die to have everyone know that …”

Michal cut her off with a fierce glare.

“Okay. I’m not saying it. But you are the only one who would freak out like this.”

As they entered the spacious dining hall, Michal pulled back from the group, hesitating. After all these months, she was still intimidated by the scene before her—the mass of students milling about, filling the vast room with a rush of bustling energy. In their midst were large bars offering everything one could ask for: salads, breads, sandwiches (cold deli, or a hot sandwich made to order), varied full entrées, one bar devoted entirely to pasta and pizza, and lastly, the dessert and drink bars.

Walking into that dining hall presented Michal with a multitude of choices she’d never had to face before, dozens of possibilities she couldn’t even have imagined in Ethiopia. The result was almost overwhelming. As she stood in the doorway, momentarily frozen, she observed students walking in confidently, with decisive purpose. They hurried to the salad bar or were quick to peruse the entrées, choosing one easily. Others ordered sandwiches with apparent aplomb, pairing bread with meats cooked a certain way.

When Michal was a child back in Addis Ababa, she wouldn’t have been able to conceive of this much food in an entire city—let alone in one room. And the variety was still nearly beyond her comprehension. Her diet in Ethiopia had been consistent and predictable: wot (a stew), yams, taro, a cabbage like kale, squash, peppers, onions—often wrapped and baked in the ensete leaf (termed “false banana” since it resembled the banana plant). Corn was a rare luxury from their family garden. There was no such thing as choice. You ate what was placed before you—gratefully. Or rather: You acted that way.

The staple bread of Ethiopia had a tough, dense texture and was made from the ensete plant. When Michal first stood before the bread bar at McMaster’s, she’d sucked in her breath in amazement, eyes roaming over the display of bagels, yeast rolls, sweet breads with nuts, biscuits, cornbread, luscious sourdough loaves, and French baguettes, everything from plain white to healthy multigrains. She’d felt uncomfortable and guilty, thinking of her family and the villagers back home. Living with … so little.

But that was nothing compared to the waste she observed daily. Michal knew her views on what students flagrantly threw out wouldn’t be appreciated; she kept those thoughts to herself. At the same time, she was careful to eat whatever she put on her plate—which made her selections that much more cautious and deliberate. Along with the entire dining hall experience, the process of selecting food was harrowing for Michal.

It was also the perfect setup for major teasing.

Suitemates razzed Michal mercilessly about how she came to a complete stop when she first walked into the dining hall. How she then proceeded to advance in slow motion, waiting timidly for others to move out of the way. About her tendency to choose only the familiar, to approach the least crowded bar, choosing small amounts of what she could easily get to. Michal was always the last to arrive at the table with her very predictable food. No custom-made hot sandwiches. She’d invariably have the smallest portions. And she ate every bite, leaving her plate conspicuously clean, another mine for significant unwanted attention.

By the time Michal made her way to the table, Samantha was already primed and grinning.

“Did you see the spiral-sliced ham, Michal?” She held up a forkful. “It’s got that maple glaze on it—yum.”

She gave Samantha a vacant look. “Ham? Where was that?”

Samantha giggled while Ruth poked her with an elbow.

“Hey. Cut it out. I’m only pointing out the obvious. It was over on the entrée bar, silly.”

“Oh, so that’s what everyone was hovering around.”

Samantha started to make another comment, but Ruth kicked her. “Ouch. All right, already. So tell us about Allistair, Michal. You’ve kept us in suspense long enough.”

“It’s nothing. He just asked me to the basketball game.”

Several looks of obvious envy—and exclamations.

“But after chapel, he said what Reverend Coleman shared was—” Michal leaned into the center of the table and whispered, “pure crap. Honest, that’s a word-for-word quote.”

“I took a cut today. Sounds like I missed something good. What on earth did this Reverend Coleman say?” Amy asked, amusement coloring her words.

Ruth was indignant. “He’s a missionary. To Chile.”

“Uh, okay. So did he show slides of a sunrise and sunset?”

Amy’s sarcasm was lost on Ruth, who responded with horror at Amy’s audacity to ridicule a chapel speaker, let alone a missionary. “No, he didn’t.”

“He said we should all be open to becoming missionaries,” Michal pointed out. “That we should date only those who feel called to be missionaries too.”

“You know, I gotta tell you. I’m confused. ’Cause he made it sound like all of us should go to the mission field.” Jessica put her hands on her hips and tilted her head, smirking as she looked at each of them. “So … if all of us go overseas to the mission field, then who’s left here? Who supports everyone?”

“Jess, you know that’s not what he meant. Not technically.”

“You’re called to go back to Ethiopia, aren’t you?” from Ruth.

“Definitely,” Michal answered.

“Well, it’s pretty clear to me you can’t go out with Allistair.” Ruth’s declaration set off a firestorm of discussion.

“What? That’s stupid,” Samantha railed.

“Just because Allistair didn’t agree with Reverend Coleman doesn’t mean he’s opposed to being a missionary.”

“Actually, he told me he believes we’re all full-time missionaries,” Michal interjected.