It's My Life (16 page)

Beanie and I walked into West Haven at exactly three o'clock. It felt pretty weird too. I mean, I've seen movies with mental hospitals and they all sort of seem alike, and I always figure they just do that for the movies. But West Haven seemed eerily like some of those. It has locking gates and a security check-in, and then you wait in this cold, sterile sort of waiting room, and you hear some pretty strange sounds coming through the reception area
(like occasional screams, laughing, and stuff), and it's all a little unnerving. I was so glad that Beanie came with me because she kept making jokes about the whole thing, saying that I better be careful in case they found out about my latest psychological self-diagnosis (the codependent thing) because they just might lock me up too. Which is totally ridiculous because it's not even that kind of disorder. But at least it got us laughing.

Finally, someone came to take us to where Jenny was sitting in a day room. She had her back to us and was looking out a window to where it was raining cats and dogs outside. I was relieved to see she had on real clothes. (I'd been worried she'd be wearing a hospital gown and paper slippers.) But she looked fairly normal in her jeans and sweatshirt.

“Hi, Jenny,” I call out, to give her some warning. Then she slowly turns around, but her face (or maybe it is her expression) just doesn't even look like her. Instead of her usual perky smile, she seems sort of flat and blank and empty.

But then she smiles (only slightly) and waves and says hello. And Beanie and I make a big deal of greeting her, then pull a couple chairs over to where she's sitting.

“How're you doing?” I ask, trying not to show how nervous I feel.

“Okay, I guess.”

Big, long pause.

“So how's the food?” asks Beanie brightly (and I want to sock her).

Jenny makes a wry smile. “Yummy. That is, if you like
eating through a feeding tube.” Then she scowls.

“Ugh, they make you eat through a tube?” I ask, then immediately wonder if that's the wrong approach.

She nods. “Yeah, unless I can start doing it myself.”

“Can't you?” I ask hopefully.

Sadly, she shakes her head.

“Isn't there anything you feel like eating?” asks Beanie. “I mean, how about ice cream?”

Jenny makes a face.

“Well, how are you feeling then?” I ask. “Are you feeling a little stronger now that you've got something nutritious in you?”

She just shrugs. And that's pretty much how the next hour goes. And let me tell you, it's not easy. It's one of the longest, most difficult hours I've ever spent, and even though I feel guilty for leaving before visiting time is over, I'm certain that I'll never last another hour, and am pretty sure Beanie feels the same.

“Well, we should be going,” I finally say. “I hope we didn't wear you out.”

She just shrugs again, for what seems like the hundredth time. But then she says, “Will you come back?”

“Of course,” I say, too quickly. “If you want us to, that is.”

Then she nods and I notice just the tiniest spark of life in her eyes. “Yes, please do come back.”

So we both hug her, and I can feel the tears building in my eyes, but I don't want her to see; I don't want to discourage her any more. So, I tell her we'll be praying for
her, and that we'll be back to visit her soon. And as we reach the door, I turn around to see her looking at us with big tears running down her face, but she's not making a sound. Part of me wants to run back and stay, but another part says it's time to go. And when we finally get back out to the parking lot, I'm just feeling totally confused about everything.

“Man, that place is lame,” says Beanie. “Poor Jenny.”

“Did you see her face as we were leaving?” I ask, barely able to talk.

Beanie nods. “Yeah. But I didn't know what to do. It seemed better to just go. But I think we should go back. Maybe even tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I stare at her curiously. But of course, she's made of much stronger stuff than I am. “You want to go tomorrow?”

“Don't you?”

“I suppose so. It's just that right now I'm feeling pretty drained.”

“Then you better let God fill you up again.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I suppose you're right.”

We hardly spoke on the ride home. But Beanie stayed at my house and ate dinner with us, and afterward we went up to my room and rehashed the whole thing. Then Beanie suggested we should pray for Jenny. So we did. And then I felt a lot better. I just hope Jenny does too. I really, really hope our prayers are making a difference because, to tell the truth, it sure didn't seem like our visit helped all that much.

After church, my dad took us to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. And we got to talking about this being my last year at home and how I'd be going to college and everything next year, and then I mentioned that I'd been wondering how important it was for me to go to college. Big mistake.

“You mean, you'd actually consider not going to college?” asks my dad, his forehead creased with fatherly concern.

“Maybe,” I say as I use my chopsticks to pick up a sweet-and-sour sparerib. “You know college isn't for everyone.”

“But it's certainly for you,” says my mom eagerly. “You're an honor student, Caitlin. Why in the world would you choose
not
to go to college? It sounds absurd.”

“Maybe she wants to be a receptionist forever,” offers Ben. Thanks a lot, little brother.

“That's not it,” I quickly say. “I've just been thinking of other options.” Well, to tell the truth, I've only been playing with this idea recently, and I must admit now, it was incredibly stupid of me to voice these thoughts aloud to my family over dinner.

“What options?”
demands my dad, at the same time trying to appear calm.

“Well, for one thing, I'm thinking what if I'm not totally sure what I'm going to college for?”

“But your writing,” suggests my mom. “You could go into
journalism or English literature or…”

“Or how about psychology?” adds my dad triumphantly. “You were just saying last week how much you like your psychology class.”

“Just because I like a class doesn't mean I want to make it my life's profession.”

“Well, that's okay,” says Mom. “You don't have to decide right away. You can just take general requirements the first year, and then decide later on down the line. I know people who changed their minds clear up into their senior year or ended up with a double major. It all works out.”

“I know.” I start clicking my chopsticks together in frustration, wondering why it is that parents feel they must control so many elements of your life. I mean, look at Jenny's parents (or more particularly her mom), and where's that gotten her? “Maybe I'd like to just spend a year or two down in the mission in Mexico,” I say quietly. “Maybe I could just work to feed and help the children at the garbage dump.”

Well, now you should see my parents' faces. It's as if I'd said I thought I might start shooting up heroin or become a surrogate mother or sell off my body parts or something. I mean, they're like totally appalled. Of course, they both say they think it's wonderful how much I care about those little kids, but wouldn't it be so much better if I get my degree first, then go help them later? To which I somewhat testily answer, “You know, it's a funny thing. But when you're a little kid and you're picking
through the trash heap for scraps of rotten food, you might just find it a little hard to understand why it takes someone FOUR years before they come down and bring you something to eat!”

Well, naturally that irritates them. And I'm getting more than a little upset myself. So since I've already stuck my foot in it, I just continue. “Whose life is this anyway?” I blurt out. “I mean, who gets to decide what I do or don't do next year? What if God is calling me to be a missionary? And what if He wants me to go to Mexico to feed His starving little children?”

Now my dad kind of rolls his eyes (which really irks me) then says, “Oh, great, so now you want to become Mother Teresa?”

“And what's so wrong with that?” I challenge, locking eyes with him.

“Nothing, honey,” soothes Mom, trying to cool things down before we're all yelling and screaming. “But can't you see why we'd like you to finish college first?”

Well, by then my stomach's so knotted that I know I cannot possibly eat another bite. And although I feel just a teeny bit guilty for ruining everyone's meal, at the same time, I refuse to take all the blame for this stupid scene (see, I'm moving beyond codependency!). I stand up and tell them not to worry, but I'll find my own way home, thank you very much!

Then in a calm but firm voice, I say, “This is my life, and I intend to live it however I feel is right. So you better get used to it.” Now I'm thinking perhaps that last line
was uncalled for. But, sheesh, isn't it the truth? Then I walk out of the restaurant and down the street to a bus stop, where fortunately (since it's starting to get cold and I didn't wear a very warm jacket) a bus pulls up. And as I ride toward home, I question myself, wondering if I am totally wrong to take such a strong stand against my parents. I mean, they are
my
parents. And we are supposed to respect our parents. But what do you do if you believe God is pulling you one way and your parents are pulling you the other?

About that time, I remember the Bible verse where Jesus said that families would become divided over Him (father against son, mother against daughter). And while it's a little reassuring, I still hope that's not what all this is about. After all, my parents are Christians too. I just don't get why they don't understand this or support me in it.

When I got home, I immediately called up Pastor Tony, hoping I could talk to him and get some answers, but unfortunately he wasn't home, and I really didn't want to leave a message, so I just hung up. Then not wanting to be there when my parents got home, I hopped in my car and took off over to Steph's to pick up Beanie since we'd planned to go visit Jenny today anyway.

Apparently, Steph and Oliver were spending the day with Pastor Tony (the reason he wasn't home). So I sat on the couch and told Beanie all about the confrontation with my parents and how angry and disappointed I was in them. And for the first time since I can ever remember, Beanie sided with my parents–against me!

“Cate, if I had parents like yours, I'd listen to them. I mean, just look at them, they're both well educated and responsible and respectable citizens. And if that's not enough, they're even Christians who go to church. And just for the record, I think they're absolutely right about the college thing. You're way too young to think you can go off and be some missionary in Mexico. You need to finish your education first, and who knows, by then you might even want to do something else anyway.”

Well, I felt like I'd just been run over by a Mac truck. I mean, I was totally speechless. But not Beanie. No way. She just kept going. “And besides, Cate, aren't children supposed to obey their parents? And to respect them too? And I don't mean to offend you, but aren't you just a little bit concerned that this whole Mexico missionary thing might simply be your codependent side raising its head again?”

“I–I don't know,” I finally said, fighting to hold back the tears. Her words really cut deeply, but my pride kept me from wanting to admit this hurt. “But the thing is,” I try, sounding weak. “I don't think anyone should tell anyone else how to live her life. I think it's a private thing between her and God.”

“Well, if that's true, then why do you even have friends or parents or pastors? Why do we bother to talk about things?”

“I don't know.” I stood up, trying not to show how upset I felt, but failing miserably. “And right now I'm wondering why I even bothered to talk to
anyone
about this.” I
walked over to the door. “And you can be sure, I won't again!”

“Oh, don't get mad, Caitlin,” she started. “I'm sorry–”

But it was too late. I was outta there.

I drove around all afternoon. And now I'm kicking myself because I never did go in to see Jenny. But I will tomorrow, somehow, even if I have to get off work to do it. I didn't get back home until after dark, and then I went straight to my room. Oddly enough, no one even bothered me. I suppose they think if they leave me alone, I'll cool off and come to my senses and forget all about this Mexico nonsense.

Anyway, I did go downstairs and apologize to my parents. I didn't say much except that I didn't mean to be so disrespectful. They were very sweet about the whole thing, and they even apologized too. Thankfully we didn't talk about it anymore. But I did assure them that I was praying for God to lead me. And when I knew where He was leading, I would let them know, and hopefully they'd be supportive. In the meantime, I am keeping my mouth shut tight. I suppose I should call Beanie and apologize to her too, but it's pretty late now, and I hate to wake up little Oliver. I'll just talk to her tomorrow.

Beanie seemed to be
sulking today. I told her I was sorry about walking out on her like that, but that she'd hurt my feelings. And although she did apologize, it seemed sort of halfhearted like she didn't really care, which I must admit hurt my feelings all over again. I mean, she's the one who said most of that stuff in the first place. How could she have expected me to just stand there and take being mercilessly railed on by my “best friend”? I mean, aren't best friends supposed to side with you and
not
your parents? Like, what's up with that?