I Will Wait

Chapter 2

 I did not want to get out of the car. Shocker. I did not plan on it. The car was my beloved companion for the rest of the evening, my arms crossed across my chest as a symbol of my strike against this party. If Joel wanted me to go inside he would have to take me out and drag me, and he was too nice to do that. I was banking on it. He had already gone into the party anyway, there was no way he would have come back out and physically pulled me along.

Was I being childish? Probably, but I would not admit to such an act. I was dumped two minutes ago. I was not about to pull myself together to show up all happy, snappy at the party of someone I had promised to go out with two years ago. The very idea was... was... ludicrous!

God. What in all the world are you trying to do in my life?

I began to hum a little song, a friend from college recommended trying it when stressed. She said it worked every single time. It did not. My fingers were still shaking and my heart was still thudding and tears were still sneaking up into the corners of my eyes and taunting me.

I sank as low as I could into the seat at the approach of a couple, holding hands, the girl leaned up against the boy's arm. They looked no older than nineteen, eighteen. I did not know for sure neither did I care, I slid further down into my little hiding place and started balling my pitiful eyes out. The tears had won the battle of cry not cry. The little traitors.

I sat there for what seemed like ten minutes, just melting into the chair and crying over a boy. A boy that wanted to go separate ways because God was leading us as such. What did that even mean? And what did he mean when he said I did not know where God was leading me? I was going to be a missionary! I was going to follow Bert all over the world helping the less fortunate! How was that not knowing what I was going to do?

Forget it.

This was selfish. Whether I liked it or not, the Rueban's were like family. I owed it to Caleb to show up and at least tell him happy birthday. I could smile and wave and ask how he had been and then leave before the topic of relationships or promises even has time to make their grand entrance.

An explanation would only be fair at some point. Not tonight, not on his birthday, at some other point. If we ever ran into each other again. The thought, if we ever ran into each other again, brought up tears curled around laughter in a strange gurgling sound that broke from my lips. There was no doubt, I would see him again. Our families were inseparable, there was no hope for escape, not even a little. No light shone at the end of the tunnel. Even then, there was no telling if escape was the right option.

With all the courage a girl with a beat up heart at the same time as wearing the mask of a traitor—a smile—could muster, I pushed open the passenger door and slid out of the car like a cooked noodle. My phone lit up on the floor reminding me that I had dropped it there. It was Joel all but demanding I pull my sorry behind together and go inside. He was right, too. I should have done that from the very beginning. Now, I had to go in alone instead of having my brother by my side. The nice thing about having an older brother as amazing as Joel was that he would stand by me in anything, even if it was dumb and he would kick me in the butt if I was being a lousy wimp. Tonight had not reached those extremities yet.

The door was locked so I knocked and waited only a minute before the door swung open and I found Chris wearing a party hat and a half eaten churro sticking out of his mouth. He grabbed the churro with his free hand and smiled. "Hey, El. Hangin' in there?"

"Hangin' in there." I replied with a small, half fake smile.

He opened the door wider and nodded his head for me to come in. The house was loud with laughter but nothing like I was expecting an eighteen year old guys' party to be. Streamers hung from every corner of the house. Yellow and green like his favorite colors. There were these palm-palms that hung all over the place on those same bright shades of his favorite colors, they gave the impression of giant lemons and limes hanging from the ceiling. I could have been mistaken for marching right into a six year-olds party, but it was Caleb's. Eighteen-year-old Caleb. Adult Caleb. I wanted to scream.