Chapter 6
Marley
The following day
It was Thanksgiving, which was usually one of my favorite holidays. As it stood, I was pretty miserable. I felt bad, physically, but I wasn't sick. I wished I had some sort of medicine that would help calm my nerves. I was at Joan's house entertaining a house full of people, and I would rather be just about anywhere else.
Joan's daughters had been there all morning. I tried to help at first, but after a while, they started to say things to each other in hushed tones, and I took the hint and left them alone. They did not like me, especially Deb, and Joan did nothing to take up for me. I went into the living room with Joan's son, Brandon, and Patrick, her store manager, but they were engaged in conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt them.
People were everywhere, and no one was talking to me. The house was packed, and yet I was all alone. I was normally comfortable at Joan's, but today I felt judged and rejected.
My Nessa and Frank had been instructed to show up at twelve-thirty for lunch, and by the time they knocked on the door, I was frazzled and exhausted and sitting in my room. I had told everyone I went to the restroom, but I stayed there for fifteen minutes, working up the nerve to put on a smile and have a good lunch with everyone. I was uncomfortable. I had a helpless, hopeless feeling that was physically in my chest. I felt weighed down and dreaded going back out there. I'd been losing sleep for over a week, since I lost my scarf. This day was especially difficult because I knew I would have to tell Nessa.
I went downstairs with a smile. I was a good actress, and no one knew I was mentally miserable. I thought it would be great having Nessa there, but it added to the chaos. I hadn't told her about the scarf, and I was sick to my stomach that she would be disappointed about it. I knew that she would act like she wasn't disappointed but that she secretly would be. I knew she would lie to me about her feelings. I knew she would reassure me, and at the same time, she would be sad.
We had countless conversations about that thing over the years. She was so impressed that I had held onto it all that time. She would tell the story to people and make it out to be some amazing, wonderful scarf that led me to Chicago, the big city, to chase my dreams. I had heard her tell that story, and the underlying theme was that I had great things ahead. What did it all mean now that I had lost the scarf on a city bus?
I felt waves of nausea every time I thought of that scarf and imagined how it must've fallen off. I imagined its fate, and I did not think of good things. I thought I had looked back in my seat when I got off the bus. I thought I had checked myself at every turn. I stared into my glass of iced tea, working to listen to the Thanksgiving guests and hold onto a half-smile when all I wanted to do was cry. How in the world did I let that thing get lost?
I absentmindedly tuned into Patrick who was really excited and animated about whatever story he was telling. "And I went to take her out of his arms, and she squealed like a stuck pig! I couldn't believe her behavior! I thought the guy had hurt her because I knew I hadn't. But that little terror wasn't hurt, she just wouldn’t let me take her from the guy!"
"Tell them who it was," Joan, having already heard the story, said proudly.
"Dominic Decker."
"Who's that?" said, Anna, one of Joan's daughters.
"Eddie Decker's son!" Patrick said.
"They're twins."
"Yeah, he's got those twins."
Everyone was chiming in.
"Who is this guy?" Anna asked.
"Don't tell me you don't know who Eddie Decker is," Joan's son, Brandon, said to his sister.
"She knows who that is," Deb said.
"I do know who it is," Anna replied. "I was confused. I didn't realize you were saying he came in the store."
"Mitzy 'bout died," Patrick said. "It was Eddie's son who came in, Dominic, and let me tell you. She had a field day with that poor young man! She would not let him put her down. She kept rubbing her cheeks on his chest and whining. I've never seen anything like it. She's eight years old, and Joan brings her into the store all the time. I've never seen her do that to anybody."
"Caroline Decker loves that line of flannel loungewear I have. She bought twelve sets of it for people at her son's business. That was a big sale for us. I'm really thankful for that. I'm sorry for her son, though. Mitzy really put on a show. I watched it back on the security footage."
"No kidding," Patrick said.
"How'd you get Mitzy from the guy?" Anna asked.
"Let me assure you, it was an ordeal!" Patrick said. "She almost bit me! The guy stood there and held her while I took his stuff to the car. He tried to help me, but she wouldn't even let him put her down. She threw an absolute fit! She usually doesn't even like men, and with this one, it was like she had to be connected to him or she would die!"
"I can't get her to come near me," Brandon said.
"Me neither," Deb's husband agreed.
"Well, Mitzy was freaking out about this guy. I had to apologize to him. We might even send Caroline an email with some store credit to apologize."
"Was it that big of a deal?" Deb asked skeptically.
"It would be warranted after yesterday," Patrick said nodding. "She squealed like he had hurt her when he put her down. He felt really bad. It was traumatic for all of us. He asked if she needed a vet."
They laughed.
"What did you say?" Nessa asked.
"I said I didn't know because I didn't. She was there, yelping and yelping, and then once he went outside and closed the door, she jumped up and started scratching at it. She yelped as she scratched, and she scratched so hard that I thought her little arms were going to fall off. I thought she might seriously burn a hole through that glass door… or hurt herself. Eddie Decker's son stared at me helplessly through the door, wondering if he should come back and get her. He probably still wonders if she's okay to this day."
"Mitzyyy!" Nessa said, laughing at the story. "Did you fall in love?"
"I think she did," Patrick said plainly.
"I don't know who he is," Nessa said. "You're talking about Eddie Decker as if he's a household name."
"He is," Frank assured her along with a few others.
"Maybe not if you're not from Chicago," Joan said. "He's a football player. He was. He's retired. He played for the Chicago Bears."
"Really famous," Frank added.
"His face was on Wheaties boxes all through the nineties," Patrick said.
"His boys are big athletes, too," Joan added. "One of them went on to be a professional baseball player."
"Was the baseball player the one who came in today?" Deb asked.
"No, I think it was the other one," Patrick said.
They searched for him on the internet and passed around a phone so that everyone could see who Mitzy had fallen in love with.
I glanced at the photograph long enough to realize I knew the guy. I had met him before. I thought he might have been a customer at… nope, it was the restaurant. I had sat at a table with this guy. He was sweet and handsome, and I knew him. I even remembered Dominic being his name. But I didn't flinch at the phone. I stared at the photo for a second or two with that same smile I'd been wearing all day, and then I passed the phone to the next person at the table, who happened to be Nessa.
I got through the rest of the meal with a peaceful half-smile that was, one hundred percent, fake. Joan's kids hated me, and I had lost the scarf. I didn't work up the nerve to tell Nessa about it that day. I just couldn't do it. It was Thanksgiving, after all.
She and Frank spent the night in Chicago, and they came to my store the following day. I took a lunch break with them, and we went to a little café near my work. Frank was standing in line at another nearby store with some things they had purchased, but Nessa came to meet me at the restaurant. She and I sat down next to each other at a small table.
"Are you guys busy today with all the black Friday shoppers?" she asked.
"Not really. We were busy for our store, but it's nothing like I used to experience at my other job."
"Are you all right, Marley? I noticed you seem like you're thinking about something, baby."
"I am not okay, Nessa, but I can't even think about it without…"
I felt a hot rush of tears come to my eyes. I imagined the scarf, and my eyes stung instantly. I knew I was going to cry, and I had to get up.
"I’m going to the restroom."
"What's the matter Mar?"
My feet and back were hurting. It had been a long morning at work, and I was already on the verge of tears after yesterday. They flooded my eyes, hot tears, and I blinked at her, knowing I couldn't stand up and cross the restaurant in that condition. Instead, I sat back down and discreetly covered my face, smiling at her with blurry vision. "I'm sor-ry," I whispered.
"Don't be sorry," she said quietly. "What's the matter, baby?"
"I lost the scarf, Nessa."
I barely got the words out in a strained whisper. I was trying my best not to cause a scene, and she leaned in and took me into her arms.
"It's okayyy," she whispered softly. "It's all right, Mar-Mar. That's no big deal."
"It's not okay, Nes-sa. It is a big deal. It's not even like I lost it doing something go-o-od, I just lost it on a bus. A city bus. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry, baby, it's just a scarf. I'd rather you not have to ride the bus, though. When are you getting that car?"
I took a deep, calming breath, trying to stop the tears. I wiped my eyes. "I'm trying to make it happen when I'm home at Christmas. We'll see. I enjoy having no insurance and gas, so I'm not really pushing for it. I've been getting rides with co-workers, and that helps. Once I get a car, I'll have to figure out parking." I sniffed. "Nessa I'm just not going to talk about the scarf when Pa gets here. I’m too torn up about it. I’m mad at myself. It happened over a week ago, and I just can't let it go."
"Marley Jane, please. I am not concerned with that. It was a piece of cotton. It's not important. There is nothing you can do about the past."
I sighed and leaned into her. No one was paying attention to us, and I didn't care if they were. "Nessa, I'm having a hard time. I haven't been sleeping well, and I'm just… I don't know what it is. I think it's anxiety, but it's physical. I haven't been feeling so good."
"Well, I certainly hope it's not about the scarf, baby. That thing is a piece of fabric, like I said. Everything's replaceable. When you have thoughts of anxiety, you take them into captivity like Paul told the Corinthians, baby. You have the ability and the responsibility to do that. Have you been in the Word?"
"Yes, ma'am, but it's hard. The scarf is not replaceable. Mariam doesn't even knit anymore."
"Marley, listen to me. I'll get you another one just like it."
"It's not even just the scarf. I'm just going through it for the last week, Nessa. I'm having a hard time—not hungry or anything. Theoretically, I know you're not upset and that the scarf's not that big of a deal, but I just got wrecked about it for some reason. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." I spoke quietly and quickly trying to keep it together.
She rubbed my shoulder. "Sometimes we go through these things."
"It shouldn't even be this big of a deal." I wiped my eyes trying to get it together. "I don't want you to worry about me, Nessa."
"Oh, I'm not, honey. This is the stuff of life. You're strong, and you'll find your way through it. Frank would give you a hearty pat on the back and say it's good… builds character."
I laughed a little as I continued to wipe my cheeks. "He would say that," I said.
"Suffering, endurance, character, hope… that's the order… it's a verse, too, so you know it's true."
"But this doesn't count as that kind of suffering," I said.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, staring at me.
"It means that I'm not going through Bible suffering. It's a scarf. And it's my own self. It's not like God's going to produce character and hope over petty stuff like that. He's probably like 'stop crying, Marley. It's not that big of a deal. There are starving children in Africa'."
"God is not saying that at all, Marley Jane, and you stop putting words into His mouth. He cares about your problems, and it's not silly just because it's a scarf. That scarf meant a lot to you. We both know it did. It's okay to cry about it." She hugged me. "And this is the type of suffering that counts towards endurance and hope, my baby. Don't lie to yourself and say it isn't. Suffering is suffering. Don't sell yourself short."
"Yeah, but what if it's self-induced?"
She let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "I remember one time Frank was on the phone with his oldest son, Randy. He had been going through some problems, and he was just trying to get his life turned around. Anyway, Randy started this new job, and he called his dad one night after he worked a long shift. He was talking about how he was going to get overtime, but that his feet and his back were killing him from working such a long day. He and his dad had an exchange about how good a shower would feel, and then Frank got off the phone wearing this huge grin. He was so happy, and he looked at me and said, 'his back and feet are aching from working all day!' He was all excited about it." Nessa tilted her head at me. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"No, I don't."
"Frank, he wasn't excited that Randy's feet hurt, or his back. He loves Randy. That's his son, and he loves him with all his heart. Frank would never wish pain on his son. It didn't give him pleasure to hear that Randy was in pain. He knew it was good because he knew from experience that a hard day's work, and all the bumps and bruises that come with it, builds character. It doesn't give God pleasure to see you going through stuff, but He lets you do it sometimes because it will build character in you, Marley. It's the same as Frank saying he was happy Randy's feet were sore. He wasn't happy about the pain, he just cherished the end result."
"So, you're saying it's good that I'm sitting here bawling in a restaurant?"
"No, but yes. You're going to make it through this, Mar. And God cares about everything. Even the small stuff. He cares about your anxiety. It's all Biblical suffering, if you want to call it that."
"Thank you, Nessa. I feel like a fool that I'm all torn up over this."
"That's not foolishness, Marley. That scarf was important to you."
I felt hot tears sting my eyes again when she said that. I swallowed hard, concentrating on holding them back.
Lunch.
I sighed and sat up straighter. I blinked at the now-blurry menu that was sitting in front of me on the table.
"I'll be praying for you, and you let me know if it ever gets to where you need to talk to someone like a counselor. Have you been talking to anyone at church?"
"No, and I didn't go by there last week." I took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. "Here comes Pa Frank. Let's just eat lunch and not mention it, if you don’t mind, so I don't get started again."
"You got it," she said. I took a deep breath, getting it together and telling myself that I had told Nessa the truth about it and the hard part was over.
Our server must've been waiting for Frank to get there because they both approached the table at the same time.