I’m delighted at her success. She has worked hard with them and deserves it.
Like me, she is starting to see what she is capable of, that she is good at something, and, for the first time, is earning enough to support herself. Her newfound independence is sparking changes at home, too. I can see that she has basically checked out of her relationship with my dad, but I’m still not prepared when I overhear her on the phone with her mother seeking emotional support. With VocalTec’s Internet phone service she can finally make international calls without the exorbitant cost.
Hoping to save their marriage, Dad starts reading John Gray. On our walks to the market, he marvels at what he’s learning from Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. He tries to follow the advice. Listen more. Buy my mother flowers every week, like she always said she wanted.
But it’s too late.
“I loved your father passionately for over twenty years,” Mom confides in me. “But he’s never understood my need for romance, for flowers, for something pretty, no matter how often I asked. The first present he ever gave me was a black umbrella, in Paris. Then he bought me a vacuum cleaner. I used to nag him all the time, but nothing changed. I’ve finally given up.”
I am caught in the middle, seeing both sides and feeling sorry for them both. I know I could not have stayed married to my dad as long as she has. Yet seeing him so lost and hopeful—trying his best to fix things in his bumbling, optimistic way, and losing—hurts. I’m forced to be the voice of reason and counsel between them, and step into the role of mother and father to my younger siblings.
I notice Mom is spending a lot of time with Ivan, one of the Russian professors at the university. We welcome him as a potential Sheep and have him over to the house often for dinner. On these nights, I notice Mom taking more pains with her makeup and outfits, but when I chide her for flirting with him, she brushes me off. “We’re just friends.”
While my parents’ marriage deteriorates, Patrick and Sophia start canoodling, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly. I’m not surprised when they announce that they’re engaged. I celebrate with them by going out for dim sum. But my happiness is tinged with self-pity; their romance reminds me of everything I don’t have.
Since returning to China, I’ve been celibate. I’ve just turned twenty-one, which means there are no age limits separating me from the FGA men, but there are few Family guys in the vicinity and many more women, so for the first time in years, there’s no pressure to sleep with anyone. It’s a relief after Kazakhstan, but I still yearn for a romantic dinner and dancing under the stars.
For a few months now, I’ve been attracted to one of my Danish classmates, Johnny. But no matter how much latitude we have here, I know the Family won’t tolerate a relationship with a Systemite, so I tamp down my impulses and start talking to Johnny about Jesus. He’s interested in Buddhism, so we don’t hang out much after that. I’m disappointed but relieved. I’ve avoided temptation.
As the school semester comes to a close, I receive an unexpected request. My grandma has dreams of seeing the great sights in Europe, but now that she’s in her seventies, she has some mobility issues. She wants me to accompany her.
“I won’t be able to go without Faith to help me,” she tells my parents, working the guilt angle. Normally, the Shepherds might discourage or even forbid such a trip; too much worldly influence and no supervision to make sure I don’t break any Family rules. But there are no Shepherds here.
I clasp my hands together and prepare to plead. There’s no way I’m going to miss out on my chance to see the Europe I’ve read about in my nineteenth-century novels. Before I even begin making my argument, my parents agree. I have no idea why, but I’m not interested in second-guessing their motives.
I fly into Rome to meet Grandma. September is the perfect time of year for the two-week senior citizens’ bus tour of Europe. While it’s not quite the Grand Tour of my novels, I’m enchanted nonetheless. I marvel at the aqueducts of Rome still standing from the time of Jesus. I wander the ruins of Pompeii, thinking of the 1984 movie that I’d seen many times. The beautiful architecture and empty streets of Brussels and Geneva are in stark contrast to the screaming, dirty vibrancy of Asia’s jostling crowds, like a stately old dame instead of a messy fast-growing toddler.
We end our trip in England. Grandma is scheduled to depart one day ahead of me, so we say our goodbyes at the airport. I’m glad to have a little time to myself before my flight back to China in the morning. I arrange to spend the night at a Family Home in London. After dinner, I help with the dishes, but as I’m sweeping the floor, two of the young Family guys tease me for being so “helpful.”
“Shut it. Leave her alone,” says a handsome young man with long golden curls. He looks like a Grecian god. Speaking with him, I learn he’s not in the Family, but he’s been friends with the guys here for years. He tells me that he often spends the night at the Home when he’s in town visiting. That’s odd, I think. We normally don’t have Systemites stay in our Family Homes, even if they’re from out of town, but maybe that’s one of the differences between the mission field and home countries, like the UK and America.
“Is it okay if I share the guest room with you?” he asks.
I look around at the others, and they look like this is a perfectly normal request.
“I guess,” I say slowly. I’m just a guest here myself—who am I to say no?
We chat and flirt as we get ready to turn in, then climb into our separate beds. But he keeps wanting to talk late into the night.
“It’s late. I have to go to sleep,” I finally say.
“Of course. Can you just give me a hug goodnight?”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. We’re an affectionate group of people who hug all the time.
I get up and go to hug him, and he pulls me onto the bed and rolls on top of me. I think he’s trying to be cute, so I laugh and let him cuddle me for a few minutes. Then I say, “Okay, now I really do need to go to bed.” But he doesn’t let go.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice low. “I know you want this as much as I do.”
“No,” I say firmly, trying to wriggle out of his arms. “I don’t. I do find you attractive, but I’m not going to have sex with you. It’s against the rules. I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“No one will know.”
“I’ll know,” I snap, growing frustrated. “I’m serious. Get off me.” I shove him as hard as I can. He doesn’t budge an inch.