Eden finally finds her voice. “Maybe he really is just focusing on all of the romantic stuff you said he was in peer counseling about. I know it’s hard when you don’t know the exact details, but you can still be praying for him.” Eden looks to me, pleadingly. “We all can.”
I close my eyes for a moment, knowing what must be done. I need to do this. For Bridgette, for Eden, for our friendship, and, maybe, for me. Dropping my bag, I walk over to my roommates, and silently reach for their hands. I’ve been adding in my own words of prayer during floor meetings over the last couple of weeks, but nothing super personal or involved. But, I can’t leave my roommates like this. And, since Eden is oddly silent and Bridgette is a mess, it’s my turn to step up to the plate.
I just want to go home. Is that too much to ask?
“Father God,” I start with the title Bridgette usually uses to call out to her Savior, “please watch over us as we each head home for this break. Keep our hearts, minds, and souls in the right place, Lord, as some of us face old temptations and maybe some new ones. Lord,” I take a deep breath, “please be with Silas during what seems to be a stressful and troubling time for him. You know his heart, Lord …” I add a silent prayer of thanks that I’ve been able to pick up on common prayer terminology in order to piece this together on the fly. Knowing people’s hearts, guarding those hearts, and watching over them are common requests.
“Thank you, God,” Eden enters. “Thank you for the blessing so far this semester of being able to watch each other grow and strengthen in you.” She squeezes my hand and I have no snarky thought. Eden thinks I’ve grown this semester, and for some reason that fills me with pride. “Please guard our hearts and minds as we depart campus for the next week and enjoy time with our families and friends. In Jesus’ name we pray.”
“Amen,” we say in unison, separating our hands and returning to our previous tasks.
Mine is to get on a train, fall asleep, and wake up in Connecticut.
“Bridge,” I smile, slinging my bag back over my shoulder, “I think this break will be just what you need. Go home and love on your parents and siblings. Silas, too. I think it’s just been a tough transition, is all.”
“Thank you, Kennedy.” Her smile returns and she gives me a soft embrace before stepping back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess lately.”
I give her a quick wink. “No need to apologize for being human. You girls have my phone number, so make sure you text me over the next couple days, okay? Call, too.”
I give them a wave and exhale a premature breath of freedom as I head downstairs where Maggie and the other hall residents who are going to the train station will be waiting in a campus van. I get there before a few of them, so I secure a window seat on the front bench. I make quick work of buckling my seatbelt, and then I lean my head on the window and stare at the rain as it rolls down the glass.
“Looking forward to going home?” Maggie asks with a wry smile.
I say nothing, but look at her and return the smile. She’s been good about checking in with me over the last couple of weeks, but our conversations have been highly relegated to text messages. There have been a few “crises” on our floor that have required enough of her time that we haven’t been able to schedule meetings on a regular basis. I air-quote crisis because none of them have involved drugs, violence, or the police, so I’m thinking that’s an area where my definition deviates slightly from theirs. Still, I am looking forward to meeting with her on a regular basis, but it looks like that might be something we work toward for next semester, since when we return from Thanksgiving break, we’ll all be studying like crazy for final exams.
Once the other girls are in the van, Maggie starts our journey toward the Amtrak station. Unfortunately, the closest station is nearly two hours away in Gastonia. And, from what I saw online, it barely qualifies as a station at all. More like a brick hut that looks like something out of an old Western film. Amidst the chatter of five other girls—some excited to see their high school sweethearts, and others looking forward to getting back to their home church—I begin to doze off. Before I slip fully unconscious, my phone dings.
I’ve changed his title in my phone from “BF” to his real name, but it’s still kind of a shock when it pops up.
Roland: I’m sorry we didn’t connect before you left. Have a Happy Thanksgiving.