​​​Chapter Twenty-Two
Rochelle

Kimber eventually moved in with us.

Ann thought this was ridiculous.

“Godless heathen,” she had said in my car after my diagnosis and the odd course my life was taking was starting to sink in.  I played with the windshield wipers even though it wasn’t raining. My old constant, my Jaguar, something I had always wanted and worked my tail end off for even though I hadn’t saved enough when Glenn had generously bought it for me. But the sentiment was there. My will to work my fingers to the bone was there. My will to keep going no matter the cost.

“That’s not Christian,” I said.

“Neither is she.” I smiled at Ann. Ann with the good heart and passion deeper than any I’ve ever harbored. Ann used to be an atheist. And before that she lived with a hippie and practiced free love. And before that her god was a tiny razor she kept in her make up case to cut at her arms when she got stressed out. Which, I once pointed out, was pretty forward thinking of her considering that wasn’t even a fathomable thing in the fifties. 

“You know, some would say you were once a godless heathen. And now look at you.”

“I was a trailblazer,” Ann said. Ann had (and still does) a fervor for God that can only come from someone who’s lived a lifetime on the other side of the coin. And I’m thankful she’s my friend. “And some would say it takes one to know one,” she had added, pretending to figure out how the cigarette lighter worked when Kimber spotted us in the car.

“I know, which only means I’m qualified.” I smiled and squeezed Ann’s hand. She sat in the passenger side with a straw brim hat on her head and a flowery sleeveless blouse. It’s like she purposely picked out her clothes to flip off her old life.

“Really, why are you letting him do this to you?” She meant why I was allowing Glenn to move his new girlfriend into our home. I hadn’t even filed for divorce yet. We sat, the sun hitting off the Jaguar’s nose and watched as Kimber pointed and shouted orders to the movers. For someone who lived in a studio apartment, she was rife with junk.

“Can I cite that bit about turning the other cheek?”

“He said to turn the other cheek, not to let your replacement move in.” Now Ann was the one squeezing my hand. “I’m sorry, Ro.”

“It’s okay, Ann.” After sitting and staring and pretending to be figuring out how the A/C in my car worked every time Kimber would look our way, Ann got into her own car and drove home. I stayed out in mine a little longer.

I wanted to go inside. But I stayed until the sun went down, not because Kimber was inside or Glenn. It was because there was a change God had waiting for me. And at this point, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to weather it.