​​​Chapter Twenty-Five
Rochelle

Ann offered me a place to stay. I turned her down, and she didn’t say a word. I’m sure she expected the answer.

I didn’t tell the rest of the group about Kimber. Marjorie got to the point in our meeting for prayer requests, and I could feel Ann and her hatless head boring into me. But it doesn’t make for a great group conversation. Even if I could use all the prayers I can get.

I don’t sleep in his room anymore. Our room, I guess. It was my idea to move out so I wouldn’t have to hear him say the words.

“You sure?” he asked. I don’t know what I was expecting. That he would realize what he was ending and tell Kimber to get out. I knew that wasn’t going to be the case. When you can’t see life from Jesus’s point of view, anything goes. It’s in our DNA. It’s still in mine even though I’ve been bought and paid for. So who am I to judge him?

I guess that’s what I have a hard time verbalizing to Ann. She’s the one with the wild past. But I’ve never been able to tell her how dirty mine is.

So I sleep now in one of the guest rooms. And I guess that’s all I’m really doing. Sleeping, barely eating, using the toilet, praying. Surviving.

I wonder what Kimber thinks. Ann says thinking most likely isn’t one of Kimber’s strong suits.  But I know the girl must sense this is all a mess. So I’m going to ask her. I’m going to make her my friend.

To Glenn, she’s just a young girl who wants sex and a sense of power, but that’s selling the girl short. Because I see her eyes sometimes when I’m on the couch reading, and she’s doing her best to avoid me. There’s shame there.

A sense of wrong.

And Lord help me if that isn’t more than I ever had.