Page 140 of Intermission

I lift my head when Mom sits on the floor beside me.

“Oh, honey.” She reaches for the box of tissues on the coffee table and hands it to me. “Faith, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry he didn’t—I’m sorry things didn’t go as you’d hoped.”

For what it’s worth.

Does her vague apology count for anything now? Or is it too little, too late?

And yet... the peace is still there, embracing and defying my pain, surpassing understanding as it nudges my breath into words.

“Thank you. It’s worth more than you can possibly know.”

Mom’s rapid blinks can’t dry her eyes fast enough to keep a tear or two from spilling. She looks away—and I do, too, knowing her aversion to letting anyone see her cry.

“Mom,” I begin softly. “I know I did things I shouldn’t have when Noah was still here, but I didn’t do a lot of the things you thought I did.”

“You were young. It was unpleasant, but it was natural. All teenagers rebel in some way. It’s over now.”

I rest a hand on Janey’s still-wet fur and take a deep breath, exhaling a silent prayer to let go of the words I want to hear—her words, seeking forgiveness for having set the stage for my pain tonight and so much more. But those words are not offered. They may never be offered. And my disappointment has no home but where I must leave it now, at the feet of a grace-offering God, who desires me to reflect his heart.

“I know you think Noah and I were... intimate, but we weren’t. I’ve never, well, youknow.” I lift a hand to my heating cheek. A drylaugh escapes my lips. “Good grief! I’m almost nineteen years old, and I can barely even say the word ‘sex,’ let alonedoit.”

“But he was so mucholderthan you. Surely you can understand why I would think he might—”

“You didn’t know him. We never even came close.”

For several breaths, I wait. Mom does not swerve her gaze.

“I believe you,” she says.

Invisible light pours into my chest.

“But someday, when you have a daughter of your own, maybe you’ll understand how I came to that conclusion.”

Deep breath. “You were trying to protect me. I know.” I sigh. “Noah was one of the good ones, Mom. He really was.” A cold chill travels down my spine. I cross my arms at my waist and dig my fingers into the robe, trying to suppress a shiver—but fail. “I hate how that sounded. It sounds like he’s—” I swallow. “Like he died.”

I close my eyes.Oh, God!A fresh tear rips across my heart.Please, not that. Let him be safe. Let him be... happy.

I truly want that. I want Noah to be happy, even if it means I have to redefine the word for myself.

Yes, Lord.I nod my amen, feeling the smile of the Holy Spirit.Wherever he is, and whoever he loves, please pour out joy on Noah Spencer. Pour out love on him like crazy, Jesus.

Peace flutters across my ribcage, up my shoulders, and down my arms like tingles of light beneath my skin. It doesn’t disintegrate my pain, but it warms it. Manages it.

“I’m sorry Noah let you down tonight.”

“Me, too.” I open my eyes and relax my arms. “Me, too.” When I blink, each eye releases a tear. “Maybe God had a different plan for tonight than reuniting me with my first love.”

Mom stiffens. I’m not surprised, but her discomfort doesn’t let me off the hook. There are things that need to be said. Closure that can’t be claimed until I’ve done the hard thing, said the true words. Owned them.

God.I drop my chin and close my eyes, releasing streams of saltwater down my cheeks and silent whispers from my spirit.I am so broken,but I feel like you’ve opened a door.Please, give me the courage to walk through it. Give me the words I need to say. Help me speak the truth... in love.

I wipe a hand across my face. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“For the past few years, I’ve blamed you for every hard thing in my life. I’ve—”

My voice breaks. I’ve been honest with God, but it’s much harder to voice ugly truths to the one who’s given them their sting.