Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,29
said. Things that had happened that first year.
“No. There’s no way I’m letting you stay on this bus yourself.” Noah still seemed a little stunned by what she had just said. “You used to date Lázaro?”
“For like six weeks. The first year I lived in Cochabamba. We met at a church youth thing.”
This breath, this space in the universe she now occupied next to Noah, who she loved and had to confess these things to, was without question the worst moment in her life. If she could just say what had happened, she might curl into the seat and die in peace, next to Noah. “So one night,” she mumbled, “I had too much to drink.”
Like the other night.
For a little while, Wara had totally forgotten about that lovely scene at Café Paris. New waves of shame washed over her. Her hands twisted the hem of her sweater into a pulp. “And it was like he said. That night was the last time I saw him…because I couldn’t handle seeing him after what happened.”
She was telling all this to the velvet pattern on the back of the seat, terrified to look at Noah and see his disgust. He wasn’t looking at the girl he thought he knew, and now he realized the truth about her.
“Wara,” he started, but she cut him off, laughing breathlessly.
“And that’s not everything! The morning after it happened, we were supposed to fly to Puerto Rico together for his brother’s wedding. He made such a big deal about it, because he said he’d never had a ‘nice’ girlfriend before to take home to meet his family and he knew his mom was going to be all proud of him. Lázaro’s parents even paid for our tickets.”
Wara felt dizzy, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Had she really done all this? She’d spent so long trying not to think about it, pretending she was the kind of person who would never act this way. But it was all true. She licked her lips, determined to finish the story.
“So, the last night I saw Lázaro, he gave me five thousand dollars for the trip, just to keep for him because in the morning he had to stop in the market and get a present for his mom and he didn’t want to get robbed there on the way to the airport. And…he also gave me the diamond wedding ring for his brother’s wife. She had him buy it in Bolivia, because it was cheaper than in Puerto Rico. That was at dinner. But later, I felt so horrible about everything that I never showed up to go to Puerto Rico in the morning. I just stood Lázaro up at the airport. I went to Montana for four months and never talked to him again. When I came back to Cochabamba he was gone. I just ran away from him, because it was easier to just not think about it. Never gave him back the money and the ring. He definitely hates me now.”
There, she’d told him everything. There was a giant split somewhere inside her heart: this adventurous girl who loved languages and Jesus and living here in Bolivia. And then, on the dark side, this liar who had slept with a guy while working as a missionary and never had the guts to face him afterwards.
She felt like she had just turned herself inside out, here on this bus in front of Noah: the rotten inside she always kept hidden from the world was now revealed, stinking up this bus, her entire life. Noah was speaking, but focusing on his voice was a struggle.
“But you repented.” The tone was a statement, not a question. “And God forgave you.”
“Yes.” Wara shrugged weakly. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”
Noah pulled Wara’s chin up with one finger, until her face was tilted towards his. “C’mon, look at me!” he insisted. Wara tried, but abject humiliation wouldn’t let her eyes connect with his.
“In that story Jesus told,” he said, “the Father took his son back after he spent everything in wild living, like we all do.” Noah took both of Wara’s hands in his and leaned in closer. “But when the son came back, the Father didn’t just let him slave away as a servant. He threw a party. He loves you, Wara. You’re back.”
Noah’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he paused, gazing out the window behind Wara, seemingly lost in thought. A moment later his eyes rounded and he jerked his