Hello, Goodbye

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was seven o'clock in the evening as Emersyn sat in one of the pews at the church, scribbling down her thoughts in a blue spiral notebook. Choir practice had just ended, and she was waiting for Zeke to get there. He told her via text he would meet her at the church when her practice ended. It was Tuesday, and so she hadn't seen him since Sunday night. And she knew how ridiculous it sounded, but to say she was missing him was an understatement. He was in every thought she had all day as she waited to be reunited with him again. And not for the first time, she worried about what would happen if and when he ever decided he wanted to return home to Tulsa. Would he ask her to follow him? Or was this whole relationship nothing more than a summer fling?

She needed to distract herself from thoughts of Zeke leaving her, so she decided to put her mind to the letter she'd been working on since the Fourth of July. No one knew she was writing her mom a letter, and she wasn't sure she wanted to tell anyone. She wasn't even sure she wanted to send it when it was finished. But she needed to get the words out. Needed to express how she was feeling, even if the letter would never reach its recipient. So whenever she had a quiet moment to herself, she pulled out her notebook and began pouring everything she could onto the pages. A few times she would scribble out things she felt didn't make sense, and she'd had to restart the letter six times. But something in her gut told her she had to do this. It was the only way to make her hurt go away.

"Emersyn?" a voice said behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned around to find Gabe standing a couple feet away, concern written in his brown eyes and etched in the tiny wrinkles of his face. "Is everything okay?"

She gave him a slightly forced smile and nodded her head. "Yes, of course. Why? Do I look like things aren't okay?"

He made a face, and she could tell he was wondering if he should press on or not. Her grandpa had always known when to talk to someone and when to give them space. It was a gift he seemed to acquire after many years as a pastor. Gabe was still a bit inexperienced, and so she imagined he hadn't picked up that skill yet. But after a few seconds, he gave her a hesitant smile and took a seat beside her in the pews. She subtly closed her notebook, not wanting the new pastor to know what she was writing.

"You know," he said, smiling gently at her. "I know you probably think I'm only here to talk about religion and faith. But that's not necessarily true. We have a history together. Your grandma was my mom's friend. I babysat you when you were little. So I like to think our relationship goes a little beyond pastor and listener. We're friends. And I'm here for you if you ever need to talk. Okay?"

Her throat tightened up at his words, and her eyes stared down at the cover of her spiral notebook. So many words and thoughts. Pages torn out and tossed in the trashcan. And all for what? She knew she wouldn't send the letter. And even if she did, she knew it wouldn't change anything. Her mom was still her mom, and she was still... well, herself. Makayla had her opinions, and they didn't align with Emersyn's at all. And on top of all the words that were said the night of their big argument, there were the words her mom had written in her own journal all those years ago. She never wanted to be a mom anyway. Didn't that tell her all she needed to know?

She took a deep breath. "Has your faith ever waivered?" she asked him, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Not so much in God, but in a person? Like... have you ever believed in someone so much, only to find out they're nothing like what you've always thought they were? Nothing like what you were always told?"

He considered her words silently for a moment, his lips quirked to the side in thought. "To be honest with you, Emersyn, I'm not sure. Humans can be disappointing creatures. I know that much for sure. But I can't say I've ever experienced what you're describing. At least I can't think of anything off the top of my head. But," he continued as her face fell with despair, "just because I've never experienced it for myself, doesn't mean I can't sympathize with you. Or listen to you."