While I waited for his answer, I grabbed my Bible from my bookshelf and plopped onto the bed. Suddenly I was inspired to read some 1 Corinthians about love and marriage inspiration.
It doesn’t envy. Well … too late.
It doesn’t boast. It is not proud. Clearly Angie needed to spend a little more time in God’s Word.
So many things love was not supposed to be.
Rude.
Self-seeking.
Easily angered.
Keeping no record of wrongs.
Never delighting in evil.
Demanding its own way.
Had I believed all that, then the only conclusion I would have come to was … I couldn’t love Fisher.
But for the record … neither could Angie with her mega boasting and larger-than-life pride.
Thou shalt not judge.
It wasn’t all restrictive. There were a few things love was supposed to be.
Patient.
Kind.
Rejoicing in truth.
Hopeful.
Enduring in every circumstance.
Wow! Was I incapable of loving Fisher the way God intended for humans to love one another?
Feeling a little nauseous and mentally broken, I slid my Bible onto my nightstand, pulled my blankets over me, and fell asleep.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sunday morning was rough. My head felt like it had been shaken with a 6.0 magnitude earthquake.
“Muffin?” Rory asked.
She and Rose eyed me from the kitchen table. They wore matching white robes and big smirks.
Squinting against the light from all the window shades drawn open, I shook my aching head.
“I knew something was up when I asked you about dinner last night. But the un-flushed toilet, empty bag of chips on the bathroom floor, and empty wine bottle next to your bed this morning confirmed it. Not to mention your Bible next to your bed. Wanna talk about it?” Rory slowly sipped her coffee.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and filled a tall glass with water before taking two pills for my head. “So you knew I wasn’t right, but you went to dinner anyway?” I shuffled my feet to the table and plunked my butt onto the chair.
Rory shrugged. “What’s that saying … something about the only way to get past something is to go through it? I noticed you were going through it. And I didn’t want to stop your progress.”
With a grunt, I sipped my coffee. “Yup. I’m making amazing progress. Here’s what I now know. Angie posts everything on Instagram. Fisher loved her. Maybe does again. And I have no clue how to love. I’m an expert in anti-love. I should move back to Michigan. Finish my master’s. And forget I ever met Fisher Mann.”
“Ouch.” Rose wrinkled her nose. “So much for clarity after a rough night.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I rubbed my tired eyes. “Isn’t life just a rocky road of mistakes? A journey to enlightenment or Heaven or wherever? I mean … what do we really know when we die? What did we really learn?”
“What’s the point?” Rory said.
“Exactly.” I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “And what is wrong with the world? Why do we have to spend so much time recording our lives and sharing them with the world? Granted, I didn’t get a cell phone until I was nearly a legal adult, and I do have social media accounts, but why does something that’s so time-consuming make us feel so terrible most of the time? And why do we do it? Why do we voluntarily subject ourselves to it? What a waste of life.”
Rory chuckled. “I spent five years in prison, so I agree with you. But let’s talk about the real issue. How much time did you spend on Angie’s Instagram account yesterday?”
I sighed, hanging my head. “All of it. Every single picture she’s ever posted and every single caption she posted with them is burned into my brain. It was the most suicidal thing I have ever done.” I took another sip of my coffee. “I’m not proud of it. And I deleted the app.” I retrieved my phone from my hoodie pocket and brought up the screen. “But then I downloaded the app again this morning. And I officially hate Fisher Mann and his fiancée Angie.” I showed them the post from late last night, after I’d already gone to bed. It was a photo of him sleeping on his stomach, arms next to his head, sheets so low on his back that it seemed unlikely if not impossible that he was wearing anything at all. Angie captioned it: My Whole World.
Rose and Rory blinked slowly at the phone screen, but Rose’s gaze drifted away from it first. She had already seen it. They had nothing to say. And I had no tears left to cry. I told Fisher I was in it for as long as I felt like I was actually in it.
Well, I was no longer in it.
“Reese …” Rory said softly as I pushed back in my chair and stood.
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I actually feel sorry for her. The only way she can feel like he loves her is if he hates me. And I think this weekend … he’s hated me.”