Hope and Faith

TWENTY-NINE: FAITH

They didn't speak for days. Faith truly and honestly believed that she had ruined things for good with Hope. And all for what – a kiss?

Hope didn't show up for camp the next day.

Faith had been distracted all morning. She awoke with a pounding headache and a sick stomach. She almost considered asking her mother to stay home, but seeing Hope at camp was her only motivation to get out of bed.

Morning Prayer went by in a blur. Faith was busy scanning the room, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of Hope. But alas, she wasn't there.

After lunch, she found one of Hope's co-workers and asked where she was. The girl told Faith that she had no idea. It was unlike Hope to miss work.

That's when Faith began to really worry. What had she done? What was Hope going through right now? Faith couldn't even imagine.

The hours seemed to pass lethargically. She glanced at the clock every few minutes, only to see that nothing had changed. As though time was standing still, tormenting her for what she had done.

After camp, she debated going by Hope's house. She eventually decided against it due to the fact that she didn't want to make things worse.

Faith couldn't help but worry about her. That look on her face kept replaying in a loop in her head, over and over again. Hope's wide eyes, staring at Faith, absolutely petrified.

Later that day, Faith tried to eat but she couldn't stomach anything. She took out her sketchbook and attempted to draw, to feel the rhythm of the pencil between her fingers, but she simply couldn't do that either. Every time she did anything, whether she was moving or standing still, she thought of Hope, that look on her face. It was paralyzing.

Eventually, Faith took out her camera and tried to re-learn the buttons. She focused the lens, adjusted the aperture, and attempted to perfect the shutter speed. She went outside and took a picture of everything in sight, whether it be plants, the shed, rocks, or the sky. Soon enough, the button clicked, indicating that she had finished the entire roll of twenty-four. And yet, she still did not feel any better.

Thursday wasn't any easier. She showed up to camp, hopeful that this would be her chance to redeem herself. That she would see Hope, and they'd walk towards each other, meeting in the yard. Faith would apologize and explain that this was all a big misunderstanding. Hope would laugh – that innocent, unknowing laugh of hers – and say that it was okay. Then they'd both continue on with their lives as though the whole thing had never happened.

But that's not what happened. Hope didn't show up, again. The pit that was sitting in Faith's stomach seemed to be growing, larger and larger by the minute. It was an ache so deep that she could hardly breathe.

That night she called Sebastian, desperate to be comforted by a familiar voice. She listened patiently as he told her about his day. She could hear the sound emanating from the telephone, but she wasn't comprehending any of it.

"Faith?" he said. "You there?"
"Mhm," she snapped out of the daze she was in. "Sorry."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm just tired." She forced a yawn.
"Okay. So are you still going to that thing this weekend?"
Shit. The dance. "Um," Faith hesitated. "I'm not sure. Maybe. I don't know."
"Okay, well can you let me know by Friday? If not, I'll come up."
"Okay."
"What is it anyways?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Just some stupid dance."
He laughed. "Really? A dance? You wouldn't be caught dead at one of those."
She was silent.
"Faith?"
"Maybe I've changed," she said.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure you're okay? You just sound a bit out of it."
"I'm fine. Listen, I'm going to bed –"
"It's nine-thirty."
"And?"
"You never go to bed this early."
"Well, I'm tired, Sebastian. I don't know what to tell you."
"Okay," he was quiet. "Well, sorry then. I hope that whatever's wrong with you gets resolved fast."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Goodnight Faith."
She hung up the phone.

Faith hadn't even realized that it had been days since she last drank or smoked. It was unusual for her to go this long without some sort of substance in her system. Something to ease her mind, mend the pain. She assumed it was because everything in her life had been going so well.

But now, nothing was going well. She reached into the back of her closet and found her weed. She locked her door and sat cross-legged on the bed, rolling joint after joint.

When she was done, her room was a cloudy haze, her lungs were full, and her mind was clear. It was quiet for the first time in days. She closed her eyes and laid back, enjoying the silence while it lasted.

For the entire duration of the night, she didn't once think about Hope or the problems that laid ahead. She simply thought of nothing. Nothing at all.

Just the way she liked it.