Farrah

Thursday morning I was back in a place I'd never thought I'd be- putting on my make up at seven in the morning in the bathroom of a Westgate timeshare resort. High school revisited. Usually the bathroom is filled with women elbowing for counter space, complaining about weight and men. But now, I was the only one in here. The recession had hit my timeshare resort brutally. When I left I had 250 co-workers. Now there were 40 of us.
Farrah breezed in.
"Kate! You're back! Thank God!" Farrah gave me a big hug. Her hair smelled like Herbal Essence and Coco Chanel.
Farrah is very sensual, very warm. She has big wavy brown hair, and these gorgeous cat green eyes that tilt up at the ends. She has a huge smile, this great raspy voice and curves for days. Farrah is that beautiful girl that dated older men in highschool, because she didn't know any better, but the men did. Cigarettes and alcohol and those men have aged her skin, and now she is more sexy than beautiful. But she still exudes a warmth and confidence I wish I had.
Before I left she had been on and off again with my friend, Frankie. I met Frankie on my first day at Westgate, almost five years ago. He's a super sweet, class clown type. He does the best, and I mean THE best impersonations of all of our bosses and managers. Frankie was one of the few guys I would hug at work. Most guys at my job are pretty sleazy, always making comments. Frankie has always been very vocal about complimenting me, but there was something more sweetly appreciative than suggestive. When Farrah started dating Frankie, I was really excited about it. I assured her that he was one of the best guys I'd met at our job. I'd left shortly after that.
"I have to go to the gym," Farrah complained, checking out her perfect reflection, "all I do is sit around all day with my man."
"Are you still with Frankie?" I asked, brushing on my mascara.
"We've been living together for three months." Farrah said, smoothing her hair.
"Congratulations, are you happy?" Our voices echoed in the empty marble room.
"Oh yeah, he's great. I love him." Farrah smiled at me, that great grin.
"I'm so happy for you." Farrah had had a rough life. She deserved to be with someone that made her happy.

I ran into Frankie that afternoon.
"Oh my God! Mami! You look so skinny!" Frankie twirled me around. "Don't you have a man to feed you?"
"Nope."
Frankie sighed dramatically. He does everything dramatically. "Only the white boys are going to look at you now, mami."

I saw Farrah as I was leaving work today.
"Hey honey," I gave her a hug, "how are you?"
"I've had better days." She said, waving her hand at me. Her middle finger was in a splint, wrapped in clear taping. Through it I could see her finger, bloody and swollen.
"What happened?"
"Frankie slammed it in a door way." Her gaze slid over to her little boy, Logan. Logan is about seven, and he was a few feet away on the stairs.
"Why?"
"Because he's fucking crazy, that's why. He's been beating the shit out of me for six months."
I looked down at her, aghast.
"Last night he locked me in the house for six hours, and beat me with a wet towel, so there wouldn't be any marks."
"Six months?" I asked.
"I'm so fucking stupid. That man has given me scars, bruises, he almost broke my arm last month. Thank God he hasn't done it around Logan." Farrah was talking very fast, very defiantly. "But I'm done, I'm done and if he ever so much as looks at me I'll fucking kill him."
"Farrah, I'm so sorry." I mumbled. "God, if Dave was here, he'd kill him."
"Dave told me, Dave sat me down and told me before we started dating. He did this to his last girlfriend, too. And I didn't listen. So, this is what I get. I'll see you later honey."
She picked up her son and walked off.
Dave was our boss, this big man wrestler-type that everyone lived in fear of. But he looked out for us, specifically the girls. He had left a few months ago, when half of the resort got fired.
I got in my car and tried to picture Frankie angry. I had never seen it. I tried to imagine what his face would look like, twisted in rage as it must have been. I tried to see him hitting Farrah, whipping her with a towel or slamming her hand in a door. I couldn't. I literally could not see it in my mind.
And I thought about this, over and over again:

"Are you still with Frankie?" I aked, brushing on my mascara.
"We've been living together for three months." Farrah said, smoothing her hair.
"Congratulations, are you happy?" Our voices echoed in the empty marble room.
"Oh yeah, he's great. I love him." Farrah smiled at me, that great grin.

My eyes are so weak, my awareness so small. I think that if Jenna had been in that bathroom with us, she would have known. She would have seen something in Farrah's eyes, the way she smiled. Jenna would have seen through her lies.

I remember when Farrah first told me about Frankie. The way her eyes lit up and that smile I adored spread across her face. I was excited for her. Beginnings used to be so exciting to me. Now, any beginning just seems treacherous. It's just a period of time where you don't really know anything at all.

I drove home and could feel my heart sinking. I hurt for Farrah, I put my hand against my chest and could feel pain. Life seems like such a dangerous thing lately. How do I know that I won't smile about a boy next week that will break my arm next year? Could I be so short sighted as to marry a man that would slam me into a wall, or crush me with his fist. I would say that I couldn't. But I still can't picture Frankie angry.

And then I remembered my God. What a precious thing we have in this relationship with Christ. In James it says that prayers for wisdom will always be answered, and that has been true in my life. If I prayed, he would tell me no. Maybe I wouldn't know why he was saying no, but if I trusted him I would walk away from that man. Maybe.

I fell in love when I was 20. I prayed about him and God said no. And I didn't understand why. He was an amazing Christian, he wasn't intimidated by me, he challenged me and made me laugh. God said no and I didn't listen.

And so I experienced what God already knew. Three years of feeling unworthy and used, in love with a boy who kissed me in private and ignored me in public. Three years of him avoiding me for months on end, because God told him to, and then the inevitable phone call. My own weakness.

I realize I'm still recovering from ignoring God. This trust thing is so hard. I'm watching one of my closest friends struggle with bitterness, because he still doesn't have a job. But I know that God hasn't forgotten him. I want to tell Farrah that if she trusts God with her heart, and learns to hear his voice, he will be like Dave and tell her in advance. But it's still up to us to believe him.

I would like to think that I have learned my lesson with relationships. I don't want to play russian roulette with my heart anymore. I need to hear God say, 'this is the way, walk in it'. I used to pray to be kept from doing things- I was always so eager to not be left behind, or miss out. But beginnings are too much for me now. I need God to tell me whether or not a middle or an end is necessary.

This past Wednesday, I spoke to high school about the levitical code. How pissed the Israelites must have been when Moses told them they couldn't eat pork or lobster, crab, squid and the like. They didn't know then the 30 different diseases pigs carry, or how they don't sweat, so the meat is filled with toxins. God didn't tell Moses that the fish he outlawed are water detoxifiers, so the impurities they clean from the water stay in their bodies, and are transmitted to us. He just told them and expected them to trust that he knew better. The ones that did lived two to three times longer than the average person. Still today, people that follow the levitical dietary code live ten to fifteen years longer than the rest of the world.

So, to the handful of blogspotters that follow this- trust him. As Alecia pointed out in her last beautiful blog- we have a banquet in front of us, but we still eat the trash. Oswald Chambers says the reason why we do not pray is because if we hear from God about a thing, we will have to tell him we will not do it, or do it. Both are terrifying.

But he does know, and he will tell us, warn us. God cares about our bodies, our hearts, our jobs.

I should end this more eloquently, but I have nothing else to say other than I love you guys.