Last week, I promised I’d share with you one of the more personal chapters from my upcoming New Adult novel, Armor for Orchids. As I mentioned before, each of the three main characters reflects a bit of myself. In the spirit of “write what you know,” Elise, Charlotte, and Marissa each have struggles with which I have firsthand experience. For example, Elise suddenly lost her father and can’t quite make sense of it. Charlotte battles with feelings of inadequacy, and questions the notion of true love that she championed as a little girl. Marissa has spun into a dark depression after a boy broke her heart, and now she self-medicates by controlling every calorie burned and consumed.
It is one of Marissa’s chapters I’m going to share with you today because she is perhaps the character closest to my heart. I’m also choosing this chapter because it’s my hope that it will encourage you to revisit the pain of your past, to view it through a fresh, thankful set of eyes, and to consider how it can be used to help others find strength amid their own valleys and hardships. I invite you to be vulnerable, to confess your past brokenness, confront your present fears, and to be brave, knowing that someone – perhaps hundreds of people – is craving the hope and inspiration only you can offer.
If you’d like to read the first three chapters, head over to my Kindle Scout page. If you like what you read, please hit the “Nominate” button, and tweet me your thoughts at @dandersontyler!
CHAPTER TWELVE – Marissa
“The human spirit can endure a sick body, but who can bear a crushed spirit?” – Proverbs 18:14, NLT
“Now tell me all about the movie, hon,” said Teresa as she and Marissa perused their menus at a corner table on the patio of Bagel & Bean, their go-to lunch place when they felt like having breakfast.
“I’ve already told you a lot,” Marissa answered with daughterly stubbornness.
Teresa smiled agreeably as the waitress came and took their drink orders, then squinted and stuck out her chin as if to mimic the Wicked Witch of the West. “I hardly think a pair of thumbs-up emoticons next to the words it’s going well passes for ‘a lot,’ Marissa,” she answered, then sat back in her chair and slid her sunglasses down from on top of her head and onto her face. “Don’t talk if you don’t want to. I won’t make you.” She could be stubborn, too.
“It’s exhausting,” Marissa said as the waitress returned with an iced tea for each of them. “I don’t remember line memorization being so hard.”
“Well, honey, are you sleeping enough?” Teresa asked, switching back to mother mode. “You need your rest if you’re going to focus and be alert at all hours of the day.”
“I think so.”
“And what about your eating? Are they feeding you enough? Maybe I could have your dad sponsor a catering compan – ”
“My eating is fine,” snapped Marissa.
“What’s with the attitude?” Teresa said, casting a long look of concern at her daughter. She knew her too well to take offense.
The waitress approached again, this time with pad and pencil in hand. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“Yes,” said Teresa, closing her menu harder than normal. “I will have the garden frittata, with sourdough toast, and mixed berries instead of hash browns, please.”
“Got it,” said the waitress, scribbling away. “And for you?” she said, turning to Marissa.
“I’m not having anything,” she replied, then nonchalantly took a sip of her tea.
“You sure?” asked the waitress.
“I’m eating right after this,” Marissa said, holding up her menu for the waitress to take.
“Well, let me know if you change your mind. The special today is peanut butter and chocolate chip pancakes. I forgot to mention that earlier.”
“Your favorite, honey,” Teresa added, lightly tapping Marissa’s ankle with her foot beneath the table.
“I’ll let you know,” Marissa said with a smile.
“You may be an actress, Marissa, but you’re not fooling me,” Teresa said as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.
“What are you talking about?” Marissa asked as she nervously began pushing back her cuticles. She’d been avoiding her mother precisely because the woman had a superhuman ability to see right through her.
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you eat a meal, Marissa. Not since that boy broke up with you.”
“I really am eating after this. I’m meeting with Poppy at the church. She wanted to talk to me over lunch.” The second half was truth; the first half was a bald-faced lie.
“Uh-huh…” Teresa said, removing her sunglasses as the sun dipped behind a cloud. “Did you manage to find the first old woman that eats lunch after eleven a.m.?”
“You don’t really think you know the eating habits of every single elderly person on the planet do you, Mom?”
“You’re losing weight, Marissa,” she answered, clearly no longer in the mood to joke. “I can see it in your face. And it’s probably why you feel so worn out and cranky.”
“No, I’m not. I’m fine,” Marissa said, rolling her eyes. “I dropped a few pounds because Poppy was a thin woman. And it makes me look a little older than I am, which is good.” It scared Marissa how good a liar she was proving to be.
“Your work should never take priority over your health, sweetheart,” Teresa said, leaning over the table to place a hand on Marissa’s.
“It isn’t, Mom. I promise.”
And then Marissa’s empty stomach leaped into her throat. Teresa must have noticed the color fleeing her daughter’s face because she swiftly pulled back her hand and made her way to the soda dispenser. She returned seconds later with a fizzy cup of Sprite.
“Drink this, honey, you look sick,” Teresa said, pushing the cool drink against Marissa’s fingers, which were presently interlaced on the table, her head resting on top of them.
“Did you see him?” Marissa murmured from her hiding-ostrich position.
“Who?”
“Jack. I saw him walk in with Grant and Kyle.”
“Big deal!” said Teresa, a little too loudly. “Drink your Sprite, and everything will be all right.” She picked up the Sprite and shook it so the ice cubes clanked beside Marissa’s ears. “Hey, that rhymed. I’m a poet and didn’t…comprehend it fully.” She laughed, amused at herself.
“You didn’t pay for it,” Marissa said, slowly lifting her head and releasing her hands’ death grip on one another.
“I will when we leave,” Teresa said, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a swig.
“I miss him so much.” Marissa knew she wouldn’t get one iota of sympathy from her mom, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out nevertheless.
“I know you do, sweetheart. But right now you’d better put your game face on because he’s walking over here.”
“What?” Marissa’s heart felt like it would thump its way right out of her chest. Her breaths became short and shallow.
“Take a deep breath,” said Teresa, her eyes wide and smiling as she demonstrated an exaggerated inhale through her nose.
Marissa mirrored her mother, then closed her eyes for a brief moment of preparation. When she opened them, she was as ready as she’d ever be to face the man who’d singlehandedly sucked all joy out of her life, leaving her with a void most girls would have a field day filling up with food. Marissa, however, filled it with more emptiness.
“Hey!” Jack greeted them, his smile as warm and as pearly white as ever. He wore a navy-blue tank top and basketball shorts, and his wavy brown hair was still darkened with sweat. Marissa deduced he’d just played a basketball game down at the high school, something she used to watch him do almost every weekend in the fall. It was just an intramural team, yet she would make the four-hour drive – through rain, snow, or rush-hour traffic – from her college campus to cheer him on as if it were the NBA finals.
Teresa gave her daughter a quick, close-lipped smile before taking another sip of Sprite. It was clear she wouldn’t be the one to carry this superficial conversation. Neither she nor Marissa were much for small talk. It also didn’t help that Teresa disdained Jack almost as much as Marissa missed him. The boy that could so casually break off his engagement to her daughter in a corner booth at Olive Garden three weeks before the wedding didn’t deserve the time of day, much less a cordial “hello.”
“Hi,” Marissa answered, lifting her heavy cheeks into the fakest smile of her acting career.
“I just wanted to come over here and tell you congratulations,” Jack said, his enthusiasm shriveling in the icy air the ladies were sending his way.
“For what?” Marissa asked. She took a drink of her Sprite and held the glass near her face for a moment, wondering if he noticed the still-visible tan line that the ring had left around her finger. She wrestled with wearing another ring; she had plenty to choose from. Half of her wanted the tan line covered up so she wouldn’t have to feel that sharp sting in her heart every time she looked at her left hand, while the other half of her held onto it, hoping it would last forever. In a way, it still connected her heart to his.
“I heard you’re one of the leads in that Revival movie,” Jack answered. “That’s really cool.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s not a big deal. Just an indie thing. Thank you, though.”
The waitress returned with her mother’s breakfast in hand. “I’ve got one garden frittata, sourdough toast and mixed berries, no hash browns,” she chimed, and slid the hot plate in front of Teresa. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“A to-go box, please,” Teresa said tersely. “And the check.”
“Of course,” the waitress said, a hint of hesitation in her voice, and left the three of them in silence.
“Well, I’ll let y’all enjoy your breakfast. Good to see you,” Jack said.
“Thank you,” Marissa answered. She would have said “you too,” but it wasn’t good to see him. It was torture. She knew he was only trying to be civil in congratulating her, but she wasn’t ready for civil. The pain was still too raw. Not a day had passed in which he wasn’t the first thing she thought about each morning, and the last thing she thought about at night. It was as if she had a ghost that couldn’t be expelled, or an irrevocable curse that continuously emblazoned his face on her brain.
Jack waited a second more, in case Marissa had anything else to say. When it was obvious she didn’t, he smiled weakly and returned to his table of sweaty basketball players, friends of his that once were close friends of hers.
The waitress returned with the check and a Styrofoam box, and Teresa began pulling out cash to pay.
“What are you doing?” Marissa asked.
“That should be exact, but double-check my math,” Teresa said to the waitress as she placed dollar bills and a stack of coins on the check presenter. “It includes a Sprite.”
The waitress counted quickly, then nodded. “Yes, thank you. I hope you come again soon.”
Teresa smiled graciously, collected her purse and Sprite, put on her sunglasses, and stood up to leave.
“What are you doing?” repeated Marissa, more urgently this time.
“I can’t stand this. It’s making me sick to my stomach,” Teresa said, her jaw firm, voice low. Marissa was glad her mother’s eyes were blocked by sunglasses; they were ordinarily beautiful, sparkling blue and full of life, but when she was angry they made Marissa’s blood run cold. When she was young, Marissa mused that if her mother could be one of the ancient Greek monsters she taught about in her drama class, she’d definitely be Medusa. All she needed was the snake hair.
“Mom, you’re acting crazy! What did I do?” Marissa said. “Please sit down.” Marissa leaned desperately over the table and involuntarily looked up at her mom with misty puppy-dog eyes. Teresa sighed and took her seat again. She took off her sunglasses. Marissa averted her eyes from her mother’s.
“Marissa, I don’t even feel like I’m talking to my daughter when I talk to you. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was.” Teresa’s eyes gazed out into the parking lot, then focused on a mother walking into Target with her teenaged daughter. “I miss you.”
“What on earth are you talking about? It’s me! I haven’t changed!” Marissa could feel the frustration burning in her forehead. She took a sip of her tea, but the tepid, bitter taste of it only made her head hurt worse.
“My daughter never would have cowered the way you did just then. She would have been proud of the fact she’s in a movie. She wouldn’t have dismissed a compliment or a congratulations, no matter who it was from!” Teresa turned and looked at Marissa, a mixture of sympathy, sadness, and disappointment mingling in her eyes. “I can’t stand to see you beat yourself up and bring yourself down all the time, honey. I thought the audition would help lift you out of this slump. When you got the part, I prayed you’d be yourself again. But I can’t bring you happiness. Your dad can’t. The boutique you’re not even running anymore can’t. And a starring role can’t.”
“I’m sorry I’m making you miserable,” Marissa whispered as she cried softly. She hoped Jack was facing the other direction, wherever he was seated.
“I just want my daughter back. I want you to be well. I know you better than anyone, Marissa, and I know you’re not well, no matter what you tell me.”
Marissa had no rebuttal. She just sat there speechless as the wind blew her hair onto her cheeks where they stuck to her tears.
“This is for you,” Teresa said, picking up her to-go container and setting it in front of Marissa. “Please eat it during your meeting with Poppy.”
