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Quarter-Light -- ©Brenda Carter  "And my other option would be?"
She hands the letter back. "She might choose to cut you loose." "The way I see it, Sandy's ministry is like a scab that protects her wound from the air, the world. I'm not at all sure I can compete with that." For a second, the bonds that hold my life together start to disintegrate and the free-floating pieces press close in on me like they did that evening at Sandy's dining room table. "But you can deal with it?" She puts the question softly, so I can answer with the truth. "I can keep faith with myself; I think that's what's called for." I carry the paper copy of the letter around in my hip pocket for a couple of days, sick with dread. Finally, when I can't stand it anymore, I e-mail Sandy. *** When the phone rings at 2 AM, I'm the first one awake enough to answer it. The silence on the other end lasts so long, I think maybe it's a crank call. Then in little more than a whisper, a voice calls my name. "Sandy?" Rin switches on the lamp and looks disoriented in the glare. Sandy's voice is muted with huskiness and congestion. "I didn't mean for it to turn out like this. I didn't mean for this to happen at all." It's Sandy, really Sandy. "What did you mean, sweetie? What did you think was going to happen?"
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