A Prayer for Distraction
Chapter 1
“You’re not from around here, are you?” the new postal clerk asked with a friendly smile, admiring his customer’s olive complexion, raven hair, and earth-colored eyes.
“Actually, I sort of am.”
“Really? I would’ve guessed India or somewhere like that. But you’ve definitely got the southern accent. So, what does C.D. stand for?” he asked, obviously unaware that his question had shot a familiar arrow straight through her heart.
“I don’t know,” C.D. answered quietly, sliding her credit card back into her wallet.
The clerk’s expression turned sour. “Hey, don’t get the wrong idea, Miss. I’m sure you probably get hit on three or four times a day, but I was just making small talk. I’m married!” he informed her, holding up his ring finger.
C.D. winced apologetically. “I didn’t have the wrong idea. I truly don’t know what my initials stand for. It’s kind of a long story.”
“Oh. Well, good luck with that. Next in line, please.”
Returning her wallet to her purse, C.D. exited quickly, wishing she could come up with better answers for the unavoidable questions. Or better yet, that she had answers of her own.
Upon returning to the office, she found a hastily written note stuck to her computer screen.
Call David the scumbag. You know the number. (Although you shouldn’t!)
Mandy wasn’t known for her subtlety. Picking up the phone, C.D. punched the numbers without hesitation, jumping with a start when Mandy’s head of spiked red hair and flashing green eyes appeared over the top of her cubicle. “You haven’t even set your purse down yet, and you’re already dialing that jerk’s number! I knew I shouldn’t have told you he called.”
C.D. hung up the phone. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, but I’m sure he’ll come up some lame excuse for getting in touch with you. He always does, once or twice every week!”
C.D. looked at the phone contemplatively. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll wait and see if he calls back.”
“And I’m sure he will! It’s weird, C. It’s not normal for an ex-husband to keep calling, especially when there are no kids involved and he’s already got a girlfriend. And it’s even weirder for you to keep letting him. Why don’t you tell him to bug off?”
C.D. shrugged and continued to stare at the phone. “I don’t know."
”Mandy’s accusing expression softened. “C, you need to let it go. Even if he wanted to get back together with you, you know you shouldn’t.”
C.D. nodded and pulled the note from her screen, holding it over the trashcan and watching it swirl onto the other debris. “I don’t want him back, Mandy. I’m just trying to keep this thing civil.”
“But that’s just the problem. There shouldn’t be a thing to begin with. And how you can still be civil to him is way beyond me.”
“Yeah, me too,” C.D. admitted, putting away her purse. “Well, let me get back to work. I’m way behind for the month.”
“I guess so,” Mandy quipped, sitting back down at her desk, “what with all your time being taken up with calls from the ex!”
When the four remaining work hours finally ended, C.D. made her way home to her condo, where she ate a quick dinner and then fell onto her sofa in front of the TV. Absentmindedly switching channels without registering the images, she thought of David and wondered what he and what’s-her-name were doing.
“Oh, brother!” she said to herself, turning off the television and rubbing her tired eyes. Keeping her lids shut tightly, she decided she needed assistance and needed it fast. “Lord, please forgive me for lying to Mandy today. I told her I didn’t want David back, but the truth is I do. I know we’re not supposed to covet our neighbor’s boyfriends—to paraphrase Your word a little—so please forgive me for wanting something that’s not mine, even though he was mine first, and not that long ago.
“Lord, it’s just so hard because I never wanted this divorce. And I know it’s not what You would’ve chosen for my life. Please help me overcome this misery and longing. I’ve tried, but I can’t make it go away. I know that talking to David every week isn’t helping, and I’m not really sure why he’s still calling. Please give me the courage to put a stop to it and the strength to let him go, if that’s what I’m supposed to do. If it is, then I need something to occupy my mind and my time so that I can move on with my life. Please show me what that something is, because I have no energy or enthusiasm for anything anymore. They say to be careful what you ask for, but I’m asking that You bring something big into my life. I’m afraid it’s going to take a major distraction to get me over David, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Thank You, Lord, for hearing and answering my prayers. In Your Son’s holy name, Amen.”
Sighing deeply and then rising from the sofa, she walked into her kitchen and tapped her fingernails on the countertop. What was she looking for, a sign? She glanced out the window, then looked up at her ceiling fan as if it might begin spinning all on its own. When no bolt of lightning appeared and no booming voice sounded, she shuffled to her desk and sat down at the computer.
Maybe the sign would present itself another day.
After entering her latest purchases in her checkbook balancing program, she logged on to the Internet and read the headlines of the day on her homepage. When the news became too depressing, she clicked over to a search engine to see if she could find a cheaper price on one of those cool purses like she’d seen at the mall.
“Stupid pop-ups,” she muttered, shooting her pointer up to the right hand corner of the box to quickly rid her screen of the annoying advertisement. With an itchy index finger, she almost left-clicked the ‘X,’ when one single word hopped off the screen like a screaming rocket.
Ancestry.
Quickly releasing the mouse as if it were a hot branding iron, she read the heavy black writing within the bright blue flashing box and wondered.
Find your ancestry easily. Everything you need to discover your family history.
“No, that can’t be the answer,” she decided quickly, exiting all programs and even turning off the monitor.
