"I greet you all, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." The mass had started… Please God, I love you, but give me an excuse to get out of here. Or at least a different priest please. Jocelyn pleaded.
She was sick of listening to the same man tell her how to live her life. She went along with the mass, just playing the part everyone expected of her, repeating the responsorial psalm, singing the 'hallelujah' and the 'glory to God' She wasn't really there, not until the priest started his sermon.
"Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth." It was week two of 'the blessings offered to us by God if only we all act exactly the same.' She hated how priests thought everybody should act the same. Her individuality was her pride.
While she meditated on individuality, its purpose, and why God is okay with people being individual, the Mass passed, same old same old.
The family left, no one talking in the car. The silence was crushing Jocelyn, she wished someone would say something. Before long someone did, and of course Jocelyn regretted the wish. "So, what did you think of the sermon?" Her father asked the question week after week, but it always ended in an argument. "Don't John, just leave it please I can't stand another fight." The crushing silence returned, but Jocelyn was thankful for her mother's intervention.
They got out of the car, and Jocelyn went to her room. She was in the middle of an excellent book, when she heard a knock on her door. "Jocelyn, can I come in?" "Of course mom." Her mother opened the door.
She was holding a cloth. Oh shit she found it. "Honey, what's this?" She looked concerned. Jocelyn put on her very best mask. "I don't know, did you ask dad?" "Yes, he said it's not his. Jocelyn, this is blood here, and a lot of it."
Jocelyn shrugged, "I don't know what it is mom." Her mom could see through her mask though, and she knew better then to believe her daughter.
"Jocelyn, show me your wrists." She lifted her sleeves. Her mother gasped. "Jocelyn, sweetheart why would you do this to yourself?" Jocelyn looked at her, and saw the worry, but nothing was moving inside of her. "I don't know mom. I honestly couldn't tell you that." There were a few scars on her wrists, but they would heal.
Her mom took the cue, and said, "Honey, if you want to talk, I'm here, but I'll leave you now. Please don't do this again." Jocelyn merely nodded.
When she came downstairs for food, she heard her mom on the phone. Not wanting to interrupt, Jocelyn stood outside the kitchen and listened. "Tomorrow? That would be fantastic. She doesn't have a practice. Thanks doctor. You too." As she hung up Jocelyn walked in.
"Who was that mom?" Her mother shook her head, "Oh nobody." Jocelyn looked at her, "Mom, I heard you talking. You said something about how I don't have a practice tomorrow, and thanked a doctor. What's going on?" She sighed, and in that moment, Clara Engle looked older than she ever had to Jocelyn.
"Honey, I'm really quite worried about you and this cutting you've been doing, and I called a psychiatrist. Only one appointment, I'm just really worried, and I can't help you."
"What? Mom why did you do that? I'm fine I really am!" Her mother shook her head, "Jocelyn, I love you more than anything, and if you're hurting I want you to get help okay? It's just one appointment. You don't have to go again if you really don't want to."
"Why mom? I'll be fine, I really will. I promise I won't do anything else." She felt betrayed. Et tu Brute? She found Shakespeare's phrase floating around in her mind. "Honey, I know, but I can see you've been having trouble with something… and I really just want you to be okay."
From the look in her eyes, Jocelyn could tell her mother was sincere. "Okay mom, I'll do it. But just the one appointment." She was hugged, "Thank you sweetie." Jocelyn went back up to her room without practicing, to turn in early. Tomorrow was sure to be a long day.