Free Paige Torn by Erynn Mangum

peace? Isn’t the whole connotation of pursuit sort of antipeace? And where does peace fit in when everything is so busy all the time?
    I drift off while thinking about it.

I end up leaving work late on Thursday, so I don’t even get to Nichole’s apartment to pick her up until well past five thirty. “I’m so sorry,” I say when she comes to the door. “I got stuck at work.”
    Nichole is fairly short with short blonde hair and sad blue eyes. She just smiles. “It’s fine, really. Let me tell my mom I’m leaving.”
    We end up going to a Starbucks just a couple of blocks from her apartment, and she tells me about how she ended up in Dallas. “So then my mom found out my dad has been cheating on her with his secretary for almost six years.”
    My heart hurts. Little girls should never have to deal with news like that about their daddies. And I feel woefully inadequate to be talking to her about this when my wonderful, amazing father has always been the first person there whenever I needed anything, and he would never hurt my mom like that.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Nichole,” I say, at a loss for words, trying to dig up something from my classes in psychology from the recesses of my brain.
    â€œMe too,” she says, obviously trying not to cry while she takes a sip of her vanilla bean latte. I’ll need to remember that she apparently doesn’t like coffee.
    â€œHow’s your mom doing?” I abandon the psych stuff and try to tune in to the Holy Spirit.
    â€œShe’s okay. My grandparents live here, so they’ve been helping us a lot. She’s trying to find a job right now.”
    â€œWhat does she do?”
    â€œShe worked as a vet assistant in college. I guess she’s thinking about something along those lines, but it just doesn’t pay very much. I’ve been applying around to see if I can find some part-time work after school too.”
    I nod. “If I hear of something, I’ll let you know.”
    â€œThanks, Paige.”
    I take her back home a little over an hour later and ask if I can meet with her again next Thursday. It is the first time she really smiles at me. “That would be awesome.”
    I smile back. “Great. I’ll see you then. Have a good night, Nichole.”
    I drive away, shaking my head. Lord, how much I take for granted in the face of others’ problems.
    I pull into Layla’s apartment complex and climb out of my car, walking the long, creepy sidewalk to her apartment. I knock and Layla opens the door a second later.
    â€œCome in, come in. Oh, Paige, wait until you see what I just found!” She dances through the apartment over to her computer and points excitedly at it. “Look!”
    I drop my purse and the folder of ideas I’ve been printing off the Internet on her sofa and walk over to her computer on the kitchen table.
    â€œIs that not the most beautiful centerpiece you’ve ever seen?” she squeals.
    It is beautiful. Yellow roses are everywhere and the whole thing is lit in candlelight.
    â€œI’m going to order these tonight!” She jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “Won’t they look spectacular on the tables around the dance floor?”
    â€œLayla, how much are they?”
    She waves a hand. “I haven’t checked yet.”
    â€œThey’re probably around two hundred dollars.”
    She gasps. “No way.”
    â€œWay. We can totally make these on our own for way, way less than they’re going to charge you.” I am pretty certain I’ve never used the word way so often in such a short amount of time.
    â€œAre you sure?” she asks, looking doubtful. “I mean, I can trim the cost in other ways.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œWell, the park is free.”
    â€œBut you want to serve steak, chicken, and shrimp for dinner.”
    She gets all dreamy-eyed again. “With the Burgundy