Free On My Own by Melody Carlson Page A

switch roommates a lot of times, but then I kept thinking maybe there was a reason for this–”
    “Like maybe you could save me?” Her eyes had that hard, flinty look.
    “Nooo, not exactly. But maybe I could become your friend.”
    She looked down at her lap for a moment, then spoke in a low voice that was laced with an emotion I still can't quite put my finger on. But my best guess is that it was hostility mixed with desperation. “Sorry, but you don't have what it takes to be my friend.”
    “How do you know that?” I sat down on my bed now, praying silently that God would somehow break through Liz's hard shell.
    “Because I've known people like you. Yeah, you say you want to be my friend, but all you really want is for me to become just like you–plain, boring, vanilla, white-bread … You don't have the slightest interest in knowing, not to mention accepting, who I really am. If you knew who I really was–man, you'd be so freaked out and appalled that you'd probably run home, crying to Mommy and Daddy.”
    Well, now that one got to me, and I suppose it pushed me into my old sarcastic mode–not something I'm terribly proud of. “So who are you really, Liz? A serial murderer? Drug pusher? Or do you sacrifice children on the devil's altar? What exactly is it that I'd find so appalling about you?”
    “For starters I am a woman who doesn't need yourGod. I can think for myself, and I can stand on my own two feet. I can have sex with any guy I like, and I can get wasted whenever I feel the urge. I can break the rules and still come out on top. I'm everything you're not, Caitlin, and I know that you hate me for it.”
    I tried not to blink or register any reaction. “You do drugs too?”
    For some reason, although I was perfectly serious, this made her laugh. “Well, I tried them in high school. But I didn't like the way I felt afterward and decided it wasn't my thing. Why do you ask?”
    “I don't know. Just curious.”
    “So you see, Little Goody Two-Shoes, we can never be friends.”
    “Only because you're not willing to give it a try. I think the truth is you're afraid of me because I make you uncomfortable.”
    “Oh, sure, you bet.” She crossed her legs and acted like she was suppressing a big laugh.
    “Then why do you work so hard keeping me at arm's length all the time? Why do you go out of your way to be so mean, to shove me away from you? What are you afraid of anyway?”
    “I'm not afraid of anything.”
    “Oh, I think you are. And as sad as it seems to me, I think you're afraid of God.”
    “See, I knew it would come down to this. Sooner or later you people always bring everything back toGod. God this, God that. Blah, blah, blah. I'm sick of it!”
    “You wouldn't react so strongly if you weren't afraid.” I looked evenly at her. “And you wouldn't reject my friendship if you weren't attempting to reject God.”
    “So you're saying that you can only offer me your friendship if I take your God right along with you?”
    I thought about that for a moment. I considered how Jesus had reached out to people–fishermen and tax collectors and harlots. Didn't He simply invite them to come along with Him, to see what developed along the way? But then He's Jesus and I'm me. Still, I thought it might be worth a try. “No, I'm just offering my friendship to you, Liz, plain and simple. That's all. What you do with my offer is entirely up to you.”
    “So are you saying that should I become your friend, you wouldn't drag me off to your church or preach at me or even criticize me for the way I live?”
    “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't drag you to church. And hopefully I wouldn't preach at you, although I've been known to do it from time to time. Still, it's a habit I've been trying to break.” I glanced at her and thought I noticed her face soften a little. “And as far as criticizing, well, sometimes that's just what friends do, isn't it? I mean, when you really care about someone and you see them