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Callie Sadecki's youth is evident in the way her eyes roll to the side, in the way her thick lashes bat at Laura Lee to feign any kind of interest. Her youth is evident in her careless demeanor, legs spread open as she sits in the chair across from Laura Lee's desk, tapping long fingernails on the holy wood with a adolescent lack of patience. Her youth is evident in her gaze down Laura Lee's chest, her eyes fixed on Laura Lee's necklace as if she's lured to the divine source. Her youth is so, so transparent; she is submerged in the waters of laxity, recoiling and hissing at any sign of land, any sign of stability, any sign sent by God. She is so young.
Laura Lee was young once.
She wasn't like Callie, though.
Laura Lee had piety. Purpose. She marched into life, dove in head first, God first, amen. She led the team in prayer and she led the team with soul and the team, eventually, led her home. Laura Lee's youth meant something.
Callie is wasting hers on molly.
She shouldn't be thinking of Shauna's daughter like that, but Shauna herself had asked Laura Lee to preach to Callie about the dangers of drugs, her voice drenched in exhaustion, so on some level she knows too. Shauna doesn't take any of this seriously; Laura Lee knows that it's Callie's punishment.
She just.
It's not futile, she tells herself. She can have an impact. If God wants to take Callie underneath His wing, she will find her way, just as Laura Lee did all those years ago. Maybe she was meant for this. Maybe she survived for this.
She did survive for a reason. The blast of the plane would have been fatal if she hadn't jumped right after takeoff. The electrical fire had scorched both of her hands and the backs of her legs up, the scars still stark across her flesh even now, but there was no infection and she healed well even in the wilderness and they rescued her and all of that was God's fault---was God's doing .
"So," Laura Lee says. "I assume you know why you're here."
"Because my mom fucking resents me?"
Laura Lee smiles. She should say something like she doesn't, she loves you, God loves you. She should say something kind, because it is more apparent now than ever that Callie is just lost , that Callie wants what Laura Lee wanted before her awakening. A free life, or freedom from life.
She wants it all to be different. Laura Lee can understand.
Instead she says, "No."
She hasn't seen Callie since Callie was about ten years old, and it had been an accident then, a chance encounter in which Shauna had rushed Jeff and Callie away at the first sight of Laura Lee and her youth group. She was open then, because her eyes weren't.
"Look," Callie says, "I won't do it again. It was stupid. I know it was stupid."
She thinks about what Shauna would want her to say--something like drugs taint your purity or you can atone or God wants better for you, true things that no one wants to hear. This is supposed to be Callie's burden to bear--the knowledge that she stole her mother's dead best friend's uniform for a halloween party and did drugs in it--but more than anything it is Shauna's burden, the existence of Callie in the absence of him, and Him.
She considers herself. Folds her hands in front of her, grips hard.
"Accepting the sin is the first step," Laura Lee tells her. "We can only truly atone if we understand that our nature is inherently sinful."
Callie blinks at her. "So, what, you think I'm going to burn in hell because I'm sixteen?"
"I think that God can save anyone," Laura Lee replies, and she means it. She looks into Callie's eyes again, prolongs the contact in an attempt to drill in the meaning. It isn't futile, she has to have faith. Callie Sadecki is beautiful now, so beautiful. She looks like Shauna did, back then, but stronger.
"Even me?" Callie asks, clearly amused.
"Especially you," Laura Lee replies. It sounds too much like an invitation. Oh! An invitation. "I run a youth group here at the church. We would love to-"
"I'm good, thanks."
She isn't reaching Callie. It makes sense; she couldn't reach any of them back in the wilderness, she couldn't even reach herself, couldn't hold on. Callie is confident in herself at first glance, and even after Laura Lee's second, third, fourth study, but Laura Lee has been through too much to take things at face value. She understands: she has to dig in.
"When we were..."
Callie perks up at the mention of her past. She's so curious, and curiosity is a good thing when it isn't directed Upwards. This is how she will ensnare. This is how she can save.
"I was drugged at one point," Laura Lee continues. "Do you want to know what happened?"
"You loosened up?"
"I almost hurt someone," she replies. She tries to suffocate the strain out of her voice. "Someone that we all cared for very much. Another one of God's children. Drugs do things to you, Callie. They take the light away."
She shouldn't be telling Callie this. Shauna wouldn't want her to, but fuc--- oh, please forgive her. "And I see the light in you."
Callie's eyes sink back down to Laura Lee's necklace, and Laura Lee's hand clasps over it on instinct, feels the smooth gold on her fingertip and uses the sensation to keep her grounded. Away from Callie. Away from the memory.
Callie is a breathing memory, but Callie is also new, she is so new. Lottie would be enthralled - she shouldn't think about Lottie. She's a fresh, newborn thing still anchored umbilical to abandonment and forest. Paradoxical.
Otherworldly.
"Thanks," Callie responds. It's hesitant, but it's a response. "Hey, I didn't mean... sorry for being so... whatever. I just feel..."
She stops herself, gives a sad smile, almost lets a truth fall out. Laura Lee can work with truth, can slide in between the vulnerabilities and build her nest from scripture.
"It's just weird with mom sometimes," she finishes.
"I understand," Laura Lee replies, because Laura Lee understands. She looks at Callie for a moment, considers her youth again. Laura Lee was not allowed the freedom that Callie Sadecki has now, even if she cannot parse it, even if she is blind to it entirely. She has a life to live. For a moment Laura Lee wonders how much she has already lived, wonders if she's still pure, if she'll chew on any of this when she leaves. Laura Lee's faith is too strong, and too pervasive; there is no room left inside of her for wonder.
"Come here," she says, reaches her hand out for Callie to take. "Pray with me."
And Callie rolls her beautiful eyes once more, groans a loud, rough grumble. But she takes it - she does take it. She doesn't close her eyes, doesn't say the words, but it's enough just for the touch. Yes, Callie Sadecki can be salvaged; perhaps Laura Lee can be, too.