Ecc Study Twelve

Study Number Twelve

Reread Ecclesiastes 7: 15-29. Read Ecclesiastes 8.

“the wicked do not fear God”

Annie hated herself, hated the face she saw looking back at her in the bathroom mirror, the sad blue eyes and stringy dishwater blond hair. She was so pale. So still and lifeless. So dead. She wished she could die. She closed her eyes and imagined her funeral. A quiet, dark chapel at a funeral home. Maybe a stained glass window at the front with a picture of Jesus holding a lamb in his arms. A large wreath for her casket, from her parents or one of her sisters. Maybe some red roses, her favorite—wide, open blooms with a heavy scent to greet people as they filed by. It would be so nice to have people say positive things about her for once, if only at her funeral. Although they’d most likely say negative things too, even then, even though she was dead.
“If only she’d never gotten mixed up with that man,” she could hear her mom say.
“We taught her better,” her dad might mutter, referring both to the man and the life she’d had with him and to her method of escaping that life.
If she took that method. If they found out—all about—the man. Annie couldn’t imagine any more. It was too painful. Her hands shook a little as she splashed water on her face. She should clean the sink. It was filmy with soap scum and toothpaste residue, facial hair from Todd’s razor and long, pale strands from her brush.
She reached for a thin, turquoise-colored towel hanging on the metal towel rack by the sink. This towel was one she’d brought from home. It was her towel, given to her as a gift before she went to college, a graduation present from one of her sisters, her favorite one, once upon a time, before—
That thought was also a painful one, one Annie never thought about at all, if she could. Actually Annie didn’t really enjoy thinking very much about anything any more, if she could help it. Just see it, without thinking about it, if she could. If it were possible. Make no judgments. Even though not making judgments kept getting her into trouble. Other people were always judging her. Seemed like that should be enough. It wasn’t though. And she did judge herself too. She couldn’t help it.
As she straightened the towel, she found her gaze straying to the trashcan beside the toilet and the discarded pregnancy test inside it. It wasn’t the only thing in the trashcan. In fact, she’d carefully tried to hide it under the lipstick-smeared tissues, candy wrappers, and biology test emblazoned with a huge “D,” but she could still see the plastic edge of it.
She bent over and shoved it down farther, noticing the lines in the plastic windows had faded. She hadn’t told him. No one would have to know if she—
She pulled the sack from the trashcan and tied it off. Slowly, deliberately, she walked from the room with it in her hand.
She walked quietly past the bed, stopping once when she thought she heard someone stirring. But he lay very still, his arm on her pillow, his hand in a loose fist. His hairy, muscular chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. His face looked so innocent and calm: a heavy, dark lock on his forehead, dark lashes on his cheeks, his mouth slightly open, the shadow of his beard below it.
She turned away and almost tripped over her suitcase on the floor. It was open and empty. She’d thought about packing it earlier, as soon as she realized. But now that she’d decided what she was going to do, she wouldn’t need to leave, because it wouldn’t make any difference. No one would need to know. It would all just stay the same, just the way it was.
First she’d thought he’d be excited, that maybe--, but then she knew he wouldn’t be. She knew it so certainly she couldn’t allow herself to hope otherwise. She saw him frowning at her fiercely, his eyes dark and stormy. He’d tell her she should have been more careful, that she was so irresponsible it was sickening. If she didn’t make the choice she was making, he’d never want to see her again. Yet he might still resent her for making that choice, for having to make it. And she would resent herself as well and then she’d resent him too. It would be better that he never knew. It would be so much easier to pretend it had never happened.
She kicked the suitcase under the bed. It was so old, a hand-me-down hand-me-down, with soft, worn, floral fabric sides, plastic edges, and a zipper that was always sticking.
She felt the carpet underneath the suitcase, the nice nap of the ragged shag’s many strands, all that texture. It was a lovely color too, she thought, sort of a milk chocolate, light enough to still be very neutral, dark enough to hide most stains.
“Keep walking,” she told herself.
She was dressed in slacks and a blouse, her hair combed. She just needed to put on her shoes, take out the trash, get in the car, get it done, and come back. It wouldn’t take that long. If he missed her, she could think of some excuse. Anyway, he might sleep all day. He had before. He didn’t have any classes today and he didn’t have to work until tonight.
She wouldn’t tell him or anyone else either. There was already so much they didn’t know. They didn’t need to know. They were bothered enough by what they did know.
It was the reason she’d gone so far away from home for school. To have her own life.
Maybe she’d gone too far. Maybe she should stop. She could change, she thought. She could put all of this behind her and start over if she wanted too. She could change the ending.
Or could she? She saw the still, still reflection of her face in the mirror reflected again in the glass door, just before she pushed it open.
And then she was opening the car door and climbing in. She was driving the car. She was parking it in front of the building and getting out.
Empty but tragic words. Pain. Some. Physical and mental. Then it was over. Coldness.

How could he? After everything she’d done for him? Annie fought back tears. She would not let herself cry. She absolutely would not.
They must not have heard her come in. She’d been trying to be so quiet.
She could hear their murmuring voices quite loudly, as though they were yelling directly into her ears. She felt sick at the sound of their breathless laughter.
What kind of an idiot was she, to have this happen the very day she’d done what she’d done? Was this justice for her wrongdoing? If so, where was justice for him? He seemed to be quite happy.
Did she want to know who had made him so happy? Someone very much like her she supposed. Someone alone, awkward, unsure of herself. “You’re so beautiful, so captivating so charming and interesting,” he had told her.
And he was so mysterious and exciting. Those incredibly dark eyes. The smooth brown leather of his briefcase. All the hopes he had for his future and his plans to include her in it. So different from the boys at home, the boys at her folks’ small Midwestern church and at the high school she’d attended. The boys who’d been so fond of her sister, but they hadn’t been enough. Both Annie and her sister had looked for more. And look what each of them had done. What Annie had just done and what her sister had done several years ago—her sister Abigail. The sister who’d looked so like Annie and yet so unlike her. Like a beautiful version of Annie’s identically pale coloring, very fair hair and blue eyes. The antithesis of their older dark-haired and dark-eyed sister.
Annie shrank back behind the coat rack. Time to leave the way she had come, she thought as the rough fabric of a trench coat she’d once been fond of now rubbed roughly against her face.
Well, this was one way to force her to make that fresh start, she thought. She could just leave everything and never come back. “Maybe it’s not true. Maybe there’s some explanation,” she said out loud, softly, under her breath. Somebody else. Not him. His brother maybe. She didn’t even know if he had a brother. Not really. He said he did, but she’d never met him. Not that he had any reason to lie about such a thing, but he did seem to enjoy lying. He might not need much of a reason.
But they spoke again and she had no doubt it was his voice—not his brother’s--she heard.
Then the door to the bedroom opened and a woman walked out in her underwear. She really was beautiful. He wouldn’t have to lie to her in his effusive compliments. They’d be completely true. Her long dark hair hung well past her shoulders. It was full, wavy, shining, with glints of gold and red. Her skin was smooth and flushed. Her eyes were bright, even from a distance. Annie turned away.
Fleetingly, she wanted to walk into the room and shake her finger in his face, or put her hands around his neck and--
She wanted to tell him what she’d done.
She wanted to scream at him for what he’d done to her.
She—
She left the same way she had before, quietly, with her head down, leaving everything behind her, her few, special things, and his big, careless life.

Questions to Answer

1. Wickedness is stupid, according to Solomon, but he himself engages in it, influenced by his almost 1000 wives and concubines, not one of which he found to be upright. Why does this wise man act stupid?

2. How does wickedness not release those who practice it, as indicated in chapter 8?

3. Do we always see the wicked punished for their wickedness?

4. What does Annie do and why? Is she punished for her wickedness? Is Todd punished for his wickedness? What do you think will happen to Annie next?

5. Are you a snare to others? Do you spend much time with people who are a snare to you?

6. Have you done something wrong and not been punished for it? Have you done something wrong and been punished for it? Have you felt like you were punished when you hadn’t done wrong?