Broken Identity (18 page)

Pastor Don smiled at Ronnie and Drake as they ambled toward the front where he stood. “Thank You, Father, for these two people who have come forward in their desire to know You.”

Minus one
, Drake thought, pushing his legs onward to keep from freezing on the spot.

The music droned on as people all around continued to worship God with their eyes closed, but Drake felt as if a huge red target was on his back and everyone was staring at him. He felt himself begin to sweat as the pastor stepped in front of them and asked them their names.

“Ronnie!” Ronnie answered instantly.

“Uh, I’m just up here for the kid,” Drake said without making eye contact. He clamped his mouth shut.
I feel sick
.

Ronnie turned around and gazed up at Drake. “You mean you don’t want Jesus to come into your heart, too?”

Drake bent over and said in a hushed voice, “Look, you just do what you gotta do and I’ll do what I gotta do, so make it snappy.”

Ronnie turned back to face the pastor, but the joy, it seemed, had almost completely wiped off his face. He prayed the prayer after the pastor, and all the while Drake’s cheeks were growing redder by the second. Finally, Ronnie said “Amen” and walked back to his seat while Drake headed directly for the back door.

Andrew hugged Ronnie again as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m so happy for you, Ronnie. You were so brave.”

Ronnie tried to smile, but his attention was turned toward the back of the church. He pulled away from his uncle. “Why did Drake leave?”

“I don’t know, Ronnie.”

Ronnie scooted to the end of the pew and stood. “I’m gonna go find him.”

Ronnie found Drake outside leaning against the side of the church, driving the heel of his foot into the soft dirt. “Whatcha doin’?” he said, slipping both hands in his pockets.

Drake glanced at him for only a second before shifting his eyes back to the grass. “Don’t ever make me do that again, understand?”

“Do what?”

Drake snorted and rammed his foot deeper in the dirt. “You know what.”

“Because I wanted you to be with me when I asked Jesus in my heart?” Ronnie said, kicking a pebble away just to show Drake he wasn’t the only one upset. “Sorry.”

Drake sat down on the cool dew and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Don’t say that. I know you meant well, but it’s just different for me, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Drake shrugged. “Does to me.”

“Why would anyone not want to go to Heaven when they die?”

“I guess for the same reason teenagers don’t sit in Santa’s fat lap. You grow up and stop believing what every dim-witted person tells you.”

“Nobody made Uncle Andy believe it. He just does.”

“Fake is still fake. I don’t care who believes in it.” Drake noticed the edge in his voice. Always angry, wasn’t he? Maybe he could tone it down a bit, just for the kid.
Ah, so what? Let it stay. You know it feels good to release it.

“But what if God is more than fake?” Ronnie pressed. “What if He’s really out there?”

Drake looked up at the cloudless sky and then back at Ronnie, as if to say,
Where?

Ronnie accepted defeat. “OK, sorry, but I still say it doesn’t make sense.”

I never asked your opinion.

“But I’m not sorry for caring,” Ronnie continued. “I could never be sorry for that.”

Drake reconsidered toning down his anger problem. Maybe it would be better to give the kid a break. Save the anger to blow up on someone who really needed it. Anyway, he might need the extra ammo someday. “I was just spouting off, Ronnie. Nothing serious. It’s better to ignore me when I get that way.”

Ronnie pursed his lips. “Thanks. I’ll remember.”

“Yeah, well…I think it’s great you feel like things are good between you and God now.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, but see, not everyone’s the same. Some people find comfort in God, some people find comfort in family, and some people even find comfort in a high. No one’s really right; it’s just whatever they feel. Right now, the only thing I find comfort in is having a place to sleep at night and food to eat. Nothing more. I’ve done just fine without a family, and I can do without God, too.”

Ronnie pulled apart a blade of grass and let it fall to the ground. “Does that mean you don’t wanna be around me anymore ’cause I have Jesus in my heart?”

Drake finally allowed himself to smile. He ruffled Ronnie’s hair and said, “As long as it’s not contagious, pal.”

The drive home was silent—which ironically spoke louder volumes than if the three of them had all carried on regular chatter. Drake knew the stunt he had pulled was likely the prominent topic in the back of Andrew and Ronnie’s minds, but he
had
warned them, so anything they could say would only be a repeat of what he had already told them. Andrew didn’t ask where Drake had been during the sermon, and Drake wasn’t offering any explanations. Ronnie had likely told his uncle what had happened once he went back inside the sanctuary, so what was the point in rehashing it all? Oh, well. At least now, everyone knew where he stood.

When they got back to the house, Andrew followed Drake up to his room and closed the door behind him. He waited to see if Drake would voluntarily speak to him first or if he would have to prod it out of him.

No response.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Uh, what’s up?”

Drake threw his shirt to the floor and dug through his dresser drawers for something more comfortable. “What, is it your turn to quiz me now?”

Andrew hadn’t expected an attack this early. “I just asked a simple question. A simple answer is all I’m looking for.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “I don’t like church,” he said flatly.

Andrew nodded his head and considered that. “OK.”

Drake stared at him skeptically. “That’s it? You’re not gonna hound me for leaving church early, or—”

“I never said you had to come. You gave your word to Ronnie, not to me.”

Drake looked away. “Then why did you come up here?”

“Because I care.” Andrew leaned sideways and tried to see Drake’s face. “Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you?”

Drake tried to act nonchalant about it. “Not that I know of.”

Andrew wanted more of an answer than that, but Drake had dropped the ball and cut that part of the conversation off without any hope of reviving it. If he pressed him about it, he would only come across as prying and suspicious. “If you say there’s nothing wrong, then I believe you,” he said.

“Good.”

Andrew debated whether he should leave now or attempt to talk to Drake more.
I can’t just walk out on him now. All we’ve done is exchange words, not had a real, personal conversation.
He glanced over at the loose, tangled mess of covers on the bed and the wad of dirty clothes quickly piling up in the corner. He took a deep breath.
You can address that later. Right now, Drake needs someone to talk to
. “I want to be your friend, Drake, not your enemy,” he started. “Now, I know there’s a bit of difference in our age—”

Drake raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips together as he slowly nodded his head.

“All right, so there’s a vast difference,” Andrew admitted, getting Drake’s silent message. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t communicate. I want you to feel like you can talk to me.” He paused before asking, “What do you think about Ronnie’s decision today?”

Drake turned away from Andrew and moved toward the window, even though the blinds were still closed. “Beats me. If he’s happy, that’s all that matters, right?”

“He looks up to you, you know.”

Drake whirled around. “What are you saying? You worried about me being a bad influence on his soul?”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, well, I know what you must think of me,” he said, turning back to the window.

“You wanna know what I think?” Andrew said, taking a step closer. “I think you’re a teenager who’s struggling to find a place to call your own. A place where you feel like you fit in and belong. I’m not trying to push you out, Drake. In fact, I hope you stay. So does Ronnie.”

“Whatever.” Drake didn’t know why he was on the defensive today. Every little thing someone said or did seemed to set him off. Was it because he was more scared than he had ever been? Time was ticking, and he found himself jumpy and nervous more than ever before. Nothing had turned up with the cops yet, but he had the nagging feeling that back in his hometown they were putting the pieces together. Sooner or later, they would track him down. But exactly
when
they would find him was the part that kept him on edge.

After a couple hours of on-and-off dozing on his bed, Drake wandered downstairs and found Ronnie sitting on the couch watching television. He stretched his arms in the air and looked around for Andrew. Good, maybe he was upstairs. The last thing he needed was another sermon.

Ronnie seemed engrossed in some program about penguins. Since Drake had nothing better to do with his time, he decided to join him. “Whatcha watchin’?” he said, grabbing a pillow.

Ronnie’s eyes barely left the screen as he replied, “A story about people who go to Antarctica to help penguins.”

The narrator’s voice droned on, nearly putting Drake back to sleep. “You
like
this kinda stuff?” he said, wincing.

“’Course. I wanna be a vet when I grow up.”

Drake snorted, knowing he didn’t have enough fingers on both hands to count how many times that phrase had come out of his mouth when he was Ronnie’s age. “I remember when I used to say that.”

“Used to say what?”

“I wanted to be practically everything when I grew up. First, I wanted to be a mailman.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Taking people’s mail to their house while listening to the radio
and
getting paid for it sounded like a one-of-a-kind deal to me.”

Ronnie laughed. “So what happened?”

“I grew out of it, that’s what happened. Wanted to be a director next and make it big in the movies. Then I thought space sounded pretty sweet and decided to be an astronaut. The list went on and on.”

“So which one do you wanna be now?”

“Be?” Drake forced a laugh and said, “I threw all those ideas out the window a long time ago. They were just dreams, kid. Nothing ever happened to ’em. They were just kinda there, a passing thought.”

“But you could still be those things. Gosh, you could even add being a piano player to your list.”

Drake smiled. “Nah, it’s a little too late now. I mean, it was cool for me to think about what my life would be like when I was lying in bed with nothin’ to do but soak up the heat. I was in my make-believe world for anywhere between thirty minutes to several hours—whenever I finally got tired of pretending and fell asleep. Eventually, I knew I could never be any of those things, so I decided that trying wasn’t even worth the effort.”

Ronnie absorbed his story, but the effect it made on him was little to none. “Well, no matter what, I’m gonna be a vet.”

“More power to ya,” Drake said, really meaning it.

Ronnie stared down at Drake’s shoes and scrunched his brow. “Man, do you ever take your shoes off? I like wearing socks better.”

Drake glanced down at his ragged black shoes. All the money he had to his name was hidden in there. “Only when I sleep,” he said, content to leave it at that.

The telephone rang. Drake stood, but then heard Andrew coming from his bedroom to take the call. A simple move maybe, but something about it didn’t feel right.

Second ring.

Drake groped for the armrest and lowered himself back down on the couch. Weird. His hand was shaking. Somewhere in between a tainted mixture of dread and uncertainty came the lurid feeling of being trapped. Caged.

Wonder who was calling?

Third ring. Drake glanced over his shoulder just as Andrew looked strangely at the caller-ID. He picked up the phone, answered it with an uncertain, “Hello?” and then walked into another room.

Overcome with a looming concern, Drake left Ronnie and walked over to check the caller-ID for himself.

Wrong move. All the thoughts, terrors, nightmares, warnings he had seen coming but foolishly ignored—the very thing he had dreaded was now upon him, breathing down his neck like a starved monster. Fear milked the last drop of boldness from his heart as he read the words POLICE DEPT on the tiny screen.