Broken Identity (24 page)

Maybe it was just because he had seen so much junk in his life that nothing stuck out to him any longer. Just days ago, he had discovered that his mom had drowned, his dad had killed her, and then out of rage, he had killed his father. Now this. He had put an innocent man into the hands of thieves and murderers yesterday just so he could protect his selfish self. How could he ever face Andrew again?

Drake searched the drawers for a pen and paper. He realized he couldn’t stay here any longer no matter what Andrew said, and he would tell Andrew that. Well, knowing the coward he was inside, he would most likely write a note and sneak out without ever having to speak to Andrew’s face. Then what? Anywhere, he guessed. Or he might even turn himself in. At least that way he could finally get rid of this baggage.

He found a pen stuffed away in the back of the bottom drawer of the dresser, but there was no paper in sight. He caught a glimpse of the devotional books on top of his nightstand and decided to rip out one of the back pages that had no words on it.
Now, what to write?

A light knock came at his door. Drake instantly jumped up from what he was doing as the door cracked open.

It was Andrew. He was holding a plate of food in one hand and a full glass of iced tea in the other. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said, briefly scanning the room to see if Drake had packed up his duffel bag. “I let you miss breakfast because I heard you sleeping, but I didn’t think you should miss lunch too.”

“I’m not hungry,” Drake said brusquely. Truth was, he actually wasn’t. With all the sleep he had lost last night, the desire to eat must have vanished along with it. Even if he
were
hungry, he doubted he would’ve had an appetite with everything he had running through his mind.

Andrew’s lips were tight and his eyes tired as he set the food down on the dresser beside him. He was trying so hard to develop a friendship between him and Drake, but every time he took a step closer and thought he was making progress, Drake put his foot down and seemed to fight back all the more. Calmly—mustering up all the coolness and composure he had left inside of him—Andrew said, “Well, just in case you get hungry later—”

“I won’t.”

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek. “You have to eat something.”

“I have a lot more to worry about than filling my stomach right now.”

“It’s your decision if you choose to keep it inside, Drake. I can’t make you want my help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“How do you know? We haven’t had a friendly conversation ever since we got back yesterday.”

“Gee, wonder why?” Drake said, not restraining any bit of his sarcasm.

“Then why are you mad at
me?
Just talk to me about whatever it is that’s eating you up, and I’ll help you.”

“I said I don’t need your help,” Drake said, not knowing how he could possibly stress that statement more.

Andrew folded his arms, on the verge of letting his frustration loose. “So what are you gonna do? Sit up here and mope for the rest of your life? Refuse to eat? I don’t know why I’m suddenly taking the blame for all that took place yesterday, but it’s not fair to me to be treated this way, Drake.”

“Oh, I know. It’s my fault again just like everything else that goes wrong in my life.”

“That’s the problem! The biggest part of forgiveness is admitting that you’re wrong and learning to drop the issue. Instead, you wanna keep bringing it up without ever telling me the real reason for your anger. You’re angry with yourself, you’re angry with the people around you…I don’t want that life for you and neither does God. You’ll never heal with that kind of attitude.”

“I don’t expect to heal. And I certainly don’t expect church-lovers like you to make my life perfect. That’s a joke.”

“You hate church that badly, don’t you?”

Drake saw his mom in his head, just as clear and unblemished this time as if deep creases had never scarred the picture he carried of her. “No, I hate God.” He sounded just like his dad when he said that. “I hate the kind of life He dumped on me. I hate Him for coming into my family and ripping it apart. We were happy and normal before He ever came in.”

Andrew listened quietly before saying, “Are you sure it’s God you hate and not your real enemy? If a family is sick, Drake, whose fault is it? The doctor’s or sickness’s?”

“The doctor’s, because a real doctor—if that’s your way of talking about God—should never let them get sick in the first place.”

“But the people still have to open their door to the Doctor. He won’t force Himself in.”

Drake gritted his teeth and felt a burning sensation flare up in his chest. “He sure forced Himself into mine. If there is a God, then I’ve got a lot of questions for Him, starting with this one, ‘Why did You give me such a miserable life?’ Where’s that at in your Bible? Oh, yeah, I forgot. All you people care about is yourselves.”

“Whoa. When did I ever say—?”

“Outside of your little circle, everyone else is just dirt to you. Filthy little sinners who are going straight to hell. I’m not good enough for Heaven, and I know it. I’m not exactly looking forward to hell either, but it’s what I deserve and I’m not going to try to get myself out of it.” He stopped and breathed deeply as Andrew stood there, watching him rant in his anger. “Just give me some time alone,” he said quietly. “That’s the best way you can help me right now.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Mom,” Andrew said over the phone that afternoon. “Nothing works anymore.”

“I thought you told me everything was fine,” Kara said, concerned.

Andrew straightened a few scattered items on his computer desk as he talked. “That was just because I didn’t want to go into it all yesterday. Truth is, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve never been a father before. I feel like I’m doing the best I can for Ronnie, but he’s easy to get along with. A frustrated teenager who clams up at the slightest remark is an entirely different story. I mean, I thought I was doing the right thing at first, but I can tell his heart’s far from this place.”

“What about Ronnie? How is he handling this?”

Andrew opened a drawer and tossed a handful of pencils inside. “That’s another thing I can’t understand. Even though Drake’s eighteen and Ronnie’s seven, Ronnie seems to love the fact that there’s someone a little closer to his age he can talk to. You outta hear the way he talks about Drake.”

“Does Drake talk back, or does he ignore him?”

“Sometimes I think Ronnie gets on his nerves, but he’s talked to him. In fact, Ronnie is the only reason Drake came to church.”

“But now you’re saying it’s different?”

Andrew sat down slowly on the armrest of his chair and glanced at the picture of him and Ronnie on his desktop. It felt like he was looking at something that took place years ago, though it had only been days. “Very. Now he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He hasn’t left his room all day, and when I came to get his plate, I found he hadn’t even touched his food. Something’s wrong, but I can’t figure it out. It’s like that call from the police just set him off, and now he won’t listen to what I say anymore.”

“Andrew, I admire you for what you’ve tried to do for Drake.”

“But you think it’s a bad idea?”

“I didn’t say that. But what you need to realize is that before you can expect him to trust you, you have to show that you trust him first. You have to remember, Andrew, that you don’t know his background or where he came from. He may just have a lot of stuff in his past that he’s ashamed of, so don’t try to figure it all out at once.”

“You mean I should
let
him keep it inside?”

“For now, yes. Otherwise, he’ll feel like you suspect him if you try to pry too much. Once he feels like he can trust you, then either you can bring it up gradually or he may willingly come to you.”

Andrew didn’t know what to say. Show Drake that he trusted him? But he didn’t trust him, did he? How could he ever trust someone like that again after what he had done? Drake had betrayed his confidence in
him
. He hadn’t reported him to the police, but he could never find it in himself to completely put his faith in him again either. Hadn’t that been enough trust shown on his part already?

“I don’t know if I can do that, Mom. Like you said, I don’t know anything about his past. How can you trust someone you hardly know anything about?”

Kara was silent for a moment before saying softly, “Why don’t you try asking Ronnie?”

That statement stunned him. “Oh, come on, Mom. That’s different and you know it. Ronnie’s family. He already knew me before I took him in, and I knew him.”

“If anyone had to learn how to trust again, it was Ronnie. He had been hurt too, Andrew, just as I’m sure Drake has had his share of hurts. He may not have the same story as Ronnie, but I know from what you’ve told me about him that he needs you just as much as Ronnie needs you.”

“He sure has a strange way of showing it.”

Kara laughed. “Raising kids is never easy, Andrew, but I have to say, if anyone could take care of Drake best, it’s you.”

Andrew tried to smile despite his fears. “Just pray for him, Mom. And me too.”

“I will.”

“No, I really mean it. I have a feeling he’s in a major battle right now.”

“With you?”

“No, with himself. That’s the worst kind.”

Drake had never been one to formulate words easily, so he gave up before he even got started with the note and packed his things instead.
I’ll just wait till he’s in the bathroom or something before I sneak out of here. Who cares if I give him an explanation or not? It’s not like he won’t know why I’ve left. That isn’t too hard to figure out.

Drake heard the enormous grandfather clock downstairs strike four o’clock. Where had the time gone?
If I’m gonna leave, I need to do it now.
He wasn’t spending another night in a strange place without first scoping out the area—preferably one with no Ivans, drugs, or devious plans. With only five, maybe six more hours of daylight left, he knew he needed to leave now whether Andrew saw him or not.

That familiar feeling of doubt settled in his gut as he wriggled his shoes on and flung his dirty duffel bag over one shoulder. It was goodbye easy living and hello street life again for him. Only this time, he wasn’t coming back. He would never make that mistake again.

Andrew hung up the phone just as Drake was descending the stairs. “Where are you going?” he said, eyeing the single bag Drake was carrying and noticing his shoes were on.

“Leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Drake stopped and stood there. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that? I thought you would’ve been expecting it.”

“I had expected you to stay, not leave.”

“Oh, well. You know now.”

Andrew stepped in front of Drake just as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “No one wants you to go.”

“I do.”

Stubbornness isn’t helping your case.
“It’s raining hard outside now, so—”

“I’ve walked in the rain before. I’ll get used to it.”

“Well, I won’t, so you’re staying here until it passes, understand?” Andrew said edgily, wishing that every time he and Drake spoke it wouldn’t end up in a fight.

“You can’t stop me.”

“We’ll be eating supper soon and you’re welcome to a meal. After that, you can do whatever you like.”

Drake sighed loudly and threw his duffel bag in a chair. “Fine.” He was actually glad Andrew had mentioned food, because by now he was starving. Plus, this may be the last decent meal he tasted in a long time, if ever again.