Embrace Me (43 page)
“Makes sense. My mom met you all before Christmas. Poppy Fraser?”
“I remember. She's sassy.”
He laughs. “So what are you doing here on Easter Sunday?”
“I tend to meet God here. He usually shows up in various shapes and sizes.”
“I came out here a lot when my best friend died. It's a good spot.”
“I'm sorry about your friend.”
He shakes his head. “It was a long time ago.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Married?”
He laughs again. “No. Not even close. I'm teaching down at the middle school.”
“Math? English?”
“Special Ed.”
“Whoa.”
“Nah. They're great kids. They're going to have a harder time in this life, for sure. But . . . well, I guess you know how that is.”
“I do.”
“You know, this may sound crazy, butâokay, I'll just come right out and ask it. How long has it been since you've had Communion?”
“What?!”
“I told you it was crazy.”
“I'm getting more and more used to crazy. I don't know. Years, I guess.”
“Want to take some now?”
“Are you a pastor?”
“Part-time youth pastor.”
“Um. Do I have to go to your church, because I'm just not in the mood. And I have a hard time eating, so . . .”
He jumps to his feet and runs toward his house where a young teenage boy is feeding a yellow lab on the front porch. Robbie's younger brother, I guess.
Communion at the lake.
I laugh up at the sun. Well, stranger things have happened, I'm sure.
He returns a few minutes later, a dinner roll in his hand and a bottle of juice peeking out of his jacket pocket. “I brought a straw. I just thought . . .”
“You thought right. Thanks.”
A straw too, Jesus? My goodness, You're going all out today.
He gives me the elements and I give them to him, and I swear I'm staring into the face of Christ here on earth, incarnated in this special ed teacher named Robbie Fraser.
He says a little prayer and sits with me until a voice calls from off his porch. “Robbie, come on or you'll be late to church.”
“What my brother doesn't know is that I've already been there. But”âhe lifts his body off the plankingâ“it can't hurt to go again.”
“Thanks, Robbie.”
“You're welcome. What's your name?”
“Valentine.”
“I'll see you around.”
“Well, probably not. I lay sorta low these days. But if you ever need me, I'm either at Blaze's or Shalom.”
“I'll remember. Take care.”
Yeah, I'll take care. Until I head back out on the road.
I don't want to go back out on the road. I don't say this to Peter, John, or Bartholomew, but right to Jesus, the guy in the middle, the one with the final say-so.
Blaze and Augustine bustle through the kitchen door around three o'clock.
“How'd it go?”
“Good. Good.” Augustine sets a plate covered in tin foil on the counter. “I brought you some of the food.”
“Thanks.”
Blaze hangs her keys on the rack by the door. “Better than good. The music was beautiful.”
“Really? Who sang?”
Augustine pulls out a chair. “Late last night an old friend of mine came into town. Surprised me. His name's Chris. Plays the flute. Anyway, your food was a big hit, Val. Not surprisingly.”
“Nice. And now you can gain your weight back. You're looking almost svelte. Was Bobby there?”
“Yeah. And his parents.”
“Maybe it's a turn around.”
He shakes his head. “It's Easter. Everybody goes to church on Easter. I wouldn't get your hopes up.”
“Augustine! What kind of an attitude is that?” I ask.
“Realistic. Not that I'm not glad they were there. Bobby looked miserable, though.”
“See, Val, you should have gone.” Blaze. “So what did you do while we were gone?”
I tell them about my lakeside Communion with Robbie Fraser.
“That's cool.” Augustine. “Very cool.”
Blaze takes off the silk scarf she'd tied around her neck for the day. “I'm bushed. I'll see you all later.”
“So you doing okay?” he asks. He's tapping his fingers in rapid succession on the table.
“Yeah. I'm really not looking forward to getting back on the road, I can tell you that.”
“Why?” The tapping continues.
“Lella not coming back is most of it.”
“What else?”
I grab his hand and stop the commotion. “I don't know. I like it at the Laundromat, I guess. Bobby, the kids, and seeing Charmaine a lot. Even sorry old you down there!”
He smiles. “Yeah, I tend to bring down the place a notch or two.”
“So anyway. There it is. I guess I don't have much choice. I've got to support myself. But it's going to be a real drag to say the least.”
“I hear you.”
He fidgets with a napkin.
“Are you sweating?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He wipes his forehead with a bandana. “I feel a little sick to my stomach too.”
“What's the matter?”
He takes a deep breath and blows out through lips formed into a small O. “Val, we have to talk. I've got a lot to say, and I don't know how I'm going to get through it.”
“What could you possibly have to say to me that's making you sick?”
He inhales deeply, looks down at his hands. “Daisy.”
“What?” I shake my head as the veil is removed in that single word. The inflection the same beneath the new rasp. Disbelief fills my stomach. “Drew Parrish?”
“Yes.”
I hold my hand up to my mouth. This can't be. This man who saved me from myself . . . Drew Parrish?
He reaches for my hand, but I snap it back under the table.
“Daisy, please, I'm sorry. Oh, God have mercy, Val. I'm so sorry.”
I can't think. I can't think. I've got to go. I run out the back door and into the yard. He's sitting there, at the kitchen table, looking like nobody I've ever seen before, some freak like me, and what's his angle now? Dear Lord. You made a big mistake here.
My heart heaves as its actual contents rise to the surface, blackening what felt new and pink just this morning.
I pull the scarf down and breathe deeply, wondering what goof suggested I quit smoking for Lent? Oh, Lord. Could someone else have baptized me even? Just that?
The entire story, my old life, washes over me. Trician. The endless auditions.
Hard . . . so hard.
I just wanted to sell my comic books and live in peace. To come home to a nice man who loved me. Maybe have some kids. Nothing grand. Lord, you know I wanted my life to be no big deal. My mother's ambitions propelled my own. I only wanted to get away!
Like I do right now.
“Daisy.”
I turn. “I'm Val, Augustine. Drew. You're really Drew.”
“I'm sorry. You can call me whatever you want.”
“Why now? Weren't things bad enough? Lella's gone. I've got to go back on the road. I don't need this crap raked up. Anybody with any sense of compassion could see that!”
“I have to ask your forgiveness. I don't have a choice.”
“Are you doing this for your sake? Or mine? I mean, why now? Why didn't you just let everything go on like it was going?”
“Because I had to do what was right. Confess my sin to you. Daisy, it's all my fault. Everything that happenedâyour face, your life. I know that. It nearly destroyed me as well when you disappeared and I saw what I had done.”
“Good.”
“You're right. I deserved everything I got. And I've been trying to make up for it ever since.”
Yes, the overachiever returns. “Oh, I see it now! Your insane monastery, a monument to the great Drew Parrish's repentance and lifelong penance!” Rage boils inside me. I reach out with both hands, pushing him from me. “Your empire may have dwindled but you wanted to rope me in, just like last time, didn't you? You haven't changed at all. The packaging may be different, but the goods are just the same.”
“No. I swear it wasn't that. Please, Daisy. Please.”
No. Not like this! No, no, no!
I was just supposed to forgive him in my heart, feel like I'd done something great, just me and God. Not this.
AUGUSTINE
T
he words of Charles Parrish ring in my head.
Please, Drew. Please.
Daisy turns her back on me and hugs herself. “Just go. I don't even know what to do with this.”
“Okay. Daisy, I'm so sorry.”
Her eyes glitter with rage as she turns back to face me. “I'm Val, Drew! Don't ever call me Daisy again.”
“I won't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
It takes me a while to return to the Laundromat. I ride my bike through the countryside.
Well, I asked forgiveness. I'm all clear, right, Lord?
Yeah, it doesn't sit well with me either. Truthfully, was there a way this was going to work out? Even asking for her forgiveness seems selfish after all I did. This was lose-lose from the beginning, as well as it should have been.
But the Bible, the Bible, the Bible.
Forgiveness is a strange bird. We seek it desperately, for ourselves yes. But it is impossible to demand it be given for the asking.
My heart is crushed, just as it should be. I deserve no less.
At times like these you wish you not only believed in the rapture but that it would happen right now. This is a tired, confusing world, and sometimes doing the right thing makes us feel worse.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Most of us, at the very least, agree on that.
Grind me to dust, Lord. Use me up and then take me home. Take away all of me.
My father sits on the sofa reading the old prayer book. “Hello, Son.”
“Hi, Dad.” I throw myself on the opposite sofa.
“It was a good time here today. I never knew church could feel like a party. You're doing a good thing.”
