Freedom

by Faith Potts

  I force myself to wait until the clock changes twice before texting again.

  1:56 AM — Alex: Please answer. I’m awake if you want to talk.

  Another change of the clock. Another 60 seconds with no reply. Another text sent to the phone of the guy I didn’t realize how much I love until this moment, the guy I can’t imagine life without.

  1:57 AM — Alex: I can’t sleep until I know you’re okay.

  Not even expecting or waiting for a response, I dial his number. He’s world’s worst at replying to a message some days, but this is different. Something is wrong.

  No answer. I call again, fear trampling over my good sense.

  The call goes to voicemail.

  I draw my legs to my chest as I sit against the headboard, despair caving my shoulders to my knees. “Oh, God, please,” I whisper into the darkness. “Don’t let him do it.”

  Just as panic is planting horrid thoughts in my head, an idea comes to mind and I scramble for my phone.

  1:59 AM — Alex: If you don’t answer, I’m coming over

  Swallowing back my fear, I stare at the screen. Aware of the passing time. Counting each second, accentuated by too-rapid heartbeats. I don’t even know if he has access to a gun, but my hyperactive mind doesn’t dwell on that factor.

  I call again, but he doesn’t pick up. Sliding out of bed, I stop long enough to grab a hoodie and flip-flops from the closet before darting out the bedroom door.

  In the darkness, I fumble along the bar for my car keys, then turn to sprint out the door.

  Gruesome images of what I could potentially find at his apartment make me feel like I’m going to vomit. Surely he wouldn’t do that. Not to Brian, Lester… Joe…

  Joe. I could call him. He can be to James quicker than I can. I reach for my phone.

  The doorbell rings.

  No.

  I double over, arms crossed over my middle as a scream builds inside my chest. Visions of Joe grabbing me in his arms and telling me how he found him. Or a policeman, standing on the stoop and relaying that a body was found in the river. The possibilities zing through my brain.

  But no.

  There hasn’t been time for that since he texted… Has there?

  Straightening and pushing my hair out of my face, I walk toward the door. I have to do this. I have to know. I have to help him.

  In the entryway, I cram my phone and keys into my hoodie pocket, twist the deadbolt, and crack the door.

  And slap my hand over my mouth to stifle the cries at the sight of the figure before me, silhouetted in the streetlight glow.

  He doesn’t speak—only hangs his head before me.

  “James…” I whisper his name, edging closer, apprehensive to launch myself into his embrace like I so badly want to. “Are you okay?”

  Still not lifting his face, he pulls his hand out from behind his back.

  My gaze falls to the handgun in his grip. And my stomach drops, heart racing.

  “Please take this.” His voice is flat, tired, emotionless.

  Shaking so bad that it scares me, I carefully remove the pistol from his hold and flip on the light over the kitchen sink. With cumbersome fingers, I jack back the action to make sure the gun isn’t loaded.

  It is.

  I crank out the shells onto the counter until the magazine is empty. One, two, three, four, five…

  Five chances at death. He didn’t leave one in the chamber by mistake.

  My heart is broken. I discard the shells and empty gun into a half-full drawer of dishtowels and slam it closed. I just want it out of his reach.

  With the height of my fear welling in my eyes and blurring my vision, I return to the man standing in my doorway. I trip over the threshold, nearly falling against him, and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Oh, James…” I’m fighting a losing battle with the tears.

  His hand comes up, brushes my arm, but drops back to his side. Like he’s not good enough. Like he wonders if he’s still worthy—if he ever was.

  My heart races and I hold him tighter, cling to him until it’s hard to breathe.

  The arm comes back up, wrapping around me. His head falls to my shoulder. And he trembles in my hold. “It’s okay…” I run my hand up and down his back. “It’s okay.”

  He nuzzles his face in my loose hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Lex. Sorry I worried you. I’m sorry I’m such a worthless person.”

  “Don’t say that!” I jerk back, whack his shoulder, the tears flowing freely. “I love you, you dope. I was scared to death when you didn’t answer me.”

  I stop, breathing hard, the sobs still abusing me, and stare up at him. In the darkness, I can’t see his expressive eyes, only signs of the wince that crosses his face.

  “I-I love you, too,” he whispers, his voice choked.

  Still breathing heavily, each breath somewhere between a sob and a pant, he leans his forehead against mine, his hand cupping my face. “I’m so sorry, Lex. It just—it just came over me. I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t feel anymore. I’m not even sure what stopped me, but then I started thinking of you and I just lost it.”

  Thank You, Lord… “Hey, it’s okay.” I wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Quit apologizing, babe. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

  He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arm around me and holds on tight. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe, reassuring myself that we’re okay. He’s okay. He’s safe.

  “I probably shouldn’t be here alone with you,” he murmurs, “especially at this hour.”

  My hands clench against his back, daring him to make me let go. “There is absolutely no way I’m letting you leave here alone tonight.”

  “I just couldn’t go back to that room,” he whispers. “The temptation will be there, I know, and I’m not strong enough to fight it off any longer.”

  “Come inside before we both freeze.” As if that matters. I hook my arm around his waist and pull him into the warmer living room, locking the door behind us. As if a deadbolt can keep out the demons he fights.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  After lying awake through the wee morning hours, I roll out of bed at a quarter after seven and tiptoe across the room. Easing the bedroom door open, I peek into the living room at my guy.

  James is conked out on the couch, where I left him a few hours ago once he finally fell asleep. Knowing he doesn’t often rest peacefully, I close the door again without disturbing him.

  After reassuring myself that the gun is on my nightstand where I placed it after he fell asleep, I hop in the shower. Memories of last night replaying through my mind, so vivid. If it weren’t for the guy asleep on my couch, I’d want to believe it was all a horrific dream.

  But no. This is real. This is what he’s dealing with in the shadows, even when he’s smiling and laughing in the daylight.

  Tears spill from my eyes, mixing with the steamy warm water from the showerhead.

  We talked for nearly two hours before he dozed off, and he admitted that the loaded pistol he handed over to me last night is one that he’s kept since leaving home last December. He could’ve pulled the trigger at any time, but I never knew…

  Much more ready to face the day after my shower, I dress in jeans and a comfy top and head into the living room.

  When I open the bedroom door, James is sitting on the edge of the couch, stretching his arm over his head. “I wouldn’t recommend ever sleeping on this thing if you have another option.”

  My heart swells at his ability to joke. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I walk toward him, towel-drying my hair. “How’d you sleep?”

  He yawns. “Really good, actually.”

  “In spite of the cheap couch?”

  “Yeah.” He smiles, standing and walking toward me, reaching for my hand when he draws near.

  I pull him into a hug, happy when he reciprocates. “I guess we should get you home before Lester calls in to report a missing person.”

  “
Probably a good idea.”

  I drape my towel across a kitchen chair on my way past. Grabbing keys off the counter where I must have laid them sometime during last night’s events, I slide into my flip-flops and turn to wait for James.

  Almost to the door, he pauses, glances at the kitchen drawer where the bullets from the gun he was carrying last night is still hidden. Then, without a word, he walks on out the door.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || James

  Alex drops me off at the apartments, offering to return in a few hours and give me a ride to church. Much preferring time with her over a ride with the guys, I oblige.

  “Do you miss driving?” She asks out of the blue as we roll under a traffic light on a two-lane as we head to church.

  I shrug, head leaned back against the rest. “Sometimes.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever feel comfortable behind the wheel of a car again?”

  I sigh, propping my head in my hand, elbow on the door panel. Where are all these off-the-wall questions coming from? “Maybe. I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  We lapse into silence—and now I know why the questions. I can’t seem to come up with normal conversation, and neither can she. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe we need the quiet. Grief can be silence as well as screams. Losing Travis tore me up bad, and last night’s breakdown showed me how vulnerable I still am.

  I’m lost in my thoughts and memories, when a sudden jerking of the car makes me sit upright. My eyes fly open just in time to see Alex’s left hand grab for the wheel. The windshield wipers are flapping back and forth at a maddening speed. She grabs the lever and turns them off, not offering a word of explanation to what just happened.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, fine.” Physically fine, maybe, but she’s awfully flustered. My gaze moves to her hand, which is gripping the right side of the wheel, and I measure in my head the close proximity of the wipers control. Could she have been trying to drive with one hand? Swerved, quickly nabbed control, knocked the lever up. Makes perfect sense. My heart swells with admiration…or something stronger.

  She’s looking straight ahead for the most part now, but her eyes keep darting my way. “What?”

  I smile, praying I’ll never take her—and what a treasure she is—for granted. “I love you, Alexandria Lorance.”

  She blushes at that, smiling and shrugging her shoulders. “I love you, too.”

  I grin wider at her answer, pausing a moment to carefully formulate my next words. “You were trying to understand what it’s like for me, weren’t you?”

  She twists to look my way, eyes wide and surprised. Just as quickly, she turns back to the road—and I’m glad. The last thing we need this morning is a vehicular collision. Then she speaks, surprising me. “You know…I take a lot for granted.”

  Definitely a treasure. “I think you’re pretty grateful and appreciative.”

  “Well…maybe I’m learning.” She turns again and winks at me. “Maybe you’re good for me.”

  Whoever laid out the inside of this car was obviously not very intelligent. I mean, talk about inconvenient. Usually, I make sure I’m on her left side so I can take her hand if I want to. But with her in the driver’s seat of the truck… Well, that’s just not possible unless I ride on the running board—something this jalopy doesn’t boast. Definitely a factory flaw.

  I reach my arm across my lap and over the console to touch her hand. She smiles without even looking my way, releasing the wheel with that hand and looping her fingers through mine.

  “You’re gonna be okay,” she says, squeezing my hand.

  I don’t answer—but not because I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about. The swerve and hand-holding was a nice distraction from the multitude of emotions waging war inside of me.

  God, I need peace.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || James

  Through the young adult Sunday school class and the pastor’s sermon, I retain little to none of what I hear. Life continues on around me, but I can’t seem to join in. Aside from mentioning Travis’s family at prayer time in class, I hardly speak either. Several times through the service, Alex glances my way. She doesn’t bring it up and neither do I, but I know she’s worried about me. It helps to know that.

  We stand for the closing hymn, a beautiful instrumental piece that begins slow and speeds up toward the end. I recognize the tune from hearing it on the radio or some such place, but I can’t recall all of the lyrics. All I remember is ‘sin’s curse has lost its grip on me’…and I want to know more than that.

  I’m about to lean toward Alex and ask her the song’s title, when the pianist begins to sing. The music and voice combine and synchronize, eliciting a beautiful harmony.

  “In Christ alone, my hope is found… He is my light, my strength, my song… This Cornerstone, this solid ground… Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.”

  Without even realizing it, I’m singing the words, along with Alex and half of the church.

  “What heights of love, what depths of peace… When fears are stilled, when strivings cease… My Comforter, my All in All… Here in the love of Christ I stand.”

  I close my eyes and let the words to the song flow over me, absorbing the Spirit that fills this blessed sanctuary.

  “This gift of love and righteousness… Scorned by the ones He came to save… ‘Til on that cross as Jesus died, the wrath of God was satisfied…”

  Choked up, I look down, drop my eyes from the front of the church. My hand trembles at my side, my heart aching and craving peace.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || Alex

  As we stand for the benediction to play, I eye the special guy at my side. He’s been focused and withdrawn all through the service, and now he stares off into the distance. Oh, God, he’s struggling… Heart pained for him, I bow my head and whisper a prayer.

  Movement catches my eye and I turn in time to see James step to the left, out of the pew and into the aisle. Hesitating only for a second, he pauses and reaches back, holding out his hand to me. His solemn eyes, openly hurting, plead with me.

  Touched, I slide my fingers into his and follow him down the aisle to the front of the church. At the altar, he falters as he falls to his knees, then bends forward over the stairs, still clasping my hand. I drop to my knees at his side and rest my forehead against his shoulder. God, heal his heart…

  I feel their presence more than I hear their approach as Joe and Gloria kneel behind us. My aunt’s gentle hand lands on my back, and I know without looking up that Uncle Joe is on James’s other side.

  Tears spill from my eyes, trailing down my face until I swipe them away. My toes cramp and my knees ache from being knelt in this awkward position for so long, but I don’t dare move and disturb him.

  I pray, harder and with more heart than I have in awhile. When I run out of words, I only ask God to bless James with peace, to surround him with His love. And I thank Him for it.

  Because I can give no other title to what swirls through this place, healing broken hearts and reassuring the hopeless.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || James

  This is what peace truly is, I realize as I kneel at the altar—Alex at my side and peace flooding my soul. It’s not the absence of trouble, trials, or hurt. It’s the Presence that remains with me no matter what comes. That is where my hope is found.

  Tears crowd my eyes.

  I am free.

  Free from the fear and desperation that pushed Travis to make that final, fateful decision.

  Lifting my face from the altar, I turn to my right. Alex kneels at my side, clinging to my hand and praying for me. Praying with me.

  Noting that I’m finishing, Joe smacks me on the back and moves aside. I hope he knows how much it means to know he cares. He has became the father role that I didn’t realize was absent.

  Alex looks up, too, her gaze locking on mine. And she smile
s. Because she’s in this for the long haul, through good days and bad nights, laughter and tears. Even when loving me means getting hurt.

  Back to our seat, she walks by my side, clinging to my hand in a way that causes me to wonder if she’ll ever let go. Not that I’m complaining, but that could get cumbersome for a guy in my situation.

  The invitation concludes, the dismissal prayer is spoken, and congregants began to mill about. But to me, there’s only one other person in the world. The one who needs to know that I really am okay.

  “Lex?”

  Her face lifts until she looks me in the eye, tears staining her cheeks and dampening her lashes.

  “That could have been me. What Travis did, what his family’s going through… Th—that could have been me. And then last night…”

  Her face crumbles further, shoulders caving around her in a protective barrier. “I know.”

  “But it wasn’t. Because I have that—” My voice breaks. I clear my throat, try again. “I have that hope.”

  “In Christ alone…” She whispers, low and reverent, echoing the song’s title. “My hope is found.”

  I nod, again and again. “My Light…my light in this darkness I’ve been in, and I’m still in sometimes. My strength, on the bad days and the good days.” I cock my head toward the piano at the front of the sanctuary. “My song.”

  Teeth locking over her bottom lip, she blinks up at me. “I’ve been so worried about you, James. But now… I know you’re going to be okay.” Letting go of my hand, she threads her arms around my midsection and leans in close.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders and rest my cheek against her hair. “I love you,” I whisper, close to her ear.

  “I know…you told me last night.”

  Last night? “You mean… Hadn’t I… Had I never said it before?”