Chapter Two
They hadn’t stayed up for me. They’d left the light on, but whether on purpose or on accident I had no idea. Feeling very alone after so long by myself in the truck, I trudged down the hallway, avoiding the creaky spots without even thinking about it, so as not to wake my parents. I threw my duffel bag into the place in the corner where my backpack had gone every day after school, and sat down on the bed where, long ago, I’d hidden when it thundered and left presents for the tooth fairy under the pillow.
It was even comforting, in that peculiar way that familiar places can be comfortable simply because they’re familiar, even for a person that doesn’t like them very much. My bed creaked gently as I settled onto it, and I glanced at the ceiling, at the dancing shadows from the tree outside, which when I was younger had given me nightmares as I imagined them to be people at the window. Exhausted by the trip, it took me only a few moments to fall asleep.
The next morning I awoke to the familiar smell of coffee. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and running fingers through my bed-matted hair, I stepped out into the hallway to meet my parents.
“Oh, good morning, Eli,” chirped my mother, coming over to give me a maternal hug.
“Son,” grunted my father from the couch, where he’d sat reading the paper every morning that I could remember.
“Hey,” I said. “Good to see you saved the cold weather for me.”
“We might get a white Christmas this year,” mom said hopefully. “So, why don’t you tell us how Texas is going for you.”
“It’s great, mom, really great.” I maneuvered into the kitchen and sat on one of the barstools at the island. “I’ve made a lot of really good friends, I’m playing guitar in the praise band at the church, I’ve helped feed homeless people, I’ve been hiking and fishing…”
“Are those the friends who are bankrolling your laziness?” my dad put in.
“Is that really all you can think about?” I snapped, instantly sorry, because that wasn’t the way I wanted to start talking to them. I was slipping back into the old defensiveness, the old negativity, and I hadn’t been home twelve hours. Less angrily, I added, “You really think a person’s life can’t be valuable if they’re not working for some corporation for a third of every day?”
“I’m just saying you can’t be that worthwhile if you can’t even support yourself.” Dad looked up from his paper. “Not you, personally, Eli, but in general. I don’t want you to be a drag on your friends, son. I want you to be strong and self-sufficient.”
“I’m sure I will be, dad. I’ve put in more than fifty applications. I just don’t need you riding my back. I already feel bad enough that nothing has come out of them yet, but with my downtime, I’ve been making friends and exploring the city and helping people out.”
Dad raised an eyebrow and went back to his paper. He was making sense, kind of, as far as his Midwestern work ethic was concerned. He’d been taught to equate a person’s value with accomplishments. I guess that’s how he could be proud of himself even though his job was a line worker in a tomato canning plant; at least he provided for his family. Still, though, what a puny view of meaning in life.
How could I begin to tell him that his whole way of viewing life was off? I saw shades of myself in him; I’d learned that philosophy from him, and I’d carried it with me all the way to Fort Worth. It was the reason why all I could think about for the first two weeks was money and a job, before I came to God and saw how wrong I’d been. Was it my responsibility to tell him at all, or merely to forgive and reconcile, like I’d come to do?
I felt very alone, very confused, without my friends here to help me find out what to do. It was just me and God this time around, and I didn’t feel like he was giving me a whole lot to go on.
The silence must have gone to an uncomfortable length, because mom plunked a glass of orange juice in front of me. “Thanks,” I told her. “How have things been here?”
“Oh, same as always,” she said brightly, as if that was a good thing.
“The new lawn tractor’s working out great,” dad added, perhaps trying to get under my skin.
“That’s good.” I ran my finger around the rim of the glass, debating whether to just say what I had come for. In the end, I didn’t think there was much to lose. “So…one of the things I’ve been thinking about in Texas is how we haven’t always had the best relationship, so I just wanted both of you to know that I love you and I forgive you.”
“What kind of crazy people are you hanging out with?” dad demanded. “I don’t need your forgiveness. Your mother and I did the best we could with you, and if you have a problem with that, feel free to go back in time and raise yourself without our help. Forgiveness, he says.” Dad threw the paper down on the coffee table and sat back on the sofa, arms crossed.
I was stunned; that wasn’t the answer I’d driven so far to get, wasn’t the way I’d imagined it unfolding. “Not even for taking money from my bank account to buy that lawn tractor?” I asked. “Not even for making me feel like a failure for not finding a job yet? Not even for spending so much money on yourself that you don’t have anything left over for a Christmas present?”
“Do you want a present? Is that what this is about?” He stood, thumping purposefully toward me. “You’re pissed that you drove this far and we’re not giving you anything?”
“It’s not about the present, dad,” I told him, exasperated. “Did you hear a word I said? I just feel like I don’t matter to you.” There; it was out. Too late to take it back now. “Every time you call, all you can talk about is how I need to get a job so you’re not embarrassed of me. I feel like I have to earn your love.”
“I’m not going to listen to this,” he said.
“You don’t have to. I’m done. And I don’t care if you believe me or not. All I want you to know is that I forgive you.” I leaned forward. “If you don’t think you’ve done anything that needs forgiving, then don’t worry about it. I just thought, you know, you might have some regrets, some things you wish you’d done differently, and I was going to tell you that you don’t have to live with regrets. There’s hope and forgiveness. I know you did the best you could, and I’m glad for that. And I want you to know that I don’t hold your mistakes against you. I forgive you.”
Dad thundered out of the room, and I heard the front door explode shut behind him. Mom, who had been silent, put her hands over her face. I wanted to console her, but I was so rattled that all I could do was retreat to my room to regroup a bit.
It wasn’t supposed to go like that. I wasn’t expecting him to rush teary-eyed into my arms, but I’d at least been hoping that he would listen to what I had to say, to be man enough to hear me out even if he didn’t agree. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have. When I’d first met Stanley, I’d tried to shut him up when he started saying things I didn’t want to hear. If I’d bothered to wonder where I learned that trick from, maybe I would have known sooner that my dad wasn’t going to listen.
I stepped back out into the kitchen, to see if my mom was still around, but she’d vanished off to someplace, maybe her bedroom, maybe to find dad. I didn’t go looking for her. Alone in my room again, I went back to have a few words with God. Had I been too rash, too pushy, not tactful enough? Why hadn’t God given me success?
New Heart Church Page 35