Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  My head spins to Ainsley as she mouths, that’s him. My eyebrows arch due to his sharp manner and lack of introduction. The rest of the worship team looks around at each other with twisting faces, then one-by-one, they head toward the auditorium.

  We reach the stage just as the new worship leader picks up his guitar. “I’m Levi,” he greets, “the new worship leader here at Connect Church.” We all smile and nod, prepared to say hello, but he cuts us short. “Now, if you guys could join me on stage, we have a lot to do in a short amount of time, and I’m going to be running things differently than your last worship leader.” Is it just me or did he over-emphasize that final bit of his curt welcome? Does he know about what happened with Chip? Oddly, his only concern seems to be adjusting his guitar and mic.

  The group moves slowly onto the stage, as if they are about to walk the plank. The bass player, an elderly man with a consistently bad cough, says, “We usually pray before we start practicing…at least Chip would.”

  Without turning back to see who addressed him, Levi says over his shoulder, “We don’t really have time for that today—maybe we can discuss it next week, but for now, I just want to get started.”

  Ainsley and I shoot each other an uneasy glance. We aren’t going to pray before we start? Isn’t there always time for prayer, even just a short one? Levi tunes his guitar, then briskly strums it once, placing a hand abruptly on the strings to silence the reverberating note as he says, “Good. Now, for our first song—”

  The Sunday service closes with Pastor Noah’s final prayer. As the noise level rises behind Ainsley and me seated in the front row, my eyes find Levi on the other side of the room. “I don’t know about Levi,” I confess to my best friend. Not long after Chip left, he sent an email to the entire worship team explaining his reasoning for his departure. Maybe Ainsley’s skittish too. “He’s so…I don’t know—brusque.” Levi stands, smooths his pants and adjusts the collar of his button-up shirt as he pushes his designer glasses up the bridge of his nose. Before I know it, Rita has sidled up next to the guy. She shifts her weight while twirling a piece of her jet-black hair, eventually letting out that infamous shrieking laugh. Ainsley turns just in time to witness Levi offer a closed-lip smile.

  Just then, a figure roughly the same height as Levi approaches the group. Jonathan. My eyes narrow. They exchange a friendly greeting. Jonathan engages with the two as if they are all good friends. What? My eyes bug out of my head as Rita shimmies over surprisingly close to Jonathan. My head rears. Jonathan leans over to whisper something into Rita’s ear while Levi momentarily shakes the hand of a passerby, and the intimacy of the action makes my stomach lurch. As far as I know, Rita and Jonathan have never met. And yet, it certainly doesn’t seem that way. Rita saunters off and Jonathan extends a hand to formally greet the new worship leader. Pastor Noah took a few moments in the service to introduce Levi to the congregation, and I can imagine Jonathan is mentioning something related to the introduction as he points to the stage, leaving Levi laughing at whatever comment Jonathan has offered. My eyes burn with focus as I study the exchange. What could they be talking about? A sour taste surges up the back of my throat. What is Jonathan saying? And why is Levi so engrossed in the conversation?

  CHAPTER 14

  I park in front of Pastor Noah’s home for our scheduled, mid-week counseling session. Would he be put off by my appearance this morning? I yank down the visor and flip open the mirror. Yikes. Disheveled hair, bags under my eyes, pale skin … it wouldn’t take a genius to see I’m not getting much sleep these days. Not like this is anything new. My lack of sleep is a pattern that was put in place long before I left Jonathan. I swipe underneath my eyes, flip the visor, and exit my car. Hugging my coat around me against the cold winter wind, I make for the entrance. Only steps away from the front door, I freeze.

  My breath catches in my lungs at the sight of Jonathan’s smug smile plastered across his stubbly face. He waltzes up to me. My mind goes fuzzy. I gulp and take a step back. “What are you doing here?” my voice quivers.

  “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you,” Jonathan taunts. “I guess Pastor Noah counsels a lot of people who attend Connect Church.” He takes a step closer. My muscles tense, ready to spring for the car or the front door. What do I do? Jonathan doesn’t move, and we stand frozen in place—poised, as if waiting for a whistle to blow. Jonathan glances back at the house with a sneer. “Well, I’ll be seeing you soon, Hallie.”

  My chest heaves as he struts to his Audi, takes one mocking look back at me, laughs, then climbs behind the wheel. How did he know I was going to be here? I blink and pinch my lips…Rita. Something weird is developing between them. Is she into him? I shake my head and place a hand over my beating heart as he speeds down the street. Right now, Rita doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s strategically piecing together my schedule. My stomach churns as I turn and pace toward the front door.

  With a quick knock, I enter the Herald’s home. “Hallie, come on back,” Pastor Noah greets with a flushed face and broken eye contact. He moves through the house with surprising speed as I follow him into his office. Closing the door behind us, he pauses over his desk to shuffle some papers.

  I slowly lower myself onto the blue loveseat, hesitate, then ask, “What was Jonathan doing here?”

  Pastor Noah takes a deep breath and says, “So, you saw him, huh?” With a light huff, he adds, “He showed up unexpected and wanted to book an appointment with me, scheduled each week on this day, an hour before your appointment. I told him I couldn’t do that, but that I would be willing to meet at the church another day of the week.” He reaches for a stack of files on the desk, picks up a folder and makes his way over to the armchair. He takes a settling breath and smiles for the first time since I walked into the house. “I’m sorry if his presence disturbed you, I just hope it won’t disrupt our session.”

  Shifting in my seat, I respond, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t upset by the sight of him, but I’m more worried about his efforts to figure out my schedule. It seems like he’s inching closer and closer…and that scares me.”

  Pastor Noah opens his mouth, closes it again, rolls his head to one side, then says, “Jonathan refused my offer to see him at a different time and place in the week. It seems that he is determined to meet the hour before your session, or not at all. And he made it clear he didn’t mind if I told you about our five-minute encounter just then. The only reason I am telling you all this is for your safety.”

  I nod—up and down, slow and steady…taking in every word. This is all part of his plan—he’s not looking for help, he’s looking for every opportunity to weasel his way back into my life, and he wants me to know it. “That’s Jonathan,” I finally say through clenched teeth. “He knows how to work every situation to suit him best—he’s always in control.” Ugh! He’s always been controlling, so why would I ever think he’d stop now? My mind filters through the many controlling acts he’s forced upon me. Time to get real. I sigh, let my jaw go slack, then say, “This is just an example, but I bought a Roomba to help with the cleaning around the house. When Jonathan saw it, he made me return it.” I shrug one shoulder up to my ear, “And I did. He couldn’t believe I would be that lazy, having a machine do the work I should be doing.” I shake my head, “He had complete control over me. He even made me go to sleep when he was ready to go to sleep. If he was ready for bed, I couldn’t keep my lamp on and read, or even look on my phone. Whether I was tired or not, it was lights out, no questions asked.”

  Pastor Noah inclines his head, his face starting to return to a normal color, then says, “He seems like a determined man.”

  I huff, “You can say that again. Add fear into the equation and you’ve got a picture of what the last three years have looked like for me.”

  “I can tell you’re dwelling on all of it,” Pastor Noah concedes, “which is natural given your past.”

  As I peer out the window at the bare tree branches swaying in the fierc
e wind, I say, “It’s weird, but with my birthday coming up, I’ve really been thinking through my past birthdays—all of the big issues in our marriage constantly creep into my mind, but it’s funny how the little things really sting, like him refusing to acknowledge our anniversary, bring home flowers on Valentine’s Day, or even buy me a birthday present.” I swivel my eyes around and whisper, “It’s like I wasn’t worth any of that.”

  Pastor Noah points his finger indicating his understanding as he says, “You know, it’s not strange that you have to work through the minor things that Jonathan did to betray your trust rather than just the big things, like when he hit you for the first time when you returned from that trip you took with Ainsley.”

  I clasp my hands in my lap, “Yeah, I certainly dwell on it all, but some incidents more than others.” My mind flashes to the memory of when he first hit me. The consuming terror left me cowering in the corner of our kitchen, my packed bag still sitting by the front door. I wanted to run to the door, grab my bag, and escape all over again. Instead, I stayed…for far too long. Licking my lips, I say, “It was definitely the big stuff, like him hitting me, that always made me want to escape.”

  Pastor Noah taps a finger against his chin, “Let’s unpack that a little— your need to escape. What do you think that stems from, and how do you think you can grow from it?”

  I look up at the ceiling. Hmmm. That’s a loaded question. I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth, then say, “I guess it came from my unhappiness and loneliness,” I lower my gaze, “and eventually my fear. It was like every time we arrived at the airport, I could start being myself. I didn’t have to worry about him watching me and later punishing me for my actions or words. When Ainsley and I took off on a flight, I was free to be me, even if it was just for a short while.”

  “I see,” Pastor Noah starts, “and do you feel that this constant need to escape hinders your ability to confront your troubles.”

  His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I heave a deep sigh. “Yes,” I admit with my eyes squeezed tight, “that explains me exactly. When I have to face my fears, when I have to deal with the problems placed before me, my whole being crawls with the need to leave…to get out…to escape. I guess I really struggle with that fight-or-flight mentality.”

  * * *

  As I drive away from my parents’ home, I’m finally able to release the tension radiating through my body. The tension built from seeing Jonathan at my appointment this morning, the tension lingering from my tedious afternoon shift at work, and finally, the tension brought on by hearing my parents blabber over dinner about the successful marriages of the wonderful, young couples in their church. I need to talk this through. I grab my phone to call Ainsley. “Hey, are you busy? I need to vent.”

  Ainsley giggles, “I just put Miles down for the night, so I was going to binge watch this new reality TV show I’ve just started, but I have some time to hear about your problems.”

  I groan, “Well, I hope you have a lot of time, because I have several problems. For starters, Jonathan is now following me around town. He showed up before my counseling session trying to book the hour before I meet with Pastor Noah, probably so he could run into me every Wednesday morning, but I’m sure it’s also to prove that he’s trying to make some improvements in his own life. And what’s up with that anyway—he should be at work by then. Does he get special time off because he’s the boss? Oh, and also, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between him and Rita. Not only did they have that strange exchange at church this past Sunday, but it had to be Rita who told him about my appointment with Pastor Noah in the first place.”

  Awkward silence follows. I take the phone away from my ear and check the screen. Did I lose service? “Anything else?” Ainsley asks, her tone void of all playfulness now.

  I pause, furrowing my brow for a moment, then shake my head. “Yes,” I begin again, flexing my fingers around the steering wheel. “Danny followed me around work all day, and if I hadn’t run to the locker room at just the right times, I’m pretty sure he would have asked me on a date. And just to add insult to injury, I also know it was Rita who told Danny about my split from Jonathan.”

  “Oh, man,” Ainsley fumbles, but I interrupt.

  “And now for the icing on the cake,” my voice raises as I turn onto the winding road that will eventually lead me to the lake house, “I just endured an excruciating dinner with my parents talking pointedly about all the happily married couples they know who attend their church.”

  Ainsley slowly sucks air in before saying, “Wow, you’ve had a tough day.”

  “Uh—yeah,” I say, my pulse beating against my temples. “I was supposed to stay the night at my parents’ house, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay past dinner.” With a deep sigh, I add, “Not to mention that they canceled on us for Friday night, looks like it’s just you and me for my birthday after all.”

  “They canceled?”

  “Yeah, they said something about a local band playing at one of their favorite restaurants. They did invite us to go with them, but I told them to forget about it. It would’ve been a painful dinner not only having to hear that boring music all night, but my parents would have found a way to sneak in a conversation about marriage.” Ainsley snickers. Great. Now I’ve done it. Why did I have to use a tone that might convey contempt at hearing about healthy marriages? I still firmly believe in the constitution of marriage, even if I’m frustrated now. Defeat threads my voice as I say, “They gave me a birthday card with a twenty-dollar bill in it. They told me to buy myself something nice. Would it be rude to tell them twenty bucks won’t help pay the bills, let alone buy something nice?”

  “Oh Hallie—” Ainsley begins, but again, I cut her short.

  “The bills aren’t too bad,” I say with a half-laugh. The last thing I need to do is complain about my bills to the friend who has extended her vacation home to me, rent free. I take a steadying breath. The water and electric bills might add up, but she doesn’t need to be privy to my struggles. “I’m just frustrated with my parents.” I yawn, then add, “And I’m over-tired.”

  “Well, seven isn’t too early to call it a night,” she snickers. “But I know you haven’t been sleeping well, and the sun always sets early this time of year, so you have your excuses.”

  I chuckle half-heartedly, “Yeah, I’m probably gunna jump in the shower as soon as I get home and chill on the couch for a little before calling it a night.” We say our good-byes just as I pull down the long, dirt drive to the lake house. By the time I shift into park, I pause for a moment to rest my head on the steering wheel. My eyes fall shut. I could probably fall asleep right here, right now. I shake my head…there’s no point in that. Ignoring my bag sitting in the back seat that was packed for an overnight stay at my parents’ place, I turn off the ignition and reach for my phone.

  Swaying inside, I don’t even bother to turn on the lights as I toss my phone and keys on the couch and drag myself to the shower. While the warm water rushes over my aching body, I let my mind wander back to my counseling session with Pastor Noah. Maybe this fight-or-flight thing is a serious problem.

  Once I’m toweled dry and comfortably snuggled in my sweats for the night, I turn off my bedroom light and make my way back out to the couch where my phone and keys lay. Plunking down on my keys, I grab for them and slip them into my sweatshirt pocket, then I pick up my phone and start browsing through my social media. Sitting in the darkness, I shiver. Brrr. It sure is cold outside, but I’m not going to turn on the fireplace. Not with my most recent bill. As I hug my knees into my chest, my browsing takes a pause. Thump. What was that? Did it come from outside? I shake my head. My exhaustion is making me imagine things. I bring my phone back up to my face. Click. My heart stops. I didn’t imagine that—it sounded like a car door clicking shut. I jump up and slink quickly over to the bay window as I blacken my phone screen. My body begins to tremble. I didn’t see headlights approaching. Is there someo
ne out there? I huddle beside the frame, and peer into the darkness. Oh my gosh! A silent scream slices through my mind. I slap a hand over my mouth as a tall, dark image skulks silently up the front steps. It’s Jonathan—he’s found me!

  Panic surges through my entire body. What do I do? Where do I hide? The front porch creaks. Ahhh! Did I even lock the front door behind me? It’s too late, his hand is on the knob. I close my eyes, crouching against the wall between the window and the door, waiting as crippling terror courses through me. The deadbolt catches ever so quietly. I soundlessly release my quaking breath. I locked it. Thank God all the lights are off…he can’t see in.

  I dart my eyes to every entranceway. What will he do next? Listening for his footsteps, I hear them leave the front porch and thud against the hard dirt that circles around the kitchen. This is it. I have moments to get out of the house before he learns how to get in. Run! I silently race to the side door and slip out. It’s dark—so dark that maybe he won’t see me make a mad dash. I hold my breath and lean into the night air. His movements place him somewhere around Miles’ room. He’s still on the far side of the lake house. It won’t be long until he’s rounding the corner. I have one shot at making this work. Dear God, help me! I push off the door and silently bound down the back-deck stairs. My legs shake, but I sprint to edge of the trees anyway. Almost there!

  I scramble to the nearest trunk. Will it hide me? I fall behind its girth then look back with a shudder. There he is, emerging on the far side of the deck. Did he see me run? He slinks around the house like a panther in search of its prey. The stairs leading up to the door strain under his weight. I try to hold my breath. Can he hear my panting behind this tree? His focus is on the house, not the forest. Maybe he’ll think I’m not home—but what about my car? He’s definitely seen my car.