Between These Walls

by John Herrick

  Something had changed. Hunter could sense it hanging in the air, two feet between Gabe’s face and his own.

  Hunter’s mind churned as he reflected on their past appointments and pieced together arbitrary details: The way Gabe’s eyes had flicked back for a second glance the moment they’d met. The sense of disappointment that lingered when their appointments ended, and the way Gabe seemed to prolong them rather than simply end them.

  Call it instinct, a sixth sense. It wasn’t the actions themselves, but the sensations Hunter picked up in those moments. He didn’t have tangible evidence, yet he no longer doubted.

  The familiar nervousness, that bittersweet pang, returned to his gut.

  Hunter wasn’t the only one with something to hide.

  Gabe felt something for him, too.

  CHAPTER 12

  That night, conflict roiled within Hunter’s soul.

  Earlier that day, he had left his appointment exhilarated. After all these years, Hunter was no longer alone. And not only had he found someone else in the same predicament, but that individual felt drawn to him, too. Hunter felt overwhelmed by the thrill of discovering another person, someone he found appealing, had responded with mutual, albeit unspoken, interest. He felt poised for a new adventure.

  But as the hours progressed, Hunter considered the scenario further and shame arose in his heart. Soon Hunter felt he had entered a room he had no business entering.

  Forbidden fruit.

  Back and forth, Hunter veered between two extremes—thrill and remorse—for the rest of the evening. At its root, Hunter recognized it as the same inner conflict that had wrenched his soul since he was younger. And as excited as he felt tonight, Hunter viewed it as selfish. He couldn’t shake the sense that he’d made God unhappy.

  Hunter could hide from people, but he couldn’t hide from God.

  Shortly before bedtime, Hunter reclined on his side upon his bed, his Bible open before him. As was his custom this time each night, he quieted himself and allowed his heart to connect to God’s. Hunter would read the Bible, then ponder what he’d read and let God minister to his heart. Whatever restlessness Hunter experienced during his days, these final minutes before bedtime brought refuge. Hunter considered God not only God, but also his closest friend, and their friendship grew stronger during these final minutes of the night. Some nights, Hunter could sense God speaking to his heart. Other nights, his personal study felt like mere reading. But Hunter dedicated himself to reading the Bible regardless.

  Tonight, Hunter focused on the sixth chapter of 1 Corinthians. In the twelfth verse, he read, “All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything.”

  Hunter paused. All things are lawful.

  He considered those words in light of his current predicament. If all things were lawful, did he need to worry about his feelings for Gabe?

  Then he considered the rest of the verse. Not all things are profitable.

  Hunter’s parents had raised him to believe that romantic attraction toward the same gender was inappropriate. His friends, pastors and role models, from churches to Youth Vision meetings to leisure activities, had reinforced that view over the years.

  I will not be mastered by anything.

  The fact was, Hunter did believe his attractions displeased God. So shouldn’t he resist those attractions rather than give in to the power they seemed to hold over him?

  That’s what made the battle so confusing. That’s what wore him down. He hadn’t asked for this fight. He didn’t want to be attracted to Gabe or any other guy in the first place. If God didn’t want him to give in to the temptation—if neither God nor Hunter wanted it—why didn’t God remove it from his life? Wouldn’t that be the easiest route?

  Hunter didn’t have answers. Not for this.

  So he continued to read. Soon he came across verse 19: “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own?”

  Hunter sighed. Not only did verses like that remind him he couldn’t escape by ignoring his circumstances, they also caused him concern. He wanted to please God. He wanted God’s will, not his own, to come to pass in his life.

  With blurred vision, Hunter set aside his Bible and wiped away a film of tears from his eyes.

  He needed God. Sometimes he simply wanted to draw near to Him.

  Climbing off of the bed, Hunter planted his feet on the ground and stood still. With a hefty breath, he filled his lungs with oxygen, then exhaled. He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward heaven. Palms outward, Hunter lifted his hands to God and allowed a sense of God’s presence to fill him.

  His lips trembled. His voice shook. Although he felt defeated and weak, Hunter spoke aloud to God, his volume just above a whisper.

  “Please heal me.”

  More tears sprang forth. He started to wipe them away, but they trickled in such abundance, he gave up and let them flow.

  “I don’t want this. I’m begging You,” he said, “please heal me of this.”

  How often have I prayed that prayer? wondered Hunter. So many times over so many years, he had lost count.

  “God, You know I love You.”

  Though he didn’t hear audible answers when he prayed, he knew in his heart God heard him. If nothing else, Hunter kept the communication lines open between them. He could lay his heart on the line, expressing his feelings in the simplest way he knew. When he felt broken, Hunter ran to God.

  Hunter grew quiet, then sat cross-legged on the floor and leaned against his bed, spending time in God’s presence. He could tell God was there, so Hunter talked to Him like he would talk to a friend. Simple prayers in passing when fleeting desires flared up or when shame felt so murky and thick, he couldn’t withstand it any longer. Moments when passion burned in him at night as he lay in bed. Moments of close calls where he had almost gotten caught.

  Moments like tonight, when he felt so dirty … so lost … so alone … so helpless. Moments when the pain in his heart weighed so heavy, he would fall to his knees in tears at the side of his bed, in his bathroom, on his kitchen floor—wherever he was when the hidden monster emerged so overwhelming that Hunter felt miserable, disappointed in himself.

  God was the only one who saw these moments or knew about them.

  And what pained Hunter most was how his secret must break God’s heart.

  CHAPTER 13

  “My staff is drowning with work!”

  The client sounded exasperated.

  “Monday was bad enough, but it’s Tuesday morning, and the software is bogging down our system. And because it’s integrated into our own software, we can’t work around it.”

  “I apologize, Sharon,” Hunter said. “The software-development department has notified us that they expect to have it fixed by—”

  “We’re in a busy season and my staff is working at half its normal speed! If it continues, we’ll need to pay overtime to get caught up. Plus, some of the reports we scheduled to run overnight stopped in the middle of processing, so we’ve had to run them during the day when everyone’s using the system. That’s slowing things down further. We need this fixed.”

  Over the weekend, the software-development department had applied a patch to the software’s framework. In order to apply the patch, they needed to shut down their system for a few hours. Few clients logged into the system on weekends, so a Sunday shutdown had minimized disruption. The development department’s testing had gone well. When clients returned to work on Monday, however, they discovered trickle-down issues the development staff hadn’t anticipated. Hunter couldn’t control what the software-development department did or how they approached their work. Clients were supposed to contact the client-support department if they experienced any issues. Unfortunately, though, since clients liked Hunter personally and knew him as someone who could get things done, often they registered their complaints wi
th him instead.

  “I understand how frustrating that can be,” Hunter said, “and I assure you, our people are working on it. They let us know they expect to have a fix in place before lunch.”

  “That’s what they said yesterday.”

  “Tell you what: Let’s give it a couple more hours to see if the tech folks can get the system fixed. I’ll give you a call around midday to touch bases on where you stand, and we’ll take it from there. Meanwhile, I’ll submit a separate work order regarding the overnight reports. That way, if it turns out to be an unrelated issue, the work request will already be in the pipeline. Does that sound like a plan?”

  He and Sharon ended the call in an amiable manner—as amiable as possible while a client was frustrated—and he entered the work order into the system as promised.

  Glitches like these irritated him. He knew clients—and prospective clients—talk to each other. System glitches and inaccurate deadlines wouldn’t enhance the software’s reputation, nor would it help him secure new clients. Yet he couldn’t fix the issues himself. It reminded him of when he worked as a waiter one summer: A short-staffed kitchen crew took longer to fulfill orders. He couldn’t control the kitchen staff’s progress, but the final impact of slow progress tended to manifest by way of a smaller tip from the customer.

  Fortunately, his other clients had contacted the client-support department instead of him, so his morning had brought no other surprises.

  Hunter’s belly quivered. He had decided to take Gabe’s advice and talk to his regional manager about his dry spell, but Hunter didn’t look forward to it. So he procrastinated by scanning his email inbox. He opened a message from the technology team about the latest developments on the company’s horizon. Not only did those messages help him clinch deals—he could inform potential clients of future benefits they would receive with the software—but it fostered the image of a company on the cutting edge.

  Hunter scrolled through the message on his laptop, which informed him that the latest software updates were successful (yeah, right!), but that employees should inform the software-development team of any issues. He read a news bite about upcoming security changes. A tidbit on new rules considered by the Post Office that would impact the cost of mailing larger packages.

  Another article announced a new partnership with a major client: Congratulations to Cassie Magellan, who had signed a regional distributor of newspapers and magazines. That article bothered Hunter, who had felt he could have secured that client. Months ago, he had mentioned the company as a potential client, but his regional manager had assigned Cassie to their trail when Hunter hit his dry patch. Hunter had taken that decision hard because it suggested his manager lacked confidence in Hunter’s ability to secure the deal.

  Enough stalling. Hunter grew tired of the fear or dread or whatever kept him from talking to his manager. He locked his laptop, took a final swig of coffee that had gone lukewarm, and headed down the hall. In the distance, he heard a telephone ring, which a muffled female voice answered. Plexiglass accented cubicles to help shield next-door neighbors from excess noise as they talked to clients. Several cubicle occupants were absent, probably on sales calls. Half of the individuals Hunter passed had their phones against their ears, while others had glued their eyes to their laptop monitors. Hunter heard the tapping of computer keys, muted phone chatter, and the slam of a phone returning to its cradle. Although windows lined the exterior of the office building, offices and conference rooms lined the perimeter, blocking most sunlight from the room in which Hunter worked. He had never counted cubicles but estimated 40 to 50 cubicles sat beneath the fluorescent lights of this room.

  When he approached his manager’s office, he found the door open. From several feet away, rays of sunshine emanated through the doorway and splayed upon the corridor floor. From outside, Hunter heard his manager’s voice, words of parting, followed by a telephone hitting its cradle.

  Hunter tapped on the door and poked his head into the office.

  “Wayne, do have a few minutes to chat?”

  “Have a seat,” Wayne said with a wave. He had filled his desktop with stacks of paperwork, which Hunter perceived as organized piles, though he couldn’t tell what hid within each. Wayne wrote some notes on a document, closed its manila folder, and stuffed it into a leather satchel. “I’m headed to Detroit this afternoon, then Milwaukee next week. This is the last you’ll see me for the next couple of weeks.”

  “Would it be better if I stopped by after you return?”

  “No, this is perfect timing. I can talk to you, then finish up some market analysis. What’s on your mind?”

  As Hunter took a seat facing his manager, he realized he didn’t have a clue how to approach the subject. He didn’t want to make himself look bad by pointing out his own flaws, but his flaws were the reason he sought Wayne’s input. Hands in his lap, Hunter fidgeted where his boss, from his angle, couldn’t see it happening. From chest height and above, Hunter sought to appear confident.

  A fit man at 49 years old, Wayne aged as well as Kevin Bacon. Each day, Wayne ran eight miles before dawn. He was the plainspoken, no-nonsense type, an achievement-oriented individual who laid his challenges on the line for the purpose of annihilating them. A few years ago, when he started to experience significant hair loss, Wayne took a razor to his scalp and turned his curse into an air of cutting-edge chic, which ended up working to his benefit. Prospective clients assumed he understood modern technology because he appeared modern. He looked like a man on a coffee break as he reinvented the Internet.

  Hunter decided to take a direct approach.

  “I believe my recent track record could improve,” Hunter began. “It’s obvious to both of us, so I’d prefer to tackle it head-on.”

  Wayne stroked his graying goatee. “And you’re looking to isolate the reason for it? Find the smoking gun?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with it. I haven’t changed my approach, which worked well for me until earlier this year.”

  Wayne leaned back in his leather chair, gave his laptop a few taps, and began to scour a document he’d opened. He hit an arrow key several times, perusing the document at half-attention as he spoke. “I’ve kept up to date on the summaries you’ve provided every week. You’re contacting everyone you should. You reach your weekly goals for cold calls and visits.”

  “And I’m not filling it with bad prospects to inflate my figures. I invest a lot of time upfront to identify solid prospects, where we’d have a genuine shot at getting their business. If I were doing that, I wouldn’t be surprised at the outcome.”

  Wayne sat with his fingers interlaced across his chest as he examined Hunter eye to eye. Hunter sought clues as to what went through the guy’s mind as he looked at his underperforming staff member.

  “Do you have any feedback for me?” Hunter asked. “Anything you think I could improve, from your perspective?”

  “I think you’re doing all the necessary preliminary work. You’ve proven yourself adept at sales and have a bright future.” Wayne tapped a pen on his desktop as he continued to observe Hunter. “Look, Hunter, we all hit these desert seasons when it comes to sales. All you seem to be missing is a little luck.”

  “I’d hate to think it boils down to luck,” Hunter said. “Luck suggests we can’t improve.”

  Wayne had trained Hunter in his current position. Hunter had gleaned valuable skills from him, adapted them to his own personality, and discovered his sweet spot for success. Yet Hunter had always found Wayne difficult to read. Even now, Wayne’s words sounded supportive, but the man kept a poker face, one he had refined after two decades on the sales battleground.

  On most occasions, Wayne kept his speech to a minimum; he chose his words with caution, speaking no more than necessary to accomplish the task at hand. Hunter assumed this was Wayne’s way of never having his words come back to haunt him. But as a result, Hunter never knew quite where he stood with his manager. That hadn’t concerned Hunter
when he’d had a stellar track record, but now …

  Wayne leaned forward, clasping his hands atop his desk. “As I see it, Hunter, the pinch for you seems to be in closing the deal.”

  “So I’m missing a detail?” Hunter grew hopeful. Perhaps Wayne had identified something concrete which Hunter could tweak.

  “That’s hard to tell without watching as you reach your point of closure,” Wayne replied. “If I were in the office more often, I might have time to accompany you, help you troubleshoot. Unfortunately, that’s not an option for me.”

  “But you think the issue comes into play late in the game? You don’t think I’m making errors en route?”

  “Everything that has fallen through has occurred during the final phase. Take your Pipeline Insurance project, for instance.”

  Pipeline Insurance. The major opportunity that had looked like a sure thing until his final meeting with Jake Geyer. Hunter cringed at the memory. Coming from his manager’s mouth, though, the loss sounded even worse.

  “That one took me by surprise.” Hunter shifted in his seat, his forehead turning feverish. “My contact person had gone from talking about how they didn’t need our product to talking about if a deal were to occur.”

  “So what happened, from your perspective?”

  “I don’t know. At our last meeting, I showed up ready for him to recommend me to his department director to start negotiations, and it’s like my contact had a change of heart right there in the room. Suddenly he didn’t need the software.”

  Hunter realized the conversation had gotten off its original course. He wanted to steer it back into positive territory.

  “I’ve brought great ideas to the table for our team—successful ideas—that didn’t end up under my realm of responsibility, like the deal Cassie Magellan delivered, the one they mentioned in the corporate newsletter this morning.” Careful to show deference toward Wayne, Hunter remained calm and treaded with caution. “You might remember, I identified them as a ripe prospect, but you passed it along to Cassie to pursue and close.”