War Room

by Chris Fabry

  “He’s never earned his bonuses,” Tom said. “It’s all been a smoke screen.”

  Rick looked at him sadly. “Tony, you know how much I like you. You know I took a chance with you. Believed in you. Spoke up for you with Coleman and the others.”

  “I told you it was a mistake,” Tom said.

  “And I don’t understand what’s going on in your personal life,” Rick continued. “I don’t know what may have caused you to do this. But there’s a zero-tolerance policy for this type of thing.”

  “You knew that when you signed the contract,” Clinton said.

  Tony nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor. They had him dead to rights. The only thing left to do was admit guilt and ask for mercy. But if he admitted he was guilty of padding the numbers, he’d have to tell them the real truth and there would be more problems. Legal problems.

  Tony looked up. “What happens to my salary? The bonus?”

  “You’ll be paid up until today,” Clinton said. “There will be no bonus check because of the termination. No severance. I will need your key card and your phone before you leave the building—you can give those to Jerry.”

  A security guard discreetly entered the room. Tony had seen Jerry at the front of the building but never knew his name. He never thought he needed to know it because the guy just opened the door and said, “Good morning.” Now Jerry would be the last person in the building he’d see.

  The air went out of the room. Tony had never believed they would notice the missing sample boxes. He didn’t think it mattered—a few pills? Sure, the number of boxes had mounted, but still, with all the money the company was raking in . . .

  “My house,” he said. “My family. Insurance. How do we pay the bills?”

  “You should have thought of that before you fudged your numbers,” Tom said, jumping on Tony’s words.

  “I’m sorry, Tony,” Rick said. “I really am.”

  Tony signed the papers and Jerry escorted him to his desk. There was a box on top of it to store his personal items. He had a picture of Elizabeth and Danielle with the words Best Dad Ever around the frame. Yeah, right. Best dad ever gets tossed out on his ear. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  But it was. That was the shame of it. He deserved what he was getting.

  “Another thing,” Rick said, meeting him in the hall outside his office. “I forgot to talk to you about the car.”

  The car. Tony had forgotten about his Tahoe. It had become his second home.

  “We’ll come to get it tomorrow,” Rick said. “Unless you’d rather we drive you home now. Whatever you think would be easier for—”

  “Let me drive it home,” Tony said. He couldn’t imagine being driven home by his boss, like a teenager who had failed a driver’s test. Like some drunk being driven home from a party. The truth was, he wanted to be alone and away from all of this. All of the accusations and stares.

  He felt like a dead man walking through the hallway. People turned away as he walked past cubicles and open office doors. Their faces were full of pity and shame and maybe a little bit of relief. It was something he’d only seen once before at the company, and he’d promised himself he’d never become that guy. Now here he was, walking the plank that led to an ocean of unemployment.

  Rick walked side by side with him to the elevator. The man tried to find something to say but couldn’t. Jerry pushed the Down button and they waited until the elevator dinged.

  Tony turned. “My accounts. You’ll have to explain what happened.”

  Rick shook his head. “We can’t talk about HR stuff. We’ll just tell them you moved on to another opportunity. Don’t worry about your accounts, Tony. We’ll take care of them. You just take care of yourself, okay?”

  Tony nodded and rode to the first floor, and the guard walked him to his car. How would he tell Elizabeth? How could he explain? And how would she respond? She would explode. He was sure of that. She would think about herself and Danielle and the house payment and his “indiscretion.” She would categorize it as “sin.” She would take it personally, say that he had brought shame on the family, and there would be tears and a turned back and rejection. It would be the nail in the coffin of their marriage.

  The family. What would he say when he walked into the house at Thanksgiving with her relatives there? What would he say to Michael or to anyone else from church? And who was going to hire a guy who’d been fired for stealing from his employer? So many questions. Yes, Tom was right—he should have thought of all this before he ever took a box of pills.

  Danielle wouldn’t understand why Dad was hanging around the house so much. And Elizabeth . . . the distance between them would only grow.

  He looked in the rearview and watched the building recede in the distance. Instead of taking the familiar route home, he drove aimlessly around town. No more going on the road. No more setting up meetings. No more bonuses. All he had was a hefty life insurance policy that would provide for Elizabeth and Danielle and another that paid off the house. He was worth more dead than alive.

  When Elizabeth left Clara’s house, she checked her phone and saw that Tony had left a message. Something about dropping Danielle off at Jennifer’s. He had told her he’d watch Danielle and here he was leaving her. Probably going to work. That’s where his heart was. She wished he would put as much energy into his home as he did his job.

  She pulled away from Clara’s and another thought struck her. If Tony was at work, he had done the responsible thing and taken Danielle to someone’s house. And she was grateful for how hard he worked—the way he provided for their family. There were plenty of men who didn’t seem to care about working for a living and becoming successful. Instead of thinking negatively, she turned that around, made a different script.

  “Lord, Tony has a long way to go, but You’ve given him a desire to work hard and I thank You for that. Thank You that he does care about us. I’m going to choose to look at what he’s doing rather than all the things he’s not doing. Thank You for helping me see that today. I pray You’d bless him today and help him do his job well.”

  This was the kind of thing that was beginning to happen. Rather than her heart being turned away from her husband, it was drawing closer to him.

  She called Jennifer’s mom to tell her she was heading home, and Sandy offered to drop Danielle off there. It was raining hard when Elizabeth made it home and pulled into the garage. She asked Danielle where Tony had gone and she said something about a call from his boss.

  There were dishes in the sink and some things still left on the stove. The garage door clacked. “Oh, I hear him,” she said.

  Danielle stared at the book she was reading. “He wanted to see my journal.”

  “Did you show it to him?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s stuff in there about him. Things I’ve been praying about and asking God.”

  “What are you asking, sweetie?”

  “You know. That you two would stop fighting. That he would be able to spend more time with us. That he would . . .”

  “That he would what?” Elizabeth noticed that Danielle was wearing her Love shirt, the pink one with purple sleeves and the word spelled in glittery letters.

  “That he’d become friends with God again. It seems like they used to be friends, but now they’re kinda not.”

  When Elizabeth could speak, she said, “I think that’s a really great prayer.”

  She sat next to Danielle and opened a magazine. If Tony hadn’t eaten before he left for work, he was probably hungry. She could make him an omelet in a few minutes. When he didn’t come inside right away when the garage door went down, she wondered if there might be something wrong with his car. Or maybe he was on his phone with the mystery woman from Raleigh.

  She closed her eyes. No, Lord, I am not letting my mind run that direction. I am going to trust You and hold on to You rather than think the worst.

  Tony wa
lked inside and immediately went toward the bedroom.

  “Hey,” she said warmly.

  He didn’t respond. Not even a nod or a grunt. He just walked right past them into the bedroom.

  How do I look at this positively? she thought. Lord, does he need me? Should I go in there or just leave him alone?

  She thought of something Clara had said to her. “You start treating him the way he wants to be treated, not the way you feel loved. Tony is a man and sometimes you have to switch things around. You start loving him that way and you’ll show him your heart is turned toward him.”

  When Elizabeth went through something difficult, she needed to be alone, to shut the door and take a bath or a nap or read. Just get away from it all. But at least in the early days of their marriage, Tony had needed to process the ups and downs of life together. He vented. And she didn’t do well with the venting—it scared her. Maybe she could change things up a little.

  Deciding to take the chance, she walked through the open bedroom door. “Tony?”

  He had his back to her, unpacking his satchel on the bed. She could tell from his demeanor that something was wrong, but she couldn’t see his face. Was there fire in his eyes? Had she done something?

  Before she could ask, he spoke. “First off, I don’t want any grief from you, okay?”

  Now he turned and looked at her, his muscles tight, his face full of anger or hurt. “Because I’m really not in the mood to talk about this right now.”

  His level of anger shocked her. What could have happened? She collected herself and, in a tone as conciliatory and caring as she could muster, said, “Tony, what’s going on?”

  He pulled his tie off like it was a noose around his neck. “I just lost my job.” He slammed the tie on the bed and went back to his satchel.

  Elizabeth took a breath and tried to stay calm. She couldn’t imagine what the meeting had been like—was it a layoff at the company? Was he fired for something else? It didn’t matter. What mattered was, her husband was hurting. He was probably asking a million questions about the future.

  “Okay. So we’ll just do what we gotta do,” she said, trying to sound measured and in control. Reassuring.

  “What? No sarcastic comment?” he said. He had that look on his face, that bewildered, what-did-you-say? scowl.

  “Tony, I think we’ll be fine.” She said it with all the confidence she could dredge up. At that moment she wasn’t sure they would be fine. But she had to give him something.

  Tony turned, his face twisted in anger. “Liz, you heard me, right? I just got fired.” He threw his head forward to put an exclamation point on the sentence. “So that means no income, no company car, no health coverage. We can’t even afford this house anymore.”

  There it was, the stark truth. Her mind whirled and she rubbed her neck, trying to think quickly. “I understand. Listen, I’ll just pick up some new properties while you look for a different job, okay?”

  Tony stared at her, a blank look that seemed to hold them both in disbelief. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna roll with it?”

  “What else am I supposed to do?”

  Tony studied her eyes a moment, then turned his back and kept going with the satchel. “Sometimes I don’t get you, Liz.”

  Elizabeth stayed quiet. What could he need from her? What happened to the inside of a man who’d had everything he based his life on pulled out from underneath him? Yes, she was scared. Terrified, even. But if God was for them, if God was watching out for both of them, what could this job loss do? Wasn’t He bigger than this problem?

  Yes, He was. She couldn’t say that right then, of course. It wasn’t the right time or place. But it was true. And part of her wondered if, just maybe, this whole situation, whatever it was, could actually be used for good in their lives.

  “I’ll go start dinner,” she said.

  The chopped peppers and onions. The omelet. She would make that for him. She would just do the next thing, take the next step. What else could she do?

  God, please help me love my husband right now and be strong for him. Help me trust in You and not what I can see. Help me not lean on my own understanding. Help me not panic but fully trust.

  Miss Clara

  The phone call came late that evening as Clara was getting ready for bed. She was sitting at the table in the living room, going through the book of Philippians, when Elizabeth called to share the news of Tony’s job loss. Clara listened and closed her eyes and prayed a silent thank You to God. She had been through this type of thing too many times not to give thanks.

  “I’m proud of you for responding that way to your husband,” Clara said. “It shows God is working in your heart—and Tony noticed the difference, didn’t he?”

  “He sure did,” Elizabeth said, her voice cracking.

  “I’m going to say something that will seem a little strange at first.”

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

  “Sometimes the best gifts God gives us are not the easy times when everything goes our way. The best gifts are the hard times when your life is reduced to a couple of good questions: What is this all about? Why are we here? Sometimes it’s a diagnosis. Sometimes it’s a slamming door when someone you love walks out. Might be a bill you can’t pay. And at first you think the answer will be healing or that loved one returning or a pile of money that drops right out of heaven. Now I’m not against healing. I’m for it. And I’m for reconciliation. If God opens up the storehouses of heaven and rains down hundred-dollar bills, I’ll get out a basket and gather them like manna.”

  Elizabeth laughed, though Clara figured tears were running down her cheeks at the same time.

  “But here’s the thing I’ve discovered after walking with the Lord a long time, Elizabeth. God is not interested in making me comfortable or happy. His goal is to make me holy, like His Son. And I’ve never met a follower of Jesus who hasn’t encountered some suffering and pain. God doesn’t tell us to pick up a memory foam cross. It’s rugged and it’s heavy. You can run and try to find some easier way, but eventually He leads you through the thorns and briars and that valley of the shadow. But I promise you, if you trust Him, He will lead you to green pastures and peaceful waters. Not just when you get to heaven, but right now. Peace and contentment in the middle of the storm. In the middle of the disappointment and fear and anger.”

  Clara let the words sink in. She could hear Elizabeth’s gentle sobbing on the other end of the line.

  “You take heart now. Be encouraged. The bad times are really the good times in disguise. And I’m going to get down on my knees tonight and ask God to break through. God is walking with you, Elizabeth. Don’t you forget that.”

  “I won’t, Miss Clara.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Tony was in the dark when he heard Elizabeth’s voice, distant but clear. She was in trouble. He stood, struggling to see where he was—a warehouse? There were boxes and containers around the dimly lit room and some kind of hazy fog. He ran toward her voice but seemed to go the wrong direction. He switched to his right, then back again. The closer he came, the more fear he could sense in her voice.

  He spotted a corridor and then, across the way, he saw her. White shirt, gray jeans, and standing over her a hulk of a man in a black hoodie. He sprinted toward them as the man took a swing and knocked her to the ground.

  Nobody did that to his wife! Nobody hurt her like that!

  With every ounce of strength he had built up over the past years, the weight training, the workouts, the basketball games and jogging, Tony sprinted toward the two. He would just take the guy down. He would sail into him and tackle him like a defenseless quarterback who didn’t have the sense to know there was a linebacker ready to flatten him.

  “Tony!” Elizabeth shouted. “Please, help me! Please!”

  His heart beat faster and his legs felt like lead. What was she doing here, in this place? What was he doing here? She struggled to get free from the man, but he was too big, too
strong. Was it the robber in the alley? Had he found her and brought her here?

  “Tony! Please! No, no! Tony!”

  The man loomed over Elizabeth, his back to Tony as he rushed forward, gaining momentum, the bile fueling him as it rose inside. The attacker raised a hand to hit his wife and Tony couldn’t believe it. Why would anyone attack Elizabeth? Why would anyone want to hurt her?

  Tony flew at the man and, instead of tackling him, turned him around with every ounce of strength he could muster. Then he pulled back in horror. The man standing over Elizabeth, the man who had thrown her down, the man who was ready to attack her again . . . was himself. He was looking into his own menacing face. Tony couldn’t believe it—couldn’t process the vision before him. How could this be?

  Before he could react, Tony felt his air constricted as a hand gripped his throat and squeezed. It not only blocked the air, but his grip was so tight, the blood flow lessened and he was in danger of passing out. Struggling to get free, Tony desperately tried to pull the hand away. When that didn’t work, he tried to throw some punches, but they were weak and ineffective against the force that was now focusing on him.

  Somehow, with a turn of the head, Tony spun and threw a ferocious punch that landed squarely on the man’s face. The two fell to the floor and struggled, the attacker gaining the upper hand and getting on top of Tony. The man punched again and again and Tony was helpless—he tried to protect himself, tried to block the man’s fists, but each time a punch landed, he heard a sickening crunch. There had to be blood everywhere.

  In the dim light, the attacker—the other Tony—drew his right hand back and prepared to throw the killing blow. Silhouetted against the scant light in the room, the man let go and Tony closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the pain, waiting for the impact.

  The impact came on Tony’s shoulder. He awoke startled, on the floor next to the bed. His whole body shook from the dream. He looked down and noticed his legs were tightly wrapped in the covers, a sign he’d been thrashing and turning in his sleep.