Pon-Pon

by Cronk, LN

  “Because . . . a lot of good things have come out of them.”

  “Like what?”

  I sighed at him again.

  “Like, what good came out of Greg getting killed?”

  “A lot of people came to know Christ because of that . . . it’s still happening. You know that.”

  “What about Gabby?”

  Gabby was our baby who had died . . . she was stillborn.

  “I’m not sure if I know yet what good came from that . . . it definitely brought me closer to God. There’s probably a lot more, but I just don’t know about it right now.”

  “What about Laci’s miscarriages and her cancer? She almost died.”

  “We wouldn’t have adopted Dorito and Lily if all that hadn’t happened.”

  “But you do agree you’ve had some bad things happen to you?”

  “Of course I do. Everybody’s had bad stuff happen to them.”

  “And yet you do feel like God’s been good to you . . . like you’ve been blessed?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, me too. See, I feel like I’ve been really blessed and that even the bad things that have happened have resulted in a lot of good. Like my dad . . . you know?”

  His dad had died just before Mike entered high school.

  “How so?”

  I didn’t doubt that good had come from it, but he’d never shared it with me.

  “Why do you think I’m in med school?” Mike asked.

  “I guess I never really thought about it . . .”

  “You know how much time I spent in hospitals with him when I was little? That’s what got me so interested in medicine in the first place . . . why I became an EMT. You wouldn’t believe how much good stuff’s already happened just with me being an EMT . . . I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like once I’m a doctor!”

  “By the way,” I said. “How’d things go on your call today?”

  “Nobody was seriously hurt.”

  “Good.”

  “But there’ve been plenty of times when people haven’t been alright,” he said. “I’ve been with a lot of people when they’ve died . . . and I’ve gotten to pray with them and lead some of them to Christ. That’s really huge.”

  “I know . . .”

  “And you know what? If Gabby hadn’t of died and Laci hadn’t of had such a rough time afterwards I never would have met Danica. If I hadn’t of become an EMT, Laci probably would have died that night when she was bleeding so bad. If Laci’d died you two wouldn’t have led Kelly to Christ. I mean, it’s pretty clear that God’s been in total control all along.”

  “Yeah, I already know all that. So what’s your point?”

  “See,” he said, “that’s why I’m worried about Tanner. I don’t think he feels that way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he acts as if he’s been . . . betrayed or something. Whenever you and I’ve had bad things happen to us we’ve known that God’s working it to good, but whenever something bad happens to Tanner he doesn’t see that.”

  “What’s Tanner had happen to him that’s so bad?”

  “Well, he lost Greg too . . .”

  “Greg was my best friend.”

  “I know,” Mike said, “but you weren’t the only one that went through something there.”

  “Okay,” I conceded.

  “And then his dad just left them one day without even saying goodbye . . . that’s gotta be hard.”

  “I suppose . . .”

  “But my point is that everything that happens to him – no matter what it is – I don’t think he sees the good in it.”

  “Why?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I just know that I’ve been noticing it more and more.”

  “Have you tried talking to him?”

  “Whenever I do, I just feel like I’m pushing him away. He certainly doesn’t want to hear me say anything about God, I can tell you that.”

  “Are you telling me he’s not saved?”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was silent for a minute.

  “I can’t believe this, Mike,” I finally said. “I mean, how can we not know if Tanner’s saved or not?”

  “You feel bad? How do you think I feel? He was my best friend!”

  “He was your best friend? He’s not your best friend anymore?”

  “I don’t know, Dave. Things haven’t been good between us in a while . . . I’m not even sure if I’m going to ask him to be in the wedding or not.”

  “You have to . . . he should be your best man . . .”

  “I was going to ask you to be my best man,” Mike said.

  “No . . . it’s gotta be Tanner. Don’t you see, Mike? He needs us to be his friends right now . . .”

  “I don’t know, David. I’ve tried to share my faith with him . . . he doesn’t wanna hear it. The Bible says if someone doesn’t welcome you you’re supposed to shake the dust off your feet . . .”

  I could not believe how willing Laci and Mike were to just abandon Tanner. I was not going to do that to him.

  “It also says that if you’re a believer you should stay with the unbelieving because they might be saved,” I argued.

  Mike burst out laughing.

  “They’re talking about husbands and wives, you idiot!” he said.

  “I know,” I said, smiling, “but it’s the same principle. I really think we need to be there for him . . . okay?”

  Mike hesitated for a moment and then finally nodded.

  “Okay.”

  “So you’ll ask him to be your best man?”

  “I guess so,” he said, “but you’re going to be up there too.”

  “Sure I will,” I said. “I’ll be right there . . . on the other side of Tanner.”

  On the car ride home I didn’t even turn on the radio . . . I just thought the whole time.

  Many times – especially in Mexico – I had questioned why God had chosen to bless me the way he had. I’d wondered why I wasn’t born into a family who was so poor that they had to live in a landfill. Why wasn’t I crippled or blind or deaf? Why weren’t my children dying from starvation or disease?

  Now I thought about Tanner and I wondered how things could be so different for the two of us when we’d grown up together under pretty much the same circumstances.

  Like Mike had said, it was fairly easy to look back over things and see clearly that God had been in control all along. Like when He’d brought Greg into my life for example. Now I know (really I do) that it wasn’t all about me, but anyone would have to admit that one of the main reasons God had moved Greg and his family to Cavendish back when I was twelve was to bring me closer to Christ. Okay, and to bring me closer to Laci too, but right now I was thinking about Christ.

  How? How did that happen?

  I’m not saying I wasn’t a Christian before I met Greg, but I was nowhere near the kind of Christian I was by the time Greg was finished with me.

  And what exactly was it that Greg had done?

  Basically, he’d just always been supportive and he’d always been a good friend.

  That’s it.

  He didn’t preach to me, he didn’t point out every time I did something wrong. He was just a good friend to me. And in that friendship, I guess I’d seen his relationship with Christ. I’d seen a contentment in him and a peace. I’d seen what he had and I’d seen what I wanted. Isn’t that what everybody wants? Whether they admit it or not?

  As I drove along I became confident that what I’d told Mike was right . . . we needed to be there for Tanner. Just like Greg had been, I was going to be supportive . . . I was going to be a good friend.

  By the time I got home I was feeling a lot better. It felt good to have a game plan.

  ~ ~ ~

  AFTER I GOT home I explained to Laci everything that Mike and I had talked about and everything I’d thought about on the ride home. Just like I figured she would, Laci got right on board with my plan.

  It w
as good knowing that she wasn’t going to give me a hard time whenever I wanted to go hunting with Tanner . . . or fishing . . . or skeet shooting. She even started inviting Tanner over for dinner sometimes when Megan was working (which was quite often because Megan was a nurse at the hospital).

  The only time Laci ever gave me a hard time was the day I came home from another pheasant hunting trip with Tanner and I told her that I thought we needed to buy a dog.

  “A dog?” Laci said.

  “Yeah. A dog.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh,” I said evasively. “It’ll be good for the kids.”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “You just want a dog so Tanner can help you train it and you’ll have one more excuse to spend time with him.”

  “So?” (Honestly I don’t think she really cared if we got a dog or not.)

  “So,” she said. “I think buying a dog is going a little overboard. Plus, I know who’s going to have to clean up after it when it goes to the bathroom all over the floor.”

  “They’re hardwoods, Laci,” I said. “It’ll be a snap.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “For YOU!”

  “You owe me,” I reminded her.

  “For what?”

  “Six Flags,” I smiled and she sighed.

  We got our name on the list of the same breeder Tanner had bought T.D. from. A litter was due any day and he’d already pre-sold eight, but if more than that were born I would be next on the list. In three days he called and said that eleven had been born and if I wanted a female I could pick her up in time for Christmas.

  “What are you going to call her?” Tanner asked.

  “I was thinking about Perro.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s Spanish for ‘dog’,” I explained.

  “You’re going to call your dog, ‘dog’?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I grinned. “Basically.”

  “That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard of . . . well, except for Dorito of course.”

  “Hey!”

  “No offense. Here,” he said, ignoring my glare. “You can borrow this book. It’s all about training spaniels.”

  “You’re still going to help me, right?”

  “Not if you’re going to call it Dog.”

  “I’ll try to come up with something else,” I promised.

  ~ ~ ~

  THE WEEK OF Thanksgiving, Greg’s grandmother flew in from Florida to visit Charlotte and Mrs. White. Two days after she arrived we had all three of them over for dinner. Laci had just finished redecorating Lily’s bedroom so she showed it off to them before we ate.

  “I love it,” Charlotte said, running her hands along the border paper.

  “I thought you were going to paint the lower half purple,” Mrs. White said. “It would have looked good with these flowers here . . .”

  “I was going to,” Laci sighed, “but David hates purple.”

  “Who hates purple?” Charlotte asked, looking at me.

  “I hate purple,” I said.

  “You’re so weird.”

  After dinner we ate cookies in the living room while Dorito set up his Hot Wheels track on the basement stairs and Lily toddled back and forth between our visitors.

  “You should come to Florida,” Greg’s grandmother said when Lily reached her chair.

  She lived near the Gulf of Mexico and I’d been down there twice with Greg before he’d died. I smiled at her.

  “I’m serious.” She looked at Laci. “You two should bring Dorito and Lily to come see me. I hardly ever get any visitors.”

  Mrs. White was only able to fly down there with Charlotte twice a year – every Christmas break for a week and then for another week over summer vacation. Mr. White had been an only child . . . Greg and Charlotte her only grandchildren.

  “You’re really serious?” Laci asked her and she nodded.

  “When?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t Dorito get a week off at Easter?”

  Laci and I both nodded.

  “Well then, you should come down and see me at Easter.”

  Laci and I both looked at each other and smiled.

  “Okay,” we said in unison.

  “I wanna go!” Charlotte exclaimed.

  “No, way,” Mrs. White told her.

  “Why not?” she cried.

  “Because we’re flying down less than two months after that and plane tickets don’t grow on trees.”

  Charlotte glared at me.

  “I cannot believe you get to go and I have to stay here.”

  “Poor baby,” I smiled.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “We’ll really miss you,” I assured her. “We’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “We’ll need someone to take care of the puppy!” I grinned. “You can do that!”

  “And water the plants,” Laci suggested.

  “And get the mail.”

  Everybody was laughing except for Charlotte, who narrowed her eyes at me.

  “I’m going to get you,” she threatened.

  “Ooooh!” I said. “I’m so scared.”

  “Now, now, children,” Mrs. White told us. “Be nice.”

  I smiled, Charlotte scowled, and when I thought no one was looking I stuck my tongue out at her.

  ~ ~ ~

  BASKETBALL SEASON STARTED for Dorito. The kids were barely big enough to dribble the ball, much less throw it into the basket (which was lowered during their games), but they all had a grand time trying and Dorito loved his uniform. He was especially thrilled that he was number five because he was five years old. Actually, I think he was probably six, but when they assign birthdays to orphans without a known birth date they always try to make them as young as possible so they’ll be more attractive to prospective parents.

  Anyway, basketball practice started and we wound up seeing even more of Jordan because he refereed a lot of the little kids’ games on Saturday mornings. It was always pretty funny to watch whenever he’d referee one of Dorito’s games because Dorito would just stop mid-court and start carrying on a conversation with him. Poor Jordan was too polite to tell Dorito to go on, so he would stand there and nod, acting like he was paying attention to whatever Dorito was saying, all the while trying to keep an eye on the game. Fortunately they didn’t even keep score at this age (well, the parents did, but officially the league didn’t), so it didn’t matter too much if Jordan happened to miss a play or two.

  One Saturday Charlotte came by during half time and sat down with us. She’d just gotten off of work and remembered that Dorito had a game, so she’d decided to swing by and watch the second half.

  “Go, Dorito! Go!” she yelled at the top of her lungs after the starting buzzer sounded. That was a mistake. Dorito turned to where we were sitting, spotted Charlotte and ran over to the bleachers.

  “Hi, Charlotte!” he waved as he teammates ran up and down the court behind him.

  “Dorito!” Laci said, pointing to the court. “Get out there and play!”

  His face clearly said: Why? Charlotte’s here!

  “Go on, Dorito,” I nodded.

  He looked as if he might cry.

  “Go out there and play and I’ll take you out to lunch afterwards,” Charlotte promised.

  Nothing like a bribe to brighten him right up.

  “Okay!”

  He turned and ran . . . straight up to Jordan.

  “Charlotte’s here!” we could hear him say, all the way from mid-court. Jordan nodded at him, patted him on the head, and then called a foul on the away team.

  Dorito ran back to us after the game and Jordan followed to say hello.

  “Good game, buddy,” he said, ruffling Dorito’s hair.

  “Charlotte’s taking me out to lunch!”

  “That’s good,” Jordan said. “Have a great time.”

  “Come with us!” Dorito suggested, his eyes bright at the thought of having both Charlotte and Jordan to himself.r />
  “I can’t, Dorito,” Jordan said, shaking his head. “I’ve got another game to referee.”

  “Awww.”

  Jordan reached over and stroked Lily’s cheek and when she turned toward him he smiled at her.

  “Hi, pretty girl,” he smiled and signed.

  She smiled back at him.

  “Bye, bye,” he spoke and signed. “I love you.”

  She beamed at him some more.

  “See you guys later,” he said to the rest of us, waving as he turned and headed back out onto the court.

  “He’s been learning sign language,” I explained to Charlotte.

  “I know,” she said.

  “How do you know?” I asked her.

  “Because I see him sitting there with the EC teacher every day during lunch learning it.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  I don’t know exactly when I thought he’d been learning it, but I hadn’t known he’d been learning it in the cafeteria . . . during lunch.

  ~ ~ ~

  AS SOON AS the school system went on break, Tanner and I made plans to go hunting or ice fishing almost every day. Sometimes we took my dad or Laci’s dad, sometimes we took Jordan, and sometimes we took Dorito. It might be just one or any combination of them, but no matter who was with us – almost every morning – we went to Wilma’s for breakfast before we set out.

  I don’t know who Wilma was or if she’d ever actually existed, but if she did, she took the term “greasy spoon” to heart. Wilma’s opened at four in the morning and closed just before noon – serving breakfast to farmers and hunters and fishermen for all the hours in between.

  Charlotte worked there every Saturday morning during the school year and on breaks whenever she wasn’t visiting her grandmother in Florida. In this way she was both like Greg and not like Greg. She was like him because he’d worked at Hunter’s – a pizza place just a few steps up from Wilma’s. She was not like him because Greg would never have taken a job that required him to start work at four in the morning . . . he’d barely gotten up on time to get to school every day. Charlotte, on the other hand, said she had a social life and wasn’t going to work evenings. Of course, getting up so early in the morning tended to leave Charlotte more than a little on the grumpy side, but that just made her all the more fun to pick on.