Cradle Robber

by Staron, Chris

  “This is for later!”

  A tall blonde boy jumped on the stage and grabbed a can from Wade’s table, spraying it into the hair of his friends. They shrieked and yelled at him. “Tony, stop it.”

  A skinny, zit-faced kid snagged a can and squirted a glob right into his mouth. The other teens hooted and hollered, cheering him on.

  “That's disgusting,” shouted Wade. “Put that down. Don't you know what's in this stuff?”

  The heaviness. His limbs wouldn’t move. Red flashed in front of his eyes. They surrounded him. Wade pushed the pale kid and pried the can from his hands.

  The boy made a grab for the shaving cream but Wade was too fast and deflected with a quick swipe of his arm, jerking the kid's wrist behind him into a painful wrestling hold. The boy’s arm was pinned behind his back, wrist twisted in an unnatural direction.

  Clarity. The curtain lifted from his brain. Wade could see again. He saw the kid’s arm, the looks of shock from his friends.

  You're hurting him.

  What had he done? The kid doubled over with pain, his arm pulled behind his back, bested by a man four times his age. Wade released the young man with a fake smile, hoping to cover the stunt. The skinny teen glared at Wade, utter surprise on his face.

  Another wave of teens surged the table. They grabbed empty pie plates and put them on their heads. One threw a dozen out like Frisbees. Wade pushed them away. Traci dropped what she was doing and marched over and whispered in his ear.

  “It's shaving cream.”

  Wade clutched the remaining cans against his chest. “It'll make a mess.”

  “It's part of the territory with youth work.”

  He put his body between the teens and the table, blocking their path. “Doesn't have to be.”

  “What is your problem?” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “This isn't the Wade that I talked to the other day.”

  He wasn't thinking, but reacting. No more logic, no more focus. They teamed up against him. Like a weasel trapped by a predator, he lashed out for survival.

  “That Wade wasn't surrounded.”

  “It doesn't matter….”

  One of the kids reached for a can and Wade blocked the boy with his body as if they were playing basketball. “It does. I…, I can’t…, I can't help them. I can’t change them.”

  She hugged Wade from behind, her arms pulling the cans from his grip. “You don't have to. All you need to do is relax and have fun. We'll do all of the heavy lifting.”

  His mouth dried out, his system on high alert.

  She didn't understand. She lived in a la-la world where these little things didn't matter. But he knew. Small disobedience is a symptom of larger problems. The adults in the room came there thinking they could still help these kids, turn their lives around. But it was a sham, a fabrication. The odds of success for that little boy in the back of the room were ten, maybe fifteen percent. That was it. No amount of distractions changed that.

  Another statistic. I can't help him. I can't save him. All I can do is undo.

  Wade pulled away from her. “You wouldn't understand.”

  “Try me.” She sounded more like a scolding parent than his girlfriend.

  “People like you don't—”

  “Tell me.”

  “It's a lost cause.”

  Her hands crossed against her chest. “A lost cause?”

  Wade walked to the nearest storage contained and locked the shaving cream cans inside. “These kids are never going to change. The decisions they make right now, today, they seem small, but those decisions will never leave them. It will always be like this.”

  Her mouth hung open. “That's a terrible thing to say. You don't even know these kids and already you're judging them?”

  She marched back on stage. Wade followed.

  “Look at the group.” He spun her by the shoulders. His skin burned hot with anger. He hovered behind her, his mouth near her ear, facing the sea of kids. “Look out there and tell me you haven't got a list in your head of every girl that you expect to be pregnant by the end of the year. You already know who is headed for jail, who is going to run away from home, who is selling pot. Am I right?”

  Spit flicked from his teeth, bubbling at the corners of his mouth.

  She pulled away, but he snapped her back into his grip, his hands clamping her arms.

  She huffed. “Don't—”

  “Tell me you don't already know.” His tone dropped to a whisper, but it bit hard. “Look at them. Hormones rushing, no conscience, only pure desire. They get their kicks by walking as close as they can to destruction. The whole lot of them couldn't give a rip about you. You'll die to them as soon as they get what they want. Despite all of your work and how many times you tell these kids to beware of the big bad wolf, they're still going to tromp into the dark woods alone. Call it a product of breeding, call it society, call it plain idiocy. It's not wrong to know who is going to let you down. It's just crazy to act surprised when you're right.”

  She spun, pushing his hands from her shoulders. “That is the worst thing I've ever heard.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Even if it is….”

  His voice filled the room. “Is it true? Do you have a list?”

  She shushed him. “It doesn't matter if it's true, it's cruel. You can't cast judgment on anybody you please.”

  “But you know, don't you? It's not even like they make it difficult for you to guess. You want to see into the future? Travel in time? Take a look around you. It's all there.”

  Wade glanced into the group and pointed to a flirtatious girl with a low cut shirt. She sagged her lips and clung to the boys with her tiny arms.

  “There. I give her six months and she'll show positive on a pregnancy test.” Wade stood behind Traci, pointing over her shoulders at a boy in the back. “How many times has he gone to jail?” Her posture sagged. She tried to turn around, but he held her in place. “How many times? It's a simple question.”

  “Twice, and both times—”

  “Twice. You see, Traci? It's too easy, like they've got cards on their heads that tell you what horrible fate awaits them. You want to help, to make their lives better than they already are, but you're limited. You can't reach into their souls and make those changes. Can't take them all from their circumstances. All you can do is offer them candy and shaving cream pies. Every time I come into a group like this I’m overwhelmed by that reality. You might save one or two, but who’s going to save you when they break your heart?”

  “I hoped it would be you,” she whispered.

  The arrow of her words flew straight to his heart. She cried, her fingers shaking. She faced him, back to the kids. Her bare arms were marked with red. He did that. He gripped her so hard that he left a mark.

  “I'm sorry,” she gasped. “This is such a shock. I mean, yesterday you were the sweetest man, and today.…”

  Wade hung his head and scratched the back of his neck. He blew it. His big mouth landed him in trouble once again. The night before he lay awake for hours, dreaming about her and the life they could lead together. But anger rose too fast, the past still so raw. He walked around like a wounded man, bleeding on everything he touched. Every teenager in the building reminded him of Carter and the dozens who came before him. Wade's body reacted to years of pent-up doubt, and now he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. He self-destructed, with Traci as collateral damage.

  “I'm sorry. I came in here with all guns blazing. I shouldn't have done that. I know these kids mean a lot to you.”

  “But you're right,” she muttered.

  “It isn't about being right or wrong, it matters that I hurt you. I guess I still haven't recovered from my own time with these kids.”

  The switch flipped again––the other Wade returned, tail between his legs. Tender at one moment, irrational at the next. How confusing for her. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help it. No more seeing red.

  “I'm sorry.”

/>   “Don't be.”

  Her hands shook so hard. Her whole body seemed in motion.

  What have I done?

  She covered a sob with her hand. “Go.”

  Wade searched for something to say that could undo the last five minutes. Everything was so much clearer now. His temper turned on a dime. The claustrophobia left, along with the fogginess of his brain. The room had suffocated him, like wearing a diving mask with no oxygen. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. Now, restored to normal, he witnessed what his thrashing had done.

  “But…,” he protested, reaching for her. She pulled away, covering her crying eyes.

  “Go.”

  She ran for the bathroom and locked herself in. Wade stood on stage, heart racing. He did it. He crushed her. The end.

  His second chance at love disappeared.

  # # #

  Traci did not emerge from the bathroom until Wade left. She had to pull herself together. MissionFocus could not afford to let her fall to pieces. The whole meeting lay ahead and only she knew where and when things were supposed to happen. In a daze, she washed her face with cold water and wandered back on stage to keep making shaving cream pies.

  What kind of despair makes a man say such terrible things? Wade sounded so different from the guy she'd seen the day before. On their dates he spoke highly of some of the teens he worked with, especially Angela Grierson. Now he acted like they were a zombie horde out to kill him.

  At the same time, Wade was right about the teenagers he selected. The skinny girl he picked out as promiscuous had already seen a gynecologist to discuss her pregnancy. At least three of the teens at MissionFocus were runaways. Two were in and out of jail on a regular basis.

  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t change. Her efforts were not futile. She couldn’t believe his negative messages. Wade was wounded by some event that she might never understand. Still, there is a difference between being right and losing hope.

  She could never give up.

  Each week brought new chances for disappointment. Last month she caught two boys smoking marijuana behind the building and had to make the decision of whether or not to call the police on them. Never in her life did she think that she would have to make a judgment like that. She played the role of a clean-cut woman from the suburbs, but she hadn't forgotten where she came from. Memories of drunkenness and drugs lingered close by, ready to reawaken. She'd woken next to several men she did not remember. But the Lord saw fit to rescue her by some miracle of His own doing. Why couldn't He rescue these kids?

  Traci's heart ached. She willed herself to fill pie plates with shaving cream. The Good Book said to never tire of doing right, and if that meant spraying white foam into metal pans, she’d be first in line. But the wind had left her sails.

  When it came time to lock the doors, she stepped alone into the cold evening. The dark, starless night surrounded her. A group of teenagers loaded into her car, talking about the parties they attended over the weekend. They squished into the back seat, nobody having the courage to sit in front with her.

  Perhaps she really did mean nothing more than a free ride.

  The conversation from the backseat turned to rude comments about sex, forcing her to demand that they stop. She caught her eyes in the rear view mirror. They were bloodshot with anger. Maybe Wade hit the nail on the head––she was operating on fumes.

  It might be burnout.

  No, it couldn’t happen to her. She exercised caution, taking breaks and distributing responsibilities among the other volunteers. But something in her eyes betrayed the real story.

  Once the teenagers were all safe at their homes, she pulled into her driveway and turned off the engine. Emotion welled and she allowed the dam to burst. Tears streaked her face. She wiped them off with the back of her hand and tried to relax the tension in her body. Wade's words hurt. Part of what he said rang true, and she hated to admit that. Linda made it clear that he was given to moments of darkness, especially when it came to teenagers. There were guarantees of long absences from the public eye, odd comments, and a sour disposition. But they did share sweet walks in the park and a few moments when his shell cracked. Wade needed to see that the world was not as dark as he wanted to believe. Her job was to prove that love changes people.

  She prayed for him, sobbing between breaths. Her heart longed for someone to hold, someone she could trust and lean on.

  She sat alone in her sedan and cried as rain pounded against the windshield.

  # # #

  Meanwhile, the car that followed her home passed the driveway while Adrianna took note of Traci's address. A moment later Aaron and Adrianna merged back into traffic and disappeared into the night.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There was a knock on the door. Linda pulled herself from the couch and trotted to the foyer, tugging her fuzzy white robe around her pink silk pajamas. The television in the living room blared a game show she'd ignored for the last twenty minutes. The television gave the illusion of safety, her best friend when home alone. She glanced at the clock. Thirteen minutes to ten. Tom would get home from MissionFocus any moment now.

  Another knock. She checked the peephole embedded in the door. A haggard-looking Wade stood on her doorstep, soaked with rain.

  “Linda, it's Wade. Can I come in?”

  She opened the door and shuttled him in. His gray hair jutted out in every direction. The skin on his face was puffy. Red lines circled his eyes. Did she catch him crying?

  A chill rushed up her body. Something about Wade did not seem right. The usual stale assurance he kept, the air of control, melted away. Instead, he stood there bent over, dripping rainwater on the floor.

  “What's the matter, Wade? Is something wrong? Let’s get you dry.”

  She rushed down the hall to the linen closet and pulled out several towels. A nagging fear swept over her. She should not have let Wade into the house. Something didn't sit right, like the man might be…dangerous. Who drops by unannounced at ten o’clock during a storm?

  Tom's word of warning at the park stuck in her brain. Still, she almost married this man. That ought to mean something. The years were hard on their friendship, but she still cared for him no matter how much he changed. She suppressed her fears and reached for his jacket.

  The coat dripped on the tile with a sharp tap tap tap. Wade wandered into the living room and stared at her new blue furniture. A blank expression drew across his face, hiding any emotion, allowing her no visible cues as to what had happened inside of his head.

  If only her husband would come home.

  “Take a seat, Wade.” She pointed to the couch. “Tom should be here in a moment. Can I get you something to eat?”

  He stared out the picture window, the glow from the streetlight illuminating his face. “I think I've done something horrible. I didn't know who else to come to.”

  Something horrible? What did he mean? Another chill rolled across her arms.

  She’d keep her distance.

  What kind of man walks into a dark room like that? Linda reached around the partition, turned on the light switch and backed into the foyer, thankful for the distance between them. “Where is your truck?”

  “I walked. I..., I said some terrible things to Traci.”

  So it was something he said that bothered him. The knot in her stomach loosened a little. At least he wasn’t running around murdering people.

  His shoulders stooped miserably, like the weight of the world crushed his bones, leaving his old skin as wreckage. In slow motion he sat down on the couch and pulled his legs tight toward his chest.

  Linda leaned against the wall that separated the foyer from the living room. “What did you say to her? Do you want to talk about it?”

  For a moment he sat quiet, a ghost in her pretty little living room. “Did you ever notice that there is this line, this truth that lies just below the surface in our society? It's there all of the time. We all know about it, all understand it. But none of us
is allowed to talk about it? Like, corporately, we've decided that certain things can't be discussed though we know them to be true?”

  Linda lifted her cell phone from the table by the door and slid it in her pocket as a precaution. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

  He rubbed his dry hands together. “Tonight I think I broke that contract. I didn't intend to hurt her feelings. It all came out. I know she believes that people can change. I admire her for that. She wants to see hope inside every cloud, to believe people at their word.”

  Streaks of light marched across the walls. As fast as they came, they were gone. Headlights. She exhaled again, relaxing more. Her husband was home. “That's Tom. Can I get you some tea?”