“No thanks.”
She was fearless now. The worry in her gut transformed into courage. “We know that you care for her.”
Wade looked up, eyes red and bloodshot. Tears pooled, ready for action. “I think I love her, Linda.”
The room lingered with the reality of his statement. Here they were, boyfriend and girlfriend from ages gone by, discussing the woman who came to fill the place in his heart that she once occupied. Though Linda no longer held any romantic feelings for him, she still cared as a friend.
The door opened and Tom entered, shaking the rain off of his coat, muttering to himself about the weather until he saw Wade. A pause. The two men sized each other up for a second before Tom regained enough momentum to hang his wet yellow slicker in the closet and lean next to his wife in the doorway.
Grunting, he glared at Wade. “You left a pretty distraught woman back there. She locked herself in the ladies room for a full twenty minutes.”
Wade nodded. “I understand.”
“I don't know that you do, Wade.” Tom's tone was harsh. “You’ve acted like some sort of outcast these past few months, like you’re dead set on pushing everything good out of your life. I'm not sure whether to feel pity or ask you to leave. It's like you crave destruction.”
Tom folded his arms across his chest. “We love you, Wade. We want to see you happy and back to where you were before all this. But you keep us at arms length like you do everything else. I'm willing to help you as much as I can, but if it means hurting the people that I care about, then..., then I'm not sure how far down this road I can go.”
“I love her.” The words were faint, as if spoken by someone standing outside. Wade tapped his shoe against the dark wooden coffee table. “I think I love Traci and that makes me afraid.”
Tom entered the living room and sat down on the plush blue carpeting by Wade’s legs. “Afraid of what?”
“That I’ll lose her. That I might marry her. I'll mess everything up and she'll leave me. Someday she'll find out about me. I'm not like most people. I can deal with pain, but I'm not sure I know how to love anymore. My thoughts are too dark. And if nobody proves me wrong, how can I concede that reality is other than how I see it?”
Tom pulled his legs closer. “You're speaking in riddles.”
Wade shifted on the couch and stared at the wall opposite him, as if picturing some distant time. “At the meeting I said that we're all capable of seeing both into the past and into the future. If I see someone is about to drink coffee right before bed, it’s okay to warn them of the consequences because I know from experience that caffeine keeps me awake at night. I can’t see into the future, but by looking at my past, I can make an accurate prediction. If I can’t fall asleep after having a lot of caffeine, you probably can’t either. See?”
Linda nodded. Where was Wade going with this?
“But it’s taboo to talk about some things. I know what kids do. I’ve seen it all. I can predict when they’re going to make bad decisions, how it’s going to happen, and who is involved. But unlike the caffeine example, it’s rude for me to say that Kid X is going to sin because it looks like I’m judging them. Nobody wants to be 'judged.' So we keep quiet, even about really important stuff.”
Linda paused for a moment and scratched her head. It was the nature of life to be caught in the balance of truth and privacy. So what?
“Why do you think that is?”
“We don’t want to feel hurt.” Wade pulled a couch pillow close to his chest. “We can’t stand being sad, even it if means it’ll help someone else. I can remember a time when I was assaulted by someone I loved very much. People don’t want to hear about it. They don’t want to know the painful truth. So I got on my knees and asked God to clear my mind of this horrible memory. I tried to forgive my assailant, but no matter how much I pray, I still sense his gun against my back, pushing me against the wall.”
Linda turned her eyes from Wade. Why hadn’t he said anything about this before? The idea of Wade being attacked by somebody, especially one of the teenagers he used to mentor, was incomprehensible. Who could hurt a big teddy bear like Wade?
Wade sniffled and pulled a tissue from the box on the end table. “I want to believe that the memories will go away, that I can sit here in this room and pretend that I can't feel him breathing on me, but I can’t. He’s there, as real as the day it happened. If I tell someone about it, they’re going to give me the same old chatter I've told myself. They don’t want to know. They can’t know. They stare at me with blank eyes like I’m crazy. Maybe I am.
“I've lived with a feeling of utter helplessness for years. Everything I touch is soiled with a trace of him. Each opportunity to believe in change is throttled by this cold, relentless hand from my past that tells me that I'm a fool for hoping. And it's right. As often as I want to believe that its words are lies, over and over it is proven right.
“I walked into that meeting tonight and saw more of the same abuse that I've witnessed all my life. People throwing trash on other people, trying to bring them down to their level. Kids looking for temporary comfort, even if it means tossing away the rest of their lives for one night of feeling loved by someone else. And there is nothing I can do to save them. I’m as screwed up as they are, maybe worse. I look into their futures and see a long line of pain that extends all the way into eternity with no end. It's wrong for me to say these things, but we all know they're true.”
Tom shook his head. “Where is there room for letting God work? For hope?”
Linda watched as Wade cracked his knuckles, his eyes traveling between them and back again. The uneasiness returned to her stomach. How could Wade live a life so dominated by pain?
“I should go.” Wade rose, starting for the door.
Tom stood too, blocking Wade's exit. “You're with friends.”
“I don't want to depress you with this. I'm sorry. I'm talking nonsense.”
Tom hugged Wade, squeezing tight. “I'm not giving up on you that easily. You need help.”
“It's not your place.”
“Yes it is. You're my friend. I want you to sit there on that couch for as long as it takes. Tell us everything.”
Tom let him go a little at a time and motioned for Wade to sit back down. Linda watched her husband work, proud of him, glad for his strength. Though he had resisted inviting Wade to their wedding, his commitment to pulling the hermit from his shell took her breath away.
Wade returned to staring at the carpet.
“I didn't know you were attacked,” said Tom.
“It was a long time ago, one of the kids from MissionFocus. I went over there to give him some news about his girlfriend. I don't think I really ever told anybody.”
“Why?”
“Fear. I thought I brought it on myself. Like I deserved it for being such a coward. Maybe it was my own weakness that pinned me against the wall. Like I had it coming because I never became a man. I lived in a man's suit, got a girlfriend, drove a car, but never became a man. Could never be one. He's still with me, pointing out my faults. Everything I touch turns to ash. Every moment of joy descends into silence and darkness. I'm a man who is dead even though I'm alive. When I volunteered, everything I did failed. Lives weren't changed, my health slipped. The youth leader conferences told me to stay positive, play better games. None of it worked.
“Tonight Traci saw what madness lurks inside my heart and I got scared. I knew that I said hurtful things, that she couldn’t handle it, but I didn’t stop.”
Linda sighed. Finally, after ten and a half years of silence, she knew the whole story. Wade was attacked. That’s why he disappeared. It wasn’t because of her after all. She wasted so much time blaming herself. That’s why it took so long to trust Tom enough to marry him––she expected him to melt down the way that Wade had. Why did Wade wait so long to tell her?
Wade sat across the room from her, picking at his fingers, unaware of the hurt he caused her. He kept talking.
Silence fell across the room. Tom sat down next to Wade and rubbed his friend’s back. “When did this happen?”
“Before I disappeared. I didn’t think I could trust anyone ever again.”
# # #
Wade’s head cleared. The neat living room walls rolled into focus. Pink and blue floral designs dotted the wallpaper. A single lamp lit the entire room. Wade stretched his neck and adjusted his place on the couch.
Why did he wait so long to tell someone about Carter? Nobody else knew for all those years. Maybe he could have gone to counseling and taken care of it instead of burying himself from society.
“Thanks.” Wade pulled another tissue from a box. “It’s good to get this out.”
Blessed silence wafted through the room. As the tears dried, he enjoyed the release of letting go. Thick saliva collected at the edge of his lips. His sense of smell returned, bringing a hint of potpourri. How wonderful to visit a home, a house that belonged to normal, functional people. Normalcy might be an obtainable thing. But the moment broke with the ring of the doorbell.
Tom glanced at his watch, then at his wife. “You expecting anyone?”
Linda left her spot in the foyer and opened the door. Wind drove in raindrops, which smacked against the linoleum. Someone shuffled in, shutting the door behind them with a dull thud.
“I’m sorry to drop in unexpected,” came a familiar voice from the foyer. “I really needed some place to be.”
Traci. She stood in the entrance, dripping wet. Her hair hung down straight, drenched in rain. She spotted Wade and her body went stiff.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.…”
Arms out in a sign of peace, Wade rose from the couch. “No, please…stay. I'll go.”
Tom walked to the foyer, taking Traci’s wet coat. “Please, take a seat. You both have a lot to talk about.”
With a click of her fingers, Linda started toward the kitchen. “I’ll put some hot water on.”
“And I’ll help her,” said Tom, splitting his glances between his guests. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you two need anything. I’m happy to stay if you want a mediator.”
So the time was upon them. A chance to hash it out. Good, better to deal with the pain than to let it fester. Wade did his best imitation of a smile. “I think we can handle it from here.”
A gust of wind slapped the house, driving rain against the roof. Tom turned on his heels and walked away, closing the door between the hallway and the kitchen behind him.
They stared at each other for several seconds. Dark lines of mascara cascaded down Traci’s cheek and along her jaw. “I didn't know that you'd come here. I'm sorry to intrude.”
He extended his hands once more. “Don't be. I'm glad you're here. I wanted to apologize to you. I said some…hurtful things.”
She signaled for him to stop talking. His words trailed and the room, once again, retained its stillness.
Traci shoved her fists into her pockets. “These last few weeks have meant the world to me. I think you're an exceptional person, really. I don't know how to deal with you sometimes, that's all. I haven't gotten used to your sense of justice. I err on the side of hope, that’s a fault of mine, but it’s a fault that I choose to have. Life without hope isn't life at all.”
“I know. You're right, and I'm sorry.”
“It's okay. You don't have to explain.” She stepped inside the living room, pulling her hooded sweatshirt a little tighter around her shoulders. Without taking her eyes off him she sat on a wooden chair across the room from his couch.
He wiped at his face until the tears were gone, and sat down. “Where do we go from here?”
Traci blew her nose and folded the tissue in her palm, flipping it over as if her script was written on its edges. “I haven’t figured that out. I've prayed about this all night, ever since I got home from the meeting. I..., I don't know.” Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, tears he caused. “You don't really believe those things, do you?”
Wade ran his fingers through his now dry hair. “I think that deep inside I do. The moment wasn't right. I know my words were painful, but it’s hard to redraw logical conclusions until someone proves me wrong.”
She clasped her hands and set them on her knees. “Do you think that you are beyond saving, Wade?”
“I don't know. If you could only understand—”
She looked up from her tissue and sniffled. “Try me.”
Where to start? He couldn’t summarize a lifelong struggle in a sentence. His dry throat tickled as he attempted a confession.
“The best I can say is that I’m helping people. My work has me doing an immense amount of good. Without me, the world.... You wouldn't like the world that was before.”
“But look what it’s cost you,” she said tenderly.
“You have no idea what it would have cost you if I hadn't.”
She paused, her gaze searching him.
“What do you mean?”
This wasn’t going as he hoped. “I can't tell you.”
“Please stop speaking in code, it's making me uncomfortable. I should leave.” She stood and gathered her things.
Heat brewed inside Wade. The words were inevitable. Either he spoke them now or they’d burst from his mouth on their own. Truth stung inside of him. Their relationship was a sham if she didn’t know who he was. He tried to repress the words, tried to calm down, but it was all happening as if the entire conversation was predestined and they were puppets performing a show. Another mood swing.
He saw red. Regret turned to anger. Anger at her, at this whole system. People thought they knew what life was like, but they didn’t. No. They stood on their high perches and tossed down advice to people like him who couldn’t find their way out.
“I have my sins, I'm willing to admit that. But at least I can face them.” Wade’s volume increased. “I'm not some pretending Christian who thinks that because I pray God will stop my consequences. I live with the effects of my actions every day and I accept them. Not everything in life can be ignored.”
“Getting upset isn’t going to fix this.” Traci gathered her coat and purse and walked to the door. “You said some pretty terrible things about those kids.”
How dare she get all high and mighty. Did she even listen to what he said? Did she completely forget that he was right about the teens? Didn’t that mean something? Or was she so concerned about her “feelings” that truth didn’t matter?
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Warmth spread across his chest and over his face. A ringing screeched in his ears. How dare she make him the bad guy. Her son was the evil one. Nobody else had the courage to put him down. What about Maggie? What about the scores of corrupt politicians, the warmongers, the sex offenders? Those creeps wandered around, hunting their prey, and she got angry at him?
Wade stood, his legs wobbling with anticipation as the phrases in his brain formed sentences, morphing into tirades. She must know the truth. “Yes, I screwed up, but who doesn't? You've got skeletons hiding in your closet. You admitted that. We all have them. Some simple procedure, an act done in the folly of youth or the heat of the moment. Don't act like you haven't done a few things you regret.”
She stared at Wade good and hard. A deep rumble entered his tone. Her eyes moved to his gray hair, his grandfatherly wrinkles. Muscles in her face contracted. Recognition. She knew him.
“Some simple procedure...,” she whispered.
He pulled a butterscotch candy from his pocket, the same kind he gave her that fateful day. Traci gasped and covered her
mouth, pressing herself against the wall, pushing away from him. Wade stood still, calculated, cold. She backed toward the door.
He rolled the candy between his thumb and forefinger. “You know now, don't you? It was only a matter of time.”
“It was you,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “How did you...?”
“I didn't think you'd understand. I was afraid that....”
She growled at him, thrusting her index finger like a knife. “You knew it was me this whole time and you didn't bother to say anything. You've...held this secret about me.”
“I'm sorry. I was afraid what might happen if—”
“If I found out that you talked me into killing my baby.” She stumbled over the doormat, scrambling to button her coat with shaking fingers.
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