Home Run

by Dave Lawrence

  An hour later Otto knocked without the sensitivity he’d hoped for and walked in. Brad hadn’t moved from the floor. “Bed time, bud.” “I can’t sleep.” “You have to.” “I can’t.” “No good sitting here.” “I can’t sleep.” “Do you want some sleeping pills?” “No.” “Life goes on.” “Not for Jordan.” Nothing can change Jordan’s death. Nothing. Nothing that could ever happen can ever make up for it. Nothing. So what if life goes on? Of course it does. “Bud, come on, you need to get some sleep.” “I can’t.” “I’ll get you some milk.” “I don’t want milk.” “What can I get you?” “Nothing.” The door closed behind him before Brad realised Otto had left.

  The next morning Brad pretended to go to school. When Sylvia and Otto had left for work at 8am, he returned and packed his bag, waiting by the front gate. Rod arrived half an hour later and got out the car. He rushed over to Brad and took the giant youngster in his powerful arms. Brad erupted in tears. Rod held him close, saying nothing, sharing the grief. “I’m sorry, Brad,” he said. And he was, and Brad knew it, but even still it would not bring Jordan’s powerfully athletic, muscular, shredded body back to life. How dare those bastards play God with his best friend’s existence? What was going through Jordan’s mind when his life was stolen in that church in Cairo only three days ago? What was in his heart? Judging from his Facebook, his last days were happy, the happiest he’s ever been, despite being rejected by the Yankees. In the end he only wanted love. That’s why he loved Brad, because Brad was closer to him that a brother. Brad was his family. That’s why he died happy, because his parents were creating a family.

  In the car, Rod explained how irresponsible it would be to aid and abet Brad leaving home without his parents’ permission. He was already out of favour with Hank, and it wouldn’t do to sideline Otto and Sylvia as well. Brad explained that Rod’s star shone like the sun at the Newton household, especially after the recent offer, but Rod did not want to be implicated in Brad’s flight from home. “Well, take me to my aunt’s place, then.” “She’ll be at work, won’t she?” “My grandmother’s house.” “Lead the way.”

  Forty five minutes later, Rod pulled into the driveway of a 1970s middle class, brick veneer home in Bulleen, a northern suburb of Melbourne. The simple garden revealed a neat, tidy owner. Rose beds ran along the trim path leading to the house. Rod nodded. “Hang in there, Brad. We’ll get through this.” “If my parents call you, you don’t know where I am, okay.” Rod nodded and drove off.

  Gentle bright and kindly blue eyes set in wrinkled soft, velvety skin greeted Brad when the door opened. He hadn’t seen his grandmother for over a year but each time he did he wondered why his dad was so pig-headed in refusing to see his own mother. Here she was, the picture of compassion and gentleness. She held out her arms and smiled sorrowfully. Brad knew she knew. He bent down to hug her, releasing his fathomless sorrow in yet more tears. She led him inside. “You look so tired, Bradley. Have you had breakfast?” Brad shook his head. Taking him into the kitchen, she made toast, her silence easy and comfortable. After his camomile tea, Brad followed her suggestion to take a nap. At four o’clock that afternoon Brad woke, unaware of anything until the sudden and unbearable memory of Jordan’s death shattered his peace.

  “Why have you come here, Bradley?” she enquired kindly. Brad shrugged his shoulders. “You want answers, don’t you?” She paused. “You want hope.”

  “There is no hope, Gran. Jordan’s dead.”

  The old woman placed her hand on top of Brad’s on her simple wooden kitchen table. “There is hope, Bradley. With the Lord there is always hope.” Brad suspected it would come – the subject of God and religion. “Bradley, do you know why your father doesn’t like visiting your aunt or me?” Brad studied her, intrigued. She laughed. “It’s not because we’re religious, as he mockingly accuses us. He spits it out like an insult. Otto was your age when your grandfather died. It hit him hard. He vowed never to have anything to do with religion again. You see, he blames God. Slowly, he’s hardened himself so much that his contempt for faith and religion has extended even to the people who love him the most. He can’t forgive God. He would never admit it, but that’s what the real issue is.”

  “But I don’t believe in God. All I know is that Jordan is gone forever.”

  “The good news, Bradley, is that he’s not. He was a good boy. He died in a church. He’s almost a kind of martyr.” Brad didn’t know what exactly a martyr was, but by the sound of his gran’s voice it was a good thing, and that made Brad proud. “I’m convinced Jordan is with God in some way. And you will see him again one day, but not in this life. You’ll just have to wait. You can tell him about winning the World Series for the Yankees. Congratulations, by the way.” She smiled warmly, her creases expressing the confidence in her words and demonstrating the strength of her belief.

  “I so much want to believe that, Gran. Jose De La Cruz is a Christian. He prayed with us. He and his two religious friends, a priest and a pastor, they prayed for us, too. They showed us how to pray. Jordan was doing it. That’s why he was in that church in Cairo.”

  The old woman beamed, her smile even more radiant. “That’s beautiful.” Her eyes met his. “Why don’t you follow his example?” She gripped his hand more firmly. “Lord, bless your child Bradley. Show him your mercy in his time of grief.” The prayer was so simple, so peaceful. The spark in her eyes reminded him of his aunt. When she prayed it was like she was actually speaking with someone she knew, like the Greek priest and the Baptist minister, like Jose and his two friends. A tiny spark of hope appeared deep down within Brad’s soul. Surrounded by all these incredible people, maybe there was some truth to the existence of a loving God. But why did he let Jordan die like that?

  “Gran, why did Jordan like that?”

  She smiled sadly. “I don’t know.”

  “But couldn’t God have stopped it?” She nodded sadly. “Then why didn’t he?” Slowly, she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

  “He allows evil, Bradley, although he is all good. It’s hard to comprehend, and needs some explanation, but even then it’s a mystery. Even Jesus, God incarnate, was tortured and died on a cross. But through that horrible event, he saved the world. He rose from the dead to prove he has power over everything, even death. This is the genius of God – he brings good out of terrible evil. Often we don’t see how, but our faith tells us it’s true. We can only trust, because on the face of it, it’s nothing but evil. This is not easy.”

  “I don’t understand, Gran,” Brad confided to her. “I hate the people who did this. Do you know who they are, these Islamists?”

  His grandmother breathed deeply through her nose. “They are inspired by the brand of Islam that promotes violence and terror. They don’t care if they kill innocent people. The fact is, Christians in Egypt and many other places are routinely persecuted, their churches bombed and businesses threatened. Even Muslims are victims. There are simply too many Islamists to stop it.”

  “Are you saying these murderers won’t go to prison?” Brad almost hissed, like a cornered snake. The blue, doleful eyes of his grandmother turned to him. She nodded her head slowly.

  Brad clenched his teeth. His fingers curled into simmering weapons. His grandmother’s hands gently covered his newly formed fists. “You are not ready to hear this now, but you must forgive them.”

  “Never, Gran! I’ll never forgive those cowards.”

  “They are cowards,” the gentle woman agreed, “but Jesus commands us to forgive even them. He gave us an example by forgiving the people who murdered him, while they were murdering him. It’s perhaps the hardest teaching in Christianity. God forgives us and he wants us to do the same to others.”

  “But they’re murderers. They have to be punished. They have to suffer for what they’ve done.”

  “That’s where the law is meant to be just. But we still need to forgive. That can take time. Bradley, this is where faith can give hope and sustain you as you suffe
r the loss of your best friend. Faith will never take the pain away but God is with you as you suffer, believe it or not. And with God, hope in salvation, in everlasting life, is a sure hope we can rely on. Lord, sustain dear Bradley in his grief.” She rose to the kitchen and started putting together a sausages and mash dinner. “Why don’t I call your aunt to join us? I think that would be nice.”

  Brad didn’t mind. Strangely there was something comforting in his grandmother’s words, but more so her peaceful, serene presence. At this point his parents would be expecting him home. Before panicking, they’d wait to see if he’d gone to the gym, then they’d call Rod who’d say Brad wasn’t there. Only when Otto could stand it no longer would he agree to let Sylvia call the aunt, but of course she wouldn’t be at home as she was at her mother’s house with Brad. Otto would call her mobile but Sylvia knew it would end in cursing and expletives as the call rang out time after time. His sister hadn’t yet entered the mobile phone age. “And she’s a teacher, for crying out aloud,” Otto complained. The thought wouldn’t enter Otto’s mind to call his mother, as Brad had never gone there unaccompanied before. So Otto and Sylvia panicked, imagining all sorts of misfortunes only days after Brad’s signing by the Yankees.

  Aunt Shirley, despite her weight, glided into the kitchen and sniffed contentedly. “Sausages and mash, that’s what I’m talking about.” She kissed her mother and plonked a fruit juice on the table. “No drugs, no alcohol, no girls, eh, Brad?”

  “Fat lot of good that did Jordan,” Brad said.

  “He’s a beautiful boy with a heart of gold, is Jordan,” Aunt Shirley said.

  “Was,” Brad corrected her.

  “Tragic. I’m so sorry, Brad. He’s still a beautiful boy and he’s still got a heart of gold, you know. He’s just on the other side of eternity. He’s waiting for you, Brad. The good Lord was working in his heart, I could tell.”

  “How do you know, Aunt Shirley?” Brad asked, fascinated that Shirley picked up Jordan’s new practice of praying just before he died when he himself never noticed.

  “He showed the signs. Clear as day he was searching. He had a pure heart.”

  “You’d love Jose De La Cruz. Do you know he prayed with me and Jordan, there and then in some dingy little office?”

  Aunt Shirley poured the juice. “‘Course! He’s a charismatic Catholic. Haven’t you seen him do his sign of the cross before he goes out to bat? Same thing Usain Bolt does when he wins his races. Same as Jokovic when he wins a Grand Slam. Same as all those soccer players, although I’m sure for many it’s just cultural.”

  “Is there any sport you don’t watch, Shirley?” her elderly mother asked.

  “UFC – a bit violent for my taste. The closest thing I ever got to being married was with a Catholic, so I’ve got a soft spot for those Catholics.”

  Brad always wondered why his aunt had never married. When he was younger Otto had him believe Shirley was a religious nut and men wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot barge pole. But on the rare occasions they did meet at inevitable functions over the years, he realised she was fun to be around and a decent person, so he began to believe her size was the issue. Otto had no shortage of comments about men and overweight women. But as Brad saw more and more overweight married couples, he decided it couldn’t be that. The next on the list was her sexual preference, but her comments about handsome men put that to bed. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask his aunt why she wasn’t married before she peered into his face and beat him to the punch.

  “You want to ask me why I’m not married, don’t you, Brad?” Brad’s face went bright red. Shirley laughed. “I don’t know, is all I can say. I always wanted to. Still do.”

  Brad studied the wooden table before him adorned with three glasses of orange juice, cutlery and napkins. “Is it hard?” he asked, almost sheepishly. Ringing issued from Shirley’s handbag, lying on the kitchen bench.

  “They can wait, whoever they are. Sometimes it’s hard. But I still have a great life. You’re not the only one who calls me aunty, you know. Two dozen kids from my church think I’m part of their family. I’ve got many rich relationships. I do a lot of babysitting. I try and help people wherever I can, and that’s fulfilling. I enjoy my work. I’ve got my beautiful mother here. And there’s my faith in Jesus. He gives me so much joy.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you just saying that because you’re a Christian?”

  “Honey, I’m saying it because it’s true.”

  “Well, why isn’t everyone a Christian?”

  “You tell me. They don’t know what they’re missing out on. Mind you, being Christian brings a whole new extra share of hardships, too, there’s no denying that. I would even say life is sometimes harder when you’re a Christian. There’s that phone again, right in the middle of dinner.”

  “I don’t get it.” A loud bang came from the kitchen. Brad jumped. Gran asked for a hand bringing out the food and suggested they leave that topic for another time. Shirley dished out five sausages and a mountain of mash to Brad, along with three serving spoons of vegetables.

  “Aunt Shirley, I’ve got a big appetite, but this is ridiculous.”

  “You need to keep your strength up. Those Yankees want a strong pitcher.”

  Gran Newton noticed the shadow cross Brad’s handsome features, guessing the connection between baseball and Jordan. She led them in a prayer of thanks. “Do you want to get married one day?” she asked Brad.

  Brad nearly dropped the fork full of sausage. The abruptness and unexpectedness of the question took him off guard. He wanted to go out with beautiful women, like any bloke, but he’d never really thought about getting married. With his knife he halved the portion attached to his fork so it wasn’t so unwieldy. He shrugged. “I don’t think about it.” Brad noticed Shirley had dished out the same quantity to herself.

  “Mum, what sort of question is that to ask a sixteen year old boy?” Shirley asked, digging into her sausages enthusiastically.

  She smiled, a brief sadness crossing her blue eyes. “Time is so short,” she said to both yet no-one in particular, the recollections from her own life clearly inspiring her words. “This may be the only time we have together.” Both Shirley and Brad were about to protest. Gran Newton simply raised her hand. “All of us know how precious time is, how important it is not to take things for granted.” Shirley couldn’t argue, so gulped down her first mouthful. “Brad, before you get married, you need to know what marriage is, and so does your wife.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Gran?”

  “Because marriage will be one of the most important decisions you’ll ever make in your life, and I want you to be prepared.”

  “But I’ve got years. I’m not even meant to start seeing girls till I’m eighteen, although now I’m drafted I’ll check with Rod.”

  “Brad, your preparation starts now. I’m going to say something you won’t understand, or even agree with, at the moment. Marriage is more important than baseball. Approach it like you approach your baseball.” Brad now understood why Otto disliked his mother so much.

  “Marriage is such a wonderful, beautiful thing. Sadly, so many people fall into it without knowing the first thing about it. For a Christian, it’s even more sacred, because God is explicitly invited into the relationship; God is the unifying force.”

  “But Christians get divorced as much as other people, don’t they?” Brad asked. He had always felt a reverence for his grandmother and would never dream of contradicting her, but he figured that if he was to truly get to know her, he needed to be authentically himself. He would judge what sort of character his grandmother was, not rely on Otto’s opinions.

  “Contrary to what most people believe, the percentage of committed Christians who get divorced is small. I’m a very old woman; I’ve been around a long time, and I can tell you that that’s a fact. What a Christian and a non-Christian believe about marriage are two different things. Why am I telling you this, darling? Becau
se you deserve to know. Otto is closed to God, faith, religion and everything it stands for. He has no right to close that off to you.”

  Shirley nodded. “Otto’s a good man with a big problem. He’s obsessed with baseball. It’s his religion. To him, nothing else counts. Sylvia says that if kids have religion shoved down their throat it’ll turn them off for life, and that it’s better to wait till they grow up so they can make up their own minds.” Shirley took a small mouthful of food and gesticulated with her hands, indicating she hadn’t finished talking. With not an insignificant amount still in her mouth, she went on: “The big problem with that view is that you can’t give what you haven’t got. In today’s society, no kid will make the choice to be Christian unless they’ve encountered God in their own lives. The idea that a kid living a normal secular life, which most kids today do, will suddenly decide to be a Christian is absurd. It’s unfair to the child. There are too many obstacles to faith. The kid doesn’t stand a chance. Through no fault of their own, based on ignorance and false information, the kid rejects faith and ends up having no personal experience of God. When you speak to almost anyone who has encountered Jesus, they will tell you it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them. And God wants everyone to know his love.”

  “That’s what Jose and his friends said to us,” Brad offered.

  “They’re right. And you can’t argue with Jose De La Cruz, the best baseball player in the world.”

  “In history,” Brad corrected her.

  “Are you tired of all this talk of marriage and Christianity, Bradley?” the grandmother asked.