Listen To Me

by Phylicia Joannis

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Second Chances

  “Max’s mother is dead.”

  Martin hears his mother’s words, but he doesn’t believe them. He was outside before dawn, working on his jump shot, when his mother had called to him. At first he had ignored her, but the edge in her voice made him pause. Martin blinks several times before it sinks in.

  “How is Max?” Martin finally asks. His mother shakes her head.

  “Not too good,” she replies. “We’re going over there later on today. We’ll pick you up after school.”

  “What?” Martin hesitates, not sure he wants to know. “What happened?”

  His mother cries into her hands and Martin feels his stomach pitch. He clenches his jaw to thwart the emotions rising up inside him. Watching his mother cry is breaking his heart, and his resolve.

  “She, um,” she begins with a choked sob. “She was hit by a drunk driver.”

  Martin’s mother pulls him into an embrace as she continues to cry. She and Max’s mother had been close once upon a time. Martin wonders if Max will be okay.

  Mr. West walks outside and places his hand on Mrs. West. He tells her to go inside, promising to follow shortly.

  Martin watches his mother go inside and places his hands on his head.

  “I can’t believe it,” Martin says quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

  “Keep the Shaw family in your prayers,” Mr. West says quietly.

  Martin nods, then turns to his father, resolute. “Dad?”

  Mr. West looks at Martin with curious eyes.

  “I’m going to make things right with Marjorie,” Martin says firmly. “I don’t want you and mom to be disappointed in me anymore.”

  Mr. West studies his son for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

  Martin smiles as he tosses his basketball to the side and heads to the house. “I’m going to go to prayer.”

  †††

  Martin slips into the back of the JROTC room unnoticed and listens as Jennifer and the rest of the group pray in a circle. He spots Marjorie Griggs and closes his eyes in prayer.

  “Lord, please let this work.”

  Martin hears the final amen and opens his eyes. He walks tentatively over to Marjorie, who is talking to Jennifer, and clears his throat.

  “Marjorie?” he speaks her name in a low voice.

  Marjorie turns around with wide eyes that quickly narrow into a look of disdain. “Get away from me!”

  Martin almost listens to her, but an encouraging look from Jennifer gives him the strength to stay. “Marjorie, please, just give me a few minutes?”

  “To do what?” Marjorie frowns. “Humiliate me again?”

  Martin shakes his head. “No, to apologize. And to make things right.”

  Marjorie turns to Jennifer. “If he’s going to be here, I’m not coming back.”

  “Marjorie…” Jennifer takes her by the hand before she can walk away. “I know you’re hurting, but please, just listen to Martin. He’s trying.”

  Marjorie swipes at a stray tear and looks hungrily at the door. Without shifting her gaze, she speaks quietly. “You’ve got three minutes.”

  Martin smiles. “Thank you, Marjorie. Can you walk outside with me?”

  Marjorie eyes Martin suspiciously, but after receiving a nod from Jennifer, the three of them walk outside, past the building to the parking lot. They walk past a row of cars until they reach the space where Marjorie’s car is parked.

  “Marjorie, can you tell me what you see?” Martin looks at her expectantly.

  Marjorie frowns and shrugs. “I see my car.”

  “Now tell me what you don’t see,” Martin raises his eyebrows hopefully. Marjorie’s face registers confusion at first. She takes a long look at her car, then runs her fingers along the windows.

  “The graffiti is gone,” she says softly. “I scrubbed and scrubbed, but I couldn’t get it out.” She looks at Martin. “How did you get it off?”

  “I’ve had enough practice cleaning up graffiti to know what will get the job done,” Martin shrugs.

  “Marjorie, I want you to know I’m really sorry. For everything. If there’s anything I can do to make things right between us, just name it.”

  Marjorie stares at her car a long time before charging towards Martin in an embrace. Martin returns the gesture, at first awkwardly, then warmly.

  “This will do,” Marjorie smiles.

  †††

  Each day for Max seems worse than the day before. He hasn’t gone back to school yet, so he’s spent every day at home with his father. It’s impossible for him not to think of his mother. Everything in the house reminds him of her. Mr. Shaw was sober for two days before reverting back to his old habits.

  Max can’t blame him for losing control. He thinks he might go mad if he spends another day in the house, and is actually looking forward to his weekly visit with his probation officer.

  The doorbell rings Friday afternoon, and Mr. Shaw invites Martin and his father in. Mr. West and Mr. Shaw go to the kitchen and Martin sits in the living room with Max.

  “Max?” Martin asks.

  “Yeah?” Max responds blankly from the couch and grabs a sports magazine from the table.

  “I’m sorry, Max,” Martin looks at his friend, unsure of what else to say. Mr. West and Mr. Shaw are discussing funeral arrangements for Max’s mother. There isn’t any money to bury her, and Mr. West has offered to help out. Max is pretending to read the magazine, but the tears sliding down his face betray him.

  Max continues to hide himself and says nothing for a long time. Finally, he throws down the magazine and unloads his burdens.

  “Is this God’s way of punishing me?” he asks.

  Martin looks at Max with surprise, then concern. “No, Max,” he responds. “God isn’t punishing you.”

  “I think he is, Martin,” Max speaks with resolve. “I’m a sinner, an awful, evil, worthless, wretched sinner. Isn’t that what God does to people like me?” He looks Martin in the eye.

  “Doesn’t God punish people like me?”

  “Max,” Martin shakes his head, but Max continues.

  “I can’t count the number of times I’ve lied,” Max frowns. “I lied to my mother probably every day of my life. I said some pretty lousy stuff to her, you know? I used to tell her that I hated her, that I wished someone else was my mother. What kind of person says those things to their mother?”

  Martin opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, listening quietly.

  “The night she died I yelled at her. I treated her like less than a person. She didn’t deserve that. I told my father he was always hurting her, always leaving her. The whole time I was doing the same thing. She was always alone because my dad and I were out, trying to get away from home. She worked so hard for us, and I… I threw all that away. She’d still be here if it wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t snuck out, she’d be alive now. It’s my fault she’s dead.”

  Max looks at Martin in desperation. “When you talk to God, tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I’ll never drink again if he’ll just give me my mom back. I’ll do anything if he’ll just bring her back.”

  Martin swallows the lump in his throat as he helplessly watches his friend break down. Martin quietly prays, placing his hand on Max’s shoulder. He hopes that somehow his presence can be of comfort to his friend. He prays for God to open Max’s heart and enter in. He prays for Mr. Shaw as well. They both will need God’s help and strength to get through this. Martin can tell that Mr. Shaw is already falling apart. Max is on the verge of doing the same.

  “Lord, help my friend,” he pleads.

  †††

  Late Monday morning Max watches as his father’s Ford Focus is towed away. He’s certain an eviction notice will soon follow. His mother had been the bread winner of their family; without her income, their bills weren’t being paid. His father hasn’t worked for weeks now, and he can’t stay sober long enough to look for a job.

&n
bsp; Max glances at his father, dozing quietly on the sofa. His father has become somewhat reclusive. He rarely goes out anymore. He doesn’t even visit the bar. He’s drawing unemployment checks every week, which helps, but not much. His father spends most of his days drinking and staring at pictures of his mother.

  Max wonders how he is going to get to his meeting with Officer Rick this afternoon. He can’t think of anyone who might want to take him, except Martin. He’d made a nuisance of himself at Jamie’s party, and lost the respect of most of his friends.

  Jamie, he found out, was the one who dropped him off at home the night of the party. Martin told Max after Jennifer told him. She’d asked why Max wasn’t in class, and shared with Martin the rumors going around school.

  Jamie was heard making the comment that Max was smashed and passed out on his lawn. No one else would volunteer to take him home, and he couldn’t leave him outside. Since his mother passed, Max hadn’t received any calls from Jamie.

  “You’ve got some great friends,” Max comments to himself. Max moves away from the window and goes to the kitchen. There isn’t much in the fridge, just beer and leftover pizza from the night before. On a normal day, Max would have grabbed a beer and headed to his room. But today is hardly normal. Max doubts that any day will ever be normal again.

  Max wonders why he was ever drawn to alcohol to begin with. Drinking has lost its luster, as far as he is concerned. Max walks toward his room with stale pizza in his hands. He feels hollow on the inside. He looks at the picture of his mother that he placed by his bed.

  “I’m sorry, mom,” he whispers. He closes his eyes and prays in desperation.

  “God, if you’re there, please, show me a sign,” he asks. “I’m lost and I don’t know what to do. Please help me.”

  †††

  Max doesn’t have to worry about finding a ride downtown to his probation officer. His probation officer comes to him. The doorbell rings in the early afternoon, and Max opens it to find Officer Rick standing there.

  “May I come in?” Officer Rick asks.

  The sight of Officer Rick still unnerves Max. “Sure,” he answers hesitantly.

  Officer Rick steps inside. Mr. Shaw greets him with a grunt as he walks from the kitchen to his bedroom with a beer in his hand. Max shows him into the living room to have a seat on the sofa.

  “How are you doing, Max?” he asks.

  “Um, I’m not sure,” Max replies. “My Dad and I are having kind of a rough time right now.” Max fights back the tears that are threatening to emerge, but fails.

  Officer Rick allows him a moment to compose himself and looks in the direction of Mr. Shaw’s room.

  “You seem to be handling it better than your father is.” Max shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry you lost your mother, Max. My impressions of her tell me she was a wonderful person with a good heart.” He looks at Max seriously.

  “However,” he pauses, “I need to make a few things clear to you.” Max clears his throat and waits for him to continue.

  “You violated your probation, Max. I’m sure you know what the consequences are for that.” Max nods quietly. As far as he is concerned, things can’t get any worse.

  Officer Rick continues. “I spoke with Judge Brown on Thursday. When you didn’t show up for your hearing he was concerned. He received written statements from the officer who took you and your father to the hospital the night your mother died. The officer described you with glazed, bloodshot eyes, liquor on your breath, and an alcohol level of 2.02.”

  Max vaguely remembers being examined before he and his father left the hospital that night. Officer Rick continues.

  “I asked the judge to make an exception, considering the recent loss of your mother as well as the broken support system supplied by your father.”

  Max looks up at Officer Rick curiously. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I’m not done with you yet, Max,” Officer Rick states casually. “I see so much potential in you. You know what I was thinking the first time I met you?” Max shakes his head.

  “I thought ‘this is a good kid with a good heart, and all he needs is someone to give him a little push in the right direction.”

  “And now?” Max asks him.

  Officer Rick shakes his head and looks at Max. “Now I know you’ve got a good heart. You’re just afraid to let it show. That careless and carefree attitude that people see in you is just a cover up.”

  Max scoffs in disbelief. “You have no idea who I am, or what I’m about,” he says. “I’m selfish and I’m stupid and I’m…” he breaks down in tears. “I’m weak,” he says despondently.

  Officer Rick looks at Max with compassion. “The best time for God to speak to us is when we recognize that we’re weak. Once we stop pretending and accept just how fragile we really are, we remember our Creator.”

  Max frowns. “I don’t… I don’t believe in God,” he says.

  Officer Rick sighs. “He believes in you, Max. He loves you, and He wants to invite you to be His child. He wants you to accept the gift of salvation through Jesus Christ and let Him be your strength. You need the Lord in your life, Max. You can’t find your purpose in life without Him.”

  “I have no purpose,” Max replies dejectedly.

  “You do,” Officer Rick reassures him. “Come on, Max, let’s go for a walk.” Officer Rick gets up abruptly. Max watches him as he heads for the door. Officer Rick signals for him to follow and Max reluctantly obeys.

  “Where are we going?” Max asks.

  “We’re going to find your purpose,” Officer Rick informs him. They walk outside and down the street as Officer Rick explains.

  “Judge Brown agreed to be lenient provided you complete 500 hours of community service in the next nine months. In about six weeks you’ll be evaluated and if Judge Brown is satisfied with your progress, you won’t be sent to juvenile hall. I suggested that your community service take place at the St. Christopher Children’s Hospital. It’s only a few blocks from here. You’ll be there four days a week for three hours. You’ll volunteer from 4pm to 7pm on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday and on Saturday you can choose your time, so long as you’re there for three hours and don’t stay later than 8:30pm. They already have all the paperwork ready, and your supervisor will log your hours for you each day.”

  “You can pick up the remainder of your hours by volunteering in church organizations, hospitals, big brother programs, and other community programs in the area. You now have a curfew of 10pm. I’ll be calling you periodically to make sure that you are keeping your curfew. I’ll also be stopping by from time to time. I don’t usually make house calls, but you’re an exception.” Officer Rick stops walking and looks at Max. “Do you have any questions?”

  Max nods his head. “When do I start?”

  “Tomorrow,” Officer Rick replies. “You should probably go right after school to get to know everyone. You’ll also have a few forms to sign. I think you’re going to like it there.”

  Max walks with Officer Rick quietly for several minutes before speaking again. He is looking at the ground as he walks. “My mom believed in God,” he says quietly.

  Officer Rick looks at him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

  “She prayed with me every night when I was little, until my dad made her stop. He said she was filling my head with nonsense. She still prayed for me in her room at night, even though we didn’t pray together anymore.” They walk back towards the house and Officer Rick says his goodbyes.

  “Max, call me if you need anything, alright?” Officer Rick offers. “I mean it. Anything at all.”

  Max nods and Officer Rick heads to his car. “Officer Rick?” Max calls after him.

  “Yes?” he answers.

  “Thanks for talking to the judge for me. And…” Max hesitates, unsure of his next request. Officer Rick waits. “Will you pray for me?” Max asks finally.

  “Every day, Max,” Officer Rick pr
omises. “You have my word on it.”

  ###

  For additional updates on books in the Logoria Series, visit the author’s website at

  https://www.phylicia.us