by Faith Potts
Brian stretches for the TV remote and turns the volume way down. “I thought Alex might be coming by to pick you up when you wandered outside to take her call.”
I groan and start across the room, looking out for things I could possible trip on. Another thing I hate, having to always be on guard. I’m not going to get out of this, so I might as well go ahead and tell them. They’ll find out soon enough.
Brian squints at me as I drop to the couch on the end opposite him. “Man, you look bad.”
Lester leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he eyes me. “He’s right. What’s up with you?”
How did I end up living with such nosy people? And Army guys, to boot. I shrug, using my real leg to lift my prosthesis and prop it on the coffee table. “Alex and I…we got into an argument, I guess.”
“Uh oh,” Brian mutters.
I cut my eyes in his direction, daring him to ask for more.
“What happened?”
Maybe I should have glared at Lest instead. “I told you, we had a fight. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Let me guess,” Brian pops up. “Somebody dared utter the words ‘get lost’ and both parties stormed off, quite angry and exasperated. And now you’re wishing—”
I shake my head, cutting him off. He doesn’t want to know what I’m thinking, and I’m not going to tell him. And I’m sure not going to clarify that we basically broke up over the phone.
“Well?” he prods when I don’t answer.
“I think we’re done.” Which I really hope isn’t true, but they don’t have to know that.
“Ouch,” is all Brian can manage.
Silence fills the room for several minutes before Lester dares speak again. “Dude, what y’all had was special. You can’t just let her go like this.”
Brian sighs, reaching for the remote and turning the game show back up. “Well, all I’ve got to say is that you two obviously had something going. If you care beans about that woman, you’ve got to tell her. Soon.”
As if these two single wingnuts are experts on relationships. I blow out an exaggerated breath and pull my feet back to the floor. “When I need help with the opposite sex, I’ll be sure to let y’all know.”
I push myself to my feet, wobbling and reaching out to grab the edge of the couch.
Brian practically bounds to his feet and reaches out a hand to steady me.
The growl building deep in my throat sounds like a savage animal, and I jerk away. “I’m fine.” I nearly spit the words, feeling only a twinge of regret at the look that flashes through Brian’s eyes. I limp away and up the stairs before anyone can utter another word.
But inside, I feel sick.
|| ~* || ~* || ~* ||
|| Alex
I lift my puffy, tear-streaked face from my hands and glance up through the windshield to the bright lights illuminating the patio around my apartment door. I’ve been sitting here for at least twenty minutes, unable to get out and go inside.
Part of me wants to go knock at James’s door and tell him I’m an idiot for saying those awful things to him. But just as soon as I reach to put the car in reverse, I remember the things he said to me, and my temper sparks. I’m not going through that again.
My gaze falls to the phone in my console. The least I can do is call Uncle Joe to make sure James is okay. I wince at the sting of guilt. That way I’ll have the knowledge that he’s safe, and maybe it will give me enough peace to get some sleep.
Picking up the phone and dialing Uncle Joe’s number, I snuggle back in the seat and stick the phone to my ear.
Aunt Gloria answers on the second ring. “Hello, dear. I was just thinking of you.”
Such thoughtful gestures aren’t uncommon for my aunt, but this is still a good, simple start to the conversation. “Oh? Why is that?”
“Brian McGuire just called. Said James is down about something that happened between you two. Joe walked over there to check things out.”
So maybe he does care. I let my gaze drift out the car door into the darkness of the night as tears prick the backs of my eyes.
“Is this something you’d like to talk to me about, hon?”
I tug my bottom lip in between my teeth and consider. Quite honestly, a cup of tea and a long chat with Aunt Gloria sounds like heaven right now. “Can I come over?”
“Do you have to ask?”
Two and a half minutes later, I park next to Joe’s truck and hurry inside. The warmth of the kitchen and the whistle of the tea kettle welcome me nearly as nicely as my aunt’s tight hug.
“Have a seat, hon.” She motions to the kitchen table and I take a seat, dropping my keys onto the woven placemat.
She brings a tea tray to the table, serves me, and takes the seat at the end of the table and directly to my right.
Still dressed in scrubs, I curl my fingers around the warm mug and draw my feet up into the chair. Inside this kitchen, only warm love and comfort envelope me. “Tell me a story, Aunt Gloria.”
She smiles, beautiful as ever. “What kind of story, sugar?”
The kind of story that will show me what to do with this mess I’ve made of things, my mind suggests. But instead, I say, “A love story.”
“Oh, good choice. Once upon a time…” Aunt Gloria begins.
I grin and sip my tea. Her stories are the best—and they always start like this.
She sends me a slow wink and continues. “I was a starry-eyed seventeen-year-old, and I was dating a handsome young Marine. He was home on leave before being shipped out to Vietnam.”
So this is a true story. My smile turns melancholy and I avoid her eyes, tracing my finger around the rim of my mug. I know how that deployment ended.
“We went out on a nice date. Dinner, dancing, the works. But later, we ended up in a silly, stupid argument, about nothing that mattered in the long run.” Aunt Gloria shakes her head, as if at a loss over what to do with her younger self. “Like the petty, spoiled brat I was, I called my father to come get me. He did, and I left the party without even telling my boyfriend.”
I can just picture Uncle Joe’s face, perturbed over being stood up by his sweetheart, but not about to admit his faults in the issue between them.
“I went home and I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t acknowledged it until then, but through many tears shed that night, I realized that I loved him and he loved me.”
“I knew from the beginning!” A shout comes from the next room, and we both laugh.
“Who’s telling this story, anyway?” Gloria calls back without looking up from her cup of tea.
A moment of silence and then, “Go ahead, dear. I’m just here to fill in where your memory fails you.”
Shaking her head at her husband’s silliness, Aunt Gloria turns back to me with a smile. “Anyway… I just kept thinking about how he was shipping out the next morning, and I might never see him again.” She reaches over and takes my hand. “James isn’t leaving for another continent, sweetheart, but we’re still not promised tomorrow. Don’t let stubborn pride and selfishness keep you apart.”
I bite my lip, turning my gaze down to my chipped nails hidden beneath Aunt Gloria’s warm palm. Am I being prideful for not admitting my wrongs to James? Would he even accept my apology?
I lift my eyes and smile. “Do I get the rest of the story, or just the moral?”
She laughs, standing to carry our mugs to the sink. “I think you know how it turned out.”
“Well, sure I do. But I don’t know what happened the next morning. Did you go see him?”
“I did.” She comes back to the table and sits. “I caught him at the train station the next morning and apologized. He did too, told me he loved me, and kissed me in front of the entire town.”
A gruff laugh sounds behind her as Uncle Joe lumbers into the room in his sock feet. “Aww, I thought you liked it, Glory.” He places his hands on her shoulders, grinning at me over top her head.
“Maybe I did.” She smiles, tipping her
face up to see him. “I liked what happened next even more.”
“Even though you were crying?”
“Even though I was bawling,” she corrects him.
Turning back to me, she says, “He told me goodbye and climbed onto the bus. It was just starting to roll away, when he stuck his head out the window and said—”
“And I said,” Uncle Joe cuts in, dropping a kiss on his bride’s head. “I love you, Gloria Parker. I’m going to come back, and when I do, I’m going to marry you.”
Aunt Gloria fairly beams, reaching up to cover his hands. “And you did.”
“And I did.”
I grin, soaking up the love between these two amazing people. Uncle Joe leans down to kiss her cheek, whispering words meant for her ears alone. She laughs and swats him away.
Just when I think they’ve forgotten my existence entirely, Uncle Joe moves to take the seat between us and addresses me. “That’s something else I believe you should consider, Lexie. I came back, which is more than can be said for a lot of guys, but I came back broken. Same as James. I’m not accusing you, I’m just offering a gentle warning. No matter how much you love him, you can’t mend his brokenness, Lexie Lou.”
“I know…and I’m afraid I’ve tried to.” I glance back and forth between them, enamored yet again by the abundant love that this house contains. “Thank you…both of you, for the story and the tea, but mostly the love. Pray for both of us, okay?”
“You know we will,” Aunt Gloria assures me as I stand to hug her.
I’m almost to the door before I stop. I have to turn back, have to tell them how special they are to me. I whirl around, peeking at this blessing of couple through tears and a curtain of hair.
“Y’all know I think of you as my parents, right?”
There’s a moment of silence, the soft sound of Joe kissing his love’s cheek, and then uneven footsteps coming toward me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close while I try not to cry—and fail.
“We know, Lexie Lou. And we love you so, so much.”
|| ~* || ~* || ~* ||
|| James
I roll over a third time, reaching for the alarm clock on the nightstand. I squint at the time. 5:13. That’s close enough. I’m clearly going to wear the bed out if I stay here any longer. I’ve been playing hide’n’seek with the Sandman since I finally went to bed after midnight—and it’s getting old.
Crawling out of bed, I grapple for my crutch and hobble to the adjacent bathroom. Maybe a shower and shave will do me some good.
Returning to the room forty minutes later, I see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, enlightening the city. I flop down on the bed and stretch to reach my prosthesis which is stowed against the side of the nightstand. When I touch it, it topples to the floor and lands just out of my reach.
Why does it always have to be this way? Stupid little things happening and showering feelings of disgust and contempt down on top of me.
I grumble words under my breath that I shouldn’t say and whirl for something to hit. I grab the nearest pillow and sock it a few times before pitching it at the sliding glass door. It hits the pane and slides to the floor, hardly even making a noise. Stupid thing.
I can’t put my stupid leg on without messing something up. I can’t express my rage when things get fouled. I can’t even have a healthy relationship with my girl without my blasted injuries coming between us.
Feelings of worthlessness and shame wash over me. Suffocating. My breathing begins to quicken. Where’s the good in any of this? What good am I to anyone?
I stare across the room, at the top drawer of the dresser. The gun… Ending it would be so easy.
I’ve been through this enough times to recognize the signs when I’m about to panic. I’ve got to do something while I’m still mostly in control. Looking left then right, I spot my Bible on the nightstand and grab it with a shaky hand. I scoot back on the bed and lay it on my lap and thumb through the thin pages.
A postcard-size article of stationery falls out and flutters to the sheets beside me. I flip it over and recognize it as an insert from the church bulletin a few weeks ago.
You were created for His purposes, it reads, with an embellishment of flowers and vines. Not very masculine, but it’s the words that draw me.
I prop my head in my hand and read the words again. “I know You created me for Your purposes, God. I know You had a reason in letting me live through my second deployment. But it’s the times when I can’t do it all for myself. When I realize how dependent I am. That’s when I question things. I just want to make all the pain stop, and to feel good and decent again.”
Something drops from my face to the card, causing a smear in the ink. That’s another thing—I’ve shown more emotion in the past six months than I did in the prior twenty-six years of my life. But I guess a little humility never hurt anyone.
Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I set the Bible aside and use the crutch to drag the prosthesis back to me. “There,” I mutter, once the artificial limb is in my hand. “That wasn’t so bad.”
I quickly glance around the room, almost expecting to find someone watching me. “Oh great, now I talk to myself.”
By the time seven o’clock rolls around, I’m in the kitchen, single-handedly attacking a pile of dirty dishes. Literally.
I wedge a plate against the side of the sink with a coffee mug while I scrub at the residue left from Lester’s mountain of eggs. That guy eats more at breakfast than most people eat all day.
In the foyer, I hear the door open, followed by Joe’s voice.
“He’s in the kitchen,” Lester replies to the question I didn’t catch.
Footsteps sound behind me, and Joe appears and sits at the counter to my right. Where I once sat and watched Alex sort our silverware…
I rinse the plate, ignore the remaining smudges that may or may not be food, and stick it in the dish drainer. “Good morning.”
“Is it?”
So he knows. I cut the water off, dry my hand off the best I can with a dish towel, and turn to face him.
“Because you look terrible, son.”
He called me son? When he’s here to chew me out for how I treated his niece last night? “Well, I feel terrible.”
“Sit down.” An order, not a suggestion.
I round the counter and sit on the bar stool he indicated, swiveling to face the older man.
“I’m going to be completely honest with you. I like you, James, a lot. But I think you’ve broken my little girl’s heart and that makes me not like you. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, sir,” I wince.
“I don’t need to know details—that’s between the two of you—but I’m not stupid. She’s hurt. I haven’t seen her this upset since the last numbskull she let into her heart turned out to be even more of a jerk than I feared he was.”
Great. Now I’m being compared to the man who trampled all over her and crushed her spirit.
“She won’t say anything, other than that she wishes she could go back, but I’m pretty sure she’s not alone in her faults.” A pause. “Are you going to say something or do I have to continue?”
“Uh, no.” I glance his way and back down at the granite. “I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, and I let it come between us. She didn’t do anything other than point that out.”
“That’s it?”
I wish. “No. Then I had to go and drag what’s-his-name into the mess.” I look up and find Joe already watching me. “That was a mistake.”
He slowly shakes his head. “She’s over that, but she doesn’t have the self-confidence she had before all of that happened.”
“Well, anyway… I threw that up and then she accused me of expecting her to fill God’s role in my life.”
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Expect her to fill the role of God.”
“Of course not.” Even as I say the words, I have to wonder how true they are.
“I just wonder if we rushed things.” There, that’s it.
“Why do you say that?”
I shrug, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “I’m not ready to be the man she needs.”
“What man does she need? Sorry, dude, but you’re losing me.”
Sighing, I splay my fingers across the countertop and lay it all out. “Someone she can depend on. Someone who can be there for her and never let her down.” I pause, swallow, and add. “Someone who can care for her like she deserves to be cared for.”
Joe is quiet for a minute after I finish speaking. “Okay. I follow. But what if you are that guy?”
What is wrong with this dude? I release a short, cheerless laugh. “Be real, Joe. I mean, look at me. It took fifteen minutes of finagling to even get my prosthesis on right this morning. I can’t be that person for anyone.”
“I disagree, James. You can’t see yourself as that person because, right now, you aren’t to the right place yet. But you could be. Let God work in your heart and reveal to you that man He wants you to be. And another thing. Don’t focus on what you’ve lost; focus on what you’ve got left. Or, in this case, focus on what you’ve found.”
“Alex?”
“Mmhmm. While you’re talking with the Man upstairs, you might ask for His opinion on your love life. After all, He brought you two together, did He not?” The stool creaks with the loss of his weight. “Just think about what I’ve said, all right?”
“Yeah, thanks,” is all I can manage before he’s gone. But I won’t forget his words.
Chapter Fifteen || James
A week has passed since my fall-out with Alex. I’ve poured over my Bible, spent time in prayer, and searched for another job, but I didn’t go to church that first Sunday. I know it’s not the right solution, but how can I face her when it hurts just to think about how we parted?
Until this morning. When Joe comes banging on the door yelling ‘everybody out or else,’ I decide rebelling won’t be worth the pain. The guy already has enough to hold against me. So I shower, dress, trudge down the stairs, and go along with it, despite my reservations.
