Saving Micah

by Kristy Marie

  When I do look at her, there is rage all over her face.

  Not what I was expecting.

  I take a step back which puts me into the house more and gives her room to come in.

  She does just that so I close the door and turn to look at her.

  “Zant Michael Taylor!” She says my name. My whole name. I know that a lecture is coming now. I almost feel nervous.

  “You honestly believe all of that? You honestly believe all of the bullshit that just came out of your mouth?”

  I just nod. There really isn’t anything to say. I don’t really think she was asking a literal question anyway.

  “Listen Kelly. I am doing what I think is best for Micah. That is all I have done. That is what I have done since I met her.” I lay it out there for her. I need her to understand. She may not, but I am going to make my point.

  “Life has been a mess for Micah because of me and my family. I will not cause her any more pain. I moved away from here so she could have a better life. Without me. Without the memories. Without the pain. I will not take that away from her.”

  She looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “You have no idea, do you? Zant, Micah is not better off without you. She is lost without you.”

  She turns and walks out the door. Leaving me there just staring after her and crushed.

  That did not go how I thought it would. Is she right?

  It’s been two weeks. I’ve finalized everything on the house. I’m now a homeowner. However, I am wondering if I’m doing the right thing with being here.

  Zant, Micah is not better off without you. She is lost without you.

  Kelly’s words keep running through my head. Have I really been staying away from Micah for nothing? Have I hurt her more by staying away?

  I don’t know and I’m a little scared to find out. If my staying away has caused her more pain, how am I any better than the actual person that hurt her?

  I blame myself for a lot of the past but I do stop at the fact that I personally didn’t hurt her. I have believed that I brought pain into her life, but I would never purposely hurt her.

  But, have I been?

  It’s a lingering question that has run through my head for the past two weeks and it is killing me.

  It’s Wednesday night and I am heading to church.

  I have been going to church since I could safely walk to the church on the next block from my house. I didn’t ask permission from Roy. He never knew where I went on Wednesday nights and Sundays. This was my secret. I never knew how much I needed God until He found me.

  When I was 7, I had to leave my house. Dad had hit me pretty hard across the face and I ran outside. My mind was telling me to get as far away as my legs could take me. I made it a block. I was out of breath and found myself sitting on the steps of Missions Baptist Church. When I looked up from where I had landed on those brick steps, there was an old lady sitting in a rocking chair next to the door of the church.

  I just looked at her. My legs would not let me leave and my brain would not let me speak. It felt like the only ability I had was to look and listen.

  Now I know God was trying to teach me those particular skills early on.

  She spoke to me. She had a grandmotherly voice and it sounded like angels singing. “Hello baby boy,” she said.

  I just kept staring at her. Why was she calling me a baby? I wasn’t a baby. But still, I couldn’t speak.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’ve just been sitting here enjoying this nice afternoon breeze. Would you like some tea?” The old woman asked me.

  I nod my head and move up the steps closer to her.

  She continues to talk to me in a soothing voice. “Young man, do you know why you landed here on these steps?”

  I shake my head no. I really don’t know. I don’t even know where I’m at. I just knew at that moment that I needed to sit down.

  “Well, I think you need to be here. I think God sent you here to see me. I think you need this building that is behind us. What do you think?”

  I finally formulate a way to speak, “Where am I? What is this place?”

  The old woman said, “This is Missions Baptist Church. This is God’s house and you are more than welcome to come inside any time you want.”

  Due to my home life and lack of worldly knowledge due to my age I ask her the big question… “Who is God?”

  I really don’t know how long I sat there and talked with her about everything I had been through that I could remember in my 7 years on earth, but it was getting dark when I finally left.

  That day, sitting on the steps of Missions Baptist Church, changed my life. That old woman changed my life. Her name was Ms. Peggy and I kept seeing Ms. Peggy for many years. She passed away when I was 15 and to this day, I still remember many of the lessons that she taught me every week.

  Going to church here now is like coming home. The people there are my family. They understand why I left. They understand why I came back. I am me, completely, when I am surrounded by them. They help keep me close to God. And that is something I need.

  “Zant, it’s good to see you again. Have I mentioned how happy that you are back?” Ms. Martha asked me. She is a sweet older lady. She is probably around my parents age. She makes me think of my mother. Maybe my mother would have been like her. Who knows, though. With my dad, my mom probably wouldn’t have had a choice.

  “Thanks, Ms. Martha. It’s good to be back. How are you?”

  “I’m doing great dear boy. I’m keeping busy at the school and helping the children. It can’t get any better for me.”

  I smile at her, “That’s great. I know those kids benefit from your love and attention.”

  “How are things coming with the house?” she asks.

  “They are good. All the paperwork has been finalized. I’m a homeowner.” I smile at her. They have been praying for me to get this house since I mentioned it to them.

  “That’s so good to hear baby boy. That’s so good,” she says.

  Then, the preacher calls our attention so I take my seat.

  I leave church and head to the local diner for supper. Bachelorhood means I don’t cook. I really don’t care to cook. Living in the South has its advantages. There are diners all around that make homegrown food. Most of the cooks are grandparents or they learned to cook from their grandparents. Nothing is better.

  Meatloaf and mashed potatoes are the special tonight and it sounds perfect.

  After eating, I start to head home. I’ve got to finish packing up my apartment. I move out this weekend. The new house is ready and as much as I’m not looking forward to moving, I’m ready to be in my new house.

  While driving toward my apartment, something tells me to check on Micah.

  It’s something I have done before. But not enough that she notices or to be considered a full-blown stalker.

  I get out of my car and make my way to Micah’s door. I just need to be close to the door. Something deep inside is telling me she needs me.

  Once I get to the door, I put my hand on it. That’s when I hear her screaming. I’d know that scream anywhere.

  “MICAH!!! Micah, open the door! Let me in! Wake up, Micaaaah!” I scream for her as I beat on the door. My heart is in my throat. What is happening in there?

  I step back and try to think. She’s still screaming. Her door is a simple wood door with a simple exterior door lock. I’ve picked a few locks in my time. I’ve always kept a tool on my keychain that picks locks. It does other things also, but it helps with doors. Don’t judge.

  I use the tool and get into Micah’s apartment pretty quickly. Her voice is breaking from the screaming. I follow it down the hall to a room in the back. I open the door and see her in this huge bed.

  Wait, why does she have a king size bed?

  Who does she have sleep with her in that bed?

  Snap out of it Zant! Go to her. She has the sheets all twisted around her. I can tell that she is covered in sweat.
>
  “NO! Don’t touch me. Help me, Zant!”

  I stop short of her bed. She just said my name. She’s calling for me in her nightmare. I climb onto the bed and grab her to get her to quit swinging and kicking.

  “Micah, wake up.” I shake her a little to pull her out of it.

  “Micah, wake up. Come on, Micah. I’m right here.”

  “Zant, help me. Make him stop! ZAAAANT!!” She screams my name.

  My heart breaks.

  “Micah, wake up. I’m right here. Come on. Wake up. Come back to me. Come on. Micah. Mi. Wake up.” The whole time I’m talking to her, I’m shaking her a little. I pull her close to me and I start rubbing her back. I have her arms between us so she can’t punch me or something.

  My back-rubbing technique must be doing the trick. She starts to calm down.

  “Micah, come on. Wake up. Open your eyes baby. Wake up.” My voice is a little calmer since she has quit screaming so loud. Now she’s crying and I think she’s still asleep. I have her head cradled to my chest.

  “Micah? Micah? Come on. Wake up. Are you awake? I’m right here. It’s me. It’s Zant.”

  “Zant?” She whispers.

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  She immediately calms down. She unclenches her fist and grabs my shirt instead. She’s still crying a little. I just hold her.

  “Micah. Micah. Micah.” I can’t help but say her name. Part of it is to let her know that I’m really here. The other part is to hear myself say it. I haven’t said it in a while. It feels strange and oddly so right rolling off of my tongue.

  She sniffles and wipes her face on my shirt. It’s not the first time. “Why are you here? How did you get in here? What happened?” She asks me these questions, but makes no move to pull away.

  “I had a feeling to come by here when I left the diner. It must have been God. When I got to the door, I heard you scream. I picked the lock and rushed in here.” I tell her the truth. There is no point in lying to her. I don’t lie to her anyway. Whatever she asks, she will get the truth from me. That is how we have always been.

  “You picked my lock?” She asks me. Her tone isn’t a surprised one. I’m not even sure why she is asking that question.

  “You think I wouldn’t? I heard you screaming. I was yelling for you outside. Obviously, you didn’t wake up. I did what I had to do to get to you.” I answer her. She really shouldn’t be surprised.

  I go a little further with her, to test the waters. “Once I got inside your room, I heard you screaming my name.”

  “Yeah, that happens sometimes.” Her voice is a whisper like she doesn’t want to talk about it.

  I will not push her. That isn’t what she needs. She needs comfort. Not me trying to find out how she feels about me or why she screams for me when she’s having a nightmare. Even though I may know the reason to that last statement.

  “Ok. Let’s get you in the shower. You are soaking wet from sweat.” I say this to her and slowly pull away from her. I grab her shoulders and look into her face as she slowly pulls it away from my chest. Her eyes are swollen and red. It breaks my heart. She sniffles and wipes at her face to get the rest of the tears off. The ones that came after she wiped her entire face on my shirt.

  “Yeah. I need a shower. Are you staying? Do you want to make coffee or something while I clean up?” Apparently, she wants me to stay.

  “You don’t have to.” She looks down like she is upset with herself for blurting out the questions.

  I rub her shoulders and tell her, “I will stay Micah. Get a shower. I will put on coffee and we will talk. Or not. Whatever you want to do.”

  I climb off the bed and make my way to the kitchen while she makes her way to the bathroom.

  Chapter 23

  Micah

  If you’re gonna let me down,

  Let me down gently

  Don’t pretend you don’t want me

  {‘Water Under The Bridge’ -Adele}

  Zant.

  Zant is in my kitchen. Making coffee. What a night. I have no idea how this is going to go.

  I finish up in the bathroom. I tie my wet hair up into a messy bun and make my way out to grab some clothes. I quickly dress in pajama pants and a t-shirt. As I’m walking to the bedroom door, I realize that I don’t have a bra on. I look down at myself and notice that you can see through my shirt. I back up and go to my dresser to grab a bra. There is no way Zant can see me like that. I would die of embarrassment.

  Once I’ve finished dressing, I go to the kitchen. Zant is sitting on a stool at my bar. I stop and just look at him.

  It’s been so long. When did he get so… I don’t know, grown? He looks the same. He has always been handsome. Now though, he looks better somehow. He has the all-American boy look going on. He’s wearing a polo shirt with blue jeans and his grey Converse shoes. Delicious.

  Delicious? Where did that thought come from? I shake my head to clear my brain. Get back on track Micah.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks. I can tell that he was looking at me just the same as I was looking at him.

  “I’m sorry. I just feel like I may be seeing a ghost or something.” I smirk at him and hold onto my smile. I can’t give him that just yet.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says as he looks down towards the counter.

  “Yeah,” I say as I remember why he is even here right now and I slowly lose my little bit of joy.

  I keep talking. If I know anything, I know that Zant just isn’t going to open up and explain to me why he is in my apartment. He hasn’t changed that much. “Zant, why are you here?” I guess I should just start with the obvious question.

  He doesn’t answer right away. He keeps looking at his folded hands on the counter. I look at him.

  “I already explained to you, Micah. I came by after leaving the diner because I had a weird feeling that you may need something. It appears I was right.” He still hasn’t looked at me.

  “Look at me Zant and tell me why you are here.” He raises his head and looks me in the eyes. I am instantly breathless as I see the look in his beautiful green eyes.

  I can see in his expression that he never planned on having this conversation; however, he begins to speak. “I really don’t know Micah. I’ve done my best to stay away from you.” My heart literally stops and he sees it in my face. He looks down at his hands again. “I didn’t mean it that way. I never meant it that way. I never wanted to hurt you Micah. I wanted you to heal. I wanted you to move on and have a happy, normal life. I wanted you to be free of all the darkness that I bring into your world.”

  I take a deep breath before I pass out from lack of oxygen. “Zant, that wasn’t your call to make.” I tell him this and watch as he shakes his head. I’m not going to get through to him. He obviously believes that leaving me was for the best. And even though I don’t want to, I kind of understand. I’ve known Zant my whole life. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt me. I know he thinks he was going to find himself some help out there and was going to come back. I never didn’t believe him. I just couldn’t understand. And I never will. I needed him longer.

  “Mi, I can’t make you understand. I know how you are. I know that you are going to fight me on my decision and I can’t say anything to make you see it from my point of view.”

  “I understand that you never even cared to try.” I turn then and go to my room. He can see himself out. We aren’t going to get anywhere with this and despite my feelings, he isn’t going to see that I could have helped him if he had only stayed.

  Chapter 24

  Zant

  Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete

  Could we just be broken together

  {‘Broken Together’ -Casting Crowns}

  Why am I even here? I mean, I know why I came by and why I burst into her home but, why am I still here? Am I glutton for punishment?

  Seeing her standing there after all this time, I felt like I could breathe again. Even
with her mad at me, I feel whole again. I feel like something that has been missing is right in my grasp.

  I make my way to her room. She slammed her door but she didn’t tell me to get out. I’m going to see why I feel this way.

  “Micah, open the door.” I lightly knock on her door.

  “You’re still here? I surely thought you had left me again,” she said from the other side of the door.

  “I’m not leaving. Open the door.” I tell her.

  The door slowly opens as I stand with both hands on the frame. My body takes up the space of the entire door. I’m easily over 6 feet tall. I’ve been working out since I left. The gym became my place to escape and just talk to God without putting much thought to it. He’s listening. Ms. Peggy taught me that. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you are doing, you can talk to God like He is right there with you, because He is.

  With the help of a few people I met at the gym, I toned up all over. I’m not completely cut and I don’t have muscles protruding everywhere but, I’m solid. And my abs look good.

  “Zant, what do you want?” She looks at the floor but I caught her eyes when she opened the door. They were red rimmed and glassy. Her tears break my heart.

  “I want you to let me in.”

  She backs up and sits on the bed with her hands in her lap and still looking at the floor.

  I get on my knees in front of her. She wants to look at the floor… fine. I’ll get down here so she can see me.

  “Now I want you to look at me.”

  She raises her head a little so she can look me in the face.

  “I’m sorry.” Those are the only words I have for her. Everything else I’ve said hasn’t helped. She doesn’t understand and if I’m honest, I don’t expect her to.

  “Why are you sorry?” Smart girl. She wants me to work for it.

  “I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for hurting you.” I just lay it out there.