Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)

by Andrea Randall

  Julia smiles. “There’s a tricky bit of envy that weasels through all of us sometimes. Geoff lets it hang around more than the rest of us do.”

  My eyes glaze over. “He feels like Roland should somehow pay for all of that crap he put you guys through.”

  “Yeah,” she says in a misty-eyed whisper.

  I point one of my index fingers toward the center of my chest. “All this isn’t enough?”

  Julia sighs deeply. “I think it makes things worse.”

  “Getting me back, so to speak,” I state, as if we’re one person talking to themselves. Conversation with Julia, while scant, has been easy over the past few days. It’s clear that she’s 100% Nora’s daughter. Tim is a bit aloof, but I get it.

  “Bingo,” Julia affirms.

  I shrug. “Not a lot I can do there.”

  “Nope.”

  “I will say, though, I take issue with him telling me I got off easy by not having Roland around. Maybe that was true while he still bathed in eighty-proof, but after? I don’t see how I got off easy not having my birth father in my life.” As I say it out loud, I really hear it. “Oh … no love lost …”

  Julia places her hand on my shoulder. “You’re an incredible young woman, Kennedy, you know that? On that note—something else you can’t do anything about—your similarities to Roland make Geoff uncomfortable. Your charisma, your ability to read people and think three steps past your own front door …”

  “Will time fix that you think?” I ask hopelessly. If ten years of sober Roland has Geoff still tending his wounds, I can’t fathom how much time it’ll take for Geoff to view me any differently than he does now.

  Julia’s sympathetic eyes mimic this thought. “I think Geoff might need to receive his own miracle there.”

  “You really believe in miracles, don’t you?” I do too, I think.

  She mists over, clearing her throat. “I can’t explain my big brother in any other way. And, frankly, if I had to go through all of that emotional pain with the family again, in order to see him where he is and to see you at all, I’d do it. I got some resilience during that time that I wouldn’t turn in for a million years. Well,” she says, snapping into a more business-like tone, “I’ve held you hostage long enough. I’ll let you enjoy time with your friend.” She pauses for a moment, then gives me a quick hug, leaning across the bed to do so. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over the last few days, Kennedy. I hope you’ll come back.”

  “I will,” I answer. “I promise.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Crazy Kids

  Kennedy.

  Packing the car with Roland the next morning, I offer Nora the same promise I gave Julia yesterday. That I’d be back. I don’t know how my mom’s head would stay intact if I told her I wanted to hide out at the Abbot’s Kentucky residence for spring break, but her curt text messages and tense phone calls over the last few days leave me little room to care. She’s behaving like a child, in my opinion, and I’m the one that needs a parent right now.

  “So,” the present parent starts, closing the trunk, “you banished Jonah and Eden to the backyard quickly.”

  “Yeah,” I answer dryly, “she’s gotta break up with him before we get in the car, because somehow that will be less awkward than any other option.”

  Roland’s eyes bulge a little, and his mouth drops open in an uncharacteristic moment of being caught off guard. Especially by my honestly. “That’s … news.”

  I nod. “Yep. It’s kind of a long, complicated story. Which, I’m sure you understand since you don’t seem to involve yourself in any romantic relationships.”

  He shakes his head. “Still stuck on that, huh?”

  “Do you know that when people on campus talk to me about you, after they get the whole is it weird he’s your dad stuff out of the way, they ask me why you aren’t married?” I rest my hip against the car, folding my arms across my chest.

  “Is that so?” He grins.

  “Cheeky,” I tease. I can’t lie, I’m insanely curious as to what the deal is there. I’ve tossed around—completely in my head only—that Roland could be gay, but the likelihood is slim. I see how he looks at my mom. And, I’m pretty sure he would have known of his sexuality before going into seminary. Wouldn’t being gay have steered him in a different direction? Unless he was trying to somehow fix himself. Because an unfortunate portion of the CU, and evangelical, population believes such a thing can be fixed. “Are you gay?” I blurt out, my cheeks raging with the heat of potentially overstepping my bounds.

  Roland doesn’t have the reaction I expect for such a personal and inappropriate question. In fact, he has no reaction at all.

  “No,” he says, shaking his head and leaning across from me against the car. “But, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve been asked that, or heard that rumor …”

  “People have asked you that?”

  He laughs. “You say that like you didn’t just ask yourself!”

  I laugh along. “I’m allowed to! I’m your daughter.”

  Suddenly the laughter is sucked away, along with any oxygen that may have been lingering near. I bite my lip and Roland bites his. The same way, every time. I’ve said it out loud before. Once, really. And in front of like three thousand people. More if you count the cameras and the Today Show …I’ve said it. Just not actually with him. To him.

  “I’m your daughter,” I say again. In a whisper this time. “And this is part of my family.” I point to the house behind me. “And I have a mother who is currently fighting being angry with me, and a stepdad who says he’s supportive. A grandfather who knows more about you than I thought he did, and you. You’re so much more a part of me than I ever realized … or wanted to believe.”

  Roland’s cheeks are as wet as mine as we stand in the aftermath of my surprisingly honest, out-of-nowhere monologue. Without hesitation, without asking, without all the things fathers and daughters shouldn’t have between them anyway, Roland pulls me into him, my cheek pressing against his trembling chest.

  He lets out an incredible sigh, resting his chin on the top of my head. “God I love you, Kennedy.” His arms squeeze impossibly tight around me, and I can still breathe. I’m still breathing. He’s hugging me and it’s all okay. “You have absolutely no idea how much I love you. I’ve always loved you,” his voice pinches off as he lets out a soft sob, “but I spent so much time wrapped up in self-hate that I couldn’t show you that. I couldn’t show myself. I’d have gone insane if I let myself love you this much when I was the way I was.”

  All I can do is nod against his chest and squeeze him back. Because sometimes that’s all there is to do when everything’s changed, yet again.

  Well, I’ve been through more awkward things, I suppose. Like that one time there were pictures of me and Roland hugging printed beneath accusations of an affair. But, honestly? Sitting in the backseat of the car with a despondent Jonah in the front for the last few hours comes in a disturbingly close second.

  Once Eden finished saying what she had to say to him, she and I climbed in the backseat of Roland’s Prius, and Jonah slid in the front. It turns out it was a good thing I told Roland what was going on, because he gracefully engaged Jonah in all kinds of conversations, never letting silence hang out for too long. Eden’s house is only twenty minutes from Roland, but she texted me even while we were talking about other things, to give me the brief details of their breakup. Eden told Jonah she felt like they were both in very different places emotionally and spiritually. Not as a judgment of Jonah, she said she was quick to say, but just a fact. They weren’t meshing like they had at summer camp, or like she thought they would.

  The tricky part? Eden looked grumpy while texting that Jonah didn’t put up much of a fight. He said she was right and wanted to stay friends, and they hugged and that was it.

  As I’ve been reporting via text to Eden from the backseat while she’s at home and I’m somewhere in Tennessee, though, that definitely is not it. Jona
h has this broody look on his face that I can’t even begin to know how to acknowledge with him. Roland sees it, too, because once in a while he’ll look at Jonah, then flash me a wide-eyed glance in the rearview mirror.

  Eden: What do you mean he’s weird?

  Me: He’s been weirdly quiet and seriously lacking a sense of humor.

  Eden: What’s his issue?

  I think for a moment, beyond the mechanics of a breakup, which I know are always tricky.

  Me: Whatever reasons you gave him for breaking up—I think he’s really taking them to heart.

  Eden: Crap. Do you think I hurt his feelings?

  Taking a deep breath, I’m honest.

  Me: No. I think you held up a mirror and he’s struggling with what he sees.

  Eden: That’s so deep. You should be a writer.

  I chuckle before telling her I have to go use the bathroom, now that Roland’s stopped at a convenience store for snacks. Really the look on Jonah’s face reminds me of something, and as I’m unbuckling, it hits me.

  “The dream,” I whisper to myself.

  “Huh?” Jonah asks, getting out of the car and holding my door for me. Chivalry takes no grievance days.

  Walking into the store, I admit the dream from months ago to Jonah. “You and Matt were in the UC, and there was blood coming from your hands and, really it looked quite Christ-on-the-cross like, but it was you guys. And, you kind of have the same look on your face right now that you had in that dream. Weird, huh?”

  Jonah freezes mid-chip aisle. “Um, yeah. That is weird. What do you think that means?”

  I’m taken back by his seemingly legitimate concern. “I don’t … I don’t know, actually.”

  Actually, I’ve spent more time figuring out what Matt’s part in the dream meant. I haven’t given you much thought.

  Resisting the urge to stand around and stammer more, I nod toward the bathroom and make my exit.

  A few minutes later, with peanut butter cups, Doritos, and Coke Zero in hand, Jonah, Roland, and I reach the car.

  Wanting to take matters into my own hands, I comically clear my throat. “Roland, would you mind if Jonah sits in the back with me for a little while? We need to talk.”

  “Sure,” Roland answers with a shrug and nothing more before getting in and starting the car.

  Jonah hesitates outside the front passenger door. “Won’t that be weird?” he asks, nodding toward Roland.

  I wave my hand. “He’s fine. He’ll probably listen to an audiobook like he did on our trip to Kentucky.” I offer a wink. “I’m not sharing my food though, so I hope you got your own. I don’t share food.”

  Jonah chuckles, sliding into the backseat after me. “That’s not very Christian of you.”

  I grin, popping an entire peanut butter cup in my mouth. “Those rules don’t apply to road trip food. So,” I lower my voice slightly to keep up the show of being two teenagers talking while a grownup is nearby, “I obviously know about the breakup. Are you okay?”

  Jonah leans his head back and runs a hand over his face a few times. “You were wrong. This is awkward.”

  “What’s the big deal? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Doesn’t it bother Eden?” he asks, sitting forward. “Or is that what this is? Are you going to report back to her?”

  I hold up my hands, amused by his paranoia. “Calm yourself. My allegiance will always be to my girlfriends. But, you are my friend, too, and I just want to check in.” I realize that while I’ve juggled close male and female friends for years, my guess is Jonah’s never had a close girlfriend that’s not a girlfriend. “Come on,” I elbow him, “I’m serious.”

  “I’m okay,” he finally says after a rather dramatic sigh for the normally polished and put together Jonah.

  “You’re lying,” I challenge. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Roland’s eyes light up in the rearview mirror.

  “Qualify that,” Jonah shoots back.

  I shrug. “You’re not fine,” I say plainly. “You’re gruff and broody. That’s not Jonah. That’s like … Matt. And you’re not Matt.”

  “Speaking of which,” Jonah straightens, “have you talked to him lately?”

  I shake my head. “I sent him a text on Christmas, wishing him a merry one, and all. He texted back with one word.”

  “Which was?”

  “Ditto. Ditto. Can you believe that? We’re not talking about this right now. We’re talking about your broken heart.”

  Jonah grimaces. “It’s not that we broke up. It’s why.”

  You’re good, Kennedy. Spot on.

  “I figured as much.”

  Jonah’s eyes flip to mine. “You mean you know why?”

  I wave my hand. “We’re girls. I know enough, just not the bloody details. Don’t worry, Eden is very respectful of your privacy.”

  “Oh, I know. I know. I just …”

  “Think she’s right that you’ve gone off the reservation, spiritually speaking?”

  Jonah hangs his head for a minute, letting out a small breath before looking back up. He keeps eye contact with me and, for a moment, it’s like Roland really isn’t in the car. “I don’t think. I know. I’m just really struggling right now, and that’s not something I want to drag her through. She was right to break it off when she did. Save herself, so to speak.”

  A lump forms in my throat. “I mean … couldn’t you guys have, like, gone through this together?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not like we were engaged or married. That would be different. I think right now, she’s right in that we need to kind of grow into who we need to be. And, if we get back together in the future it’ll be because of who we are, not who we think the other person should be.”

  “How bad is it?” I ask quieter.

  Jonah presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flaring.

  “That bad, huh?” Staring at the most Jesus-like boy I’ve come across this semester, seeing him broken down like this is all at once refreshing and startling. “Why?”

  He shrugs, slumping down again in his seat. “Stuff.”

  “Eloquent.”

  Jonah.

  I know she’s being genuine, and that she won’t tell much of our conversation to Eden. I trust Kennedy. But, I also don’t want to hurt her. The stuff that’s been going on with Matt isn’t the only reason why I’ve been wrestling with God lately, but it has opened my eyes. I don’t know why God would let all of that stuff happen to his family. Why his dad would cheat on his mom with more than one woman. That he paid for.

  But what I do know is that Matt’s found himself in the same kind of “dancing” places more than once since Thanksgiving break, and God isn’t helping him with that either. No matter how hard I pray. It was a miracle of sorts, I guess, that Matt told me any of that at all. I nearly pried it out of him when he started looking unkempt and withdrawn, and had an even greater lack of focus on his schoolwork than usual. He didn’t give me much in the way of details, but the shame all over his face as he spoke was enough.

  Matt’s in big trouble, and Kennedy’s getting hurt in the process. I know he likes her and that she likes him, but thankfully Matt’s aware that he’s in no place to offer her a relationship right now. Instead of being honest with her, which he thinks is going to make him lose her forever, he’s pushing her away. I’m not sure his thinking is clear where she’s concerned. I know that Kennedy and/or Roland could be of some help to Matt if he would just let me tell them. Or if he would tell them himself. But, he begged for my silence on this, and I promised I would—unless I think he’s in serious danger.

  The fact that he’d been shallow in his returning of my texts during this break so far, however, leads me to believe I’m running out of reasons to keep his secrets.

  “Stuff,” I answer sullenly when Kennedy asks me why I’m struggling. Because it’s true. It’s so much stuff. Watching how she’s been treated this semester, everything with Matt, and dealing with my father as
I stand up for what I believe in biblically and politically. Stuff.

  “Eloquent,” she cracks before opening her bag of chips. “Eloquently full of crap.”

  “Kennedy,” Roland chimes in from the front seat.

  “You’re not listening,” she retorts in the same cautionary tone.

  He just shakes his head and keeps driving. Not another word.

  “Look,” I offer in an attempt to move the conversation along. “It’s just growing pains, you know? I see how Joy treated you, I hear how people talk behind others’ backs, I see what’s going on in this country—”

  “Is that why you wanted to come on this trip?” she asks, licking bright orange powder from her fingers. “Research?”

  To get out of my house and spend time with a sane person like Roland.

  “Yes,” I half-lie. “And I figured it’d be an easy way to hang out with Matt some more.”

  That part isn’t a lie. I know Matt needs me, because he’s shut everyone else out. And that fractured look in Kennedy’s eyes proves she’s his latest victim.

  Come on, God. I don’t know if our line has been severed, or what, but I need you. Matt needs you. Work through me however you can. Please. He’s too good for what he’s putting himself through.

  Hopefully I can get through to him before it’s too late.

  My phone dings with a text, but I ignore it in an effort to communicate with Kennedy. It dings again, and Kennedy huffs, rolls her eyes, and waves her phone. Get a clue she mouths. Feeling embarrassed at my lack of social skill with Kennedy—as always—I lift my phone from beside me.