Day-Day

by Cronk, LN

  “Right. Well, anyway, the guy that shot him . . . he was a young guy . . . his name was Kyle.”

  “Suicidal?”

  “Well,” I said, hesitating. “Yeah.”

  “I figured,” Carter said, nodding. “They usually are. Did he kill himself?”

  “No.”

  “Cops kill him?”

  “No. Listen Carter, do you want to hear my version of this or do you just wanna keep talking?”

  “Whatever,” he said, settling back into his seat.

  “Okay. Kyle surrendered and he was sentenced to be executed this past spring.”

  “Did they do it?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Cool.”

  “No, Carter,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not cool!”

  “Oh . . . you’re one of those . . .”

  I was completely exasperated. I had never met anyone like this in my entire life. Witnessing to Kyle had been a snap compared to this.

  “Look,” I said, talking faster in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to squeeze a word in edgewise. “Laci and I and Greg’s mom and some other people, we all went and visited with Kyle and we talked to him about Jesus and how much Jesus loved him and how He’d died for each of us and Kyle accepted Christ before he died.”

  There . . . at least I’d gotten that out.

  “You really believe that?” Carter scoffed.

  “I know that,” I said.

  “Whatever.”

  “Greg always put Christ first in his life,” I went on, ignoring him. “God was the most important thing to him. He would have gladly given his life to keep Kyle from dying before he was saved.”

  “Sounds like he did,” Carter said. “Glad it all worked out.”

  “No,” I argued. “He didn’t have any choice about it, but what I’m saying is that Greg would have willingly died to keep someone – even a total stranger – from dying if they didn’t know Christ.”

  “Would you do that?” Carter asked, a trace of seriousness in his voice for the first time.

  “I’d like to think so,” I said, “but I hope I never have to find out.”

  “What about your baby? Or Laci?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what if there was a fire or something and you could only rescue one person? Let’s say you had to choose between Laci or someone who wasn’t saved. Like what if you had to pick between me and Laci?”

  Who was this kid?

  “Well, again, Carter, I hope I never have to find out what I’d do in a situation like that, but I’d like to think that I’d rescue you.”

  “Yeah, right,” he laughed.

  We were almost to the landfill.

  “I’m serious, Carter. You may not believe it, but there’s another life after this and it’s going to last forever. The thought of anybody going through eternity separated from Christ . . .”

  I shook my head and glanced at him.

  “I want you to know that Laci and I prayed for you last night.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “We prayed that you’d know Christ . . . that you’d know what He did for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said as I pulled alongside the parked bus, “but I already know all about it.”

  “We’ll keep praying for you,” I said. He was reaching for his door handle.

  “Don’t do me any favors,” he replied and he got out and slammed the door.

  We always had a “service” for the youth groups in our home on Sunday morning before they were taken to the airport. It was usually a special time and we always invited the kids to come forward and commit their lives to Christ and while we lived in Mexico many of them did.

  I’d love to be able to tell you that the next day Carter was one of them . . .

  But he wasn’t.

  Carter sat through the entire service as if he was bored out of his skull and when it was over he got on the bus and plopped down in his seat and never looked back.

  After the group from Texas went home, Laci and I continued to pray for Carter. I’m sorry to say that I don’t know whatever became of him. After he left I found myself thinking a lot about the last time that I’d been to the landfill. I’d been about Carter’s age.

  I’d gone there with Mike and Greg and we’d tried to share Christ with a crippled boy who lived in the landfill. Mike was worried afterward, complaining that we’d never know if we’d done any good or not.

  Greg had assured him that we would . . . that one day we’d know.

  I may not know what became of Carter, but I do believe what Greg said.

  I believe that one day I’ll know.

  There’s one thing that I already know right now though.

  The last night, while we were at the orphanage, I saw Carter at one of the changing tables. He was putting a clean nightshirt on Dorito after dinner.

  I walked over near where they were. I didn’t get too close, but I got close enough. Dorito was smiling (of course) and as I passed by, I could barely hear Carter.

  He was singing to Dorito – very softly – just under his breath.

  ~ ~ ~

  SINCE WE WERE going home in February we stayed in Mexico for Christmas. There were two youth groups scheduled to be with us before Christmas, but only for four days each. We’d be all alone for our first Christmas together.

  Christmas morning we went into our living room and sat on the floor by the tree. First we opened the presents sent by our families: Laci’s mom and dad, my mom and dad, and my sister and her family. Then Laci held a package out to me.

  “I thought we weren’t going to buy each other anything,” I said.

  We’d decided that rather than spending a bunch of money on presents for each other we’d buy a video camera to record every moment of Gabby’s life instead. (Of course I hadn’t stuck to our agreement either.)

  “I didn’t really buy it,” she said, still holding firmly to the package.

  “You made it?”

  “Ummm . . . .” she hesitated, her face serious. “No. I mean I did buy it, but I bought it . . . a long time ago.”

  She let go of the package and I opened it. It was a sweatshirt from my alma mater – State. I kind of wondered why she hadn’t gotten one that said Alumni on it, but I wasn’t about to ask.

  “Thanks, Laci,” I said after I pulled it over my head. It could have been a little bigger too. “I love it.”

  She nodded at me, but she was really quiet.

  “I’ve got something else,” she finally said. “But I’m not sure if I should give it to you or not, I’m just not sure . . .”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She leaned over and touched my sweatshirt.

  “I bought this a long time ago,” she said again.

  “I really like it,” I told her and she sighed because I just wasn’t getting it.

  “I bought it right before . . .”

  She stopped and dropped her eyes to the floor. I reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Before what, Laci?”

  “When we were dating,” she finally said, looking back up at me with tears in her eyes. “In high school.”

  Now I got it. Right before Christmas of our senior year. Right before Greg and his dad had been killed. Right before I’d shut her and everyone else out of my life.

  “Oh,” I said quietly.

  “There’s something else too.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “I have something else, but . . .”

  “What?”

  “I bought it for Greg . . .” she said, almost in a whisper, looking back down at the floor. I saw a tear fall onto her lap. “I didn’t know what to do with it.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry . . .”

  “It’s okay, Laci. Why don’t you show it to me?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah . . . I wanna see it.”

  She pulled a small package out from under the tree and
I opened it up.

  It was a compass. Not the kind that points you north, but the kind that’s used in math. And not a cheap kind with little golf pencils that every kid takes to school either. It was an expensive one . . . one that an engineer would use.

  “I know you already have one,” she said, crying harder, “but I didn’t know what to do with it.”

  “I’m glad to have it,” I said and I scooted over next to her so that I could hold her. Usually when she cried I tried to do whatever I could to get her to stop, but sometimes it’s good to just let it out. Greg had been my best friend, but I think he’d been Laci’s too.

  After a while she wiped her eyes and told me she was sorry again.

  “He would have loved it,” I said. “It would have gone good with the calculator I got him.”

  “You got him a calculator?” she asked, looking surprised.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What’d you do with it? Do you still have it?”

  “No,” I said. “I gave it to Charlotte.”

  “He got me a calculator too . . .”

  “Greg got you a calculator?”

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head and wiping her eyes again. “You two were such nerds.”

  “I don’t see you complaining about it now.” I poked her in the ribs.

  “No,” she admitted. It was nice not to have to worry about money.

  “So when did Greg give you a calculator? I don’t remember this at all.”

  “His mom said he bought it for me for Christmas. She gave it to me after he died.”

  “Why would Greg get you a calculator? Do you think it was a joke or something?”

  (Math wasn’t Laci’s thing.)

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe it was because the two of you weren’t going to be able to help me with math anymore after we went off to college.”

  “A calculator’s not going to help you if you don’t know what buttons to push,” I teased.

  “I managed without you,” she said smiling slightly. Then she turned serious. “It was hard though. It was a hard four years . . . not having either one of you.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Did you get me anything that Christmas?” she asked me after a moment.

  “No,” I admitted.

  “How come?”

  “Because I hadn’t figured out what to get you yet. You’re impossible to buy for.”

  “No, I’m not! I’d love anything that you got for me.”

  “I know,” I said, “but I’d wanted to get you something special and that’s hard because you don’t want anything.”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  “I think I figured out something this year that you’re going to like,” I said, grinning at her.

  “You got me something? You weren’t supposed to get me anything besides the video camera.”

  “I can take it back . . .”

  “No,” she smiled, shaking her head. “What is it?”

  “Come on,” I said, standing up and giving her both of my hands because it was really getting hard for her to get up these days.

  We went into my office and I opened up the closet door. There were a hundred and thirteen presents in there . . . each one individually wrapped with a name tag on it.

  It had taken me forever to wrap them all.

  “What in the world have you done?” she gasped.

  “Look at them,” I answered, still smiling. I was feeling pretty proud of myself.

  She picked up the first one.

  “To Hosea . . . From Santa.”

  She picked up two more.

  “To Selena . . . From Santa. To Marco . . . From Santa.” She looked at me with her mouth open. “You got one for every kid at the orphanage?”

  “I couldn’t think of anything you’d want more than to go visit them this afternoon and be able to give each one of them something for Christmas,” I said. “Am I right?”

  She nodded at me and started crying again and then she flung her arms around me and held me tight.

  It took a long time that night at the orphanage to tuck everybody in because there were no students to help us. When I put Dorito into his crib he was clutching his new stuffed Elmo.

  “You like Elmo?” I asked him. He nodded and grinned.

  “You like The Count better, don’t you?”

  Affirmative.

  “Santa told me he really wanted to get you The Count,” I went on, “but for some reason they’re very hard to come by. Maybe next year Santa should start looking earlier and try shopping online. Whatdya think?”

  He blinked at me, still smiling. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  “Good night, Dorito,” I said.

  “Night, Day-Day.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  ~ ~ ~

  THE DAY AFTER Christmas the middle school youth group from our old church in Cavendish flew to Mexico City to spend their week with us. I didn’t usually go to the airport when the bus picked up kids, but Greg’s little sister, Charlotte, was going to be there, so I went to the airport with Laci and Aaron. We pretty much knew most of the kids, but none of them like we knew Charlotte. Although she seemed pretty happy to see us, I don’t think she was as happy as I was.

  When I hugged her I felt like I was touching Cavendish.

  The youth group had just finished showing Laci all the stuff they’d prepared when I peeked into the living room and looked for Charlotte. She was sitting next to her best friend, Lydia, giggling.

  “Pssst . . .” I caught her eye and motioned for her to follow me into my office. I sat down in my chair and pulled up another one next to me.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  “Looks like you got some good stuff to do with the kids . . .”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “I can’t wait to meet them. It’s going to be fun.”

  “It’s going to be hard, too,” I said. “Especially Wednesday.”

  That was the day they’d go to the landfill.

  “I know,” she said.

  No you don’t. You don’t have a clue. I decided she’d find out soon enough.

  “I want to show you something,” I told her.

  I double-clicked the Gabby icon on the screen. The first footage was from about eight weeks. It wasn’t too clear that she was a baby, but you could definitely see her little heart beating in the middle of the screen. I glanced at Charlotte and she seemed impressed.

  “That’s really cool . . .”

  “Just wait,” I said. “It gets better.”

  I pointed out every significant part of each segment in the video, pausing it, rewinding it and playing it again. We were near the end, at the part where Gabby was sucking her thumb, when Laci walked in.

  “I can’t believe she’s sucking her thumb!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I didn’t know they did that.”

  “Sometimes babies are even born with a little blister on their lip because they suck their thumb so much,” Laci told her. Then Laci looked at me. “I thought kids weren’t allowed in your office.”

  “I’ve been known to make the occasional exception,” I assured Charlotte, smiling at her.

  “I’m not a kid,” she protested. “I’m almost thirteen!”

  “Right, sorry!” Laci said, turning to leave. “Oh, and by the way . . . Charlotte?”

  “Hmmm?”

  I was pleased that her eyes were reluctant to leave the image of Gabby on the screen.

  “I made arrangements with your youth leader for you to stay here for dinner Wednesday night instead of going to the orphanage . . . if you want to.”

  I paused the video so that Charlotte could look away from the screen and smile at Laci.

  “Okay, thanks!” she said. Laci smiled back at her and left, closing the door behind her. Charlotte looked back at me and grinned.

  I know my eyes got wide when I looked at her.

  “Wow!” I
said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head at her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said again. “You just . . . I don’t know . . . you just . . .”

  “Look like Greg when I smile?” she suggested.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I mean . . . you really, really looked like Greg just then.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  “I guess I never noticed it before. Wow.”

  “Does it bother you?” she asked rather quietly.

  “No,” I assured her, waving my hands at the pictures on my walls. “Look around . . . does it look like I’m trying to forget about Greg?”

  “I guess not,” she admitted, leaving her chair to look at the picture of us in front of the snowman. “I remember that day . . .”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “I remember that Greg got mad at me because I wanted the snowman somewhere different and you made him move it.”

  “I was always a lot nicer to you than he was,” I said and she laughed. I pointed at the picture of us on the beach in Florida. “Remember that?”

  “Not really,” she said. “I mean, I know you went to Grandma’s with us one summer because I’ve seen pictures, but I really don’t remember it.”

  That kind of bothered me since it had been such a great time for me.

  “Actually, I went with you twice . . .” I told her.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. The last two summers . . .”

  “Oh.”

  We looked at the beach picture for another moment.

  “Do you want to see the rest of Gabby’s video?” I finally asked.

  “Can we see her sucking her thumb again?” Charlotte asked.

  “Sure,” I said as we sat back down. “It’s one of my favorite parts.”

  On Wednesday evening I dropped Dorito off at the orphanage after physical therapy and then rushed home. He started crying when he realized I wasn’t going to stay for dinner and Inez had to pry him off of my legs. When I got to the house, the rest of the youth group was gone and Charlotte was there, helping Laci dish up take-out food.