by Cronk, LN
“Yeah,” he said. “Why do you act so surprised?”
“Well, because when we went to Six Flags nobody wanted to listen to Christian music.”
“I did,” he said. “I listen to it all the time.”
“Really? How come you didn’t say anything?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged.
“You should’ve said something,” I told him. “The other kids might have gotten into it.”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
“No . . . I mean you could’ve been an example, you know? That’s how I started listening to it – because my friends were listening to it all the time. You should have said something.”
“You didn’t say anything,” he said, looking at me. “You just let ’em change the station.”
“Touché.”
“I usually just keep my mouth shut,” he went on.
“I noticed.”
“We’ll gang up on ’em next time,” he said.
“Sure we will.”
Before long, whenever we heard the sounds of barbells clanging or basketballs pounding on the pavement, Dorito would beg to go over and see Jordan. Laci and I kept trying to discourage him, figuring that Jordan would rather not spend his free time with a five-year-old, but Jordan insisted he didn’t mind. I think he was just trying to be nice since I was helping him so much with his math and I wouldn’t let him pay me.
“That’s not right, is it?” Jordan asked one evening, showing me a problem he had just finished.
“No.”
“I hate math!” he said, laying his head down on the desk. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!”
“You know what your problem is, Jordan?”
He rolled his head to look up at me.
“What?”
“Your problem is that you beat yourself up every time you make one little mistake. I mean you set this up perfect – you did everything right until you got to right here,” I said, tapping his paper. “Look at everything that you did right! Last week you didn’t even know where to start on this kind of problem.”
“But it’s still wrong.”
“Okay,” I said. “So you made a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes.”
“You don’t . . .”
“Right. Look,” I said, pointing to my trashcan on the other side of the room. “Watch this . . .”
I crumpled up his paper into a tight ball and tossed it. It sailed toward the wall, swished through the miniature basketball net that I had mounted on my wall, and landed in the trashcan.
I crumpled up another piece of paper and handed it to him.
“You try.”
He tossed it toward the net but missed. The paper landed on the floor.
“See, I hardly ever miss,” I smiled. “You know why?”
He shook his head.
“Because every time I make a mistake I just throw it away,” I said. “I’ve had lots and lots of practice.”
By the middle of October, Jordan was coming over almost every weeknight to work on his math. By now he really didn’t need tons of help. He worked quietly most of the time and I actually got a lot of work done too. I think he just liked having me around in case he got stuck on a problem.
“You’ve got tomorrow off,” Jordan informed me one Wednesday evening.
“Why?”
“Tanner and I are in a racquetball tournament.”
“Racquetball?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You ever play?”
“I tried it one time . . .”
“You didn’t like it?”
“Your brother tried to teach me,” I said, tilting my head at him.
“Oh,” he nodded.
Enough said.
Just then my phone rang. It was Charlotte.
“Here,” I said to Jordan, pointing to a problem before I opened my phone. “Start graphing this real quick . . .”
He set to work.
“What’s up, Charlotte?” I asked.
“Can you help me with a math problem?”
“That seems to be my specialty.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” I wasn’t sure if Jordan would appreciate Charlotte knowing that he was getting help in a class she’d taken the honors version of and made an “A” in two years ago. “What’s the problem?”
She read it out loud to me and I wrote it down.
“Have you tried my mom?” I asked her. My mom taught math at the high school.
“She’s at choir practice.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What’s the matter?” she teased. “Can’t you figure it out?”
“I can figure it out just fine,” I said defensively. “It might take me awhile though . . . I haven’t done this in six years. Have you got the answer?”
“All real numbers greater than zero, x is not zero.”
“Alright. I’ll call you back in a little bit.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up and frowned at the paper. Jordan looked at the problem too.
“What is that?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Pre-calc.” It probably looked like gibberish to him. It almost looked like gibberish to me.
“Can you do that?”
“I’m going to solve this if it kills me,” I told him and he smiled.
He worked quietly while I rifled through books on my shelf and flipped pages.
“This is one of those stupid things you never use again after you learn it,” I muttered after about ten minutes.
“Kind of like geometry?” he asked and I smirked at him.
After about a half of an hour I apologized to Jordan for taking so long.
“No problem,” he said. “It’s kind of nice to have somebody else being lost besides me.”
“I’m not lost!” I cried. “I just don’t see how they’re getting all real numbers greater than zero . . . I keep getting positive one.”
“Sounds like you’re lost to me.”
I glared at him.
Ten minutes later Charlotte called again. I dreaded answering the phone.
“I haven’t had a chance to work on it yet,” I lied, winking at Jordan. He laughed.
“Well, don’t bother,” she said. “Your mom called me back . . . I got it.”
“You got it?” I was going to have to call my mom as soon as I hung up.
“Yeah,” she said. “They printed the wrong answer in the back of the book.”
“It’s not all real numbers greater than zero?”
“No, it’s positive one.”
“That’s what I kept getting!!”
“I thought you hadn’t worked on it yet . . .”
“Goodnight, Charlotte.”
~ ~ ~
ONE DAY JORDAN was standing in our kitchen, eating a brownie, while he and Laci complained about all the rules in math.
“That’s the beauty of math!” I argued. “It’s either right or it’s wrong! All you’ve gotta do is follow the rules and you can’t miss!”
They glanced at each other and I could tell I was never going to convince either one of them.
“Is it okay if I read a story to Lily before we start?” Jordan asked.
“Sure,” Laci said. “Her books are in her room.”
“I brought one,” he answered, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a children’s book.
“I wanna read it too,” Dorito begged.
“Okay,” Jordan said, walking into the living room. He sat on the floor with his back against the couch. Dorito sat down facing him and Laci put Lily on Dorito’s lap so that she could see Jordan’s lips. Jordan opened the book so it was right side up for them.
Then he started reading it.
And signing it.
Laci and I looked at each other quizzically and then sat down on the floor to listen and watch too.
I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t a particularly long story, but it must have taken him a while to learn all the signs and he did about four or five that I d
idn’t even know yet. Lily looked up and down from Jordan to the book and I think she really liked having somebody besides me or Laci reading and signing to her for a change.
“That was fantastic,” Laci told him when he’d finished.
“Did I make any mistakes?” he asked, looking up at us.
She shook her head at him and he smiled.
“How’d you learn that?” I asked. “The Internet?” You could go online and learn a lot of sign language, but it wasn’t the same as having someone teach you. Laci and I went to classes once a week at the community college and we hired someone to come in and work with all of us twice a week.
“No,” he said, shaking his head and looking down at Lily who was reaching for the book. “One of the E.C. teachers at school knows it and I had her show me.”
“I can’t believe you did that, Jordan,” Laci said.
“Well,” he shrugged, letting Lily have the book, “I think her neighbors should know how to communicate with her.”
“That was really nice of you,” I told him.
“It’s the least I can do after all the help you’ve been giving me,” he said. “Speaking of which, I got totally lost in class today.”
“Well then,” I said, standing up, “let’s get to it.”
“Okay,” he sighed, looking at Laci as he stood up too. “By the way, sign language is way easier to learn than math.”
“Tell me about it,” Laci laughed.
~ ~ ~
ONE MORNING AT the end of October, Laci had taken Lily over to her mother’s house so she could run some errands without her. I was hard at work, taking advantage of the quiet, when I heard Laci come in the front door. I heard her because she slammed the door as hard as she could . . . so hard that my hand jumped and my template moved and my pencil gouged a hole in the graph paper I was working on. It was a wonder I ever got any work done.
I was going to crumple it up dramatically in front of her, but she stormed into my office with such vehemence that I thought better of it.
“What’s up?”
“He is LIVING with her!” she yelled at me.
“Who’s living with who?”
“Tanner is LIVING with Megan. They aren’t just dating . . . they’re living together!”
I had absolutely no idea what to say. The only thing that was coming to my mind was ‘So?’ and I had a feeling that wasn’t going to go over too well right now.
She glared at me.
“Did you know about this?”
I shook my head at her.
“I cannot believe this,” she said, shaking her head in disgust.
I just sat there quietly looking at her because I was pretty sure that anything I said was going to be wrong.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to say something?”
“I . . . I really don’t know what to say.”
“I am so mad at him,” she said.
“Why?” I finally asked.
“Why?” she yelled. “Why am I mad at him? I can’t believe you don’t know why I’m mad at him!”
I knew it! I knew no matter what I said it was going to be wrong.
“Are you jealous?” I asked. Tanner and Laci had gone to the prom together when they were juniors and I was hoping a little bit of humor might lighten things up a bit.
It didn’t.
“He is living with her, David!” she yelled again. “I cannot believe this. What’s wrong with him? He knows better!”
“He knows better?”
“Yes! He knows better. They shouldn’t be living together.”
“Laci,” I said, well aware I was probably getting ready to make a mistake. “He’s twenty-six years old.”
“So?”
“So he’s old enough to make his own decisions.”
“And this is what he decides to do? It’s wrong, David! They shouldn’t be living together.”
I waved my hand dismissively at her. “They probably just aren’t ready to get married yet . . . I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
“NOT A BIG DEAL?”
Okay, obviously it was a big deal.
“If they aren’t ready to get married,” she went on, “then they shouldn’t be living together. I am so mad at him right now, I just can’t believe it.”
I couldn’t believe how mad she was either.
“Listen, Laci,” I said. “I just think maybe you’re blowing this out of proportion a little bit. Lots of people live together before they get married.”
“Mike and Danica are waiting until they get married . . .”
“Well, maybe they aren’t living together,” I said, “but–”
“They aren’t doing anything together!”
“Oh, come on, Laci. How could you possibly know that?” We’d met Danica once and we hadn’t even seen her and Mike since we’d been back from Mexico.
“Because of her ring.”
“What? Her engagement ring?”
“No . . . on her other hand. She was wearing a True Love Waits ring.”
I must have had a blank look on my face because she went on.
“It’s a program that encourages people to make a commitment to wait until they’re married.”
No wonder Laci had liked Danica so much.
“I don’t remember seeing one of those rings on Mike,” I said.
“I guarantee you they’re waiting.”
I looked at her skeptically.
“Call Mike!” she dared, pointing at my phone. “Call him and see!’
“No,” I said. “That’s okay. I believe you.”
Not really.
“Look, Laci,” I went on. “I don’t wanna get yelled at or anything, but I just don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
“He’s a teacher!” I was getting yelled at anyway. “He’s supposed to be setting an example for his students! They should not be living with each other!”
“What’s going on, Laci? Since when are you so judgmental?”
My words stopped her and then her eyes filled up with tears.
“This is Tanner we’re talking about,” she finally said, softly. “He’s our friend . . . I’m worried about him.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about him just because he’s living with Megan.”
“He’s in trouble, David.”
“You’re making too much out of this,” I said, reaching for her and pulling her toward me. “You need to relax.”
“You mark my words, David,” she said, shaking her head before she put it on my shoulder. “Tanner’s in trouble.”
The next few days were full of nothing except for Laci not relaxing.
She recounted how she’d run into Megan at the bank and how they’d gotten to talking and how she just couldn’t believe it when she realized they were living together . . . how she’d tried to hold it together and not let on to Megan how shocked and upset she was.
She ranted and raved, informing me about how much more likely people were to get divorced if they lived together first. Don’t they know that?
Tanner was headed down the wrong road fast . . . she was sure of it. We need to be praying for him.
And she bugged me relentlessly, asking me what I knew about Tanner’s relationship with Christ. Do you have any idea how he could have possibly gotten so far away from God?
I have to confess that I actually knew almost nothing about Tanner’s relationship with Christ. This was especially bad since I’d known him forever – literally for all of our lives. We’d been in school together from preschool through high school, in Scouts, and in every sport we’d ever belonged to except for when he and Mike had abandoned soccer in favor of football and I’d started swimming while they’d played basketball. Sure, when Greg had moved to town just before the seventh grade we’d paired off a little . . . Tanner and Mike wound up spending more time with each other just like Greg and I did. But still, he’d always been one of my best fri
ends. How could I not know what to say when Laci asked me about his relationship with Christ?
Tanner’s family had belonged to a different church than the one that Laci and Mike and Greg and I had all gone to together. That accounted for part of the reason that I knew more about their relationships with God than I did Tanner’s.
But only part.
Looking back now, trying to come up with an answer to Laci’s questions, I realized that Tanner and I had really never talked about it.
And as I silently admitted this to myself, I started feeling awfully ashamed.
The next Saturday morning I was on the couch watching TV with Dorito. We were flipping channels, landed on a hunting show, and the next thing I knew we were in front of the computer ordering a camouflage jacket, pants and boots for Dorito.
“Why?” Laci asked when she found out what we’d done.
“I’m taking him hunting,” I said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not like I’m going to let him carry a gun or anything,” I assured her.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said again.
Now before you go getting the idea that Laci was all anti-gun or didn’t want us killing Bambi or something like that, let me assure you that’s not the case. Her dad was a big hunter and Laci had gone with him a lot when he duck hunted on the Mississippi. In fact, she’d been younger than Dorito the first time she went.
And one time – in high school – Tanner’s dad had taken us dove hunting and she’d come along. It had been Tanner’s dad, Tanner and his brothers (Chase and Jordan), Greg, Mike, me and Laci. We’d teased her the whole drive up there, but then she and Tanner’s dad had been the only ones to get their limits. I think I’d only gotten five and I’d used about two boxes of shells to do it.
No, Laci wasn’t against hunting at all. The reason she didn’t want me to take Dorito is because she knew that I wasn’t going to take him alone.
She knew I’d be going with Tanner.
Tanner had all the good stuff you needed to go hunting – a truck, a hunting dog and (most importantly) the permission of local landowners. All I had was a 16 gauge and a four-door sedan. Somehow I didn’t think I was going to get too far all by myself.
