The God Box

by Alex Sanchez

  Chapter 37

  WHEN I ARRIVED HOME, ABUELITA AND PA WERE ALREADY ASLEEP. NOT

  WANTING TO WAKE THEM AND HAVE TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS, I TIPTOED

  DOWN THE HALL. In my room, I tossed my jacket on top of Manuel's dancing cactus, still angry about the movie theater--and mad at myself. As I undressed for bed, I muttered to God:

  "I'm so confused. I don't know anything anymore. I do love Angie ... don't I? Or have I been using her?"I flung myself beneath the covers and tried to review the day's events. But it was all so jumbled. Was Manuel right? Did I even know how to love?"Help me, Lord," I asked, and flicked off my nightstand lamp.It seemed as if I had barely drifted to sleep when the overhead light suddenly shone into my eyes. I blinked awake as Pa shook my foot, hard.He extended the cordless phone toward me, his forehead etched with worry lines. "It's about your friend Manuel."I glanced at the clock: 1:47 a.m. I took the receiver, expecting to talk with Manuel. "Hey, what's up?"180"Paul? This is Jaime, Manuel's brother. Something happened to him tonight."Jaime's words spiked into my groggy brain, together with the background sounds of an intercom, ringing phones, and people talking."Is he okay?" I bolted upright in bed. "What happened?""He's bashed up pretty bad. Some guys attacked him. You'd better come down here to the hospital. The police want to talk to you."The police? Exactly how badly had Manuel been hurt?"Okay, um, I'll be right there." A million questions jammed my head as I leaped from bed, handing the phone back to Pa. "I've got to go see him.""You want me to go with you?" Pa's offer kind of surprised me. I'd thought he didn't like Manuel ever since his "maricon" comment. Maybe I was mistaken."No, that's okay." I yanked my pants and shoes on.As Pa walked me to the door, I checked to make sure I had my cell. I wanted to phone Angie after I got to the hospital and found out more."Let me know what happens," Pa said as I raced out the door.181

  Chapter 38

  RAIN WAS STILL DRIZZLING AS I DROVE to the hospital, praying the entire way: "please, jesus. please, please, please, let him be okay."I hadn't been to the hospital since Ma died. Now, as I parked in the lot, memories of that time came flooding back: the endless hours spent beneath the bright waiting-room lights, the bitter smell of alcohol and antiseptic, eating in the snack bar with Pa, sitting beside Ma's metal-framed bed as she died ...As I hurried inside the hospital doors, all I could think was, This can't be happening again. Please God, don't let Manuel die.In the visitors'

  lounge, Mr. Cordero was talking on his cell phone, while Mrs. Cordero sat on the vinyl couch with Manuel's little sister asleep beside her. Two police officers stood speaking to Jaime. One was writing notes on a pad."How is he?" I asked Jaime. "Is he all right? What happened?""We're not sure. All we know is he got jumped walking home."The officer with the notepad narrowed his gaze at me. "Were you the one with Cordero? What time did you last see him?""Um, maybe ten, ten thirty. We went to the movie. But why was he walking home? Didn't he drive?"182"No."

  Jaime frowned. "I dropped him off. He told me he'd get a ride home with you."My mind flashed to Manuel standing in the parking lot, the rain splattering on him. "Why didn't he tell me he needed a ride home?"Then again, why hadn't I asked? Why hadn't I turned the car around and driven back to him?The second policeman eyed me guardedly. "Did you leave the movie theater together?""Yeah." I swallowed, feeling like I needed to cough, and tried to compose myself. "I mean, I left. Manuel followed. And we, um, had a... fight."The officer darted a glance at his partner, then returned his gaze to me. "What kind of fight?""Not a fight." My voice rose nervously. "An argument. Not even that. I just told him I was going home. He didn't say he needed a ride.""A fight about what?" The second policeman's gaze cut through me."Nothing ..." I remembered Manuel's hand on the armrest, holding mine, and how I'd wanted to kiss him. "It wasn't a fight. I just wanted to go home."The two officers exchanged a look, and the one with the pad told me, "Have a seat. You need to answer some more questions."I sat beside Jaime and tried to answer the police truthfully as a picture emerged of what had happened: After I left Manuel in the parking lot, he started walking home. A couple of blocks from the mall, a lady heard shouts outside her house. She peered through the blinds and saw two guys jump out of a pickup truck and strike a third boy with what looked like a tire iron, hitting and kicking him.183She phoned 911, but because of the dark and the rain she hadn't been able to see the license plate as the truck sped off.Paramedics had rushed Manuel to the emergency room. His left knee was shattered and three ribs were broken from being struck by the tire iron. One rib punctured his right lung, and a chest tube had to be inserted to reinflate the lung. Most seriously of all, his skull had a fracture that had left him unconscious and may have caused brain damage. His right eye had also been hurt, so badly that he might lose vision in it, perhaps even need to have it removed.As Jaime described the injuries, I felt sick. How could anyone do that to Manuel? "So what's happening to him now?""They're trying to stabilize him," Jaime explained. "Once they do, they'll transfer him to Abilene Regional to do an MRI and start operating--hopefully in the next few hours.""Do you have any idea who might have attacked him?" the second officer asked me.Immediately, I pictured Jude and Terry at the mall. A chill shivered up my spine as I recalled Jude's comment at school: "If I saw two guys walk down the street holding hands, I'd take a baseball bat and kill them." Why hadn't I remembered that when I left Manuel alone in the parking lot?I told the cops about Jude and how he harassed Manuel at school. After the police finally finished their questions, Jaime and I walked over to his parents."Um, hi." I buried my hands in my pockets, not sure what to say, and feeling like this was all my fault. "How are you?""Not so good, and you?""Yeah, not so good."Our small talk sounded so stupid, but Mr. and Mrs. Cordero smiled politely. There was so much more I wanted to say, and yet I184felt helpless to say any of it. After a few minutes, I excused myself to phone Angie.By then it was three in the morning, and it took several rings before she answered her cell. "Paul?" Her voice was low and sleepy. "Is everything all right?""Um, no. Not really." I told her about Manuel."Oh, Paul!" Angie gasped. "Hold on. I'll be right there.""That's okay. You don't have to." I hadn't expected her to actually come to the hospital, but she insisted. While waiting for her, I snapped my band against my wrist, wishing I could go back in time. Why hadn't I foreseen this? What if Manuel died?When Angie rushed into the visitors' lounge, I leaped up from the couch. Her arms felt so comforting."How are you?" she asked.I exhaled a deep, long sigh. "In shock, I think."Angie nodded. "I was afraid something like this would happen. I prayed every day for God to keep him safe."So had I. But at the moment I felt too confused to think about God's role in any of this.Angie said hello to Manuel's family and talked with them awhile. Then she and I sat down nearby. "Let's pray," she whispered, and I let her take hold of my hands. My palms felt so sweaty compared to hers."Jesus," she said softly,

  "please heal Manuel. You know how much we care about him. And especially help his family.

  You understand their hurt and what they're going through. Please guide the doctors as they try to help Manuel. And lead the police to figure out what happened. In your name, amen.""Amen," I echoed, though I didn't feel very connected to God. I was too numb.After her prayer Angie and I walked to the snack bar where185I'd eaten countless meals with Pa when Ma was sick. Although the counter was now closed for the night, Angie and I got some vending machine hot chocolate and sat down in one of the red Formica booths. I hoped the drink would help calm me, but it was too hot. When I took a sip, the liquid seared my tongue."Damn it!" I quickly put the cup down and my face grew warm-not from the chocolate, but from swearing. "Sorry," I told Angie."Don't worry about it. You're upset."That was an understatement. "I shouldn't have left Manuel; then this wouldn't have happened.""You can't blame yourself." Angie rested her hand on top of mine. Then she asked, "What did you guys fight about?"I'd mentioned that Manuel and I had argued, but not about what. How could I admit that I'd freaked out because we'd held hands and I was afraid to kiss him? Or that we'd argued because I couldn't accep
t my feelings toward him?"Um ..." I picked up my chocolate and blew on it, but it was still too hot. "I can't remember."Angie's mouth turned down as though she didn't believe me."Let's go back," I said, and got up.While we waited in the visitors' lounge, we talked with Manuel's parents some more.Mr. Cordero kept saying optimistic things like, "He'll pull through. He always does." He told us a story of how one time as a boy Manuel had tried to skateboard down a playground slide and wiped out."He had to have six stitches," Mrs. Cordero added, clutching her hands worriedly.Angie and I debated whether to phone Dakota and tell her about Manuel. But since there was nothing anyone could do right now but wait, we decided to hold off. At six a.m. my pa phoned, and I filled him in.186"I'm sorry to hear it," Pa replied. "Why don't you come home and get some rest?""I want to wait," I told him.

  "When he goes to Abilene, I want to go with him.""Mijo, you can't drive without having slept.""But I've got to go." I felt too responsible for what had happened. More than ever, I felt as if Manuel was pulling at me, like I had to be with him."Tell him I'll go with you," Angie whispered."Angie will go with me."The line was quiet a moment. Then Pa said, "All right." After I hung up, Angie and I decided to call Dakota and tell her the news."Why didn't you phone me sooner?" Dakota protested. In seeming minutes she was hurrying into the visitors' lounge. "I could have come and been with you guys. You two look like hell, you know that?"Dakota said hello to Manuel's family. Then, she, Angie, and I went to the snack bar, which had opened for breakfast. Over powdered donuts I told Dakota everything that had happened to Manuel, including the fact that "I thought he had his car.""That's like the hundredth time you've said that,"

  Dakota observed.Was it? I felt the color rise in my cheeks.We returned to the visitors' lounge, and one of the doctors informed the Corderos, "We're ready to transport him." A few minutes later several hospital staff rushed past us, wheeling a gurney toward an ambulance in the driveway.Manuel was hardly recognizable. Bandages covered his face and head. IVs protruded from his arms. Tubes to a ventilator projected from beneath the gurney sheets.I watched silently, too stunned to breathe. Could that really187be Manuel? There had to be some mistake. In my mind I saw him striding through the ER doors, healthy and strong, smiling with mischief, and asking, "Hey, what's all the hoopla?" We'd all feel relieved from the scare we'd gone through and embrace him like the prodigal son."Paul?" Angie's voice called beside me."Huh?"She rested her hand on my arm. "Ready to go?"We said good-bye to Dakota, who had to go to the job she had gotten for the holidays, and I followed Angie to her car.Angie and I didn't talk much on the drive to Abilene, past fast-food places, gas stations, and gray winter pastures. I stared aimlessly out the rain-streaked window and held tight to Angie's hand.Manuel's family arrived at the medical center ahead of us. Once again we joined them in the visitors' lounge and waited while Manuel was taken into the operating room. For the rest of the day Angie and I mostly prayed and watched TV. I dozed a little but felt too restless to sleep. At 5:45 that afternoon, after nine long hours, Manuel was finally brought out of surgery."We managed to save his right eye," the doctor announced. "But he's lost all vision in it. He'll probably be able to see light, but he won't see shapes or movement. His knee and ribs will have to mend on their own. We'll keep him on a respirator for several days, but he should be breathing on his own by the end of the week. He's still unconscious, so we don't know about brain damage. The longer he remains in a coma, the greater the risk."My stomach got a hollow feeling as I watched Manuel being wheeled into the intensive care room. Although his face was visible now, he looked nothing like the person I had left in the parking lot. His cheeks were bruised and purple, his lips swollen, his face scraped raw and crusted with blood. A patch covered his188right eye. Bandages clothed his scalp. The very life seemed beaten out of him. Would--could--he ever be the same?"We should get some rest,"

  Angie told me.I didn't want to leave Manuel, even though I felt exhausted."Come on," she whispered, gently pulling me away from the ICU window, as the respirator eased air in and out of his lungs.She drove us back from Abilene through the rain, and I tried to stay awake, but it had already turned dark outside. As the car cruised down the highway, the steady flick of the windshield wipers quickly lulled me to sleep.I was barely aware when Angie dropped me off at home. Abuelita asked about Manuel, but I don't know what I answered. I can't even remember crashing onto my bed to sleep.189

  Chapter 39

  THE NEXT DAY, WHEN I SLOWLY EMERGED FROM SLEEP, IT WAS LIKE ANY

  OTHER MORNING. BUT AS I GAZED DOWN AT MY SLEPT-IN CLOTHES FROM THE

  NIGHT BEFORE, THE MEMORY OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO MANUEL SEEPED

  INTO MY BRAIN LIKE POISON.I lay still, hardly breathing, as though a heavy weight were bearing down on me, while my mind replayed the sight of Manuel in the movie, the parking lot, the hospital...Dear Jesus, I prayed. Heal Manuel. Please? And help me to deal with all this.Only by praying was I able to finally pull myself out of bed. When I shuffled into the kitchen, Abuelita was sitting at the breakfast table, reading the morning paper. Immediately, she got up and embraced me. "Buenos dias, mi amor."It felt so good to be held by her. She gestured to the paper on the table. "It's in the news." I grabbed the Reporter-News and read the article, headlined TWO

  ARRESTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER.Two seventeen-year-old males were arrested and charged with attempted murder yesterday for the near-fatal attack of Manuel Cordero. Police have withheld their names due to their ages.190While walking home on December 29 at approximately 10 p.m., Cordero, 17, a senior at Longhorn High, was attacked and severely beaten with a tire iron. He is currently in critical condition at Abilene Regional Medical Center.Attempted murder?

  My stomach wrenched. Were the two seventeen-year-olds in fact Jude and Terry? What would happen to them?Abuelita set a plate of eggs and crisp bacon in front of me, but I told her I wasn't hungry. More than anything I wanted to get back to Abilene and see Manuel. Although there was nothing I could do besides pray and wait, I wanted to be with him--even if he didn't know I was there.Abuelita wiped her glasses with her apron and sighed. "Pablito, you have to eat. Come on."I must have been hungrier than I thought, because I ate everything on the plate. I had finished brushing my teeth when Pa phoned from work: "Did you get some sleep?""Yeah, but I'm going back to see him. He's in ICU."Pa became quiet, as if thinking. "Okay, but I want you home early.

  It's New Year's Eve--too many drunks on the road. Understand?""Yes, sir."It was still raining off and on during my drive to Abilene. I tried to keep to the speed limit, though I wanted to hurry. I was thinking about Manuel's parents and what I wanted to tell them, when suddenly my cell rang."Thank God you're okay," said Eric. He was the last person I expected a call from, especially since I had never phoned him about the ex-gay meeting. "I heard on TV that a boy from your town was attacked. I was afraid it might've been you."191"No. He's a friend of mine." "Oh, yeah?

  Was he gay?"It made me feel creepy that Eric said "was"--as if Manuel had died. Maybe I just heard it that way. I braced my arms against the steering wheel and replied, "Yeah, he's gay.""The lifestyle isn't safe." Eric exhaled an audible sigh. "If you want God's protection, you've got to get right with him."I should have predicted that response. Would he have said the same if Manuel had been straight? Why wasn't he blaming the attackers instead of Manuel? I clenched my jaw, wanting to tell Eric, "Go screw yourself.""When are you coming to our fellowship?" he asked."I don't know." That was the farthest thing from my mind right now. "Look, I've got to go.""Okay,"

  Eric said. "Call me if you want to talk.""Yeah, sure," I said, and hung up. I had no intention of calling. And even though it was cold outside, I turned on the AC to help cool my anger.By the time I arrived at the hospital, I'd managed to get Eric's phone call out of my mind, and I hurried into the visitors' lounge, eager to find out about Manuel."How's he doing?" I asked his parents.

  "Any news?""No . . ." His mom forced her lips into a pale smile, as if trying to be hopeful."But the doctors say it's good that he's stable,
" Mr. Cordero offered.I nodded in agreement and fidgeted with my wristband, thinking what I had rehearsed to tell them. "Um, I'm really sorry... for not giving him a ride home. I thought he had his car."Mrs. Cordero nodded forgivingly. "I know. He could have called us."192"He's always been so headstrong," Mr. Cordero said. "We've had our share of arguments because of it."Mrs. Cordero smiled a little more easily to me. "He said once he wished he could be more like you... accepting and patient."Accepting and patient? Me? I sure didn't think of myself that way. More than anything I wanted Manuel to wake from the coma and be well now Today! This instant!"He cares a lot about you," Mr. Cordero added."I care about him, too," I said feebly, feeling like a fake. If I truly cared so much about Manuel, why had I freaked out when he turned to kiss me in the theater? If I'd kissed him like I'd wanted to, would we even be in the hospital now?The remainder of the day I stood looking through the ICU

  window at Manuel lying bruised and broken.I tried to picture his mischievous brown eyes beneath the bandages. In my mind I traced my fingers across his cut and swollen lips, remembering how tender they'd felt when I dabbed them with ointment. Once again I now imagined kissing them, but this time I tasted the dried blood on his face, bitter, like acid.Over and over that day I prayed, God, Jesus, please make him well.During my drive home that night I felt so exhausted that I rolled down the windows to keep me alert. The cold winter air blasted into the car, whipping around my head. Thunder rumbled far off in the west, along with low flashes of lightning, and my thoughts returned to God. Why had he allowed Manuel to get hurt so badly?