by Camy Tang
Any second now, her hamstrings were going to twang out of her thighs like snapped guitar strings.
Lex liked just watching him — effortless, strong. Like when he’d pushed her on that run. A pleasant tingling spiraled in her stomach. She was such a sucker for an athlete. She forgot that Aiden excelled in sports other than volleyball — she kept seeing him like that first night at Nikkei, awkward and wild on the court.
He’s cute.
But he’s not a believer.
She struggled to finish the set. As she lay panting, she watched him do a few extra reps.
Look, but don’t touch. And don’t let him know you’re feeling this way.
It was all her back’s fault.
Lex had been feeling achy, so she yelled at the girls more than usual. After the girls had left, Vince pulled her aside before she walked out of the gym with her bag. “You were hard on them again today.”
She knew it but didn’t want to admit it. She shook off his hand. When would he get the hint and stop touching her? “Playoffs are only a few weeks away.”
“No, this is different. This isn’t playoffs. This is something to do with you.”
“What are you, my shrink?”
“I’m your assistant coach, and you’re not coaching them well.”
“What do you mean?”
“What are your real motivations for pushing them? Is this about them? Or about you?”
“I have no clue what you’re getting at.”
“Look, I know that your mom used to coach these girls’ mothers. I know why you formed this club team.”
“You only think you know.” Coming from Vince’s mouth, it seemed like such a sad, pathetic thing for her to do — something in honor of her mother.
“Getting the girls to win isn’t going to bring your mother back.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“It seems like that’s what you’re trying to do.”
Lex rolled her eyes. “You are way off the mark, Vince. I’ve been having back problems, and it’s making me crabby. Should I admit that I’m PMSing too?”
“Now you’re making excuses to validate your denial.”
With a gust of frustration, Lex marched toward her car. “Goodnight, Vince.”
She had driven almost half a mile away when she realized she’d left her purse under the bleacher seat. She turned the car around, ignoring that alarming sputtering from the engine.
Vince’s accusations horrified her. Bring her mother back? Now that was just morbid.
Except . . . did a part of her sort of think that way? Did a part of her want to be here for these girls because her mother had been forced to abandon her old volleyball team, to abandon Lex years ago?
Mom had cancer. It wasn’t her fault.
But Lex had still felt abandoned. And she drove these girls and sacrificed for them because she didn’t want to abandon them either.
Oh, come on. This was stupid. Lex would not fall into some psychoanalysis pit. She was too complicated to compartmentalize like this.
She pulled into the parking lot. Another car had pulled next to Vince’s. It looked like Jennifer’s truck. No, it couldn’t be. Jennifer didn’t even know Vince. Lex got out and headed toward the gym.
Vince had company. She heard the voices as she approached the open gym doorway.
“Mrs. Sakai got you that coaching position at Olympic Boys’ School.”
Mrs. Sakai — Grandma? Coaching position? And that voice sounded a lot like Jennifer. Lex slowed her steps.
“Good. Tell her thanks.”
“The job starts in a couple weeks. You’ll honor your agreement with her and quit this job by then, right?”
What? Vince couldn’t quit. Lex needed him for playoffs. A volcano erupted in the pit of her stomach, with rolling, pitching, acidic heaving. She wanted to spew lava at somebody. Or two.
“This isn’t a real job, just volunteer. But yeah, I’ll quit.”
Traitor. Betrayer.
“Olympic Boys’ School will contact you this week about starting.” Jennifer’s voice moved closer to the doorway.
Burning, Lex stepped into the gym.
She stood nose to nose with her cousin. Jenn gasped and jumped back. Vince paled, but straightened.
Lex didn’t know what she looked like, but she certainly felt as lethal as Medusa. She pointed a venomous gaze at Vince. “Our conversation tonight wasn’t about me. It was you justifying leaving the girls, you slime.”
“You’re not going to have funding for playoffs anyway.” Vince picked up his bag and pushed his way out the door.
Lex skewered Jennifer with a jagged-edged stare. “Since when did you become Grandma’s messenger girl?”
Jennifer’s lip trembled. Her face screwed up tightly.
“No, no, no. Tears aren’t going to get you out of this one, Jenn.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through!”
Lex started. Jenn yelling was like Grandma being quiet.
Jenn started sobbing in earnest. “Grandma’s over at our house all the time, asking about you. I stopped calling you so I wouldn’t have anything to tell her.”
“Grandma nagging is different from this. You betrayed me.”
“You still don’t get it.” Jenn snuffled loudly. “You’re strong. I’m not. It wasn’t just Grandma — it was Mom and Dad and my sisters. Grandma complains to them about you, so they complain to me.”
“This was their idea?”
“No, it was Grandma’s.”
“Figures.”
“They bullied me into doing this.”
“You could have said no.” But even as she accused her, Lex knew Jennifer never told her overbearing family no.
“No, I couldn’t.” Jenn started heaving with sobs. “I don’t control anything in my life anymore.”
“Jenn, I’m stranded and you betrayed me. You should have come to me instead of going to my assistant coach behind my back, arranging for Grandma to buy him off.”
Jenn shook her head and kept crying.
Her tears only fed Lex’s fire. “What could your family have done to you? You know who’s going to suffer? These junior high girls.” Lex turned away. “They don’t deserve any of this. I’m doing my best.”
“Grandma heard you were trying to find another sponsor.”
“I’m trying to save them.”
“Grandma wants you to have a boyfriend.”
“Grandma wants more great-grandchildren. Her immortality. A boyfriend is a means to an end.” Lex pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m really trying, Jenn. I have one more month before the wedding, but you’ve just made things more difficult for me. You’ve made things harder for those girls.”
Jennifer sniffed.
“Just leave.” Lex went to grab her purse from the bleachers. When she turned around, Jennifer had gone.
THIRTY-TWO
Aiden took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
He felt like an interloper as he entered. “Pastor, we met — ”
“I remember.” The pastor waved Aiden inside.
No cheesy smiles, nothing even remotely resembling a salesman selling something. The pastor gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“I’m Aiden.” No last name. “I came to see the mural again.”
“Go ahead.”
It kicked Aiden in the gut, just like before, actual physical pain. He never expected it from a mere picture. “Who painted it?”
“Another church commissioned an artist to paint it for their sanctuary, but the result was . . . a little too shocking. So I bought it.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” The pastor’s matter-of-fact voice remained neutral. “You’re the one who came back to look at it.”
Aiden couldn’t stop. He shuffled his feet. “I — ”
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I don’t mind if you want to just look at it aga
in.”
Sincerity in this man’s eyes. Aiden suddenly realized how different that was. He always felt closed. Controlled. “What do you feel when you look at it? Do you get used to it?”
The man’s eyes saddened as he looked at the picture. “I don’t get used to it. I pray I never do.”
Aiden didn’t say anything. He reached out a hand to trace a nail biting into his flesh.
“Christ’s pain should always be my pain. I should never forget. I never want to. I want to keep reaching out to other people in pain.” He sighed. “It doesn’t always work that way. I fail more than I succeed.”
“Why try?”
“Because I can’t afford not to. Look at Him.” He stretched out his hands as if beseeching the picture. “He wouldn’t give up.”
Aiden shook his head. “He doesn’t make sense to me.”
The pastor shrugged. “He does when you believe. That’s all I can tell you.”
“That makes even less sense.”
He sat back down in his chair. “Take a couple days and think about it. Come back and tell me what you think.”
“You’ll just argue with me.”
“I won’t.” And he hadn’t, not the entire time Aiden had stood in his tiny office.
“Maybe.” Aiden twisted the doorknob.
“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I’ll even leave the office if that’ll make you more comfortable.” He wasn’t eager or pushy.
He was matter-of-fact. He met Aiden with clear eyes.
Aiden had never been as transparent as that. He almost wished he could be. “No, I’ve seen enough. Thanks.” He shut the door behind him and headed out to the church lobby. Maybe he’d come back.
“Lindsay, sweetie.”
Ike’s voice stopped Aiden before he erupted into the front lobby.He peeked around the corner.
Ike held Lindsay in a loose embrace. His murmured words didn’t carry to Aiden, but they clearly pleased Lindsay.
Aiden had seen Ike flirting with Lex the other day at PT.
He wasn’t surprised. He had overheard Ike enough at the gym, in the men’s locker room. He knew Ike flitted from girl to girl. He loved whatever girl he happened to be with, no matter how much he flew back and forth.
Lindsay today. Lex tomorrow? Not cool.
Except Lex wasn’t Aiden’s to protect. If she made a bad choice in men, what was it to him?
Ike took Lindsay’s hand and led her out the side door.
Bile left a bitter taste in Aiden’s mouth. He forced his jaw to relax and stop clenching his teeth together.
Lex didn’t deserve to be played.
You don’t feel this protective of Lindsay.
Lex wasn’t his, but she was a friend.
She would never want you to interfere with her life.
She’d never find out.
The Goodwill guys had put it in her car for her — even if it did stick out the back a little — but who would bring it into her apartment?
Lex frowned and stared at her new/used exercise bike. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the ones at PT, but it would do the job. If she could cycle a couple times a day, the swelling would stay down in her knee.
Assuming she could get it into her apartment. And assuming she could find someplace to put it. Well, the CPM machine had been returned long ago, so she really should rearrange the boxes.
Maybe somebody would come by. Or maybe she could call someone. She’d leave the bike in the car until then.
Lex walked slowly over the cracked walkway to her apartment.
She still didn’t feel very stable without her brace. The doctor assured her she’d get stronger once she got used to not having it on.
What was that on her door? Lex pulled the yellow sheet of paper from her peeling paint.
The apartment building was being sold. Lex had four weeks to move out.
A hammer sent blows to her breastbone and her stomach at the same time. She gripped the doorframe to keep from falling.
This couldn’t be happening.
She needed ice cream.
Lex jammed her key in the lock.
“Rex?”
She turned. “Oh, hi Mrs. Chang.”
Her cheerful round face had turned into a weepy moon. She held her own notice.
“Oh, Mrs. Chang. Do you understand what that says?” Lex pointed at the paper.
Mrs. Chang nodded. “I call nephew, he read.”
“What are you going to do?”
She shook her head while another fat tear dropped from her downcast eyes. She gave a rather loud, wet sniff, then a hacking sound from the back of her throat.
Okay, that was just gross.
“I live wit’ nephew. He help.”
Lex awkwardly patted Mrs. Chang’s round shoulder. She nodded, then waddled away.
What would happen to her? Would her nephew find her another place or take her in? It sounded like he knew his duty — he’d take care of his aging relative in some way. Lex had never been so relieved at the old cultural obligations. She’d stop hacking at them after this.
She needed ice cream.
She pushed into her studio. The unnatural silence confused her.
What was missing?
The hum of the refrigerator.
Lex dashed to the kitchenette and saw the drips of water from the tiny freezer, all the way down the front.
She wanted to cry. No ice cream.
She had just finished cleaning out her spoiled food and slurping down some melted ice cream when her cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Aiden. I’m in your area — I’m meeting some friends for dinner. Want to join us?”
Not a date, then. Lex wasn’t disappointed, not really. “Your timing is perfect. My fridge is broken.”
“Hooray for old appliances.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
He arrived in eight minutes, actually. She opened the door before he rang the bell. “Where are we going?”
“Chinese?”
“Excellent.”
Aiden kept tapping the steering wheel as he drove. Even Lex, as unobservant as she tended to be, noticed his uncharacteristic nervousness. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just hungry.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but what made you call me for dinner with you and your friends?”
Aiden’s face seemed smoother than glass. It seemed almost as if he were hiding something. No, that was ridiculous. “You did say you wanted to meet more guys, right?”
“Oh.” She had said that. “Right.”
“One guy is Christian, I think. At least, he says he is.”
His cynicism pricked her. “There are sincere Christians, you know.”
He grew quiet. “Yes, I know.” His voice thrummed low and thoughtful.
They pulled into the parking lot. “Is that them?” Lex saw two figures half-hidden in the dark.
Something made her pause before opening her door.
It couldn’t be Aiden’s friends — it was a couple. The man kissed the woman in the dark, a romantic picture. The woman’s light-colored hair shimmered almost silver.
That looked like Ike. And Lindsay.
The man lifted his head.
“Ike?” She didn’t recognize the croaking voice. Was that her? She swallowed. A wadded up ball of tape stuck in her throat.
The man smiled. It was Ike.
Aiden hadn’t gotten out either. He stared hard at the couple.
Lex swallowed. “Can we not — ?”
“Sure.” He started up the engine again, no questions.
“Please just take me home.” She wasn’t hungry anymore.
They drove out of the parking lot. As they passed Ike and Lindsay, Lex felt only a twinge like a snapped rubber band in her chest.
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to kiss him now.
She glanced at Aiden. She’d like to kiss him —Look, but don’t touch.
<
br /> Rats.
THIRTY-THREE
Aiden thought sitting in the front pew with Spenser would make him a target for the full force of the pastor’s sermon, but the man barely glanced at him.
The message aimed at hearts more than minds. It contrasted with the talks Aiden had with him the past couple weeks, where Aiden asked and the pastor responded with logic.
“God gives us freedom.” He studied his notes and sipped some water before continuing. “But freedom isn’t the same for everybody. Freedom could be from physical prisons or mental prisons. Freedom from inadequacy and hiding.”
Aiden wondered if that was a message to him. They’d talked about his tendency to hide behind his impassive mask, to always seem calm and in control.
From the pulpit, he swept a pointing finger at the congregation. “God wants to free you. He cares about each of you, individually.”
Aiden had a hard time believing that. The pastor had told him to set out a fleece, but Aiden wasn’t sure how.
One thing the pastor had said still resonated in his mind. Aiden, you don’t need to have all the answers before you step out in faith.
Listening to him now, Aiden struggled with the fact that he didn’t have enough to go by, and that that’s what faith was.
Okay. He sat back. He wasn’t sure how to open a channel to God, but he assumed He’d hear him. Okay. Prove Yourself to me. I’m not promising to believe, but I’ ll listen, for a change.
That’s it.
No thundering revelation. No fireworks, no surge of emotion.
Well? He didn’t feel any different. Was he supposed to?
The pastor suddenly glanced at Aiden, paused in his sermon. Then he picked up his sentence and continued.
That seemed odd.
Spenser turned in his seat, gave him a long look. He turned back around.
Hmmm.
Then Spenser leaned sideways. “Let’s go fishing after ser vice.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve been talking to your pastor.” Aiden cast his line into Calero Reservoir. The hot day didn’t say much for their chances of catching anything.
“He’s a nice guy.” Spenser cast out his line and moved a step farther away.
“I like the picture on his wall.”
“Me too.”
