by T. K. Chapin
“You have a lot of anger toward God, don’t ya, Clay? Is it because of Missy?”
The name stung as it echoed through my ears. It was the name that haunted my existence ever since that day in the trailer park. She was only a child. Innocent. Pure. Yet she was taken. And for what? My eyes watered, and I felt my knees begin to buckle. The lump in my throat swelled. “I knew I should have had a drink before I came here.”
Coming around the chair I was previously sitting in, I took a seat and breathed.
“Nobody wanted it to happen, Clay,” John said softly as he took a seat behind his desk. “These things just happen. I wouldn’t say it was because of God’s will trumping everything else.”
Letting a sarcastic laugh escape my lips, I looked up at him. “You know how many people got saved that day in the trailer park? One life lost for five additions to the Kingdom. Seems like a good trade-off for God. Don’t ya think?”
“God just works out the bad for the good. He didn’t cause it.”
My lip tightened. “He sure didn’t work anything out for good in my life!”
“Free will is why it didn’t work out for you. Nobody forced you to pick up the bottle and ruin your life.”
“I thought this was a counseling session, not a lecture.”
“And I thought you were leaving,” he retorted as he leaned over and grabbed my cane from the floor. Setting it on the desk, he said, “I want to help you, Clay, but you have to be willing.”
“What are you going to teach me, Pastor?” I laughed, leaning back into my seat. Cocking my head, I continued, “There’s not much you can tell me that I don’t already know.”
“What about compassion?” he asked.
“I’m compassionate.”
“To whom?”
“I spent years doing the right thing . . . didn’t do a lick of good for me.” Clenching my jaw, I grabbed for my cane.
He gripped it and stopped me from pulling it away. He looked me in the eyes and said, “You never did those things because you thought you would get something out of it, Clay. You did them because you were being faithful and it was a byproduct of the relationship you had with the Lord.”
“Keyword in your sentence—had.” I shook my head. “You don’t know me anymore. You don’t know my prayers. You don’t know my life.”
“No. You’re right. I don’t.” He released the cane. “What I do know is you’re not the man you once where. You’re not the man your little girl, Cindy, can look up to. I don’t care if you pray at night. I don’t even care if you read your Bible every day. You can’t claim the name of Jesus and live a fruitful life from the bottom of a bottle.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Who do you think you are, John?”
“I’m the kid who grew up next door to you. You dragged me to church every Sunday whenever I stayed the night at your house. I’m the kid who was contemplating suicide, and you showed me life through Jesus. I’m getting real with you, Clay, because you’ve lost your way, and I’m afraid you’re going to die.” His eyes began to water as he shook his head. “Mrs. Elken saw you passed out in the front yard with a bottle in your hand the other night at Janice’s, man. She was our Sunday School teacher!”
Thinking back to the evening for a moment, I tried to recall it. I went out front of the house to lie down and look at the stars but ended up falling asleep. I had nothing but my underwear on. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t realize anyone saw me.”
“People see all the time, Clay. I don’t think you get that. There are a lot of people who ask me about you, even after all these years. They still want to know what Clay is up to. They talk about the bus ministry and the outreach you used to do.”
I shook my head. “I’ve seen things I cannot un-see.” My tone was soft and regretful. “Saw things I never wanted to see in my life.” My lips tightened and images flashed through my mind. “And these hands . . . they’ve done the unspeakable.” Bringing my hand up to my face, I cupped my mouth softly as I continued. “It was evil.” My hand fell away from my face, and I looked over to John. In a smooth and deep voice, I said, “People are scared to go to hell. Well, John, I’ve been living in one for years.”
“I can help you.”
I couldn’t help but belt out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re a Christian, John. You’re not supposed to say that.”
Adjusting in his seat, he thought for a moment. “Well, I meant I can help you get in touch with God.”
“No. You can’t do that, John.” Standing up too quickly caused a jolt of pain in my leg and sent me crashing back into my chair. “Ah . . .”
He leaned forward in his seat and rested his arms on the desk as he looked with concern over at me. “Didn’t you go to rehab?”
Holding my breath as I tightened my jaw from the pain, I nodded but said nothing for a moment. Waves of agony continued for a few moments before subsiding. Finally able to speak, I said, “I got kicked out.”
“What’d you do?” he asked, sitting back in his seat.
I laughed. “In their words, ‘I didn’t want to get better.’ So they booted me. They didn’t have room for someone who was cranky, I guess.”
He nodded. “Okay. Are you doing physical therapy or anything now?”
I shook my head. “Can’t afford it. Only reason I ever ended up at Saint Jude’s was because of some special program I qualified for.”
He nodded softly as it appeared he was thinking. I didn’t know what he was cooking up in that mind of his, but I knew something was brewing.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“Katie . . .”
“Who?”
“Katie Osgood. I don’t know if you remember her. She was in our youth group growing up. She lives in town now, but I see her from time to time.”
“Little Katie?”
He laughed and shook himself out of his thoughts. “She’s not a kid anymore. She’s thirty-four.”
Replying with a short-breathed laugh, I thought about the little pig-tailed Katie when we were kids. “Been that long, eh?”
He nodded. “She worked at a rehabilitation center down in Florida for a while.”
“What’s she do now?”
“She helps run an old folks’ home part-time.”
“Ah . . . I can’t afford her, John.”
“I know,” he replied, pushing himself out from his desk. He stood up and walked the floor around the desk. “I’m going to see if there’s any way to work something out.” He grabbed onto the door and held it open for me.
“What about the counseling?” I stood up and began to walk over to leave.
He let his hand fall away from the door and said, “Well. Let’s just meet up once a week. You know, for Janice.”
“Yeah, she’s not going to be okay with me not doing anything.”
“It’ll work out perfectly.”
Stopping at the door, I looked at him. “I’m sorry for getting angry. There are just some dark places I don’t like going.”
He nodded. “Understand, Clay.”
As I made my way through the church building, I thought of Cindy and Gail. As I passed by the sanctuary, I caught a whiff of the old hymnals in the air, and suddenly, I was taken back to old memories of a life gone by. Cindy singing in front of the church with the children’s choir and my wife baking sweets for the annual bake sale that helped the youth group go to Mexico. The stream of memories soon shattered when Missy came running down the hallway of my mind. Immediately I felt pain, not in my leg but in my heart, begin to rise again. Like clockwork, my lips and mouth went dry as I longed for a strong drink.
Whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not, the drinking had become my god. It was a way to cope with the ailments that not only plagued my body, but my heart. After Missy had been taken from the world, I sank into a deep depression, shrouded in fear of what could have happened. My guilt was too much to carry, and instead of God, I chose the bottle to deal with the raging storm inside.
CHAPTE
R 3
When I arrived back to my sister’s house, I cut through the front yard and around the corner of the house to make my way to the back porch, where I kept a spare bottle behind the barbeque. I was prolonging the inevitable discussion I knew Janice would insist on having. I figured a strong drink could fix me up for the conversation.
As I came up the steps of the porch and Kip came into sight, I couldn’t help but stop and smile. He was bathing in the sour cream container we had cleaned out and put water in for him to drink. Walking across the porch, I didn’t go to the bottle, but instead sat down in my chair next to the hamper. Setting my cane against the small patio table, I looked down at Kip. He’d dip his head quickly into the water and then flap his good wing and shift his feet quickly, jerking his head around to look. He’d then shake the water off like a dog getting out of a bath and then dip his head in again, always for only a split second, and then he’d look around. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.
Janice came out onto the porch. “How’d it go?” She sat in the lawn chair that was against the porch railing opposite of me. Her hands were clasped together, and she was leaning toward me with anticipation to hear how the meeting went with John.
“It was okay.” My eyes stayed on Kip.
She nodded and sat back in her seat. “Okay?” I could tell she wasn’t satisfied with the answer. Janice always wanted details about anything and everything.
“Yeah. It was okay. Good talk.”
“What’d you talk about?”
My jaw clenched a little as she tried to pry it from me. “Maybe I can wear a wire next time?” I said sarcastically. “I’m going to visit him every week. . . I don’t want to rehash the conversations I already don’t want to have to begin with. Okay?”
She narrowed her look at me and then released. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry.”
“Kip’s loving that bath,” I said with a lightened tone.
“He’s onto something. I’m thinking about hosing down myself. It’s pretty hot today.” She looked back over at me. “Paul’s coming over tonight.”
“What?” I retorted. “I don’t want that guy around. I’ll leave.”
“And go where?” she replied with a deep laugh.
My silence was answer enough. She knew I had nowhere else to go, even if it was just for a night.
My sister stood up and maneuvered around the laundry hamper that held Kip and went into the patio shed. As she opened the door, she said, “You need to get along with Paul. He’s my boyfriend.”
“I love fishing, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it all the time.” Shrugging, I continued. “Just boring to talk about all his epic adventures all the time.”
She pulled out a weed whacker and shut the door. “He is probably trying to impress you. He thinks highly of you. Plus, I care about him. He’s important to me.”
“I know. I know . . . he was the one who helped you when Dad died.”
“He sure was. He’s been there for me through some of the most difficult times in my life.” Janice took the weed whacker and went down into the lawn near the porch steps.
Under my breath, I replied, “Yet he won’t marry you.”
“Don’t be a weed.”
“A weed?”
Janice nodded. “Something nobody wants around, but doesn’t seem to die.”
My eyes widened as I laughed out of shock. “That’s rude!”
“Well . . .” She ripped the cord on the weed whacker back and fired it up, abruptly ending our conversation.
Looking back at Kip, I saw him begin to leap around in a panic. The sound bothered me too, so I grabbed my cane and went inside to fix myself a sandwich for lunch.
Janice was still outside doing yard work after I had finished eating. As I put my plate into the sink, a memory flashed through my mind, setting my footing off. I grabbed my temple as the memory dug its claws in.
I was in the trailer park.
Blood was all up and down my shirt and jeans.
I called out for John, but he wouldn’t come out from the bus.
Then the screams of Missy echoed through my mind.
Coming back to reality, I glanced over to the deep freezer. It sat next to the washer and dryer in the closet-like space just off the kitchen near the back door. The whiskey was calling out to me. Clay . . . Just a few sips to make the headache go away and push it all down. Janice, the pastor . . . nobody understands your pain. Just a few sips.
Looking back through the window, I saw Janice out in the grass as she re-filled the weed whacker with the oil and gas mixture from the shed that sat on the lawn. My eyes went back to the deep freeze.
Making my way over to the freezer, I popped open the lid and grabbed the bottle of whiskey out and took a swig. The slight sting in the back of my throat was almost like that of a relief valve being activated. Immediately, I began to feel myself calm down inside. Peeking over my shoulder, I saw my sister weed whacking along the edge where the grass met the field. I took another drink and then quickly twisted the cap back on. Lowering the bottle back into the freezer, I closed the lid and headed into the living room to sit down.
Turning on the television, I folded my hands together on my stomach and my eyelids began to feel heavy. As the whiskey ran its course, I felt my body relax, and the constant pain in my leg faded along with the memories of that day.
“He’ll be here in ten,” Janice said, waking me from my nap.
I sat up and gathered my thoughts as I looked over to the clock on the separating wall between the kitchen and living room. “It’s already four?”
“Yep. You stink. Go brush your teeth or something,” she demanded.
“I’d like it if you treated me with a bit more respect,” I replied as I grabbed at the arm rest and helped myself up to my feet.
“I’d like it if you didn’t drink, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I had two little sips.”
“Half a bottle in two drinks?” she asked. “I saw the bottle this morning when I got chicken out to thaw. It was full.”
Shaking my head, I made my way down the hallway to the bathroom without a response. She doesn’t get it. As I came into the bathroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I hated mirrors. There wasn’t a more dreaded thing I had to do in life than to look into a mirror.
When I caught my reflection in a mirror, I saw through all the layers and walls I had built up. My perspective wasn’t what others saw. While they might see an older gentleman who drinks a little too much, lost his wife and happened to be in a motorcycle accident, that wasn’t what I saw. Instead, I saw the truth.
The truth that I was lost on a path and didn’t know how to get back to where I had come from.
The truth that I longed for love like what I used to have with my wife.
The truth that I wasn’t more than a mere shell of a man who once was somebody that mattered.
And the absolute most painful truth I saw when I looked into a mirror was the man who messed up in that trailer park.
I could have done it differently.
Tried harder to save her.
Said fewer words.
Something.
Anything.
After brushing my teeth and rinsing out the whiskey smell as best that I could, I headed back out to the living room. Walking down the hallway, I could hear Paul in the living room, already going on and on about the latest fishing competition he was in last weekend. Rolling my eyes right before I rounded the corner, I took a deep breath in and forced out a smile.
“Clay,” he said, stopping the conversation with Janice and rising to his feet as I walked in. He extended a hand.
“Paul,” I replied, shooting my hand into his to shake. Paul was one of those guys who tried to squeeze too early on a shake, and you end up feeling incompetent in some strange way while your hand is almost folded like a burrito between the other guy’s grip.
“How you been holding up?” he asked as he sat back down on the co
uch next to Janice.
Sitting down on the recliner, I tilted my head back and forth slightly and pushed out, “Fine.” Hesitating, I decided to not ask how he was in the hopes to avoid a conversation about fishing.
He didn’t feel the need for me to ask before he told me. “I’ve been doing great. Just went up to Diamond Lake last weekend for a fishing competition.”
Keeping a fake smile on my face, I nodded as I reluctantly encouraged him to continue. As he began describing the fish he caught, I stole a glance over at Janice as she hung from every word he spoke. She didn’t care about fishing, but she was crazy about Paul. The guy had even gone as far as buying us both fishing poles for Christmas last winter. They, of course, were still sitting in the shed off the back porch, yet to be used. Mine never left the house at Christmas because I didn’t care enough to go, and Janice always had a reason why she couldn’t go whenever Paul tried to invite her.
“What do you think?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Great!” he replied with an excited tone to his voice.
Janice’s eyes were wide, and she said, “Wow. I’m impressed, Brother! I didn’t think you would.”
My heart began racing as I tried to figure out what had just happened. Panicked, I just replied, “Well, it’s the truth.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at five.”
What just happened? I couldn’t go back on whatever it was that I agreed to. I feared the worst. It was a fishing trip, I just knew it. If I backtracked, I’d look like a fool. I’ll clear it up with Janice later and let her know I can’t go. Keeping the dumb grin on my face, I nodded again and said, “Sounds great.”
I spent the rest of his visit making sure to pay attention to what he was saying when he spoke to me. I didn’t need any more commitments that I didn’t want to do.
CHAPTER 4
Paul left after dinner and dessert. As Janice closed the front door and came back toward the kitchen, she wore a smile on her face. I wasn’t surprised so much that she was grinning, but I caught a glimpse of something different. There was a twinkle in her eye that I hadn’t seen before.
