The Long Journey to Jake Palmer

by James L. Rubart

  Jake stepped out from behind the podium and stood with feet at shoulder width, hands behind his back. He stared at the back of the room where the wall and ceiling met.

  “I’m going to do something this evening I vowed I would never do. In fact, I’ve been finding excuses not to do it for two months, ever since I promised a friend, as well as myself, that I would. I’ve had six opportunities in that time, six talks similar to this one, but each time I stayed inside my bottle.” Jake smiled and gave a tiny shake of his head as his gaze dropped to the floor in front of his polished black shoes.

  “But since I’ve just confessed to you that I made a promise, it will be difficult to back out now. So fate has chosen you to witness that promise being fulfilled.”

  A murmur went through the crowd.

  “Enough stalling, hmm?”

  A smattering of light laughter.

  “If you’re here, you know that I like to talk about the fact that it’s impossible to read what’s on the label when we’re standing inside the bottle. And we’re all standing inside our own bottles. Recently I had the chance to do the impossible and see what was on my label. And now I’d like to show you.

  “What you’re about to see might be disturbing. If you’re squeamish, I’d like to give you permission to leave the room till I’m finished. It will only take a few minutes, and then we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled programming.”

  As Jake spoke, he loosened his tie, then removed the dress shirt covering his white T-shirt. Next, he pointed at his hips and smiled. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a striptease. I have workout shorts on, so I promise no one will get embarrassed.”

  He glanced around the room.

  “I’m going to take off my shirt first, then my pants.” He motioned toward the exits. “Again, if you’re squeamish, this is the time to leave.”

  All of them stayed in their seats. One woman toward the back moved her head slightly to get a better look. No one else moved even an inch. If Jake didn’t know better, he’d swear they’d all stopped breathing.

  “In order to read the label, we have to step out of the bottle.”

  Under his breath he said, “For you. For them,” as he removed his T-shirt and let it drop to the floor.

  “Looking good, Ja—” A woman at the back of the room broke off her shout as her eyes reached his stomach.

  “A year and a half ago I was burned in a fire. And I’ve spent the past year and a half trying to deny the fact, hiding from what I’d become, trying to keep my pain hidden, trying to tell others what’s on their labels when I could no longer see my own. Actually I had never seen my own.

  “I thought I was worthy of being liked for two reasons. My looks and body, and because I always fixed things, made things right for the people around me. But apparently there’s more to me than that. My looks and my ability to help were my shield. I used it so no one could see the real Jake, because I thought the real Jake, the one who lived from his true heart, wasn’t enough.”

  As he spoke, Jake unbuckled his belt and took hold of the top of his zipper. “I was a mountain climber, a mountain biker, a triathlete, a white-water kayaker . . . I was in such good shape a fifty-mile bike ride was a warm-up for me. My best friend calls me Clark, because he thinks I look like Superman with the build to go with it. That was my label. Then it all came crashing down.

  “Friends, who we are is not what you see on the outside. This is a costume, a shell, only clothes that are quickly turning to tatters.”

  Jake held the sides of his pants in both hands, closed his eyes, and let go. The sound of his belt buckle smacking onto the floor of the stage echoed through the room, but that was the only sound. He waited for the gasps of revulsion to come. And they did come. But it didn’t matter. He was not his burns or scars. Not the ones outside. And not the ones inside. He’d already stepped outside the bottle, and he knew what was on his label.

  After an eternity, Jake opened his eyes. But he didn’t find horror or disgust in the eyes of the front row, and he realized the gasps he’d heard weren’t revulsion, but surprise. A man in the front row on the far right got up and ambled out of the room. Two women toward the back on the right did the same. But their exits barely registered. He even had trouble focusing on the people who stayed, their faces a mix of shock, compassion, and wonder. And hope.

  As waves of whispers buzzed through the crowd, Jake pulled his slacks back on as well as his T-shirt. By the time his dress shirt was buttoned again, the crowd had grown silent. After he finished dressing, he paused to collect the emotions churning through his heart. But then again, maybe he didn’t need to collect them. Maybe it was okay to let them see. In that moment, he let tears of his own rise to the surface.

  “Thank you for allowing me to tell my story.” Jake wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. “Once I figure out why it suddenly got so dusty up here, I’ll begin my talk and we can—”

  “Excuse me.” A heavyset woman in the front row stood and with a shaking voice asked, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but would it be possible for me to say something?”

  Jake stared at her. He knew the look. Utter terror from standing in front of an audience combined with unquenchable conviction that she had to speak out whatever was inside her. He nodded and lifted his hand toward her. “Please.”

  Jake lifted the cordless mic off the podium and walked it down to the woman. She took the microphone with trembling hands and gave Jake a frightened little smile.

  “I’ve tried for years to lose weight. I just can’t do it. And I’ve tried to hide it. But there’s no way to hide being heavy.” She gave Jake another tiny smile. “Clothes can’t cover it up. I fantasize about staying in my house all the time. That can’t work either. So I hide inside when people stare, when they don’t think I can see them. When they snicker at me. Sticks and stones might break my bones, but words? They’ll kill me. And they have ever since I can remember. But today I’m hoping things can change.”

  She glanced at Jake again, her lip trembling. He winked and smiled.

  “I’m burned, Jake, like you are. Maybe not on the outside, but I am on the inside.” She bobbed her head at the crowd. “Do you know what I’m trying to say? I bet you do. Even though you don’t want to admit it, I bet you do. You understand, right? I’m not alone, I don’t think. I can’t know what your burn is, or where it comes from, but you’re burned, aren’t you?”

  There was no scuffing of feet. No whispers in the crowd, no movement, and no sound except for the soft hum of the air system overhead. The woman had nailed it better than Jake ever could.

  “What if we scrounged up the courage to talk about our burns with each other? I’m scared, really scared, but I have to try it, you know? To step out of the shadows and tell my friends who I really am. And I betcha it will be good, okay? What would happen if we talked to other people about our fears and scars and burns so that those lies lose their power, and so maybe we give other people the chance to tell us what’s not written on our labels?”

  She glanced at Jake again. He nodded and she kept going.

  “Like I said, I don’t know what your burns are. I have no idea how long they’ve stayed hidden. Maybe even from yourself. But I’m still thinking you might have them. So if you’re like me, I’m thinking it’s time we strip off whatever kind of clothes we’ve been wearing to cover them up.

  “Because I don’t care what we’ve done, don’t you think Jake might be right, that we have more worth than we know? Don’t you think there’s that possibility? I do. I really do. At least I want to with everything inside me. If you’re like me, for years we’ve listened to people tell us about things on our labels that aren’t there and were never there, but we believed them. I think it’s time to read the biggest true words that are on each of our bottles: We. Are. Worth. It.”

  The woman looked like she wanted to say more, but she stopped and held out the mic to Jake. He stepped over to her, wrapped the woman up in a massive hug, and whispered to
her. “You have not only pulled back the curtain, you’ve tossed it into a bottomless sea. You said it better than I ever could have. Well done, Beautiful.”

  She handed the microphone back to Jake and shuffled toward her seat, but before Jake could speak, a man who looked to be in his late twenties stood. He stretched out a hand that fluttered so fast it looked like he was trying to fly. Maybe that was exactly what the man was about to do.

  Jake motioned him over. “What’s your name?”

  “Terry.” Terry blinked and swallowed, but his eyes didn’t leave Jake’s.

  Jake lowered the microphone and leaned close to Terry’s ear. “You can do this.”

  Terry nodded, took the microphone, and looked over the crowd. “My name is Terry. Being here today, sitting here today listening to Mr. Palmer and being around all of you isn’t where I’m . . . it’s not what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m supposed to be . . .” He stared at Jake, who gave a slow nod.

  “It doesn’t really matter where I’m supposed to be, because now I know that where I’m supposed to be, I mean, without any doubt the place I’m supposed to be right now is right here.” Terry jabbed his finger at the floor and Jake could tell he was fighting back tears.

  “My parole officer bought me a ticket to this thing two weeks ago. I tossed it on my nightstand in my apartment when I got home that night, thinking it was some stupid cheesy motivational talk thing and I wasn’t going to go or anything . . . I mean, I like my parole officer, I mean, he’s a good guy, he’s been good to me and all that, I mean . . . what I’m trying to say is he’s trying to do more than just do the job. I think he really cares, actually, I know he really cares, but I just haven’t been in a space . . .”

  Terry drew in a quick breath and looked at Jake as if to say, I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’m so totally blowing it.

  Jake took Terry’s hand that held the microphone, lowered it, and started to speak, but before he could start, Terry puffed out, “I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to explain . . .”

  Jake raised a finger to his lips and Terry went silent. He again leaned close to Terry’s ear and said, “Let me tell you what’s on your label right now. In this moment. You are one that opens hearts and souls. The gut-level honesty that I see on your face is about to burst out all over this auditorium, and people are going to be set free. Do you understand me?”

  Terry nodded.

  “Do you believe me?”

  Again, a quick nod. Jake raised Terry’s hand, stepped back, and motioned to the young man. Terry hesitated only a moment and then dove back in.

  “So, what happens is the ticket, when I threw it onto my nightstand? It fell off the back but I didn’t even know it, because I wasn’t looking for it or anything, because like I said there was no way I was going to come today, but the crazy thing is last night I knocked my glasses off my nightstand in the middle of the night, and this is the crazy part, when I went to find them this morning, they’re laying on the ticket and the way the lenses are laying, I see the date all clear and big and everything and it’s today and something inside me says I have to go.”

  Another glance at Jake. Another nod at Terry.

  “I’m burned too. Just like the lady said. Growing up I always got a double shot of affection.” A sad smile played on Terry’s face. “Double shot because both my parents beat me.”

  Terry paused and drew in a long breath. “And just like the lady said, I’ve been told all my life I’m not worth the dirt I stand on. But . . . but . . . see, this week it all came together, not in a good way though, you know? See, I got ahold of a gun and today I was going to . . .” Terry swallowed hard, bowed his head for a moment, then raised it and clenched his jaw. “Life is worth living, even with burns.”

  Terry stretched out his arm to give Jake back the microphone. Another huge hug as Terry let his tears come and Jake let his come as well. As Terry made his way back to his seat, Jake moved to the center of the stage, crossed his hands in front of him, and bowed his head. Without question, the audience needed a moment. He needed a moment.

  After more than a moment, Jake lifted his head and looked around the auditorium. He’d always had a few people, usually ladies, get misty as he spoke about discovering the strength and glory that were inside a person, about allowing the true label of their lives to be read, but only a few. And only once in a blue unicorn did any guys tear up. But this time more than half were fighting back the water. And some were quietly sobbing.

  Jake didn’t speak. He simply held the microphone out in front of him as he nodded at the crowd and let God’s Spirit do what God’s Spirit was already doing. The first one to step from his seat and tell his story was a man who had to be Leonard’s age. Then a young woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty. Then another woman who looked to be in her forties who was stick thin. More men. Young. Old. In between. Woman of all ages and obviously from divergent walks of life. An hour stretched into two, then three, but no one left.

  All of their stories ended with a hug from Jake and words of encouragement from him, but of course he was the one who was buried in encouragement. Finally, the stream of people ended and Jake searched for the words to end a talk unlike any he had ever given.

  Jake walked to the side of the stage and spoke to the promoter who had brought him in, who was fighting back his own emotions. “This might be completely inappropriate, but can I pray?”

  The man nodded as he blinked back tears.

  Jake walked back to center stage and shook his head in amazement. “Thank you, to all of you who were willing to step out of the bottle, to take your masks off in front of all of us. We need to close and I want to do it with a short prayer. If you’re uncomfortable with that, no worries, please feel free to leave.”

  No one in the packed auditorium moved. Jake waited a few more seconds, then bowed his head and rested in the silence for over a minute. Finally he prayed.

  “Jesus, we need transparency. We need to step out of the shadows. We need the freedom to live out of the strength and glory you’ve given us rather than live the lies about ourselves we’ve swallowed. We need to see that the bottle we all stand in is nothing. We need to see that we have put so much worth on a shell that is dying from the moment we are born. We need to look past the costume we wear to what is inside. We need to see it, and live from it.

  “We need to tell others what is on their labels. You’ve changed me, but there are days I still struggle with what happened to me. There are days where I forget I’m only wearing a costume and that this costume does not define me. Which is why we need to continue to speak the truth to each other. We need to tell those around us about the strength and glory inside them that they can’t see for themselves. Bring us that truth, Lord. Open our eyes, and grant us the strength to live our lives with freedom. So be it.”

  For five seconds there was utter silence in the auditorium. A moment later it erupted with thundering applause as everyone rose to their feet. It wasn’t applause for him, but for all of them, for freedom, for the lies that had been shattered and the truth that had just exploded out of every soul in the room.

  Jake’s watch hit eleven thirty before he hugged the last of those who had a story to tell or wanted to thank him. As he watched the final two members of the audience amble down the middle aisle toward the back of the auditorium, he let himself embrace what had just happened.

  He’d simply revealed himself, shown the hidden parts of his soul, but that had not only invited them into his newfound freedom, it had given them hope to find their own.

  As silence fell over the hall, the emotion of the day hit him, and Jake yawned deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment, sent up a prayer of thanks, then picked up his laptop and slid it into his briefcase.

  Time to head for his hotel. Sleep in till noon if he could, then wake and maybe plan his next trip to Willow Lake. To the house, his house. He smiled. Crazy. And beyond wonderful. Would he ever be allowed back through the corrid
or? Didn’t matter. He saw the world he lived in now more clearly than ever before, and someday, when he slipped free of this body, he would step into a world where all healing would come and last forever.

  Jake started to walk toward the building’s lobby when a familiar voice stopped him.

  “Do you have enough energy left to talk to one more fan?”

  Jake knew that voice. It couldn’t be. But of course it was. Jake spun and sniffed in a breath of shock. Ari stood five feet away, her makeup slightly smudged.

  “Ari?”

  “Yes, or is there someone else you know who looks like me?” She winked and her intoxicating smile broke open his soul.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s good to see you.”

  He took a halting step toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  “You already asked that.” She took a step closer as well.

  “But you didn’t answer.”

  “It should be obvious. I came to see you.” Another step closer.

  “Why?”

  She looked different, but of course she would. She wore black slacks and a dark green blouse, which set off her eyes perfectly. Her hair was pulled back, which made her even more beautiful than he remembered, and the feelings he thought had faded returned in a blizzard of emotions. Hope. Resignation. Love? Yeah, definitely love, the most dangerous emotion of all.

  But Jake smiled inside, because even though his feelings would never be returned by Ari, he would be fine. He knew who he was, and that person was far more than enough. He knew what God thought of him. He knew that above all else he would fight for the heart of that kid he met back in the cabin through the corridor for the rest of his days on earth.

  “Didn’t Peter tell you I left his company?” she asked.