8. Ray of Light

I finally found the answer to your life’s biggest problem.

The text is somewhat shocking because it comes only an hour later from Kelsey.

How does she know?

Then, like I usually do and will probably continue to do until the day I die, I wonder if she’s with them.

That blonde hair is really just dyed and that whole cute shy girl thing is an act and maybe she’s secretly an international spy.

What’s that? I quickly ask her.

Check this out.

She sends me a link. Guys with my luck should never, ever open links.

But of course I do so anyway.

And after a few minutes of checking out the site on my phone, I laugh.

Secret to my biggest problem, huh? I ask her.

You still need your license, right?

She does have a point.

Yes. Among other things.

There you go. No more saying you don’t know how to get it.

That’s nice. Thanks very much.

I’m just being selfish, she writes.

Why?

Well, someone has to drive me around on dates.

Even on cold, dark mornings, there’s a ray of light not too far across town that never hesitates to shine on me.

When the phone rings and I see that it’s Dad, I know I’m going to tell him about Mom. I have to. There’s no way I can keep this from him.

“I just wanted to give you an update on what’s going on the next few months,” he tells me after greeting me.

Yeah, me too.

“I’m going to be taking a couple of courses at Covenant College.”

Of all the things I imagined him saying, this isn’t one of them. “Okay.”

“I’m still looking for a job. Trying to make connections. But my sole focus is on my spiritual walk, Chris. There’s a lot I need to know.”

Do you know anything about the spaces in between and great-grandfathers who lurk in tunnels?

“The classes go till May,” he continues. “They’ll give me some knowledge of the Bible.”

“Great.”

I guess my answer comes out a bit too strong, because Dad asks me what’s wrong.

This is my chance to tell him everything.

Yet I’m suddenly reminded where I’m at. The eyes and ears and fingertips of the wicked and whacked are all over me.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Can I talk to your mom?” he asks.

“She’s not here.”

“Okay.” He pauses for a minute.

Tell him, Chris, do it. Now.

“You know if there’s anything you need, just let me know,” Dad says.

I want to cry. Like a serious mushy cry a middle-school girl might do after her favorite vampire couple has a baby or something.

“Sure,” I say.

I know they’ll kill Mom. I think back to Staunch nearly killing me in town.

I can’t take that chance.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Dad says. “Remember, call me for anything you need.”

I tell Dad good-bye and stare at the phone. I’m tired of holding back and not saying everything and not asking for help when I desperately need it.

I’m tried of being forced to keep quiet in order to keep someone I love alive.