26. A Sliver of Sunlight
The sun has disappeared, and I’m back at the silent cabin, feeling empty. These pep talks with Uncle Robert really leave me feeling so very encouraged.
I think back to the first time I saw him in Chicago. Then I think of that ride back to my father’s apartment on an empty L-train late at night.
Were those prayers real?
I know they were. The words I said and thought were absolutely real.
But what if Marsh and Uncle Robert are right? What if God has no more interest or use for any of us?
That’s why it’s called faith.
I remember the Bible Dad gave me—which I threw over the falls. Great decision there. No wonder God might not want to hear me out. I wish I could have it back just to try and see whether it’s true what they say, whether there really are answers inside.
I don’t have anywhere else to go or anyone else to ask.
What about Kelsey?
I think about it for a while, and it makes sense. Kelsey and her whole family are believers. Not that I’ve gone into depth with her about God and Jesus and angels and demons, but I know that her family goes to church and that they seem different.
Marsh seems “different” too, but well, you know …
I said I’d call her sometime today, so I pick up my phone to see what she’s up to.
“Just sitting watching television,” she says.
“Am I interrupting anything big?”
“I have DVR.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have DVR on your life? You could just fast forward an hour or a day. Or maybe six months?”
“Or you could go back. Like twenty-four hours.”
For a second I don’t get what she’s saying, but then I think I do. “So is that what you’d do?” I ask her.
“Beats watching television by myself.”
“Glad to be a seat filler.”
“Is that what you call it?” Kelsey asks.
“Hey, I think I came up with a title for an epic love story.”
“What’s that?”
“Bloodline. That way it sounds like something to do with family and with blood.”
“Sounds like a vampire saga.”
“Well, of course,” I joke. “Have to have vampires.”
“Is the guy a vampire or the girl?”
I spot Midnight on the couch next to me. “The dog. The dog’s a vampire, and she infects the couple.”
“Does one of them die at the end?”
“Uh uh,” I say quickly. “We can’t reveal that just yet. We have to take time to create this story. It’s going to be huge.”
“Or epic?” Kelsey jokes.
“What about both?”
When I realize that we’ve been talking for an hour, I say the obvious.
“You know, it’s kinda stupid that I’m on the phone with you when I could be talking to you in person.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t come over,” she says.
“Two nights in a row? Your parents might wonder something.”
“They think you’re a nice guy.”
“I’ve always wanted to be nice.”
“You were born a nice guy. There aren’t many like you around here.”
I think of what Uncle Robert would say to Kelsey’s comment.
Good thing.
“Can I ask you a serious question?” I say.
“Sure.”
I’m not sure how to bring it up, but with Kelsey I don’t have to watch my words. That’s the nice thing about being around her. It’s always been easy, from the very beginning. So I just ask.
“Is church for you a real thing? Like—is it more than something you go to every Sunday?”
“We actually go on Wednesdays sometimes. And on Saturdays.”
“Well, no, I mean, not just church.”
“What I believe?” Kelsey asks.
“Yeah.”
“Our pastor says that church is not the building, but the believers. It’s about the relationships.”
“Do you believe everything he says?”
“Sure.”
“That easily?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
I don’t say anything, even though I have a hundred questions in my mind. Kelsey ends up with a question of her own.
“Why do you ask?”
“Do you think God hears prayers?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Do you think He answers them?”
“Yes.”
“Well, okay then,” I say with a bit of sarcasm.
“I’m just telling you what I think.”
“Is it that easy?”
“Yeah. At least, I think it can be. But I don’t know. That’s just what I believe.”
I wish I could see her as she says this. Those blue eyes cheerful and bashful and excited at the same time. Her cute little face and cute little lips.
“I’d kiss you if I was sitting next to you,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“Just—just because.”
Just because you’re a sliver of sunlight in this sad, scary place.
“I told you you’re welcome to come over.”
“By the time we get off the phone it will be Sunday,” I say.
“You can see me tomorrow if you want.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to go to church with us?”
And no, I really don’t want to because of Marsh and her parents and the whole faith thing, but in my typical way I say, “Okay.”
Because it feels right to say it.
It will feel right being next to her while I’m dealing with my fears and doubts.
It’ll be nice to sit next to someone I care for who doesn’t have the same fears and doubts.