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Levi
Levi woke to the disorienting combination of an incredible amount of pain and a euphoria. He looked around the room, a hospital room. His mom sat beside him with her head beside his hip, snoring softly. He wanted to talk to her, tell her about what had happened to him, thank her for making sure people were looking for him, thank her for being such an awesome mother, apologize for the times he’d been rotten—but he didn’t want to wake her up.
Soft light spilled through a window he couldn’t quite see out of. It was daylight. How had he gotten here? He had fragments of memories in his brain, but they didn’t fit together into anything that made sense. He remembered falling. He remembered the basement so clearly it was as if it was a part of him now. He remembered their voices. He remembered them helping him across the cellar, telling him to hop. The idea of hopping seemed so impossible now, but he thought he’d done it. He remembered Jason pulling him out of the basement. He remembered lying on the ground with the rain dripping on his face; it had been so cold, but he hadn’t cared because he’d been so happy to be free of that house.
And he remembered Gamp. He remembered things that Gamp had said: They’re coming ... The grave had no victory over me ... God searches the heart. He’d been right about the first thing; had he also been right about the rest? He remembered praying, really praying, pleading and begging with God. Had that done something? He’d felt that need, that need for rescue, that need for God, so strongly in that basement, but that feeling was fading fast. God wasn’t real, was he? That was just how he’d gotten through the ordeal.
His mother stirred. Again he wanted to wake her and again he didn’t.
But this time she woke on her own, slowly sitting up. She didn’t let go of his hand, and her free hand went to the back of her neck, where she rubbed. She opened her eyes and squinted as she focused. Then she made eye contact with him and she let out the cutest little squeal. His face spread into a grin so quickly that it hurt his cheeks.
“My baby!” She jumped up, leaned over him, and grabbed his sore cheeks with both hands. Then she started kissing him repeatedly on his forehead, and he felt her hot tears on his head.
Slowly, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Mom,” he said, and he couldn’t believe how raspy his voice was.
She let go of him and slid away. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
He tried to shake his head, but it hurt too much. “No, you didn’t.”
Smiling like he’d never seen her smile before, she slid the chair even closer to his bed and sat down. Then she took that same hand into both of hers and squeezed. “I can’t even tell you what a miracle you are.”
Her words hit a tuning fork deep in his memory. She’d used to tell him he was a miracle! When he was little! Wow, she hadn’t said that in a long time. Which made sense. Because he’d stopped resembling a miracle quite a while back.
“I love you,” he said, and again, couldn’t believe the raspiness. He sounded like he’d swallowed Drano. His free hand went to his throat as if checking to make sure it was still there.
“Take it easy with talking. You tried earlier, and the doctor said being hard to talk is normal. You’re severely dehydrated, and he said you probably overused your voice trying to call for help.”
Had he? Had he screamed for help? He couldn’t remember. Guess God wants me to be quiet for a while, he thought, and mentally jumped. There was God again. “I have so much to say,” he tried, but she shushed him.
“We have plenty of time for that.”
But they didn’t, did they? He was going to work much harder at living to a ripe old age, but he didn’t know how much time he had left. “I’m sorry.” An embarrassing tear leaked out of the corner of his eye.
Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out to wipe his away. “I know, baby.”
He closed his eyes, exhausted. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. Those kids, the kids who found you? They’ve told the cops all about Kendall, and Kendall told the cops all about Shane. So they’re not getting away with what they did to you.”
“They didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, they did.”
“No.” He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Dehydrated indeed. “I did it to myself. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For the last ...” He tried to do some mental math. “Six years or so.”
She laughed, and it was music to his heart. “It’s okay. Nobody is perfect. I certainly haven’t been. But we’ve gone through some hard things, and we survived.” She squeezed his hand again. “Baby, no matter what has happened, no matter what trouble you’ve found, I want you to know that I am so, so, so proud of you. I was so scared that I was never going to see you again and not be able to tell you that. I am so proud to call you my son, and I wouldn’t trade you for any other son in the world.”
Her words took his breath away. Did she really feel that way? About him? That was insane! He was a dud!
She must have read his doubt because she added, “You are so strong and so brave. You have always been confident enough to be yourself, and I admire that so much. And you are so, so stubborn.” She laughed and brushed some tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’ve sometimes hated that, but I don’t think I’ll ever hate it again. Being stubborn is what kept you alive up there.” She smiled and gazed at him. “You are so tough, and you’re going to make such a good man. Sorry. Correction. You are already a good man.”
Except that he wasn’t, and he knew that. “Mom, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
