Sixteen
SIXTEEN
RHETT
Since I hit rock bottom several weeks ago, my truck has been fixed but my relationship with Dana has remained broken. I’ve managed to talk to Rosa on several occasions, but she’s only told me “Give her time” every time I’ve asked about Dana.
I see Dana at church each Sunday, but she always finds a way to avoid me.
I’ve tried calling her I don’t know how many times, but she never answers. As each day passes, I grow more hopeless and it becomes harder to breathe. My only relief comes from reading my Bible, spending time with the Woodhouses, and going to church with them.
But my relationship with Dana isn’t the only one that’s failing. There’s nothing new from Oscar. He’s just as closed off as ever. It’s becoming more difficult to stay positive when my son refuses to forgive me for not being a part of his life before now.
I regret ignoring Ashley’s calls back then. Instead of thinking she was calling about something important, I assumed she was another delusional fan who thought I’d change my philandering ways for her just because we spent a few nights together. I feel sick at the thought of who I once was. Irritated that I didn’t just take one of her calls.
How different would my life be? Or Oscar’s? Would he be better off? Or hate me more for the selfish man I was back then?
Our first meeting would have been when he was an infant. Instead, I met my son when he was sixteen and in need of a life-saving transplant. I remember the day we left the hospital after his surgery. It had been only a few days since I vanished from Amber Island and left Dana behind, but it felt like my time with her was a lifetime before. My thoughts couldn’t drift to her or what could have been. I had to focus on Oscar’s health. On my own recovery. Our medical team told us there was still a chance for complications, the big one being a rejection of the organ. But we were physically in a good place, so it was finally the right time for Ashley to give me some answers.
She invited me over to their house so Oscar and I could connect. But the moment we stepped through the door, Oscar went straight to his room.
“Why didn’t you tell me about my son?” I asked once Oscar was out of earshot.
She must have known this was coming because before the entire question was out of my mouth, tears filled her eyes.
“I tried. I was going to tell you the day I found out. But you…canceled on me.”
When I closed my eyes, I tried thinking back to that day and the reason I canceled. It was so many years ago that I couldn’t for the life of me remember.
“Then I saw your picture online. You were out with the band and…several other women.” Her smile was halfhearted as if she understood even back then where our relationship was headed.
“I’m sorry. I should have answered.” It was a pathetic response, but I didn’t have anything else to say.
She shrugged. “I begged you to call me back, that I had something important to tell you.” Ashley released a deep breath. “You never did. So I gave up until I had him. He was a beautiful baby boy.” She had a sad smile on her lips. “He looked just like you, and I wanted to reach out again. But then I saw more pictures of you partying with different women and I realized maybe this was how it was supposed to be. That you weren’t cut out to be Oscar’s dad.”
Her statement sliced into me like a machete. It would have hurt less to be wide awake during surgery than to hear those words. Not because she was callous when she delivered them but because they were true. As much as I’d like to say I would have changed, there’s no guarantee that I would have. I was too self-absorbed.
That didn’t start to change until Gannon, the lead singer of Awestruck—one of the bands we toured with—pulled me aside after one of our concerts to talk to me. It was shortly after my fling with Ashley and I had sunk deeper into the party boy lifestyle. He wasn’t judgmental as he shared the truth of Jesus’s love and forgiveness if I’d turn to him. Even though I didn’t apply the truth he shared, everything he said stuck with me. It was the same truth West shared with me when I started going to church with him.
Their words told me God wasn’t out to get me or waiting for me to mess up so He could rain down His punishment over me. God was waiting for me to see Jesus through the people He brought into my life who lived for Him.
Those people lovingly showed me that we all deserve God’s punishment and judgment, but Jesus took on that punishment to save all who believe, including me. They told me that God loved us so much that He sent His only Son to die for our sins. To give us not only life but life to the full. Partying wasn’t living life to the full; it was a temporary salve to cover the emptiness inside me. A superficial distraction from what–or Who–would give me life to the fullest.
Ashley was right; I wouldn’t have made a good dad. It was a sad and painful truth. It stunned me that Ashley thought she and Oscar would be better off without me–a rockstar who could give them the world.
Before Christ, I wasn’t cut out to be a dad. After Christ, well, I know I’ll still fail, but I also know that God’s grace is big enough to cover even my great inadequacies.
Over the next few months after our surgeries, Ashley updated me on Oscar’s life and recovery because he refused to speak to me. So I did the only other thing I could think of—I wrote him a song. Then I recorded it and left the flash drive in an envelope with Oscar’s name at their front door.
When I checked my mail a week later, I found a note from Oscar in my mailbox that read:
Thanks for the garbage, Old Man.
More than a year later and I’m still in the same spot with my kid. It’s frustrating and soul-shattering all at once. It’s been a hard road, but I am doing my best to remain faithful in believing God has a plan and is working in the muddied waters of my past and present. With Oscar and with Dana.
“Rhett, you have a guest!” Mrs. Woodhouse calls from the top of the steps, pulling me free of my thoughts.
“Who would be visiting me?” I think out loud. My heart pounds at the hope brewing there. Could it be Dana? Is she finally going to let me explain?
Dillon Grimes, Faith Alive’s youth pastor, waits for me on the living room sofa. I’ve only spoken to him a handful of times after church. But he seems like a decent enough guy. I just have no idea why he’s here to see me.
“Hey, Dillon.” I shake his hand and take the chair across from him.
“Hey, Rhett, how would you feel about getting back on the stage again?” he asks.
I eye him skeptically and lean back in the chair. “You know my history, I take it?”
He looks sheepish as he nods. “I do. And I don’t say this lightly, but I feel like Divine intervention is at play.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and raise an eyebrow. “How’s that?”
“Our guitarist just put his notice in. He’s moving off the island, and we need someone to take his place.”
Sweat breaks out across my forehead. Playing on stage is a rush unlike any other. But the last time I stepped off the stage, the entire trajectory of my life was altered. The memory of that time plays on repeat in my nightmares. The same nightmare I had while staying with Dana.
After taking a shaky breath, I say, “I don’t know.”
Dillon clasps his hands in front of him and rests his forearms on his legs. “Can I ask why? I really thought you would have been excited. Dana told me how talented you are, and after listening to a few of your songs, I have to agree with her.”
“You talked to Dana about me?” I feel a confusing mix of pride and envy.
“She talked about your music when we dated. She told me about her love for Phantom Echoes and how much she enjoyed listening to your guitar solos.”
“You dated Dana?” I ask, my voice as sharp as knives. The mix of pride and envy I felt morphs into pure, unadulterated jealousy.
“Uh, yeah. We went out for a few months, actually.” He tugs his shirt collar away from his throat. Beads of sweat form on his forehead. Something tells me Dana thought they were more serious than Dillon did.
“Aren’t you engaged?”
He scratches the back of his neck and looks uncomfortable. “Sadie and I started dating a couple of weeks after I broke things off with Dana. I proposed a month later. When you know, you know, right?” he asks, then gives an awkward laugh.
“So let me get this straight. You dated Dana, broke up with her, and got serious with another girl right after?” My blood boils not just because of what Dillon did but because I know Dillon wasn’t the only man to do this to Dana. The doctor from the hospital we ran into did the exact same thing to her.
She deserves better.
Red crawls up the sides of Dillon’s neck. “When you put it like that, it does sound pretty bad.”
My nostrils flare and my hands clench into fists on my lap. “I guess I just don’t understand how a man can walk away from a woman like Dana, let alone move on so fast.” Hypocrite! My subconscious screams at me.
His eyes narrow. “I can assure you, Dana is happy for us.”
I scoff.
Dillon’s lips pull into a firm line. “Coming here was a mistake. I may have prayed about this but talking to you now I don’t think we’d work well together.”
Despite agreeing with him on that point, I feel a tug that this–playing again on stage–is something God is calling me to do. A feeling that promises this time playing on stage will be very different.
Dillon stands.
I rise from my seat too. “Wait.”
He looks at me, the red on his face fading back to his usual pale tone.
“You said you prayed about this, right?” I ask.
Reluctantly, Dillon plops back down and nods in confirmation. “I did.”
“Give me a few days. Let me pray over this decision too, and I’ll let you know. If after some prayer God shows me this is His will, I’ll make sure this stuff with Dana won’t get in the way of following God’s lead.”
Any harshness in Dillon’s expression vanishes. “I respect that and agree.” He takes my extended hand and we shake.
“Thank you for your consideration,” he says.
I nod, then see him out.
Once Dillon is gone, I release a deep breath. “I’m not sure what You’re doing, Lord, but I’m here for it either way.”
“Thank you for all your help,” Nancy Woodhouse says, patting my back as I finish washing up tonight’s dishes. “But I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep helping out around the house. That’s not why we invited you here to stay with us.”
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Woodhouse, but I’m hoping to get out of your hair soon.”
She playfully smacks my back with the dishtowel she’s using to dry the dishes. “You stop that nonsense. We’ve both enjoyed having you here. Clarence refuses to pay someone to do what he says he can do, but he couldn’t turn you down when you offered to do it for free. Good idea calling it a ‘thank you’ so he didn’t take too big of a hit to his pride.” She winks. ”Your future wife is going to be one lucky woman.”
There’s only one woman I could ever picture spending the rest of my life with and she hates me. I swallow the lump in my throat so I’m able to reply. “Thank you, but I’m not sure if I’m the settling down and getting married type.”
“You are the marriage type, mister. The right woman just hasn’t come along yet.”
“Yes, she has,” I say without thinking.
Nancy stops mid-dry, a sly smile on her face. It’s then that I realize the cunning woman set me up with her statement. “Is that so?”
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
She says, “I knew it. Speaking of Dana, are you going to try to talk to her soon?”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me. What I did to her is unforgivable.”
All levity in her expression is gone. “Nothing is unforgivable.”
I give her a look that says I don’t believe her.
“Nothing,” she says with finality.
“Well, then it’s probably going to take a long time for her to get over it. And I can’t blame her. I had every opportunity to tell her who I am but didn’t.”
“You know I’m not happy about you lying to all of us.” Her tone is surprisingly not one of judgment. “But I can understand why you kept your identity a secret.”
“I wanted a fresh start. To be who I am and not who the world expects me to be.”
She smiles gently. “I can understand that. Dana will too. Just give her time.”
I release an exasperated sigh. “That seems to be the answer for everything—wait.”
Nancy pats my chest. “It often is, though God answers all our prayers. Sometimes His answer isn’t what we want. Sometimes it is. But we always learn His perfect answer in His perfect timing.” She pulls me into an embrace. “I’m praying for you. Keep leaning into God and you’ll get through this.”
“I know.” It’s something I do know and have known but still need to be reminded of. “Thank you.” I squeeze her back, and she holds me tight. Her hug reminds me so much of my mom that I squeeze her harder and send up a grateful prayer that God put another wonderful woman in my life to encourage me.
I’ve been praying for the last few days, trying to figure out if joining the church band is something God wants me to do. At first, I wasn’t sure if it’d be a good idea since my true identity is slowly spreading through the community. The people of Amber Island are private, but it doesn’t mean someone won’t turn on me and release my whereabouts to the media. But the more I pray about it, the more certain I am that God is calling me to do this. Step out in obedience and God will handle the consequences, right?
Dillon texted yesterday and asked if I’d want to do a trial run at youth group this week, and I told him I’d let him know by tonight. Apparently, he’s grown impatient with waiting on me. Even though I’m leery about going back on stage I keep reminding myself that this is for God’s glory. Not mine. Facing that fear will be worth it so I can go out there praising the God who saved me. The God who’s sovereign. The God who gives and takes away.
I’m searching the scriptures, trying to confirm I’m making the right decision while Nancy sits across from me working on a crossword puzzle.
“Do you think she’ll be at youth group?” I ask. Nancy looks up from the paper and gives me a mischievous smile. I don’t need to name who I’m asking about.
Since Nancy is in charge of the women’s ministry, which includes the girls’ youth group, she should know which of her volunteers will be present.
“That girl hasn’t missed a Wednesday since her first small group. She’ll be there.” Nancy rests her hands on her hips. “But if she’s not there, I’ll be dragging her little butt out of her house and through the doors of the church.”
I smile and shake my head, then excuse myself to my room to pray. This feels like the final confirmation I need to make my decision.
I call Dillon, and he answers after the first ring. “Did you decide?”
“I’ll be at youth group.”
“Awesome, thank you, Rhett.” His voice is full of relief.
After saying goodbyes, we hang up. I pray that this is the perfect place to start again.