1. Lost in a Lopsided Triangle #2
The DJ cleared his throat nervously, “Hold on… folks, there seems to be a bit of a commotion at the judges’ table. Emma-Lou is… well, she’s running past the popcorn machine, and Rino Ferrari is hot on her heels…”
Rebekkah and Japheth exchanged wide-eyed glances, their stage smiles faltering.
They squinted past the stage lights and into the distance, watching as Emma-Lou sprinted away from the judges’ table, her blonde curls bouncing in the breeze.
Behind her, Rino (like the Italian Stallion he was) charged after her with the determination of a man who’d spent many an early morning running sprints at the high school track, wanting to prove, if only to himself, that he still had the right stuff. And indeed, he did.
The DJ continued his play-by-play commentary, “Jonas Smyth hasn’t left the table, but hold on… he’s writing something. Can I get a volunteer to run me up that note?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as a volunteer handed the DJ a crumpled piece of paper. The DJ unfolded it slowly, his face falling as he read the message. “Folks, I’m… I’m sorry to announce that Emma-Lou’s parents have been pronounced… lost at sea.”
The audience gasped.
“Sweet Lord Jesus, watch over them,” the DJ continued in a hushed tone. “In light of this news, we’re canceling the remainder of today’s entertainment.”
The audience sat in stunned silence, save for a few awkward coughs and the distant squeal of kids on a fairground ride. The DJ, his voice now filled with solemnity, added, “At times like this, WWJD reminds us that there’s nothing we can do but bow our heads and pray.”
Rebekkah felt her stomach drop as the weight of the announcement settled over her. This was their chance, their moment, and now it was gone. Japheth clenched his jaw, his hands trembling at his sides.
As the stage lights dimmed, Japheth felt the weight of the moment sink in. Their (possible) moment of destiny was hijacked by tragedy. And just like that, their dreams felt as lost as Emma-Lou’s parents.
Rebekkah wasn’t sure what was worse: losing the talent show, or spending eternity smelling like fried chicken after a shift at Saddles ‘n’ Spurs.
The Saddles ‘n’ Spurs Fried Chicken drive-through speaker crackled to life. “Saddles ‘n’ Spurs. How can I put some giddy-up in your grill?”
From the driver’s seat of her rusted Oldsmobile, Rebekkah rolled her eyes. “Japheth? It’s me!”
“Rebekkah, we’ve talked about this,” Japheth’s voice came through the speaker, tinny and tired. “There’s nothing to say. We got a non-sign from God.”
Rebekkah shook her head, “Just because we didn’t win doesn’t mean we didn’t win.”
“You’re talking in riddles again,” Japheth said, his voice resigned. “Look, I’ve got a line of customers behind you. Are you gonna order something or are you just here to remind me of our failures?”
With a knowing smirk, Rebekkah leaned toward the speaker, “How long did Jacob wait for Leah to become his wife?”
Japheth’s voice crackled back, “Bible trivia? That’s easy. Seven years.”
“And how much longer did Jacob put up with Leah before he finally got the wife he really wanted?”
A sigh echoed through the menu speaker. “He waited another seven years for Rachel. What’s your point?”
“So,” Rebekkah belaboured her tale, “what do you think that story’s trying to tell us?”
Another impatient honk blared from the car behind her, but she ignored it, her eyes fixed on the intercom.
“I don’t know,” Japheth replied after a thoughtful pause, “use Plenty of Fish, maybe? It’d be faster?”
Rebekkah chuckled, “He works in mysterious ways. Just because we put a deadline on a miracle doesn’t mean He’s gonna deliver on time. He’s not Domino’s, you know.”
The speaker crackled with Japheth’s laughter, “Fine. He’s not Domino’s.”
“He makes people wait for the good stuff. The stuff that’s worth waiting for.”
HONK! HONK!
Rebekkah waved an apologetic hand out the window as Japheth pressed her, “You gonna order something?”
Rebekkah leaned in closer, “Umm, my usual? But hold the…”
“Ring of fire sauce. I know.”
Rebekkah’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at the screen, squinting at the familiar name. “It’s my… hi, Mom! Yes, I’m at Saddles ‘n’ Spurs… Well, if I hold up the phone to the speaker, he’ll be able to hear you, too. Hold on.”
She held her phone through the window, balancing it against the intercom speaker. On the other end of the line, Rebekkah’s mom’s voice rang out, clear and commanding, “I got you two a gig! This could be huge. Lots of important people are gonna be there; the Ferraris, the Burns…”
“I told you Japheth, we just had to be patient!” Rebekkah’s eyes widened. “What’s the gig, Mom?”
“I booked you…” She drew out the phrase deliciously.
“Yes?” Rebekkah asked, both anticipating and relishing in the way her mom stretched out their wins, however big or small they may be.
“As the headlining act…” her mom continued.
“Yes? Yes?!” Rebekkah pressed, her heart racing.
“At the funeral of Emma-Lou Burns’ parents!”
Rebekkah’s grin faltered, “Oh. Wow. That’s, um, great.”
Japheth leaned his forehead against the drive-through window. “Another funeral? Really great.”
HONK! HONK!
“Order your drumsticks and move your rust bucket!” The apparently very hungry driver behind Rebekkah suggested. Aggressively.
Rebekkah sighed, pulling her phone and greasy bag of fried chicken back into the car as she pulled up to Japheth’s window. “Thanks, Mom. Gotta go now, appreciate the gig.”
“One more thing honey! You two gotta get out of your own way. You gotta…” Rebekkah’s mom served up her catch phrase as often as Saddles ‘n’ Spurs offered their famous Ring of Fire sauce.
“Giddy-up and let God,” Rebekkah and Japheth finished for her and surprisingly felt a little glimmer of hope.