4. Not Short Where It Counts
Not Short Where It Counts
For Ronald, it wasn’t the height of the hoop that was the problem, it was the people expecting him to jump through it.
The bus station’s orange, fluorescent lights flickered erratically, casting a sickly glow over the worn pavement.
The scent of burnt coffee, rubber tires, and distant exhaust filled the cool evening air, while passengers boarding and disembarking laden with luggage murmured and lingered like Autumn bees.
The chilled evening air nipped at exposed skin, making Rebekkah pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders, while Japheth buttoned up his jacket, feeling the unease of waiting stretch into discomfort.
Despite the bustling of the bus stop, the atmosphere felt heavy, almost stagnant, as if the weight of unrealized dreams hung over everyone here.
Rebekkah sat on a rusty bench with Japheth beside her, the metal cool and uncomfortable beneath them.
They both fidgeted with anticipation, their breath visible in the cool early Fall air.
They had dressed for the occasion, well, as dressed as two people could be when they weren’t sure whether they were leaving their hometown for good, or just trying on the feeling of leaving and seeing if anyone would notice.
Rebekkah wore a whimsical purple beret that clashed slightly with her oversized military-style coat, which draped over a floral dress that looked like something from a Renaissance fair, and combat boots.
Her large hoop earrings caught and released the glow of the streetlight.
Beside her, Japheth looked like he had raided a thrift store blindfolded, wearing a mismatched red corduroy jacket that was a little too tight, paired with an old orange ‘80s band tee that was aggressively tucked into his baggy jeans which had pockets sewn onto the front that travelled from his hips to the tongues of his boots. What such deep pockets would carry or how one would retrieve their contents once deposited was anyone’s guess.
His hair was carefully tousled, trying (and failing) to appear effortlessly cool as the effort was evident.
Across the station, the bus sat idling, passengers chatting and disembarking while Rebekkah and Japheth wrestled with the most critical decision of their lives.
“So, what’s it gonna be, Japheth? Toronto, or Los Angeles?” Rebekkah asked, her voice laced with excitement and uncertainty.
Japheth furrowed his brow, the tension clear on his face, “I honestly can’t decide. Toronto’s only three hours away; we could start our new life by morning.”
Rebekkah nodded, “True, and with Los Angeles, we’re delaying the rise of our stardom by three, maybe even four days.”
He bit his lip, weighing the options, “But are we likely to meet more people on a three, maybe four-day bus ride and have more opportunities to chat about Jesus?”
Rebekkah glanced sideways at him, “There’s that. But are you still keen to sing His praises? I mean, He’s why we’re skipping town.”
Japheth sighed deeply, his fingers playing his corduroy jacket musically and revealing his nerves, “There is that.”
Rebekkah leaned back against the bench, “I know God gets really quiet sometimes. It’s super hard to hear Him. Sometimes, I even wonder if He’s there at all.”
Japheth’s eyes widened in surprise, “Are you having doubts?”
“With my faith?” Rebekkah asked, her voice steady but reflective. “Or, that we should be getting on a bus out of Greater Napanee and the Land O’Lakes region?”
Japheth frowned, kicking a loose rock, “Hmm… both, I guess?”
“Hmm… both, I guess,” Rebekkah echoed, sharing the sentiment. “It’s like that song, From a Distance.”
“Yes!” Japheth turned to Rebekkah, “Bette is so amazing on that song. She’s singing but it’s like she’s just talking to you, right?”
“Why can’t God do that? Like, just talk to us. We’re right here,” Rebekkah complained. “We’re all your instruments, marching in a common band. But we don’t know where we’re going! The flautist is running into the snare drummer and the whole brass section is like, who is leading this parade?”
“Exactly! And if God is watching us, God is watching us, God is watching us–she sings it like three times in every chorus. If He is watching us, why won’t He just talk to us. Tell us what to do!” Japheth shook his head. “And why from a distance?”
“Like, get your Biblical butt down here! We need You!”
“Is it bad that I feel angry at Jesus?” Japheth admitted, his voice cracking.
“A couple of nights ago, I had such a good prayer session, and I felt Him, you know? Like He was inside me. It was… ecstasy. And because of that connection, I was sure we were finally on the right path. That our band was finally gonna start playing to a bigger audience.”
Rebekkah raised an eyebrow, “No more funerals?”
Japheth snorted, “I’ll always be grateful to Amigone Funeral Home. But yeah, playing for the living would be cool, too.”
Rebekkah smiled softly, “Feeling angry with Jesus is… complicated. I get it because I’ve been there too, especially lately, when our whole life just feels so upside-down. But I think we feel that way because we really love Him. We have a relationship, and relationships are hard.”
“Especially when He’s the strong, silent type,” Japheth muttered.
Rebekkah chuckled, “There’s some guesswork involved in trying to understand what He wants. But I think all He really wants is for us to be good. To have great friendships, relationships with people in our community, and to step in, help, or just be there for others, you know?”
Japheth nodded thoughtfully, “We could climb the tallest mountain…”
“Or swim to the deepest seas,” Rebekkah added.
“But we can’t run from His love,” Japheth finished, a hint of resignation in his tone. He exhaled, feeling a little lighter. “I’m still confused. But I do feel a little better. Thank you.” He paused before asking, “What did you tell your mom?”
“Our mom-ager?” Rebekkah shrugged. “I didn’t.”
“You were just going to skip town?!”
“I mean… she can be a little much,” Rebekkah admitted.
“She’s our biggest cheerleader,” Japheth reminded her.
“And that’s a lot of pressure,” Rebekkah replied, looking up at the darkening sky. “It’s like, if we don’t match Anne Murray, Juno win for Juno win, it’s never going to be enough.”
Japheth smirked, “I don’t think they have a category for Christian pop.”
Rebekkah’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “Yet!”
“Yet!” Japheth echoed, laughing. “Oh, I love how big you dream.”
“You, too.”
Their laughter was interrupted by a commotion near the ticket booth. A young man, small and muscular, was arguing with the ticket agent, his voice carrying over the bus terminal parking lot to the bench where Japheth and Rebekkah perched.
“Young man, there are no refunds when the bus is in the station,” the ticket agent said sternly.
“But I haven’t gotten on the bus!” Ronald snapped, his voice full of frustration. “I haven’t gone anywhere!”
The ticket agent shrugged, unapologetic, “I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules.”
Rebekkah squinted, trying to make out the figure causing the scene, “Is that…?”
“Ronald!” Japheth exclaimed, standing up and waving. “Hey, Ronald! It’s us, Japheth and Rebekkah–from, well, from yesterday!”
Ronald, rolling a bright red suitcase behind him, turned toward them, his expression a mix of surprise and exhaustion. “Lady, I’ve had a really bad day, and you’ve just made it worse,” he muttered to the ticket agent before storming over.
As Ronald approached, Japheth couldn’t help but notice how different Ronald looked today.
Dressed for his big tryout, Ronald was wearing a sleek, fitted basketball jersey in jet black, with his last name stitched proudly across the back.
His shorts, the same absurdly low-hanging kind they’d clocked yesterday, somehow stayed miraculously in place despite drooping precariously low across his backside.
A pair of spotless white sneakers completed his outfit, clearly selected thoughtfully for his big moment.
“Rebekkah, Japheth, what are you guys doing here?” Ronald asked, his voice tired but curious.
Rebekkah stood up, smoothing her floral dress and then working on the complicated buttons of her military coat. “We’re skipping town.”
“On the run,” Japheth added dramatically, shooting Ronald a grin.
Ronald raised an eyebrow, “From what?”
“Oh! Not really. We’re not running from anything,” Japheth quickly clarified, awkwardly waving his hand.
“We’re running toward our dream,” Rebekkah said with a glimmer of hope. She was digging deep to find her footing by setting an example of bravery for their new friend and reluctant Trinity member. Ronald didn’t seem to notice, still thoroughly caught up in his own drama.
“That bus ticket authoritarian,” Ronald bellowed over his shoulder at the ticket booth, shaking his head in frustration. “She won’t refund my ticket, and now I’m out $17!”
Rebekkah’s brow furrowed in concern, “Why do you want a refund? Aren’t you supposed to be going to an audition for the Harlem Globetrotters?”
Ronald let out a long, defeated sigh, “Not anymore.”
Her face softened with sympathy, “Why not?”
Ronald threw his hands in the air, “Because those Harlem Globetrotters are a bunch of heightist jerks!”
“Heightist?” Japheth echoed, confused.
“Yeah,” Ronald scoffed, crossing his arms in annoyance. “Turns out, you have to be at least six feet tall to try out for them, and I’m, well… not that.”
Rebekkah gasped, shaking her head, “Oh, Ronald, I’m sorry!”
Japheth, always quick to defend a friend, chimed in, “They’re probably a bunch of… a bunch of… douchebags anyway!”
“Japheth!” Rebekkah reprimanded, though she couldn’t entirely suppress a small smile.
“Sorry,” Japheth said sheepishly, surprised by his own outburst.
Ronald’s voice dropped, his bravado suddenly replaced by something more vulnerable, “You know how you were saying that that Jesus guy had his twelve best friends who he travelled with? And ate with? And slept with, and stuff?”
Rebekkah hesitated, “Well… kind of, yeah?”