Chapter 11
DECLAN
Sitting on the top step in front of Avah’s door, I wait for Lindgren to pick me up. There’s a voicemail from my Aunt and with a sigh, I press the phone to my ear and listen.
“Hey Sweetheart. I just wanted to talk…I know when you get quiet, it’s because you’re struggling with something. I’ve known you your entire life, so I know you won’t reach out until you feel ready to talk. But I want you to know that I’m here, that you’re loved. Not only by me, but by God.”
I swallow, my throat tightening listening to the love and sincerity in her words.
“I don’t know when last you spoke to Him, but know that He’s always with you, Sweetheart. Even in the difficult moments. Even when you feel like there’s no way out, He’s there. He’s always there. I love you.”
I stare at the phone, wondering how someone could still care this much about me. How someone, who’s neither of my parents, cares enough about me to call. She cares enough to know what’s going on with me without me saying a word.
I haven’t heard from my mom since she married her latest husband three years ago. And my dad…well, whenever he calls I try to avoid answering. Whenever I do answer, there’s no conversation, just a guilt trip followed by a not so subtle ask for money.
But my Aunt Kat has always kept a place for me in her life. No matter how much I messed up, how quiet I’ve gotten or how long ago I’ve visited her. Maybe it would be a good idea to take the time I have now with the suspension to drive up to Boston and see her. I owe her that much.
Lindgren’s car turns the corner, and I make my way down the steps to meet him. My gaze lands on the spot where Avah’s car stood an hour ago. Guilt gnaws at my insides just thinking of how I ruined the backseat so horribly. I had it picked up a while ago.
This morning I wanted to talk to her and properly thank her for what she's done for me, but instead something caused her to hightail out of the apartment before I could get anything out. Perhaps it’s better that way, at least she left her keys so I could get her car cleaned up for her.
I’ll come back with it later…apology in tow.
“Thanks for picking me up man,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat of my housemate’s car. It’s a typical college student car, filled with hockey gear strewn across the backseat instead of empty take-out containers. At least he’s got his priorities straight.
“No problem,” he says with a smile. “You’ve had my back more than once man, it’s about time I return the favor. Even if it’s off the ice.”
“So who’s place is this?” Lindgren asks, turning into traffic.
Watching her apartment shrink away outside my window, I remember how she helped me last night.
She sat close to me, allowing me to see every bit of blue in her eyes as she fixed up the cut above my eye.
She didn’t have to help me, and even if she felt some sort of obligation to not leave me on the floor of the bar, she didn’t have to take me to her apartment and clean me up.
She could’ve dumped me on my own front lawn, but instead she showed me kindness.
Undeserved kindness.
“Avah’s,” I answer him before my brain can tell my mouth to shut up.
His eyes widen and his face splits into a massive grin as he turns in his seat almost comically.
“Watch the road man,” I tell him, shoving him so he can turn back.
“Whoa…Murphy, I thought sisters were off-limits. Does EJ know you’re knocking boots with his little sister?” Lindgren asks, his voice bordering between teasing and concern. Whether it’s concern for my safety or for Avah’s, I’m not sure.
“Nobody is knocking any boots. Calm down.” I run a hand through my hair, the image of Avah in her tight golden dress from last night, popping up in my mind for some reason.
“Doesn’t look like it. You look like you had a great shower just now, hair’s still wet and everything.”
“That’s because I did,” I bark. “She’s not even there.”
She’s at church.
This morning when she told me she’s going, something akin to discomfort stirred inside of me.
It’s no secret that most of my teammates are Christians, but since Lucas got married, it feels like I’ve seen…
more of it. Now, I can see him praying with Hannah before a game.
I’m noticing how EJ prays before a meal, even when we’re out for dinner.
Nothing big or major, but he bows his head and closes his eyes before he digs in.
And now, Avah, the woman I’ve had a weird…situationship with for the past year is going to church, after she literally picked me up off a dirty bar floor.
I run my hand over my face, forgetting about my cut—again. For some reason I don’t like the fact that she might think less of me because of my behavior last night.
Not that I think she really thought much of me before.
But she took care of me like she might.
“Did you break into her place?” Lindgren asks, his eyebrow quirking.
“Is that the next logical option?” I ask him, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “An affair or crime? Nice to know you think so much of me.”
I’ve never doubted my teammates' friendship before, but these past few months, it’s become clear what they think about my character. They obviously only love me for my game. EJ’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t think I’m suited for any woman, let alone his sister. And now Lindgren.
“Nah, that’s not what I meant, man,” he says apologetically. “Come on, Murphy, you know I love you.”
“You sure know how to show it,” I mumble.
“It’s just, it’s no secret that the two of you don’t really get along. You’ve been at each other’s throats for a year now. So sue me for thinking the worst.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I sigh, not really wanting to go into the fact that she had to come to my rescue last night—and that I owe her big time. Not to mention that I definitely owe her a new car. “She went to church,” I add.
Lindgren nods, keeping his eyes on the road and his lips sealed shut. He’s obviously holding back on me.
“Do you go to church?” I ask, wondering out loud.
“Not anymore.” He shakes his head, his voice tinged with sadness…or is it disappointment.
I nod, not knowing what to say. I used to go to church since my mom’s second husband made a bigger deal out of it than my dad did.
But as soon as I was old enough to decide for myself, I stayed home on a Sunday.
My Aunt Kat has tried to get me to go with her a couple of times, but every time I hear her talking about Jesus and his ability to bring us healing, I can’t help but think she’s naive.
Because I’ve heard her praying for my dad, for his salvation, and still he’s neck deep in a bottle before 9AM every morning.
“I know I should go,” Lindgren says suddenly. “It would be better for me to find a place where I feel comfortable, but ever since I left Minnesota…I don’t know. It’s not the same as my church back home.”
That makes sense. For a big, Minnesota mamma’s boy like Lindgren, the home factor would play a role. New York City is nothing like Minnesota, or even Boston. Maybe my faith would look different if I grew up in a small town.
Then again, maybe not. Small towns have liquor stores too.
“So you believe that God is looking down at us? That He’s in control of everything?
” I ask, unable to keep the scepticism from my voice.
I’m not trying to be a jerk to Lindgren.
It’s just that I’m genuinely curious, and for some reason my rookie roommate who weirdly resembles a golden retriever seems like a safe option to ask a question like this.
Maybe it’s because I know he won’t tell anyone I asked.
And if he did, I’m not sure they’ll believe him.
“I do. That’s why my number is 56—for Psalm 56,” he says, the corner of his mouth tipping into a confident smile. “Don’t get me wrong, doubt creeps in. Many times. But I always come back to the same conclusion…there has to be a God up there, otherwise we’re all screwed.”
His sentiment has a laugh tumbling from my lips. Because for the first time in my life, it’s one I can get behind.
“That’s true.” I might not know how God works, but I’ve always thought He’s just out there, watching it all play out. I’ve never felt like He would step in, or reach into our lives.
Why would he?
The world is a mess and the people in it, even messier.
“The way I see it is that God’s not the same in everyone’s lives.” He taps his fingers against his steering wheel, before he looks at me. “For some He’s loud, for others He shows up in the wind or the sunset. Or at church or a prayer walk.”
“And for you?” I ask.
He smiles. “For me, He shows up in the snow.” He casts a quick glance my way to see if I know what he’s talking about.
Upon seeing my frown, he laughs. “You know, back home, in the middle of winter it gets so cold, so quiet, so white with snow…it’s just quiet.
You don’t get that kind of quiet here. Here, there’s always noise.
But back home when everything is covered in a thick blanket of snow…
it’s like it muffles the world. It’s just peaceful.
And clean. Pure. Nothing but a sheet of pure snow below your feet and pitch black sky spotted with stars above your head. That’s where I meet Him.”
I nod along, trying to think if there was ever a time when God showed up for me.
I come up empty.
He didn’t show up when I prayed with my Aunt in church that one time.
He didn’t even show up later that night when I asked Him to help my dad after I had to pick him up off the floor.
I tossed out all the bottles, cleaned the carpet and put him to bed…
where I prayed for the first time on my own while he was lying there.
And the next day when I woke up my dad was halfway into a new bottle he had hidden in the garden shed.
God didn’t hear me.
After that, I didn’t try again.
Maybe God shows up for guys like Lindgren. For me, all He’s ever done is stay silent.
* * *