6
KING
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I walk away from the bonfire with Erica, pulling her gently but firmly by the arm until we’re out of sight of the crowd.
The bonfire sits right by the big shore of the lake, just past the trees, so a cool breeze rolls in off the water and settles over the area. We’re also right behind the cafeteria, meaning the cabins aren’t far, but I don’t want her heading back there yet.
Not like this.
“I didn’t need your help,” she says rudely.
“That’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I don’t need you to jump in and try to save me every time. I can fight my own battles, you know.”
Shaking my head, I exhale, lead in my voice. “You’ll do everything except apologize.”
“I’m sorry for offending you, but you are a Bible thumper,” Erica states, almost like she’s fighting herself from giving a little bit of an inch.
“What exactly is that?” I ask her.
“People who try to beat others over the head with the Bible,” she replies, looking up at me.
My brows knit. “I don’t do that.”
“Yes, you do! All the time! You can’t even let yourself be happy,” she says, throwing a palm up in my direction before letting it fall back to her side.
“Erica, I…” My phone rings, cutting into our conversation.
It’s Aaliyah. Erica looks down at my phone, then at me. “It’s fine. Take your call.”
“No, please wait,” I tell her.
I answer, greeting Aaliyah. Her happy voice responds right away. “Hey, Brother King. How are you?”
“I’m doing fine, Sister Aaliyah. Hey,” I say before she can start talking.
“Yes?”
“Is it okay if I can call you back later?” I ask as politely as I can.
“Yeah, sure. And that’s good because I have to talk with you,” Sister Aaliyah states.
“Thank you. Later.”
“Bye,” she ends the call before I do.
She has to talk to me later? About what?
Anyway.
Taking a step closer to Erica, I give her a tender smile. “Let’s go back to the bonfire.”
“No.”
“Erica,” I try to cajole her, lowering my voice to a softer tone so she doesn’t need to be so angry.
“I said no, King!”
“Why?”
“You have to ask that?” she asks, seeming to get angrier.
No matter how much I try to tell her that it will be fine and that Sister Madysen will behave herself, she just gets angrier and a little louder each time. Like every word that I say is fuel on her fire.
“What don’t you get about me not wanting to be around those people? You see how she is. You see how they look at me. So when I say something, I mean it! It’s so aggravating. Like they’re better than everybody else and I’m not supposed to defend myself or say anything,” she goes on and on.
My body remains frozen, just watching her vent.
Her facial features are completely filled with contempt and anger that I’m not used to seeing like this. Her red locs dangle in front of her face as her head whips around wildly each time she speaks.
My heart flutters.
Even in her state of absolute fury… she’s… very nice to look at.
It takes me a while to realize I haven’t even heard the last few things she said.
“But whatever,” she finishes, walking away from me.
“Where are you going?” I ask, following her.
“Back to my cabin. What do you think?” she states, stomping off.
“I’ll walk you back.”
“No, I don’t—”
“Erica, I insist,” I say firmly.
Erica stares at me with her bright gold eyes that almost seem to glow. Then she rolls them and walks off, trying to move faster than me, but my legs are much longer and I keep up with not much effort.
When we get to her cabin, we walk in silence. Nobody’s there, that’s right, Zosha is still back at the bonfire.
She goes inside, and I follow her in. The way she is right now, I don’t want to leave her alone like this, not angry and volatile.
“You should talk to Aaliyah,” she tells me as she takes off her shoes.
“She can wait,” I reply.
Turning to face me, Erica tilts her head. “Why are you wasting so much time? You know I don’t believe. Why are you bothering?”
Puffing out a frustrated exhalation, she scoffs in a short laugh. “People look up to you. It’s bad for you to be seen with me. Isn’t that the whole point you tried to make while you weren’t speaking to me?” she asks, looking at me pointedly.
Her eyes are so filled with indignation but something else too, a sort of ferocity… defensiveness.
“It was,” I tell her silently.
“Then why are you here?” she asks.
Biting my bottom lip and staring at the wood floor, I then look at her. “Because I don’t abandon my friends.”
Her face instantly softens. Her mouth twitches, and she blinks a little faster. Closing her eyes, she looks off to the side. Her eyes look watery. Then she steps closer and slowly throws her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.
She holds me… and we just stand here… I want to… hold her back.
Wrapping my arms around her in a hug, I return her embrace.
My heart is racing. My vision pulsates with how hard my heart is working.
My body gets hot, remembering our kiss at Christmas. It’s why I’ve been working overtime to cleanse my spirit, because ever since I sobered up the day after, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. As well as the things she said to me. It’s hard… it’s hard to… I don’t even know what I want…
My body is shaking.
Suddenly she lets go of me, and it feels wrong, like something was keeping me together, and now I’m left standing on my own, not knowing what to do.
“Go,” she says, sniffling, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. “Go. I’m not going to let you sin, King.”
She turns away from me and starts taking off her pants, stripping to her underwear. My heart beats even faster. My eyes glue to her backside.
“I said go,” she says again, more firmly this time.
She sits on the bed, fighting back her tears.
She told me to go, and I should go, but…
I can’t.
She’s sad.
My legs are supposed to take me to the door of her cabin, but instead they take me to her bed.
Erica lies on her side, her hands clasped together as the side of her face rests on them. I tuck her in underneath the covers.
Standing over her, I sit on the side of her bed next to her.
I bow my head and speak quietly, praying over her aloud.
“Father God, I come to You right now in the name of Jesus. I lift up Erica to You, Lord. She’s hurting, she’s angry, she’s carrying so much pain and confusion.
I ask that You touch her heart tonight. Soften the places that feel hard, heal the wounds that she’s hiding.
Bring peace where there’s storm, clarity where there’s doubt.
Help her to see Your love, even when she doesn’t understand it yet.
Protect her mind, her spirit, her body. Surround her with Your presence, and let her feel that she’s not alone.
Thank You for Your mercy, for Your grace that covers us even when we don’t deserve it. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, right beside Erica.
She’s lying on her left side, facing toward me, her body curled slightly under the covers.
My left hand remains planted behind her on the mattress, close to the small of her back, fingers spread to brace my weight as I lean in from the right.
The position lets me look straight down at her face; her bright gold eyes still a little glassy, face a little flushed from the earlier anger and tears.
The battery lamp on the nightstand throws a soft, warm glow across her features, catching the faint sheen on her skin and the loose strands of her red locs that have fallen forward.
“Why are you still here?” she asks, her voice a little more tired, quieter than before, the edge of its blade worn down.
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” I reply.
“Zoe will be here soon,” she says.
“Okay,” I whisper, still unable to move.
“You should go,” she whispers even quieter.
“…I should,” I reply, my voice just as low.
There’s no denying it. The reason I can’t move. I’m just stuck in this loop of being here with her and not being able to leave. I’m horny, and more than that, I want to hold Erica, to make her feel better.
But this feeling is dangerous, the kind that can get me into trouble. Standing up, I steel my resolve and turn from Erica’s bed.
“I hope you feel better. Good night,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she whispers back.
As I leave the cabin, feeling despondent, my whole body aching knowing I’m leaving Erica alone, I see Zosha walking toward the cabin, she’s almost here now. Zosha looks mad.
I stop her.
It’s as if she didn’t see me at first, but as soon as she notices me there, she flinches and then immediately her face resets into a jovial expression.
“Erica’s already in there,” I inform her.
“I figured,” Zosha replies.
“Hey, look…” I start, whispering a little bit. “Erica feels like she’s alone.”
“I know that, but I’m not going to lie to Erica about her actions. She needs a friend to tell her the truth.”
“Yes… but you’re her best friend. You can tell her the truth while also defending her,” I say.
Zosha is quiet for a minute, as if processing this.
She needs to be reminded of God’s word. I’ve found whenever things are difficult, that helps.
“Remember what Jesus said to the crowd ready to stone the woman caught in adultery? ‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.’ And when they all left, He told her, ‘Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.’ John 8:7 and 11,” I tell her.
Zosha’s expression softens with quiet understanding, her eyes warming as she nods once.
“Hey, what did you mean by ‘you were like that too’?” she asks as I slow down and turn back to face her.
“None of us are perfect. That’s what I mean.”
“The Scripture,” Zosha states. She closes her eyes slowly, letting the words settle, then opens them again, nodding with clear understanding.
Going only a short distance, just diagonally off to the right and cutting across the short patch of grass, I reach my own cabin a few doors down.
Doing my usual routine, I brush my teeth, change into my boxers and a white T-shirt, then settle in after saying my prayers and reading my Bible even though I’m tired. Lying down on my stomach, I press the left side of my face into the pillow as my right arm dangles over the side of the bed.
Is Erica okay?
Should I have left her?
I hope Zoe will be gentle with her. I don’t think Erica is a mean person. She probably just acted out because she feels alone. She did tell me she was lonely.
Distancing myself from her to try and fix my spirit now feels very selfish on my part. While I was doing that, I left her all by herself. She took care of me while I was out of the hospital, even when I didn’t ask her to, even when I sent her away.
Please forgive me, Father, for being selfish. I really thought I was doing the right thing.
My heart is still racing.
It’s been twenty minutes and I can’t sleep.
Tossing five different ways doesn’t help. Singing a hymn doesn’t help. My mind can’t stop turning over the thought of Erica, of her close to me, of her crying and hugging me, of her telling me I’m her hero.
Shame burns me just at that thought.
Is it sinful… to wish that she was here right now?
Snuggling with her when we were stranded in the hollow is a memory I keep going back to. Finally turning over onto my right, I take the other pillow and cuddle it close to my body, holding it the way I want to hold her.
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