He’s not talking about the story of the prodigal son from the Bible. And, he’s not just talking about him and his dad. Jonah puts a hand on Matt’s knee. I’d consider that a risky move, but Matt doesn’t react.
“You,” I mumble, setting my plate on the coffee table. Matt huffs, looking down. “You, your dad, and God, right? That’s what this is all about. You’ve talked to me so much about doing the right thing, and being so angry with your father. You’re angry with God for his second chance while you can’t erase the pain of what happened during his first chance.”
Jonah turns his head slightly, pressing his mouth into his upper arm and taking a breath. He looks at me and shakes his head, as if he’s asking me not to go any further. But, Matt’s still unresponsive, and if he wants to be friends with me, that’s not going to fly.
“You know how grace works, Matt,” I say quieter, sliding to the edge of the couch I’m on, putting me closer to him.
He produces a muffled growl. “I don’t have to agree with it. Why should he get all the glory of a comeback while I suffer the images from the newspaper of him leaving that strip club with that fucking prostitute?”
“Come on, man,” Jonah softly encourages. Not for Matt’s use of language, I assume, but his palpable, brewing rage.
“No.” He shakes his knee and Jonah moves his hand and Matt rises to his feet, pacing behind the couch. “No, I won’t come on. Why? Why does he get to destroy my mom’s heart and get to come through clean? Why does he get to be back on a pastoral track at a new church when he spent half of the last year in beds that weren’t his with women who belonged to everyone? Why do I get to deal with that shame when I was the good son? When I defended his reputation to our church when he first screwed up and got burnt out and needed an ally. Then,” Matt pauses and holds out his hands, “then he goes and does it again?”
In the span of a few, angry sentences Matt fills in basically everything I thought I knew, but had hoped I was wrong about.
“Matt,” I whisper, standing with tears in my eyes. “You have to know that this isn’t it. This isn’t the story. Only part of it.”
Jonah stands and follows me around to the back of the couch, where Matt is slumped over with his hands on an end table and his head down.
“What if I hadn’t agreed to meet Roland several years ago? What if my mom kept me from him or, worse, he never wanted to meet with me? I wouldn’t have known all of this. Of him, his family, or you guys. I’d take the Joy Martinez bullshit every week for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep these last few months. I didn’t run away when she tried to push me down. I stood up, Matt.”
“Because it makes you better than us?” he huffs.
“No.” I snap, gently pushing his shoulder. “Because you asked me to. Remember? Remember when you begged me to see this through? All the national attention and the leery glances from jerk students? What about when both of you dragged me into that meeting at Word and told me about your non-plans for the corrupt among us?”
Matt stands and looks through me. “Big mistake listening to a loser like me, K. Sawyer.” He moves past me and to the back door, Jonah following closely behind him.
“Don’t!” I shout after them, freezing them in their spots. “Don’t you dare do that to me, Matt Wells. I trust you. And, you know what? I believe God brought you into my life for a reason. You’re not going to push me away and make me feel like a jerk for believing in you.”
Matt turns around with a shockingly straight face. “Maybe this God you talk about brought me into your life to show you that he’s really an asshole, since nothing else in your life has painted the picture clear enough.” He swings the door open, holding his hand up behind him. “I want to be alone, Jonah.”
Once outside, Matt slams the door behind him with force enough to rattle my chest. I let out a small sob, needing the pressure to go somewhere.
“Kennedy …” Jonah sighs and approaches me with open arms.
I let him hug me. I sink into it and let my tears dry on Jonah’s navy blue Henley. I need a hug so badly right now, and the one person who I want it from literally can’t give it to me.
“Go,” I finally say into his shirt. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Jonah steps back, holding me at arms length. “You’re incredible, Kennedy. You know that, right?”
Tilting my head to the side I give him a slight nod. Because, you know what? I am incredible. I hate journeys, paths, quests, scavenger hunts, adventures, and treks. I want no part of them, yet here I am, seeing one through. I’m not backing down, and I certainly won’t let anyone push me. I am pretty freaking incredible.
“Thank you, Jonah. I really needed to be reminded of that.” I give him one more long, deep hug before shooing him out the door.