Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

“I kind of wish you’d reached out sooner,” I admit out loud for the first time in my life.

A gasp mixed with a choked sob breaks through Roland’s soft smile. He slides from his stool and squares himself in front of me at the counter.

“Kennedy…” His eyes—my eyes—pour into me and I don’t fight him as he reaches forward and pulls me into a tight embrace. It’s as warm and comforting as I’d imagined it to be. “I’m so sorry, Kennedy. Please. Please forgive me.”

I bury my face into his shoulder and sob, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to start, or if I want to. Instead of talking, Roland and I stand in his kitchen, crying and hugging until our food is delivered.

Lunch is quiet, as it’s always been. But, this time, I’m praying in my head.

God… Please. Show me what to do. I don’t want to hurt my mom, but I want to give Roland a chance. He’s asking me to forgive him and I don’t know how. Help.

“Are you okay?” Roland calls me out of my conversation with God, which I’m sure registers as a daydream on my face.

I nod and offer a half smile before biting into my turkey sandwich. “I should have gotten the roast beef,” I say with my mouth full.

By the time we’ve finished eating, I’m feeling horrifically exposed. Not only did I hug Roland, which I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do, but I cried in front of him. On him. I briefly wonder if it was that “something” inside me—my soul, maybe—that directed me toward that hug and the tears, similar to what guided Roland to reach out from the kitchen floor. Maybe that tug happened for him, I reckon to myself, but God speaks to me differently. God wouldn’t make me hug a stranger that’s caused a series of hurt in my life by way of his absence. Would he? We stand in his doorway as I mull this over in my head.

“You’ve been quiet,” Roland remarks. He hasn’t tried to hug me since our own kitchen scene and I’m grateful for that, for the time being.

I shrug “It’s been kind of heavy today. Don’t talk to my mom about today, please,” I add quickly.

Roland looks puzzled for a moment, but I cut in before he can speak. “I just…I don’t want to hurt her, or whatever, when I can’t really explain what’s happening here.”

“She’s afraid of you and me developing a relationship?” It doesn’t really sound like a question, though he does a heck of a job raising his voice at the end of his sentence.

“I think so. I’ve told her I get to decide, but I just don’t want to blindside her.”

Roland slides his hands into his pockets. “What do you want out of us, Kennedy?”

My eyes fill with tears. “I wanted you to rock me to sleep when I had nightmares in kindergarten. I wanted you to take me to the father-daughter dance in fourth grade. I wanted you to cheer me on at my basketball games and piano recitals…”

At my words, Roland bites his lip and looks to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” I add, reaching for his arm. “I’m just being honest. I know I can’t have those things with you. I know I had many of them with my stepdad. I didn’t know until this very moment that I’d wanted you there. I’m…I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” The emotional implications of my decision to come to Carter are slowly choking me, like ivy around the trunk of a tree.

Roland shakes his head softly from side to side and puts his hand over mine on his arm. “I understand. All I ask is you and I keep talking.”

I nod, thinking how I feel Joy is always watching me and seems eerily skeptical of any interaction Roland and I have had in her presence. Even though that could easily be my own paranoia, I offer up what I consider to be a comfortable solution. “I start working at the coffee shop next week. Give me a week or two to get comfortable with the operation and then why don’t you come down on a Saturday night or something and we can talk while I work, or when I’m on break or whatever.”

His face lights up and his hand tightens around mine. “I’d like that. See you soon, then.”

“Well,” I say as I reach for the door, “next Sunday for sure, but, yeah. See you soon.”

I take several deep breaths on my way back to campus, waiting to hear from God regarding my earlier prayer.

What do I do?

Nothing but silence. I guess God’s not operating the express lane today.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Flood