Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2) (32 page)

To those who love God …

My blood runs cold at the thought. The thought of Matt alone in his room, angry, hurt, and self-destructing.

What if
he
doesn’t love God
?
I know he thinks God doesn’t love him and he’s angry with God. But people get angry at those the
y
love all the time, and continue right along loving them.

What if he doesn’t love God, though? How will things
work together
for him then?

It’s been six weeks since Matt’s talked to me.
Get out
were his last words.

He’s never talking to me again.

If I w
ere
n’t getting powdered down by Today Show makeup people
again
, I’d probably try texting him again. I text him every single day. Once in the morning and once at night. I remind him that I love him and care about him, and he never responds. That’s okay though. I’ll keep doing it until he finally does talk to me or one of us dies because, even if he changes his number, I’ll find out.

Roland and Buck sat down with school counseling to arrange intensive sessions with Matt in order for him to be able to finish out the year. Per my request, and Roland’s understanding, they kept Dean Baker out of it. Chills race down my spine at the thought of what Weeble Baker would do with that information on Matt.

I’ve seen him though, even though he won’t talk to me. We have Roland’s New Testament class together, which is weird and awkward on a number of levels. I haven’t tried to talk to him in person yet because I need him to know that while I care deeply, I also respect his wishes to not speak to me, kind of. I don’t want him changing out of the class, so I walk the line I guess.

Oh, the Today Show, right.

Well, apparently Jahara—Roland’s assistant—forgot to tell Roland she’d set up an interview with us and them at the family conference thing we were going to in Georgia. Only, Jonah, Matt, and I never made it to the conference. Roland and Buck excused us from it given all the “excitement” from the day before, and when they ran into Dean Baker, as expected, they simply told him we got food poisoning from the Chinese dinner we’d had a day and a half earlier. Still, that left the matter of the Today Show hanging in the air. I flat out refused to go on camera until school was back in session. I needed to chill out after all the emotions of the break, and the last thing I needed was a national camera up my a—butt. Alas, here we are,
a couple of weeks
into my second semester at CU, with another national interview on deck.

While Mom isn’t by my side for this one, I did get to see her at the end of break, as planned, at Roland’s house. I waited until then to tell her about what had happened with Matt. Casting a wide-eyed glance to Roland, she quickly looked back at me and said,
“You did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
That was it. Things are still a little weird for us, but I think that’s just kind of part of growing up. Sure, there are different challenges in our way than a normal mother-daughter relationship, but we’ve never been particularly normal as it is.

“Lift your chin,” a nameless makeup artist says softly.

I comply and take a deep breath.

“You look so
pretty
,” Eden says, fussing with my hair and smiling at me in the mirror.

“Lucky!” Bridgette fake-whines of all the attention I’m receiving.

Nameless makeup artist grins and looks up. “I’ll do you girls once she’s on camera.”

They squeal in unison and the artist winks before painting tinted gloss on my lips.

On the drive back from Georgia, Jonah and I had a long talk about telling Eden what went down at The Pink Pony. I said I had to talk with her about it. That I needed her not only as a friend, but a prayer confidant. Sure, I told Mollie and we talked about all the depression and sadness of the whole thing, but Eden would understand at a different level, I argued. I knew that it would be asking a lot of Jonah to be that kind of vulnerable with Eden when talking about what happened, but he wants to be friends with her still anyway, so we agreed to talk with her together.

I didn’t tell Bridgette, though, and I don’t plan to. Not yet, anyway, and Eden gets it. She won’t tell, either. None of us can control who Matt will tell, if anyone, but we figure he’s not likely to talk.

Because not only is he not talking to me, he’s not really talking to Jonah, either. Jonah’s been able to get a few words out of him, but they’re mostly in grunt-form. I’m getting the brunt of Matt’s silent treatment, I’m guessing, because I’m the one that involved our dads, which brought everything to a whole other level.

“You’re ready,” the makeup artist says, assessing me from a few feet back.

“Whatever you say,” I mumble with a grin before sliding from my chair and walking into Roland’s living room.

It’s just me and Greg Mauer today. Roland’s teaching some seminar this morning, and I just need to get this “in-depth” interview over with. Jahara is supervising the whole affair, but I’ve been so damn busy since getting back to school that I’ve had little time to fret over this interview. I’m still working my shifts at Word, have a full course load, attending Bible study, and trying to be an active participant around campus. Also there’s the bit about grieving over losing my best friend and trying not to let him go, but other than that …

“Kennedy,” Greg starts the interview with a warm smile. Out of the corner of my eye I see Bridgette fawning over herself in the mirror as the makeup artist works her magic. “It’s great to see you again.”

I nod, offering a professional, closed-mouth smile. “Likewise, Greg. Likewise.”

“Let’s get right into it. It’s a new semester,” he leads. I nod. “Have you had contact with Joy Martinez? Is she back to school.”

It would be unprofessional to roll my eyes on camera, but I do it anyway. I throw a smile on top of it to lessen the sting. “I believe so, but we haven’t had a chance to get together yet.”

I know so. Joy’s repeating all of her classes from last semester, though, so we don’t see each other during the day. Also, she’s moved to another dorm, and since she wasn’t friends with any of us anyway, no one really knows where she is. I’ve seen her at the dining hall and once or twice in passing to classes, but that’s it.

Greg’s eyes widen like he’s looking at prey. “Really? After all she put you through, you’d go almost a month into the new semester without speaking to each other to try to reach some sort of understanding?”

Little does he know, I’ve got fangs of my own. I look to the camera, then back at Greg. “Forgiveness doesn’t come from what we do down here, Greg. It’s not about our relationships with each other. It’s about our relationship with God. I forgave Joy months ago for what happened. I was given the grace to forgive her.”

“By God.”

“Yes. And, under that grace, I don’t really find it necessary to rehash a story that’s three months old. I’m moving forward with my life, and I trust Joy is too, and I know that when the time is right we’ll be able to sit down, face-to-face, and talk with each other respectfully, like the strong women of God each of us are.”

Evidently I was also given the grace of bullshit for this interview. I
did
forgive Joy, but I’m so consumed with what’s going on—or not going on—with Matt, that I just haven’t given Joy much brain space over the last several weeks. I
do
want to talk with her, and see if she’s okay, because I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to step back on campus after all the outrage.

Greg looks at me with an unamused expression that he quickly morphs into one with personality. “You sound like a changed young woman. When I first spoke with you a couple of months ago, you seemed a lot quieter, maybe more timid. What’s different now?”

I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin just a little. “I’ve accepted who I am, Greg. I’m made up of where I came from, where I am right now, and even a little of where I’m going. I know without the shadow of a doubt that God is ordering my steps through this process. I know that,” I cut off his follow-up question, “because I would have
never
chosen this for myself. Yes, I chose to come to CU, but that choice was driven by something far greater than my will. It was driven by the primal desire to know my roots, so that I may grow the right wings.” I let out a long, silent exhale, and briefly close my eyes.

Thank you for that …

Clearly only prepared for a gossip session regarding Joy or the differences between Greenwich and Asheville, the rest of the interview feels like fluff. I don’t know what in-depth he was expecting, but I assure you it wasn’t regarding anything
positive.
Which is really quite disappointing since I typically do like Mauer’s interview style.

When the interview finally ends, Greg Mauer is out of the house and in his SUV faster than I’ve seen someone move in a while. He didn’t stick around for coffee-talk, but that’s okay. I’ve got to get to my “biology” class anyway. The quotation marks will stay there until I can be sure they’re not politically motivated in their teachings. It’s still too early to tell, but I have a feeling they’ll stay a while.

“Smart,” Jahara
,
says approvingly with a nod, holding the door open for me. “You’re a smart girl, Kennedy. That was an excellent interview. I bet if it wasn’t live, they wouldn’t have ever aired it. You were really good.”

I blush, having never heard much from Jahara at all, let alone pounds of compliments. “Thanks.”

Eden and Bridgette are waiting outside for me, since we all have “biology” together.

“You guys look so good!” I say while they twirl around and make
k
issy-faces in the air. “Love it!”

“
You
were so good in that interview. Did you mean all of that?” Bridgette asks, plodding down the steps.

Eden links her arm with mine. “Of course she meant it, Bridge,” she says defensively.

“Oh,” Bridgette turns around, almost pale-faced, “I didn’t mean it like
that
. I just meant … how are you so forgiving with Joy?”

Taking a deep breath as we walk down the driveway, I stop short when I see Matt standing at the gates. The girls stop, too, and no one says a word. I don’t want to move, in fear that he’ll
flee,
scared like a bird at the feeder. His face is as grey as it was that night in the strip club, though I can reasonably assume he’s not drunk this time. Sure, I see him in class a couple of times a week, but outside of that—nothing. I don’t know if he’s playing a sport this season, but his shoulders do seem to have regained most of the muscle they’d lost over break. Eyes aside, he looks just like the Matt I thought I knew. But who is anyone, anyway, without their eyes?

As much as I don’t want him to flee, I can’t stand here and do nothing. I have to try. I’ll always try.

I take one step forward, my eyes still locked with his. Matt doesn’t run, but I wish he did. He slowly turns on his heels and trudges away one painfully slow step after another.

Bridgette and Eden give me the courtesy of waiting until he’s out of sight before they close in on my sides, each with one arm around my shoulders.

“I forgive Joy everyday,” I answer Bridgette’s question with fear rattling my voice, “because I need to be reminded that forgiveness is possible. That anyone, at any time, can be forgiven for any
thing
.”

They can, Kennedy. They can, and they will.

You will.

He will.

I will.