Abandoned. Uncovered. Evicted.
Jason slouched in the back seat of the taxi, all his possessions in his pants’ pockets. All his possessions … a loonie, a quarter, and a nickel. Anger soaked him like the sweat gathering on his face.
“Turn up the AC, won’t you?”
The driver looked in his rear-view mirror, disdain curling his brow. He said nothing.
For a moment, Jason entertained the thought of jumping him and taking over taxiing. At least he’d have an income. But he was in too much trouble already. He slouched further in his seat, watching the countryside fly by.
Doug had left seven months ago, left him to stay with the millionaire Bailey and pursue his medical degree. The city had planned changes for the park, and while surveying discovered the hideout in the woods. Then, Jason and the other guys hadn’t been told to leave—they’d been taken away.
Jason gritted his teeth. He was on his unwilling way to another city, to be chucked like a bag of garbage at the dump. Well, that’s all he was.
A bag of garbage.
As soon as the taxi stopped in the slummy part of the next city, Jason shoved open the door and pulled himself out. He slammed it shut so hard the little car rattled.
Good riddance. Hopefully the taxi driver would crash on the way home.
A humid breeze blew past, bringing with it bits of trash and indecipherable smells. He hurried up the street, one hand in his pocket, fingering the coins. They wouldn’t buy him anything. Maybe a pack of stickers at the dollar store.
Well, he would think up a way to get money—every town had its begging spots—while he found a place to live. The park couldn’t be too far from here. Too bad Doug wasn’t there, though.
He had checked in on Doug the first week or two to make sure he was all right, but then stopped. It hurt—felt like he had broken his ribs whenever he saw what Doug now had. But Doug still had a chance at life—he hadn’t spent the last two decades on the streets; hadn’t been bailed out of jail three times before he was seventeen by an angry mom; hadn’t sunk too deep to get out.
That’s why Jason had helped him. Hoping Doug could one day get out of the miserable life of an outcast. Well, Doug had done it.
And it hurt real bad.
For the first time in years, Doug realised that time could fly. It seemed he’d gone from night to day in the span of a sunrise. But somehow, it had been seven months since he was hauled up Charles’ front steps—and since he had allowed God to take him and love him.
The best decision he ever made in his life. He knew now what it was to be redeemed, a child of God, free from guilt and all his sludgy past.
But Jason didn’t know.
Doug limped into the living room. The cast didn’t bother him too much anymore; at least he was off his crutches. The doctor had had to re-break his leg for it to heal properly.
“Charles, Jason hasn’t stopped by in a long time.”
“I know.” Charles typed a little more on his laptop and then set it on the couch beside him. “I was just thinking about him, especially with the upcoming park improvements.”
Fear caught Doug’s breath, and for a moment he was back with Jason, wondering where they would sleep that night, wondering what they would eat in the morning … “Where will he go?” he asked, but he didn’t expect an answer.
Charles stared across the room at the wide window, his face troubled and tired. “You know, Doug, I’d like to bring all the guys like you here and help them see Jesus, turn their lives around, and then reach more …” He looked up, sighing. “God answered my prayer and gave me you. But Jason …”
“You said no one’s impossible, once.”
Charles smiled. “I know. No one is.”
“But it’s gonna take something big and drastic to change Jason.” Doug leaned against the doorframe, weary with worry for his friend. Jason had been sinking fast, last time they talked. It was so awful, so opposite of what should’ve been. Jason kept Doug alive when he went homeless. Jason kept him alive when he broke his leg. Jason kept him alive when he nearly froze to death.
“Somehow I have to keep Jason alive,” he said. An idea lit within him, making him straighten. “Can we go find him and make sure he’s okay? Can you drive me to the park?”
Charles looked at his watch, at his laptop, and then at Doug. “Okay, let’s go.”
Doug gazed sickly at the familiar-yet-unfamiliar park. The trees had vanished, replaced by men in orange vests holding spades and rakes. A playground towered over sharp, fresh gravel.
His home of six years was obliterated, like a paper thrown into a fire.
“He won’t be here,” Charles said into Doug’s stunned silence. “I heard …” But he didn’t say what he’d heard.
Where would Jason go? Doug sifted through the few possibilities. There was the abandoned warehouse on Clay Street, but in all Doug’s time with Jason, Jason had never associated with the guys there. The park on the other side of the city was too frequented. And Jason couldn’t stay in the mall.
That left the bridge on Chester Street, near where Doug grew up. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. And if Jason wasn’t there, where was he?
“Take me to Chester,” he said, some of his old gruffness returning with his uneasiness. He turned away, and remembered to add, “Please.”
“Okay.” Charles followed him. “But I need to get back to work soon. And it’s the middle of the day; won’t Jason be out somewhere else?”
“Not in the middle of the day.” Not that he really knew …
What did Charles’ work matter right now? Jason needed help. But Doug knew it was true; Charles couldn’t stop everything in his life for Doug’s pursuits.
At the Chester bridge Doug limped in search of any clue that Jason lived there. It looked as if no one lived there anymore—the garbage piles were gone, and bright, new signs stated firmly, NO LOITERING.
Heavyhearted, Doug climbed up to the street and heaved himself into Charles’ car. “Nothing.”
Charles looked at Doug with an unanswered question furrowing his brow, and then pulled the car onto the road.
God, Doug prayed as they drove up to the mansion, Show Jason You love him, too. And help me find him soon.
Charles hurried to his laptop and began typing and scrolling, while Doug went to the kitchen for a glass of water. So impossible he should live in such a house, with such a man, and finally be pursuing his lifelong dream. He really should contact his family one day; let them know everything that had happened.
It was too frightening, though. He swallowed the last bit and put the glass by the sink. He would deal with Jason first, and go from there.
“Doug.”
Charles’ voice, coming from the living room, was not settling.
“Yeah?” Doug walked to him.
“I was just looking …” Charles still had his eyes on the computer. “Apparently the city has been transferring the homeless.”
“Transferring?”
Charles winced and looked up. “They’ve been moving them to a different city. I had heard a rumour about it, and when Jason disappeared …”
Anger ran through Doug’s veins, turning his face and neck hot. Statistics. That’s what they were. How did having a home turn you from a statistic to a person with the ability to make your own decisions?
“They’re fools,” he snapped. “How’s it going to change anything?”
“It’ll change things here, for a little while anyway.” Charles frowned. “I don’t want anyone to be called a fool inside this house, Doug.”
Biting his tongue, Doug left the room. All he had said was the truth, but Charles’ rebuke cut deep. If only becoming a Christian made you perfect immediately. At the rate things were going—he could think of many other instances in the past months—it would take thousands of years to smooth the big, lumpy rock that he was.
And though he was creeping upward, one millimetre at a time toward Jesus, Jason was sinking. He had sunk from Doug’s life already.
Doug collapsed on a chair in the kitchen. Where could they look? Where could Jason be?
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Jason pulled himself out of a groggy sleep. His face hurt from its hard pillow: the armrest of a metal bench.
“This isn’t a free motel, you know.”
The voice was somewhere between sympathetic and displeased. At least it wasn’t yelling. He cracked open his eyes to see the blue and yellow uniform of an officer, and quickly stumbled to his feet. The mall exuded silence. He must’ve fallen asleep a long time ago.
“I’m leaving,” he grunted, grabbing his hat. “Lost track of time.”
The officer had to look up now that Jason stood. “Better get home, then.”
Jason scowled in reply. Doug used to talk about home all the time, and now he had one. Jason never really had one. His home was with the refuse of the city, the things people didn’t want anymore.
He fell asleep again in the bus stop one street over, but in the early morning hours was kicked out of there, too.
Muttering the ill feeling rising in his chest, he walked to the park and sat on one of the picnic tables. This park wasn’t like the one he’d lived in for so long. This one had a few trees, but not enough to live in. And it was much smaller.
He yawned, rubbed his scraggly beard. He would go back to his city and find a new place to live. Check on Doug; make sure he wasn’t being worked to death by the rich Bailey kid. In a few days he would.
And then, after that …
He scowled. For the first time he couldn’t content himself with thinking about the present, or maybe a few days ahead. For the first time in years, he wondered what life would look like in the next week, the next month. After all, Doug’s life had changed in the blink of an eye.
He had to stop, though. There was no way his life would change. Why would he even want it to change? He had everything he needed … except some more money. And once he had that, it would be good enough for him. It always had been.
Doug limped into the living room the next morning. “Charles, can you take me somewhere?”
Charles’ fingers flew over his keyboard, but he paused to glance at the clock. “Yes.” He snapped the laptop shut. “I’m taking you to work in five minutes.”
“Not to work. I think I know where Jason is.”
“You can’t just not work because you don’t want to,” Charles said as he grabbed his shoes from by the door.
Doug followed him. This wasn’t working; Charles didn’t get how much Jason needed help. Doug had seen Jason in a bad state before. “I’ll call in sick.”
“Really, Doug?” Charles laced his shoes. “You can’t call in sick if you’re not. God hates lying, because He is a God of honesty and truth.” Straightening, he looked into Doug’s face, his eyes soft and understanding. “Look, I know you’re worried about Jason. Give it one more day. Tomorrow’s Saturday, you’re off, and I’ll be finished my project for this week.”
Doug sighed. “Okay.”
“Keep praying. God is able to change Jason’s life—you can’t. Trust and leave it to Him.”
Fireflies glowed in the dark bushes like mini lanterns to light Jason’s way. He hardly noticed them, though. Rough day it had been. Couldn’t shake the cough that appeared out of nowhere, and time gambling didn’t quench his despair the way it normally did.
The gravel path met a bridge, and he crawled underneath it. Cement jutted toward the water, just the right size for a bed. Wasn’t a five-star motel, but at least he was hidden.
He tried using his arm for a pillow, but his elbow dug into his face, so he took off his shirt and used it instead. Closing his eyes to block out the fireflies, he listened to the rustling grass and the birds humming lullabies in the trees.
Sleep teased him, touching him for a few minutes before leaving again. Thoughts groped through his mind like blind men.
What was there to life, anyway? Nothing now except this reeking gloom, shrouding his steps wherever he walked. Nothing to live for but the brief moments of respite while hanging out in some dim place with the other half-delirious guys—and even that was gone.
Why not leave it all? Why not just end this miserable existence?
He shifted his position on the cool cement, letting the defeat wash through him like the water below. No one would care. It was kind of scary, though; he hadn’t thought in such a way since Doug entered the mall—and his life—years ago. But Doug was gone now, so why not be done with life?
Why not?
Doug limped through the tall grass, frustration swelling larger inside him the further he went. Where was Jason? He had to be around there somewhere.
“What if he’s in town somewhere?” Charles said behind him.
“He can’t be,” Doug retorted. Jason couldn’t be because this was Doug’s only hope of finding him. Unless he could ask around and see if anyone had seen him … workers at certain stores might have.
Doug adjusted the bag hanging over his shoulder. God, can’t You bring him to us? Don’t You want him to hear about You? It was an angry prayer, and it wounded his conscience. He sighed. Sorry. I’m s’posed to trust You, I know. I’m awful at it, and I’m sorry.
“There he is,” Charles said, but added doubtfully, “I think.”
Doug looked up from the path. There Jason stood, leaning on the bridge railing, gazing at the slow water beneath.
“Jason!” he called, walking as fast as he could. His leg hurt from all the walking. Well, the doctor had warned him against it.
Jason looked over, then straightened. “Hey, Dougie,” he said as Doug reached him.
They stood still for a moment, inspecting each other. Doug looked at Jason’s face, sharp and bitter and yellowed. At Jason’s faded green t-shirt hanging over him like an old flag. Jason was the stranger Doug met in the mall six years ago. How could he have turned into a stranger so quickly again? Still broad-shouldered, still tall, but thin and wary as a stray cat.
Doug had been right—Jason wasn’t spending his meagre earnings on food.
“Wasn’t sure how things were going, so I brought you lunch,” he said.
Jason nodded, casting a scowl at Charles as he reached them. “Been lean, mostly. How’d you find me?”
This was more like Jason, talking and trying to figure things out. “Called the city and asked where they took everybody.”
Jason stepped off the bridge and spat. “Dumped everybody. Weren’t too gentle about it.” Resentment gleamed in his hazy eyes.
Doug took a step back. “Why don’t you come back, if you don’t like it here?”
“And live where?” Jason demanded. “Park’s gone. The city’s ‘cleaned up’.”
“Stay with me,” Doug said, aggravated. “You could’ve avoided all this by coming with me to Charles’ place.”
“Can’t you think, Doug?” Jason grabbed Doug’s shoulders, lowering his voice so it was almost nothing. “I can’t live there if I keep living my life; he’d never take it. He’s a fool, anyway, and turning you into one. All this God business is to make him look good despite his money.”
“That’s not why I gave God my life.” Doug crossed his arms and shook himself out of Jason’s irksome hold. “I had nothing to live for, and God gave me a reason. His love. And sharing it with others.”
Jason cracked a grin. “You aren’t succeeding. Anyway, you didn’t come here to argue about God. I’m ready to see what you brought.” He dropped his hands. “Let’s get to the shade.”
Gloom coated Doug’s frustration as he followed Jason to a small gathering of trees at the bottom of a hill. Jason coughed the whole way there. Charles looked pained.
Under the trees, Doug pulled out the container of sandwiches he had made that morning. Jason took one, but after a few bites he just held it.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” Doug grinned, but he had to force it. He looked at his new trousers and button-up shirt compared to Jason’s donation-bin outfit. A gulf stood between them, one that had appeared after Charles rescued him.
“You in school?”
“Sort of. Relearning high school, anyway.” Doug frowned at Jason’s unfinished sandwich. “Why aren’t you eating?”
Jason shrugged. “Don’t feel like it. I gotta go now.” He tossed the sandwich into the bushes. “So long, Dougie.”
“Can we find you here?” Doug asked, a glimmer of panic sparking in him. He couldn’t lose Jason again.
“Maybe. Might go back to the alleyways if anyone bothers me here. Fussy people in this town.” Jason coughed again and walked off. “So long.”
Doug watched him walk over the hill. He looked tired and old; older than his thirty-odd years. Doug threw the container in the bag with a hard sigh. “The ingrate.”
“I’m sure he’s grateful,” Charles said quietly. “It must be hard for him to be in such a state, still.”
Doug said nothing until they got in the car, letting the frustration settle down. God was in control. What good was it to be mad at Jason? “You aren’t succeeding,” Jason had said. Doug sighed again. No. He had done a terrible job of sharing God’s love, if he had done any at all.
“I’ve been angry,” he muttered, though it struck a sickening blow to his pride. “Sorry.”
Charles started the car. “I know it’s hard. Ask God’s forgiveness and move on; He’ll work things in His own time.”
“Hopefully it’s fast enough.”
“Doug.” Charles said as they pulled onto the highway, “I didn’t know you by name, but I prayed for you and all the other men on the streets for three years before I met you.”
Doug leaned against the door and watched the scenery flash past Charles’ face. Well, he’d keep praying. But Jason might not have another three years if he didn’t quit some of his habits. Doug hadn’t realised how unwell he was until he quit his.
Life was so different now. So completely different.
If only Jason could see past the past and the jealousy and the rough lump of clay Doug still was. And see Jesus.
God, give me another chance to talk about You with Jason. Please, before it’s too late.
Doug leaned against the wall by the front door, breathing in the unpleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Charles always had to make his coffee right before they left for work.
Coffee tasted disgusting, but its scent was a good distraction from thoughts of Jason. They had seen him once more, but he was lankier, more sullen, and more irritable than before. Few words had been exchanged.
Charles walked to the door, his keys chiming against each other where they dangled from his hand. “I’m ready.” He switched off the entryway light as Doug opened the door. “I have a meeting this afternoon, so Brandon’s going to bring you home.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks,” Jason grunted as he opened the pickup door and stepped out.
“No problem, buddy.” The stranger grinned. “Glad I could help.”
Jason watched the truck drive off toward the rising sun, then walked down the sidewalk. Past the variety store he hung out in as a kid, past the ancient blue building still labelled LAUNDROMAT, past the Salvation Army thrift store.
He didn’t need their donation bins anymore, not where he was going.
Crossing a small street, he continued trudging in the direction of the park. The park that had changed more than he had, since Doug left. He would just look at it from the sidewalk and remember the years there before he left it behind completely.
Sentimentality was too fluffy a word. But it was always tough to leave things behind. Doug never had any problem with it, somehow.
Jason’s mouth twitched. He remembered well how long he had kept the socks. A pair of his father’s that he snatched before his father disappeared. He’d been seven. Six years and five gaping holes later, his mom finally made him throw them out.
When he reached the edge of the park, his mouth dropped. He turned away with a little shake of his head. None of it was the same.
He crossed the street at the light where he and the Bailey kid had dragged Doug, and leaned against the same brick wall. Coughs tore their way out of his chest. When he could breathe again, he noticed his reflection in the window. It was true— he was a piece of junk, rusted out from too much time in bad weather. His face had a weird hue and his mouth twisted in a pained, unnatural shape.
He’d make a good scarecrow, anyway.
Fifteen minutes walking brought him to Main Street, and another five took him past the shops and over the bridge to the housing section. He looked at the Bailey mansion as he went past slowly. Doug would be going to work soon, earning money to pursue his dreams.
Well, he was about to realise his dream, too. Much sooner than Doug would. He had done everything he wanted to before he left, so all he needed was to find a good vehicle—preferably nothing to small.
He looked back one more while watching the vehicles whip past. A white car rolled out of the mansion driveway and turned toward him. His eyes narrowed. So this could be his way to get even with Charles for taking Doug away.
Not as big a car as he would’ve liked, but it would do. Quick enough to get him out of the city immediately—out of the world.
Funny how warm the sun was all of a sudden. Sweat broke out on his hands and his forehead.
The white car—his angel of death—flew closer.
And he stepped into the road to meet it.
“Stop!”
It wasn’t a scream or a yell, but a gasping cry, like someone being strangled.
Too late.
Doug tried to suck in a breath as the car squealed to a stop, but the thud recurring in his ears kept his lungs deflated. He had been jolted before, but never like this. “It’s Jason,” he choked.
Too late.
Charles’ head lay on the steering wheel, and he didn’t move when Doug shoved the door open. That was one thing about Charles—he may have invented computer software that made him a millionaire overnight, but he was useless in emergencies.
Forgetting his bad leg, Doug ran to Jason. His tall, gaunt body lay twisted in a little pile.
More cars stopped, but most moved on again. One man hurried over, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call 911,” he said, horror in his voice.
Doug felt Jason’s wrist. Nothing. Gritting his teeth, he laid a hand on Jason’s chest. His own heart throbbed with anger. “Why, God?” he yelled. “I asked for one more chance.”
In an incredibly short time that felt like an age, sirens cried up the street, growing louder and then cutting of abruptly as the ambulance pulled up.
“Stand back, please.”
Doug pulled himself away as the paramedics reached them. There was nothing he could do for Jason. Numb, he sat on the sidewalk, letting the lights of three police cars blind his eyes. Then he looked to where Charles leaned against the car, holding tight to its fin. He looked like he was about to throw up.
As the ambulance doors closed, Doug let a sigh through his clenched teeth. Jason had been hit. But he hadn’t just been hit—he had done it on purpose, as if he had no reason to live anymore.
“You’re the reason Jason lives, Doug.”
Now he was the reason Jason died. He was going to show Jason a better reason to live, but now it was too late. Too late. Why, God? he asked again, not in anger, but broken and bruised like Jason’s body.
“Doug.”
He looked up at Charles’ sickened face. Charles’ voice was hoarse. “The police need to talk with you.”
Mid-morning showed up before Doug sank onto the couch in Charles’ living room and propped his aching leg on a chair. He could hear Charles on the phone in the kitchen. Maybe cancelling his business meeting.
Exhaustion pulled at Doug’s mind, but if he closed his eyes, it was too easy to see everything happen again. Needed something to do until … until what? Until they got word on Jason, anyway.
Charles leaned against the doorframe as he slipped his phone in his pocket. His eyes were jaded, as though he hadn’t slept for a week. “Brandon’s going to take you to work after lunch,” he said, wearily running a hand through his hair. “My meeting’s from four to five, but call me around that if you need anything.”
“Yeah,” Doug said.
Charles stayed for a moment, and then left. Doug heard his footsteps on the stairs.
He needed a lot of things; things Charles couldn’t give him. Hope. And peace. And forgiveness. Seemed he had spent the past seven months asking forgiveness. Why wasn’t God tired of him yet? Pulling the Bible off the end table, he flipped it open.
And he did a double take. Jason’s name sat in front of him, with a little number by it for a footnote. It took him a little while to find it. There, it read: Hebrew, meaning ‘God is my salvation’. He frowned. It wasn’t true of the Jason he knew, the Jason even now possibly in hell. He gulped the thought away, flipping back the pages. He stopped when he reached the bookmark and began reading, only half-noticing the words.
Until he reached the tearful plea of a father. Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.
Doug backed up a few verses. ‘Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.’ He dropped his head on his hand. God, I don’t know how to believe about this kind of thing. Help me. I don’t know why You let this happen, but I don’t want to be angry anymore.
The clock ticked loudly on the wall.
Sorry I’m such a lumpy blob of clay. Thanks for saving me from my life’s mess. He sighed and rested there for a moment. He had to trust that God knew what He was up to, just the same way he’d trusted Jason when they met, and Doug had been so lost and afraid of the future.
With another sigh he began reading again, waiting for Brandon.
Doug returned just before Charles did. They met in the entry, but neither said anything, and neither made any move toward eating supper. Charles opened his laptop at the table and put his fingers on the keyboard, but Doug didn’t hear the rhythmic tapping he usually did.
After finishing the tea Brandon had bought him, Doug went to his room, tired enough to try to sleep. The clock only said seven, but it didn’t matter. At least he wouldn’t have to think for a while if he could sleep.
He paused in the doorway to his room, then went back downstairs first. “Charles.”
Charles looked up. “Hmm?”
“Let me know if you hear anything?”
Charles nodded. Now he looked like he hadn’t slept for a month.
Still Doug lingered. How could he say it without being cold? When he spoke, his voice was gruff, only because the words were jamming in his windpipe. “Wasn’t your fault.” He cleared his throat. “Jason wanted to die … years ago, already.”
Charles nodded again, his face creased, as if he had winced and then frozen in the position. “I know.” He looked away. “Goodnight, Doug.”
Sleep came faster than Doug thought possible, and he didn’t get up until seven the next morning. He tried reading his Bible before going downstairs. No good. His mind was occupied with one thought:
News.
He went down, got a drink of water, and limped into the living room. Charles was asleep, his head on his laptop keys. The page on the screen was covered in lines of t’s. Poor guy. Must’ve shifted position, though, because no more were being added.
Doug limped to the kitchen and got another drink of water. Yesterday almost seemed a bad dream. But Charles’ wan face said it wasn’t. He accidentally dropped the glass in the sink, and a little later he heard a chair scrape on the living room floor.
Making himself walk slowly, he went in. Couldn’t pester Charles right away…but soon. He took a seat to rest his leg. “Sleep okay?”
Charles let go of the backspace button and rubbed his neck. “When I slept.”
He didn’t look like he had slept much at all.
“Long enough to put thirty thousand useless letters on here.” He frowned and put his chin on one hand, staring at the screen. “Not long enough to realise that deleting them all by backspacing is ridiculous.”
It wasn’t even funny. They both sighed.
Doug forced the question past his fear of being answered. “Any word?”
“No.”
That could be good—or not. “Can you take me to the hospital?”
Charles stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “Not … not really, Doug.”
Doug’s brow furrowed. “I need to know,” he pressed. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“I know. I …” Indecision worked Charles’ eyebrows. Then he pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Take a taxi. They can bill me.”
Taking the phone, Doug scrolled for the number. And stopped. Of course; it made sense now. Charles had never refused taking him somewhere without a good reason.
Charles didn’t want to drive.
Doug looked up. “You coming?”
Silence. Fear in his eyes.
“Yes.” His voice was small. “I’ll come.”
It was a dreadful thing to walk through the hospital knowing his best friend—his one-time hero—lay in one of the starched white beds. Shudders worked their way through Doug’s frame as they followed the nurse through the long corridors.
At last she stopped. “Jason Northwood. I’ll see if he’s awake.”
Doug clenched and unclenched his hands. It was good that Jason was alive, but what if he didn’t recover? And if he did, what would he do?
He closed his eyes. Make me believe, God.
“You can go in,” the nurse said, reappearing. “I’ll come back in a bit.”
Doug looked at Charles, who seemed uncomfortable in his hospital gown, and then led the way in. Jason looked smaller than normal, no longer the tough guy who held sway over others by his strength and anger.
“Jason,” Doug said softly.
Jason’s eyes moved. “Hey, Dougie,” he whispered.
Jason wasn’t angry? Doug stepped next to the bed. Looking into Jason’s face—alive—relieved him so much he thought he might lose his balance. Something clogged his throat. “Why’d you do it, Jason?” he begged.
Jason’s face tightened, and his eyes sparked when he saw Charles. “You ruined me,” he spat.
Horror registered on Charles’ pale face, and he shook his head. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words to speak.
“Who ruined you?” Doug asked. You weren’t supposed to treat patients like this; so much for being a doctor one day. He was too frustrated. “You did.”
Jason scowled. “You weren’t driving speed limit.”
“And—”
Doug took a breath. He needed to calm down. He had prayed for another chance to share God’s love with Jason, and he couldn’t ruin it again. With a quick prayer, he restarted, his voice calmer. “Who’s paying all your hospital bills?”
Jason’s voice climbed to a hoarse mutter. “A lot of difference it makes to him.”
“And who rescued me last winter?” Doug clenched his hands again, and suddenly his face was wet. “You’ve treated Charles like an enemy, and all he’s done is been your friend.”
“Get outta here,” Jason snarled at Charles, half rising. Then he sank back, choking, “Dougie.”
Charles left. Doug stood by, helpless, until Jason’s eyes cracked open, dark and deep in his white face.
“I’m completely busted, Dougie,” he sighed hoarsely. “Busted.”
Little wonder. It sickened Doug when he remembered the thud against the car. He didn’t know what to say.
Jason frowned at him. “Dry your face, sissy.” But he didn’t say it meanly.
Doug wiped an arm across his face. “Why do you think you’re still alive, Jason?”
“I don’t want preaching.”
“I’m not preaching,” Doug said desperately. “Listen, Jason, please. You—”
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard a ‘please’ from you.”
Biting his tongue, Doug walked away for a moment and then returned. Jason’s one eyebrow arched a little, and Doug knew he was curious. Wondering why Doug didn’t light into him.
“Look, Jason. You tried getting out of your mess in a drastic way. Most people don’t have the guts to do what you did.” Doug swallowed. “Why won’t you try getting out by seeking Jesus?”
“Can’t live without help.”
Doug knew it would come to this. “You’re gonna have to go through it in here, anyway,” he said quietly. And for the first time he saw fear in Jason’s eyes. He remembered the week in the alley when he broke his leg. He had never touched drugs after that. If Jason could drop it once, maybe he wouldn’t go back …
“I survived it,” he said. “And when Jesus saved me, He broke my drinking—just like that. Honestly, Jesus is the only help anyone really needs.”
Jason wasn’t looking at him anymore, but at the ceiling tiles, breathing slow like it hurt.
The nurse came to check on him, then left again.
“Why aren’t you angry, Doug?”
Doug blinked. Jason hadn’t seen his anger when they first came? Yeah, it was gone now, but only just.
Jason stirred. “You gonna answer, or no?”
“I was angry,” Doug confessed bitterly. “But I’m not anymore because I asked God to take it away. I’m sick of being angry; there’s no use for it. Got to trust God, because He works things His way.”
“A mighty painful way,” Jason said dryly.
“If it’d be your way, you’d be in hell right now.” Doug shifted his weight so his leg would stop hurting. “Charles would never forgive himself, either.”
“Not his fault half my bones are snapped. Need to sit down, Dougie?”
Doug sighed. Failing—again. But maybe he’d have another chance; Jason would be stuck there for a long time. “I’m okay. Should be heading out soon.” Jason looked exhausted. Spent way too much time talking.
“The Bailey kid’s probably waiting,” Jason said crustily.
“He’s same age as you, Jason.”
“Well I feel three times as old as he is.” Jason closed his eyes. “Tell him I’ll make sure he’s going faster next time.”
“Jason!”
Jason cracked a smile that vanished in a grimace. “Forget it. So long.”
Doug took five steps away when the hoarse voice stopped him. “Hey, Dougie.”
“Yeah?” He turned.
“You could put in a word for me in your prayers tonight.”
Doug’s jaw dropped open, but Jason’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see it. “I—I will. I have been already. So’s Charles.”
“Well, tell him to step it up a notch.”
Jason lay awake as the night slid into the early morning. Too much pain. Too many thoughts.
He was alive, for one. Not what he’d pictured two days ago. And now that he was still alive, he was nearly frightened to death of dying.
Doug had the truth, the reason to live; he had to. He had changed in a way that even Jason—tough, proud, independent Jason—knew couldn’t come from himself.
He swallowed back a cough because it hurt too much, and the doctor’s words returned to his mind. Lung cancer. Ruined liver.
And only so many months left to live.
Doug would be devastated when he heard. But he had God to turn to in trouble. Jason had no one. Fear, cold and merciless, pulsed through him. He shifted his left arm and had to grind his teeth against the pain in his ribs.
Only months.
Well, Doug had put God on trial and found something worth more than his old life. Couldn’t hurt to put God on trial himself.
“Hey You, God,” he said, and said it aloud to make sure God would hear. “You’re on trial. You’d better change me somehow like Doug is and show me I’m not a piece of garbage, or I’m gonna …”
He paused to think. What was something impossible to change about himself? Oh, that was it.
“If You can make me stop hating the Bailey kid, I’ll know You’re actually listening to me. You’d better be because everything else in my life is busted.” He sighed. Busted.
And he fell asleep.
When Doug arrived in the afternoon, he was alone. “Hey, Jason.”
Jason frowned, irked by something more than his battered body and lack of sleep. “Where’s the millionaire?” he asked brusquely.
Doug shrugged. “Outside.”
“Get him in here.”
An odd look crossed Doug’s face, but he limped to the hall and brought Charles back with him.
Jason had to see if God had enough evidence to win. He watched Charles walk to him. Charles’ face was pale with exhaustion, and his eyes moved uneasily. Jason waited for the acidic anger to crawl up his throat and foam into words. But it didn’t.
So he just stared until Doug asked worriedly, “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jason retorted. “I think.”
“You think?” asked Doug, more worriedly than before, and turned as if to go get help.
Jason heaved a sigh, slow. “I’ve thought way too much this past night. Stay here, you worry-wart.” He scowled at Doug. “I’m trying to tell you something.”
Jamming his hands in his pockets, Doug waited, a question on his tired face.
“I want Jesus to help me.”
Silence. Jason looked from Doug’s astounded face to Charles’, then back again. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he snapped. “Didn’t you pray? Because I did, and God did something impossible.”
More silence. Doug hid his face in his hands.
Jason twisted his head toward them, though his spine felt like it was splitting in half when he did it. “Say something, Dougie!” he demanded.
“I don’t know what.”
Jason let a breath out between his teeth. Here he was, wanting help, and they couldn’t even talk. Figured. Couldn’t ever get anywhere without hitting a roadblock. He looked at Charles. “Is there anything special I have to say? ‘Cause last night you would’ve gone through the floor.”
Charles shook his head. “No.” He swallowed. “If you’re truly sorry for your sins and believe He can save you, just ask Him to. He’s always waiting for us to seek Him—He’s been waiting …”
So, deep down in his heart, where no one could hear it, Jason prayed again; told God what a wreck of a fool he was, and asked for help to become someone better. To live for something worth living for through the last months of his life.
When he opened his eyes, Doug stood right next to him. Gruffness filled Doug’s voice. “Are you a Christian, Jason?” he asked.
Jason thought. He was still in bed, cracked and broken; still steeped full of cancer; still the same man with the same horrid past. But the shroud was gone. Trapped in four white walls, but he was free.
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
Jesus had died and set him free from death, and he wasn’t afraid. Doug had told him of the cross and the stone rolled away, back when Jason scoffed at it all. Now it made sense.
“Praise God,” Doug said, clearing his throat several times.
Looking at Charles, Jason said, “Come here.”
Charles came and stopped next to Doug.
“I’ve got to shake your hand because I’m not angry with you anymore.” Jason cracked a pained grin. “And you’re the reason all this happened.”
“God is the reason,” said Charles. He gripped Jason’s hand, but thankfully he didn’t actually shake it. “I honestly can’t comprehend everything that’s happened.”
“Oh well.” Jason grinned at Doug. “Let’s make more happen. Lots more.”
