Trusting Him

Maggie moved from his side. She took a seat at the picnic table, next to one of the girls, and nodded for him to continue. His gaze remained locked with hers.

“Most of you probably know that I’ve been in prison for the past four years.” He grinned and Maggie responded with a smile that settled in her blue eyes. “I guess I can start by saying that I’m an addict. I’m also a Christian. I’ve been clean for four years, and I plan to stay that way.”

The kids remained quiet. There were nine of them today. They were an odd assortment. One girl looked to be fourteen. She had wire-framed glasses and a soft expression. Timid. But she looked happy. Another girl had dyed her hair black, and her gaze seemed to dare him. The boys—most were sweaty teens who wanted to play basketball and chase girls. One boy looked wary and angry with the world.

They wore expressions that ranged from contented to hopeless to lost and angry. From Jesus Saves to I Hate My Life, like the carvings on the desk in Maggie’s office.

He understood those feelings. He had gone from one extreme to the other. Maggie’s encouraging smile brought him back to the present. He smiled down at her, ignoring the array of questions flashing through her eyes.

“If any of you have questions, I’m willing to give you the answers that I can. If I can’t answer, I’ll tell you why. If you don’t have questions today, then maybe tomorrow. Or next week. But I’m always here if you need to talk, if you need anything.”

Always here. He realized the importance of those words. Other people were counting on him. Maggie. She was counting on him, too.

The boy with the lost look shook his head. Michael waited, wondering what he would say, if he would say anything.

“Whatever, man,” the kid whispered. He glared at the table, his jaw muscles clenching.

“Whatever?” Michael took a step forward, stopping when he saw the worried look on Maggie’s face. “What does that mean?”

“It means that adults always say they’re going to ‘be there for you.’ But most of them aren’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Michael was. He was more sorry than he could say that this kid felt that people weren’t there for him. What had happened to create cynicism in someone so young, with so much life ahead of him? “I can’t help what other people have done. But I can tell you that I’m going to be here. And I think that you already know that Maggie is here. She’s always here.”

The kid glanced in Maggie’s direction. He sort of smiled. “Yeah, she’s here.”

Michael didn’t know what that meant, but it frightened him for Maggie’s sake.

The last kid left at six o’clock. Maggie did a final check of the building and walked back to the kitchen where Michael waited for her. She held up her keys.

“Are you ready to go?”

“More than ready. That was more exhausting than I ever imagined. And those guys can really play ball.”

“You’ll get used to it. And don’t forget about Friday night.”

“Friday night?” The puzzled look told her he’d already forgotten.

“Bowling. We try to have a regular activity at least twice a month on Fridays. This Friday is bowling, and I thought you might like to go. Look, if you have something else to do…”

“No, I’ll be here.”

She shrugged and he followed her out the back door. His cell phone rang as she was locking up. As hard as she tried to ignore him, his conversation carried.

“I don’t think I can see you. But if you need help, I’m here.” He looked away, his brow furrowing. “No, I don’t think so. Katherine, it isn’t too late.”

Maggie walked on to her car.

“Wait.” Michael jogged up to her as she was digging through her purse, looking for her keys. “Sorry, I had to take that call. It was an old friend. One that I can’t help.”

“You don’t have to explain to me.”

“I wasn’t explaining, I was just talking. I grew up with Katherine. Now she’s in a place where I don’t know how to help her.” He looked away, but when he turned, his smile was back in place. “Are you going home, or do you want to grab something to eat?”

“I’m going home. I have to help my grandmother with the yard.”

“I see. Yes, I guess I should head home, too. I keep forgetting that I have a lawn to mow.”

“See you Friday, then.” She reached for her door handle, but his hand shot out, circling her wrist. When she glanced over her shoulder, his hand dropped to his side. “What?”

“Maggie, the boy with the glasses, the one who doesn’t think he can count on anyone. Be careful of him, okay?”

“What?”

“Be careful. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being overly cautious.”

“You are. And don’t worry, I am careful.” She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “Friday, Michael. Don’t forget.”

He was still standing in the parking lot when she pulled onto the street. His cell phone was to his ear. She couldn’t help but wonder who he was talking to and if he was falling back into old habits.

“Vince called again.” Michael opened the front door for his brother. It was Thursday and he’d just had his second meeting with his probation officer. That should have been enough stress for one day. If only that could be the end of it. “I’m not sure if I can take this.”

“You have to decide.” Noah pulled off his black-framed glasses and slipped them into the collar of his shirt. “Nobody is going to force you. If you want to call Officer Conway and talk to him, do. If you don’t, then hang up when Vince calls. Get your number switched to unlisted.”

All good points. Michael tossed a crumb of bread into the corner of the room and avoided Noah’s questioning look. “It’s for the mouse.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this.”

“Probably not.”

“Why don’t you get a dog? Normal people have dogs.”

“The mouse doesn’t eat as much.”

Noah walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of tea. “Michael, make a decision.”

“I have an NA meeting tonight.” Michael had survived the kids. Narcotics Anonymous, his first meeting, sounded simple after a dozen or so teenagers.

“Michael, you can’t discuss this at NA.”

“I know that.” He brushed a hand across his face. When he looked up, Noah was at the door. He never stayed for long. “I think I can do it. The next time Vince calls, I’ll talk to him. He says I owe him money. He’s trying to use that on me.”

“So let him. Use it as a way to get in. As an informant, the police want one thing from you. They want names. You’re the only one who can decide what you want to do about this.”

“What I want to do?” He sat in the sideways-tilting recliner. “I want to move past this. I want for this to not be my life.”

For a minute Noah’s expression softened. “I know. Remember, someday this will be the past. Right now you have to concentrate on what has to be done. Get it over with so that you can move on. Make the move into Vince’s life, Michael.”

Noah made it sound so easy, like something that people did on a daily basis. But who really went out of their way to make a deal with the devil?

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