Broken Identity (17 page)

Andrew’s expression altered at the mention of Kevin’s name. “Give me that,” he said. He snatched the phone from Drake’s hand, the old anger he had wrestled to subdue now fully aroused in him again. “Hello? Kevin?”

“Andrew?”

Andrew’s hand stiffened around the phone. “What do you want?”

“I wanna talk to my boy.”

“You know what the judge said!” Andrew said in a raised voice. “Don’t push me, Kevin.”

Drake wrinkled his brow.
Judge? So it ended up in court…Ronnie wasn’t lying when he made it sound like a big deal. His parents must be worse than I thought.

“They said no visitation rights!” Kevin said heatedly. “They never said I couldn’t call!”

“How easily my visit to your house slips from memory.”

“And how quickly you forget whose blood runs through that brat’s veins! Now put him on the phone!”

“If you think you can threaten me—”

“Let me talk to my boy!”

“I don’t think you have anything worthwhile to say.”

“If you don’t give him the phone—”

“I’m not making the decision. It’s Ronnie’s choice whether or not he wants to talk to you.”

“Stop wasting my time and ask him then!” Kevin demanded.

“All right. I will ask him.” Andrew covered the mouthpiece and called Ronnie downstairs. “Ronnie, your dad’s on the phone,” he said softly.

Ronnie shook his head and backed away, his eyes fixed on the phone. The look on his face exposed his inner terror of the monster waiting on the other end to talk to him, to bruise him deeper. “I don’t wanna talk to him,” he said in a shaky voice. “Please don’t make me do it.”

Andrew put the phone back up to his ear. “He doesn’t want to talk to you, Kevin. Leave him alone.”

“You can’t refuse me! I’m his father!”

“You were never a father. Goodbye, Kevin. Don’t even try to call this house again, because no one will pick up.” Andrew moved the phone away from his ear as Kevin let out a string of curses, and hung up. He sighed and hesitantly turned to Ronnie. “I’m sorry, Ronnie, but I wanted to ask you first.”

Ronnie walked back up the stairs and into his bedroom without saying a word.

Drake looked at Andrew, speechless at the sight he had just witnessed. “I wouldn’t have answered the phone if I had known.”

“I know,” Andrew said, still wearing a frown. “It’s not your fault.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened between Ronnie and him?”

Andrew made sure Ronnie was occupied in his room before taking Drake over to the couch and sitting down beside him. His eyes searched the room as he tried to begin. “Kevin was never a real father to Ronnie,” he started, wrinkling his brow as all the awful memories he had tried to forget flooded back into his soul again. “He drank all the time, gambled away his share of Dad’s inheritance one week after it was given to him, and did a whole lot of other stupid things I’d rather not say. When he lost a gamble, he got himself stoned out of his mind, then took all his anger out on Ronnie. It was like a chain reaction every time. Ronnie never told anyone, never talked about the abuse he suffered night after night. Still doesn’t, for that matter.” Andrew wiped a tear away from his eye and clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking.

Drake knew what it was like living with a father who drank regularly, but he had never once been beaten. “Man, I hate that for Ronnie. I never realized.”
No, I sure didn’t. No wonder he talks so much. He never had anyone to listen to him before.
“What are you gonna do about his dad? From what I heard of your end of the conversation, he sounded pretty angry.”

“I’m going to keep him away from Ronnie,” Andrew said, his words precise and matter-of-fact. “He doesn’t care a thing about seeing or talking to Ronnie. He’s just looking for a fight because now he’s got no one to beat up. He doesn’t scare me, though. I doubt he’ll even try to call again.”

Drake folded his arms and noticed the serious concern in Andrew’s eyes. “Hope you’re right. For Ronnie’s sake, I mean. I saw the look on his face. He seemed scared when you mentioned his dad.”

Andrew sighed and turned his gaze elsewhere. “I can imagine.”

“Is there anything I can do to cheer him up?”

Andrew lifted his head and looked at Drake. “Why don’t you ask him?”

The floor creaked as Drake walked up to Ronnie’s room. He approached the already opened door and stood silently in front of it for a few seconds, hesitating. He wasn’t good at stuff like this, but tapped lightly on the door anyway. “Can I come in?”

Ronnie glanced up from his sitting position on the floor and set down the puzzle piece he was holding. “If you want,” he said indifferently.

Drake walked in and sat down beside him. “Your uncle told me about your dad,” he started slowly. “He thought it would be better if I knew.”

Ronnie shrugged and looked away.

“Anything I can do?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon. Nothing?”

“Being here with you and Uncle Andy, I almost forgot about him.” Ronnie looked into Drake’s eyes for some form of comfort and brought his knees close to his chest. “Now it just hurts again.”

Drake picked up a puzzle piece and inserted it in the top corner of the puzzle. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, OK? I know I’ve been a jerk at times—especially that first night—but I really do wanna help.” He nudged him gently, hoping to get a smile. “Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry.”

Ronnie teared up but managed to hold it back.

“Hey, things won’t stay bad forever. They can’t. Believe that.” Drake rose from the floor and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Drake faced him. “What is it?”

“There is one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come to church with Uncle Andy and me tomorrow?”

Drake opened his mouth and froze. “Oh…well, you see…”

Ronnie shook his head and turned his attention back to his puzzle.

“Never mind.”

Drake took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to say went against every desire inside of him. “All right, Ronnie. I’ll go. But only for you.”

“Really?” Ronnie said excitedly. “’Cuz you’ll just love it there. And the pastor’s real nice. He even shook my hand after the service.”

Drake literally had to force himself to smile.
I can hardly contain myself.

Chapter

10

A S
TEP
A
HED

Drake Pearson didn’t exactly look dressed for the occasion. A slightly wrinkled button-up shirt that might as well have not had any buttons, a gray tee underneath, faded jeans, old shoes with six hundred dollars and a knife buried inside, and a hemp-string necklace with a lizard engraved on a wooden bead roughly sized up his apparel for Sunday morning. He was comfortable, at least, and maintained a sense of pride that he didn’t walk around as if his clothes had been soaked overnight in starch—like “church folk.”

Ronnie was chipper, as always, on the way to church that morning. He filled Drake in on the praise and worship, what the preaching was like, and even offered to give him a tour of the church before the service began.

“No thanks, little man,” Drake mumbled, hoping to catch a short nap before they arrived. Why did church have to be so early in the morning? And why did he ever agree to put himself through this humiliation in the first place? He stretched his sore arms and yawned. Then another yawn. Did he say humiliation? No, this went beyond embarrassment; this was sheer agony. “I guess it would sound rude if I asked how long service is,” he said, directing his statement to Andrew.

“It usually ends sometime around twelve,” Andrew said. “But then again, the pastor isn’t on a time schedule, and if people start closing their Bibles or checking their watches too soon, that usually seems to make him want to continue even longer.”

“Great,” Drake moaned, leaning his head back. “My stomach will be rolling by that time.”

“Can we order pizza afterward?” Ronnie piped up.

“Sure,” Andrew said. “You like pizza, Drake?”

“I could probably eat five pieces right now,” Drake said. If he hadn’t been so rushed this morning, he wouldn’t have forgotten to eat breakfast, and if he wouldn’t have forgotten to eat breakfast, he probably wouldn’t have a headache right now—this one for real. He hoped today was one of the pastor’s shorter messages. Or maybe he had caught a cold and was home sick today. Before he knew it, he was dreaming up a fantasy of ideas that might have happened to the pastor between now and the short time span of five minutes before they reached the church.

“Have you ever been to church before, Drake?” Andrew said.

“Sure,” Drake said, trying to restrain another yawn. “Plenty of times. Went there with my dad to get food from the food pantry.”

“Oh,” Andrew said despondently.

“The church started making people attend the morning service, though, then gave ’em food afterward. That meant everyone had to wait and hear the sermon before they got anything to eat. Dad and I stopped coming after that. There were a few other churches in the area to bum off of for a while, but eventually they closed their pantries or did the same thing as the first church. So in a way, I guess church has helped me. Kept me fed for a while, anyway.”

Andrew pulled into the parking lot, which was already half full of cars. The second Drake stepped out of the car, Ronnie began begging to show him around until Drake finally gave in. “OK,” he agreed, “but I don’t see what’s so special about a concrete building.”

Ronnie walked Drake past the doe-eyed greeters at the front door and rushed him into the sanctuary. “That’s the stage up there,” he explained, as if Drake hadn’t already realized that for himself. “Over there’s a guy who plays a sweet-looking guitar, and the drums are awesome.”

Drake surveyed the stage and was saddened to find that there was no piano. What a shame. A piano might have been the only thing he would have found interesting here. Everything else had been fairly predictable so far. Pews lined up perfectly, air smelling of recently sprayed air freshener, and everyone smiling unnaturally at him whenever he walked by. Church just creeped him out, period.

Ronnie tugged at his hand. “C’mon, I’ll show you the kids’ class.”

The children’s class was downstairs, and the theme on the wall appeared to be of some man with a boat and a crowd of animals around him. “Who’s the old guy?” Drake said, nodding toward the painting.

Ronnie squinted as he thought. “I think he’s Noah. He was the guy who built a boat and brought all the animals inside before a big storm came and flooded the whole world.”

“How do you know all this stuff? Thought you told me you’ve only been to church once.”

“I have, but Uncle Andy’s been reading to me at night.”

Drake raised his eyebrows. “At night? Why?”

“So I can learn more.”

“That’s what Sundays are for. To learn when you come to church.”

“Oh, no,” Ronnie said quickly. “Uncle Andy tells me lots of exciting stories every night. I know a lot of them already.”

Drake looked at the painting again. Eerie that kids actually took an interest in this stuff. “Exciting. Right,” he said doubtfully.

“No, really, they are. I can’t wait to learn more.”

Drake simply nodded in his confusion.
Poor kid, he’s been brainwashed.

Ten minutes later, Drake and Ronnie found a seat by Andrew just as the praise team emerged from a side door and walked onto the stage. After a brief prayer and a warm welcome to the congregation, the music began. Ronnie and Andrew stood during the songs, but Drake pointedly stayed seated with his arms folded close to his chest and eyelids drooping. The music was OK, but he had heard better. The instruments impressed him somewhat, but what was the point of it all? To sing to someone who may or may not be listening?

Drake wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole “God” issue, and considered himself at most to be an agnostic. He simply didn’t know. Who could ever know? The belief in evolving from a chimp or a blob of slime from the ocean had always been lame to him; but on the other hand, the belief in a God who magically created the entire world in a matter of days made no sense either. But what did it really matter? Maybe he would get serious about his life and eternity once he got into his 70s or 80s, but his life was just too full and messed up right now to try to juggle something else.

Drake was beginning to get fidgety. The fourth song had ended, yet soft instrumental music still played as the pastor rambled on about salvation and something called an altar call. And most of the people were still standing. Drake peeked at his watch and rolled his eyes.
Sit down already. You’re encouraging him to go longer.

“If there’s anyone in this room today who has not made Jesus Christ the Lord of his life, please do so immediately,” Pastor Don Bauer said. “Don’t leave here today without knowing for a fact that your life is right with God. All you have to do is repent of your sins and believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that He died and rose again. Give your heart to Him. He doesn’t ask anything in return except your love.”

Ronnie tugged on Andrew’s shirt and stood on his tiptoes to whisper something in his ear.

Tears welled up in Andrew’s eyes, and he embraced Ronnie.

Ronnie whispered something else to Andrew, and Andrew nodded his head. Then Ronnie sat down and scooted close to Drake. “Can you come up front with me?” he said quietly.

Drake looked at the stage, then back at Ronnie. “What? Why?”

“I want Jesus in my heart,” Ronnie whispered, wondering why Drake hadn’t already understood.

Drake glanced up at Andrew, who was beaming proudly and on the verge of tears.
Oh, brother.
He sighed and said finally, “Why do I gotta go up there?”

“I don’t wanna go by myself.”

Then ask your uncle,
Drake wanted to say.
He’d be more than thrilled to walk you up there.

“Anyone at all?” Pastor Don said, searching the crowd for any raised hands.

Ronnie bit his lip. “Please, Drake,” he pleaded.

“Ronnie, don’t…” But Drake couldn’t pull himself to say no. He grudgingly gave in to the pitiful look on the 7-year-old’s face and sheepishly made his way up to the front behind Ronnie.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. And in front of all these people! Me and my brilliant, backfiring ideas. Thank you once again for your stupidity, brain. I look like an idiot.