Never the Bride (28 page)

“Why?”

“Could be God.”

Brooklyn rolls her eyes. “You are really scaring me.”

“I’m not kidding. The guy is kind of stalker-like. Very nice. Quite the gentleman. But doesn’t take hints, you know?”

Brooklyn grabs the phone and looks at the screen. “It’s Malia.”

“Terrific. It’s my never-to-be mother-in-law.” I pick up the phone and without answering it put it in front of my face. “Nobody’s there. Here, I mean.” I laugh, put the phone down, and am feeling an urge to sing. And none of that old-fart stuff either. I want to jam up there on stage, rock the house.
American Idolize
myself. “Woo hoo!” I hop off the bar stool and dance toward the line for karaoke. Yeah, this feels sooo right. I’m way more loser. Looser, I mean. “Lookie, Brookie!” She’s not. She’s ducking her head. Some people are so uptight.

My wait in line is a little long. I’ve struck up a convo with Denver, Susan, Charlotte, and London. Add Brooklyn, and we’ve practically got a world map. But we’re having a good time.

Charlotte is next and she sings “Sweet Home Alabama,” which Denver and I are cracking up at since she’s Charlotte. It’s a funny thing what alcohol can do. It can make imaginary friends completely disappear.

It’s almost my turn when I feel an arm grab me. Uh-oh. He’s back. Nope. It’s Malia. Thank God.

“Come on, honey.”

“But I’m next.”

“They’ll save your spot. Come on.”

Malia’s got me by the arm. I trail her, dancing all the way to a rounded booth she insists I slide into. It’s just like the one I sat in with Blake.
Perrrfect.

I fumble my way in, and the next thing I know, Brooklyn’s on one side of me and Malia’s on the other. I put an arm around each of them. “Good times. Good times.”

Malia peels me off her. “Blake called and told me what happened.”

“Fantastic!”

“Jessie—”

“No, seriously. It’s fine. The humiliation is spreading like a rash, but I’ve got cream, alcohol, I mean. Maybe he can post the story on a billboard tomorrow. Better yet, tell him to drop by my blog and share.”

“Honey, I love my son. I do. But—”

“Me too. Cheers.” Except I don’t have a drink. I grab Brooklyn’s and sip it. “Water? You are such a drag.”

“Jessie, listen to me. I know what Blake did was kind of stupid. He didn’t think through how to tell you, and he doesn’t really know what a hard time you’re going through. It was just bad timing and…” Malia takes my hand. “You’re a treasure. You really are, sweetheart—”

“Oh yeah. Treasure. Gotta dig so deep, it’s hard to find. Jack Sparrow, call me!”

Over the speakers, my name is called. “Jessie Wessie, you’re up!”

“Saaweeeet!”

“Jessie Wessie?” Brooklyn says. “She is soooo drunk.”

But I’m gone, slipping underneath the table, across the floor, and
up on stage. Singing my new favorite song. The only song that makes sense to me right now: “Don’t Want to Know You.”

The crowd is feeling it. Several of my new buddies are clapping loudly for me. I’m not actually singing to the ceiling. But they don’t know that. But maybe He’s not even listening.

Hey! Alcohol also cures tone deafness. I think.

And then I see Him. He’s at the door, watching me. I didn’t see Him come in. I sing to Him. He loves to hear me sing, right?

Whew! I hop right off the stage like I’m Kenny Chesney or something, swinging my hips. Lots of claps for that one. I tip my mike to the crowd. They are
loving it!

God isn’t. His face drops at the sight of me. That’s a first.

Before I get another stanza out, He starts to leave.

Oh well. “Bye! Buh-bye. See ya later. Bye-eeee.”

He’s gone.

Somebody’s got my elbow. I twirl around, hoping it’s a hot guy with an empty lap.

Nope. Malia. Again.

“Jessie, you know I love you, which is why you have to stop this.” Malia takes my mike and hands it off.

“Awww, come on, Malia. I was just getting snarted.”

“Started
doesn’t have an
n
unless you’ve been doing shots.” Her tone is harsh, a little motherly-like. “Now come on. Let’s get you some fresh air.” Malia guides me outside.

Brooklyn is right behind me, shaking her head. “Dude, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Brook, shush,” Malia says.

“What? I’m just saying, I didn’t think—”

“Okay, we get your point. She’s having a rough night, aren’t you, honey?” Malia says, rubbing my arm. We’re standing near the wall of the club, a few feet away from the entrance.

“Look, I know I’m wasted, but I swear the buzz is making everything come into focus. I’m getting it, all right? Really, this time. You guys don’t even have to tell me. I already know. I’m like
Sixth Sense
crazy. Seeing people where they aren’t. Talking to people who aren’t—uh-oh.”

I have the clarity of mind to vomit in the other direction.

“Whoa. Sorry. That came up fast.”

Brooklyn is making a face. “Jess, good grief. If you can’t hold it down, don’t drink it!”

I wipe my mouth and lean against the brick. “The guy at the door, He took my purple pen. I’m not kidding.”

“What is she talking about?” Brooklyn whispers to Malia.

“I can hear you. I’m only
tone
deaf. I’m talking about my pen! My pen with the feather. You know the one. No matter. By now it’s probably back in my bedroom. ’Cause He doesn’t need it, see? It’s over. I’m cutting Him off. Zip. Goner. Not that I won’t miss Him, mind you.”

Malia stops me. “Wait. You said the guy at the door?”

“That’s what I said. Mr. Invisible.”

“You mean the one you were singing to so rudely that he bolted?” Brooklyn asked.

“Yeppers. And it’s a real shame you can’t see Him, either, because honestly, He’s cute. But only I can see Him. Well, except ministers. The minister at the chapel saw Him, but that’s because he’s very spiritual. Don’t ask me why I can see Him and you can’t. I ain’t spiritual.”

“You never say ‘ain’t,’” Brooklyn says.

Malia holds out a hand. “Wait. Jess, we did see him.”

The sidewalk is spinning but I manage to focus. “What?”

“We saw him.”

Brooklyn nods. “Yeah. He was there, standing at the door, watching you make a fool of yourself.”

Malia takes my shoulders. “I’m the one who called and told him to come here.”

I steady myself against the brick wall and blink. “God has a phone number?”

“Jessie, that’s not God! It’s Jonathan. The guy I’ve been telling you about? The one I’ve been wanting to introduce you to?”

“The computer geek?”

“Jonathan, yes.”

“He’s not a geek.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Jonathan.”

A memory flashes through my swimming mind. I’m at the gift shop. There is a pregnant woman.
“We consider this little guy to be a gift
of God. That’s what Jonathan means.”’

“Gift of God,” I whisper.

“I don’t get this,” Malia says, folding her arms. “Don’t you already know him? I told him to go see you at your condo the other night, after you ended it with Clay. He said you invited him in and you were cooking his favorite meal, teriyaki chicken or something like that.”

Since when do You ring doorbells?

“Yeah,” Brooklyn says. “I remember hearing a guy’s voice.”

“He thought that was cool,” Malia continues, “except then you left him to eat by himself. He didn’t quite know how to interpret that, but he thought he’d give you some room. He knew you were going through a hard time.”

The sidewalk is steady, but now my mind is spinning.

“What is going on?” I ask.

“What is going on is that I met Jonathan through work. He owns Fine Computer Techs. Ever since I met him I felt like you two would hit it off. And tonight, well, after everything that happened with Blake, I called him and asked him if he would come. I thought it might encourage you to see this guy who’s been wanting to get to know you. And, I should add, being very patient about it too.”

“But, I—”

“I mean, the guy even sent you a singing telegram with balloons and a tape recorder. How creative was that?”

“I thought—I’m so—I gotta find somebody!”

I take off north. Brooklyn and Malia are right behind me.

“Where are you going?” Brooklyn asks.

“Five blocks this way.”

“Shouldn’t we stop her?” Brooklyn is asking Malia. “I mean, what if she does something stupid?”

“I think we’ve already passed that point,” Malia replies.

“I can hear you!” I say, marching forward. Well, maybe weaving. But I have to say, the buzz is wearing off fast.

“Jessie, where are you going?”

“Just trust me on this one.”

They follow the rest of the way in silence until I get to the community church. I walk to the dark side of the church where the A/C unit is.

“Um, Jessie. You can’t—”

“Trust me. I’m a pro. I’ve only gone to jail once.”

“Malia, we’ve got to stop her!” Brooklyn says as I attempt to pry open the window.

“Dang, I wish I could walk through walls.”

“Hold on,” Malia says softly. “Let’s let her do what she needs to do.”

“Aren’t we accomplices?” Brooklyn asks.

Hello, melodrama.

I finally shove the window open. “You two gotta stay here.”

As I crawl in I hear Malia say “Let her go.”

I hurry myself to the sanctuary. It’s dark and quiet, just like I like it.

“Okay,” I yell into the darkness. “I’m an idiot. And not just because I got drunk tonight. But to my credit, I only had three shots of alcohol.”

“Four.”

I turn and there He is, sitting in the front pew. I can’t help but grin at Him. I step forward a little. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I’m so confused. Who did they see tonight? Who is Malia talking about?”

“Someone I’ve been wanting to introduce you to. And so has she. You just wouldn’t hear us.”

I need to grab something. The lectern is nearby. “You mean he’s real? Human real?”

“Yes.”

“And…he looks like You?” I rub my temples where a slight headache is coming on. “What’d You do? Borrow his face while You were writing my story?”

“Sometimes I can be unconventional. People don’t give me enough credit. I parted the Red Sea, you know? This was nothing.”

I make my way to carpeted stairs that lead up to the platform. I sit so I’m facing Him. “But…I saw You with Blake. At the house. Talking to him…about me.”

“That wasn’t Me you saw through the window. That will make sense later. But I needed you to find out about Blake so I could move you on. Blake was never as captivated by you as I am.”

I feel the blood rush through my body. “You’re…captivated by me?”

“Yeah.”

I sit on the highest step of the stage, overwhelmed by it all. Overwhelmed by Him. And before I know it, I’m crumpled against the carpeted stairs, crying. “I’m so sorry, for everything, for everything I said. I guess I could never really believe, with the seven billion people on the planet, that You also cared for me.”

“I care about all of you.”

“I see that now. I do. I’m sor—”

I hear faint commotion outside. “They have a silent alarm. It takes the police about—” I glance at my watch. “Yeah, they’re probably here by now.”

God hands me a piece of paper that I don’t remember seeing in His hand before. “Get there. Right away.”

Without even looking at the paper, I stuff it in my pocket and start to run out of the sanctuary. “Wait. Will I see You again?”

He only smiles, that gentle reassuring smile that is low on information but high on assuredness. “You better get going.”

I hurry back down the hallway and to the office. The window is still open and I rush to it, sliding my body through. My feet hit the A/C unit. That’s when I see red and blue lights flashing off the metal.

Slowly I turn around, planting a grin on my face. It’s Officers Garrety and Lakeland, standing behind Malia and Brooklyn. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Malia is chewing a fingernail. Brooklyn has a slightly amused look on her face. Officer Garrety steps between them. “Hello, Speedy.”

“Hello, Officer Garrety.”

“I can see you’ve returned to your old ways.”

I take a deep breath and offer the most innocent-by-reason-of-insanity expression I can muster. I hop off the air-conditioning unit. “Listen, I need a police escort. You available?”

I feel awful leaving Malia and Brooklyn behind. They’ve had quite a night keeping me out of trouble, only to watch me be taken away in a police car with flashing lights. But Garrety and I have an understanding. I hope. I’m pretty sure he’s not taking me to jail.

He’s looking at the address on the piece of paper I gave him. “I’m not sure where this is. Hold on, let me call Dispatch.”

I stare out the window as the world passes by in a blur. It seems surreal, yet it’s like a puzzle coming together. All this time I doubted Him, doubted His love for me, doubted that He had my best interest at heart. Doubt almost wrecked it all for me. Why couldn’t I have just believed, right from the start? He did nothing but show me love.

I feel wretched and humiliated by my humanness, except that that seems to be exactly what He liked about me. He knew everything about me, except He always seemed surprised by and in wonder at the very thing He created.