Rise (5 page)

“You did.”

“I caught on pretty fast. Even if you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have gone out with her again. And really, I was just going out with her because all our friends thought I should … and I was bored.”

“That’s mighty shallow of you.”

“I’m a guy. Shallow’s what we do. Or what I did before you. Now I’m deep.”

“More like digging yourself a grave. You should stop while you’re ahead.”

“Trust me, what I was thinking wasn’t that bad. It sounded worse as it came out of my mouth.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, so you don’t you think she’s self-confident?”

“No, she’s arrogant. I’d bet that under all the skimpy clothes, big hair, and makeup, she doesn’t like herself very much. There’s no way she can and still act the way she does.”

“But you seemed to like it today when I was dressed in skimpy clothes.”

“I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t. You looked good—really good.”

I felt my face flush and my ears get hot.

“I’m in love with you, so there’s no way I’m gonna see you in that getup and not get a little turned on. But I wouldn’t want you walking around like that all the time. Then it would be a turnoff.”

“Why?”

“Because if you did, you’d be doing it to get attention. You’ve already got my attention; who else’s do you need?”

“Nobody’s.” I started chewing on my thumbnail again.

“Trust me, you could wear a trash bag and I’d still find you very sexy.”

“Really?”

“Maybe not the chewing on your thumbnail part, although it is cute.” He removed my hand from my mouth and kissed my wrists. “Look, I love you just the way you are. You don’t need to change a thing.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Besides, given our circumstances, the more clothed you are, the better.”

“I guess that’s true. It’s a good thing. I really don’t feel comfortable in stuff that shows too much skin. Especially having skin as ugly as mine.”

“Your skin’s not ugly.”

“Riley, you’re the only person on this planet who doesn’t think my scars make me look like Frankenstein.”

He grabbed my arm and stopped me from walking. “What’s the matter? Why are you bringing your scars up all of a sudden?” I shrugged and started walking again, but he stopped me. “Out with it.”

“People at school already look at me funny. What are they going to do on Friday when I’m wearing my uniform? Most of my scars are going to show. I don’t know that I’m ready.”

“Charlie, you can’t hide them forever. And remember, you aren’t walking in there alone. You’ve got me there with you.”

He slid his hand in mine, and we started walking again.

“You know, sometimes I see a really a famous model and she has this really ugly boyfriend, and I always wonder how on God’s green earth he ever landed someone who was so beautiful. I imagine that’s what people say about us. When we walk down the hallway, I picture people saying to themselves, ‘How on earth did she get someone as good looking as him?’”

“Spare me.”

“I do. I think it all the time.”

“Remember what I said back there about you having self-confidence and it making you sexy?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “Never mind. Evidently it’s something else that makes you sexy. Your self-confidence needs some work.”

“I’m self-confident in some ways, just not when it comes to my looks.”

“That’s what it is then.”

“What?”

“You’re flat-out gorgeous and don’t even know it. You’re humble, and that, my little blonde-headed ball of energy, is sexy.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now … ” He grabbed me in his arms and pulled me to him. “Enough walking. Neither one of us needs the exercise, so we might as well get on with what we really came out here for.”

I stood on my tippy toes and smiled. “And what’s that?”

“Oh … ” he said with a shrug before kissing my ear. “A little o’ this and a little o’ that.”

chapter 6

After we finished our walk, I marched to my room and took a deep breath before opening the door. Part of me dreaded going in. I didn’t want to know what the Lord was going to have to say, and I had a nagging feeling I was in big trouble.

I exhaled loudly and then opened the door and walked into the room.

“Yada, yada, yada, huh?”

“I knew you would hear that. I didn’t really mean it. It was a joke.”

The look on Jesus’s face showed doubt.

“All right, maybe I meant it—a little. What’s my punishment?”

“No punishment, just an assignment.”

“An assignment? This is new. You’ve never given me an assignment before.”

“You never know what you’re going to get with me.” He smiled warmly at me before taking a seat on the corner of my bed. “Get out a piece of paper, a pencil, and your Bible.”

I obeyed and sat down at my desk.

“Turn to Colossians chapter three, verse twelve, and let me know when you’re there.”

When I flipped through the pages of the Bible, I listened to the paper crinkled under my fingers.

“Whoever designed the Bible was so intelligent. The thin paper and the sound it makes when you turn the pages makes you feel smart for some reason. At least it does me, anyway. If it were regular paper, it just wouldn’t be the same experience. Don’t you think?” I turned to face him and realized he was unimpressed with my observation.

“Can you just get to chapter three please?”

“Yes, sir.” I turned back around, quickened the search, and finally found it. “I’m there.”

“Are you at verse twelve?”

“Yes.”

“Start writing.”

“Writing what?”

“Verses twelve through fourteen. Read out loud as you write.”

“Just so you know, the words yada, yada, yada will never again escape my lips, I can assure you of that.” I placed the pencil on the paper and started reading and writing. “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourself in … ” I swallowed hard and rolled my eyes.

“I can’t hear you.”

“ … compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and … ” I turned to him. “Do I have to?”

“Keep going.”

“Good grief.”

“I don’t think it says that—and I would know.”

I turned back around and focused my eyes on the scripture. “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.” I turned to him again. “Are you giving Tiffany this same assignment? Because I think she needs to do it more than I do right now. And Riley, he probably needs to do this too. Tammy for sure does.”

“If you don’t get it done, you’re going to have to write the entire book.”

Begrudgingly, I continued. “Forgive as the Lord forgave you, and over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” I slapped the pencil down onto the pad and turned to him again.

“You’re not finished.”

“What? You said to verse fourteen.”

“I know I did. But now I want you to get out your dictionary.”

“My dictionary?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No.” I stomped toward the bookshelf and yanked the dictionary off the shelf. “You sure are getting sassy.”

“Now, what were the things you were supposed to clothe yourself in?”

I checked my notes. “Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.”

“Good. Write down the definitions to each of those words and say them out loud as you write them.”

I groaned again. “Wait till Riley hears about this. I told him I was going to get grief from you as soon as I came upstairs.”

“Do you want more words?”

“No.”

“Then get busy.”

“Fine.” I continued the assignment, but if I said I had a good attitude about it, I’d be lying, and that would end up landing me in even more trouble.

“Compassion: a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate their suffering.”

It didn’t make sense. Why should I have to share the suffering of Tiffany? She wasn’t suffering; I was! And what misfortune did she have? She had no time for misfortune; she was too busy handing it out to everyone else. I pictured her standing at a perfume counter in the mall handing out little vials of smelly misfortune as people walked by. Come to think of it, that’s exactly what her stinky perfume smelled like—misfortune.

“What are the synonyms?” he asked.

“Mercy, tenderness, heart.”

“What’s the antonym?”

“Tiffany.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s mercilessness and indifference.”

“Okay, next word.”

“Kindness … Can I ask why you’re having me do this?”

“Because you tend to breeze through the scriptures without really thinking about what they mean. I want you to not only read them but understand them. Keep going.”

“ … the state or quality of being kind.”

“And the synonyms?

“Humanity, generosity, charity, sympathy, compassion, tenderness, and good turn.”

“What was that last one?”

“Good turn.”

“What did you say?”

“Good turn!” I practically screamed the word at him.

“It doesn’t say ‘turnabout’s fair play?’”

“No.”

“Hmm. Well, what’s the antonym to kindness? And don’t say Tiffany.”

“Cruelty.”

“Next word.”

“Humility: the quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one’s own importance, rank, etc.” I continued before he could even ask. “The synonyms are: lowliness, meekness, and submissiveness. Submissiveness! I am not going to be submissive to her.”

He ignored me. “What’s the antonym?”

“Oh heck no, I’m not going to be submissive … ”

“Attie—”

“I’m not doing that. A person’s got to draw the line somewhere, and being submissive to a—”

“Don’t even say it.”

“Well, you get my point.”

“And you’re going to get mine. What’s the antonym?”

“Pride!”

“Thank you. Next word.”

I tried to calm myself a bit and read more gently. It seemed appropriate, seeing as how that was the word we were on.

“Gentleness: not severe, rough, or violent; mild. The synonyms are peaceful, soothing, calm, tender, lenient—this is painful, it really is—docile, and tame. The antonyms are harsh, cruel, violent, sudden, wild, and unruly.”

“Next word.”

“I’m going to hate this one.”

“That’s why you’re doing it.”

“P-p-patience.” The word would barely escape my lips.

“There are several good definitions, so make sure you get them all.”

“My hand’s cramping.”

“I don’t care.”

I gave my hand a dramatic shake and then continued writing. “The quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint … ”

“What was that?”

“Without complaint!”

“Continue.”

“ … loss of temper … ”

“And that? What was that?”

“Loss of temper!”

“You obviously need to work on those. Keep going.”

“ … irritation, or the like. An ability or willingness … oh puke … to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay. A quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence. The synonyms are: composure, stability—well, I’m obviously neither of those—submissive—there’s that dang word again—submissiveness, sufferance—I’m doing plenty of that … ”

“What are the antonyms?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“How about temper tantrums?”

“No.”

“Continually asking when something will be over? Saying life isn’t fair? Expecting life to be easy?”

I moaned in disgust, leaned forward, and let my forehead bang into the desk. “I get the point. Am I finished yet?”

“One more.”

“But that’s all the words.”

“One more—forgiveness.”

I practically broke out in hives but sat back up and allowed my fingers to flip through the dictionary anyway. “Forgiveness: the act of forgiving; to pardon.”

“Wait, doesn’t it mention forgetting? Making up? Being friends?”

“No.” I turned to face him. “Just the act of forgiving.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m assuming you’re being sarcastic.”

“You think?”

“Yes.”

“Look, Attie, I’m not saying you have to be Tiffany’s friend. But I am saying that you need to bear with her and offer her forgiveness.”

“To her face?” I screamed.

“No, unless you feel like you need to.”

“Heck no, I don’t.” Without even thinking about it, my arms crossed my stomach in a huff. “And how many times do I have to forgive her? She does a lot of stuff.”

“How many times have I had to forgive you?”

“Well, that’s harsh. You know, you didn’t have to go there.”

“Yes, I did. I’m not asking you to do anything I don’t do.”

“You are the Messiah. I think it’s probably a little easier for you.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Being tortured and hung on a cross?”

“Never mind. I should’ve known better than to argue with you. You are always right.”

“True.”

“I get the point.”

“And what point is that?” he asked.

“I have to be nice to the girl.”

“And?”

“For-f-f … ”

“Spit it out.”

“Forgive her.” I threw myself back against the chair in a fit. “I thought I’d learned this lesson already—with the whole nightmares thing.”

“Forgiveness is one of the hardest crosses to bear. You have to pick it up every day and walk it out because as soon as you think you’ve mastered it, something else happens and you’re right back where you started off.”

“I’ll say.”

“I’ve saved the best for last.”

“There’s more? I don’t think I can contain my excitement,” I mumbled.

“Do you even have a filter between your brain and mouth, or do you just say everything that comes to mind?”

“I say everything. Talk to the Father—he didn’t give me a filter.”

“Oh, he gave you one all right; you just don’t choose to use it. But we’ll save that conversation for another night.”

“Thank God … or you. Whatever. Go on.”

“You need to pray for her.”

“For whom?”

“Whom do you think?”

“It’s not enough that I’ve got to forgive her? Now I’ve got to pray for her too?” The blood surging through my veins was practically at its boiling point.

“Yes.”

I plopped my elbows on the desk and buried my head in my hands. “This just gets more and more painful by the minute.”

“I’m sorry.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Really?”

“No.”

I frowned and then buried my face again. “Fine, I’ll pray for her.”

“Real prayers, Attie, not fake ones. Real prayers, just like the ones you do for your dad.”

“All right.”

“And I want you to hang that piece of paper on your bathroom mirror, and every morning while you’re getting ready, I want you to read it out loud.”

“For how long?”

“Until you’ve mastered it.”

“Forever then.” I sprung out of the chair and across the room. “You’re basically saying it’ll be there forever.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

I flung open the door and stomped toward the bathroom to wash my face.

Riley peeked his head out of his room. “What was all that yelling about?”

“I just got my butt handed to me by the Lord.”

“I figured you would. I told you not to say yada, yada, yada.”

“Shut it, Riley!”

I heard him laugh as I slammed the door behind me.