A Chance at Love (3 page)

“I believe in God. Well, kind of. I don’t know. I don’t like to believe in things I can’t see. Do you believe in God?”

He nodded. “I do. Not believing in what you cannot see is a little silly, Kyle. There’s more to the world than what we see.”

“Why don’t you go to church? Why haven’t
we
ever gone as a family? I never hear you talk about God.” I paused for a moment as I searched my memory, trying to find anything in there with my father talking about God. “Like ever, Dad. I’m pretty sure it’s never been talked about.”

“I know. The birds and the bees weren’t either, but you know about that,” he replied. He paused and let out a heavy sigh. “I never felt that God was super important in our lives as a family. At first it was a decision, and then it became the norm. I grew up with so many rules and regulations in church that I pretty much left God in a box when I left home years ago.”

“Hmm . . .”

“Please go hang out with your grandma for at least a week. It’s not going to kill you. After that, you can go back to your life.”

“What do I get out of it? Are you going to pay me at least? I’m now going to miss a week’s worth of pay.”

“I didn’t raise you to be selfish,” he replied, standing up. “Do it for your mother.” He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

One week with Grandma couldn’t be too difficult. Joanie did it. Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I’d like spending some time with her. Getting up off of my bed, I headed back out to the kitchen.

“I’ll do it,” I said as I looked directly into my mother’s eyes.

My mother stood up and came over to me. Wrapping her arms around my shoulders, she kissed my cheek and said, “Thank you, Kyle.”

T
he next morning, I opened my eyes to see my mother towering over my bed and saying my name softly. I furrowed my eyebrows and rolled over, covering my head with the comforter.

“Way too early, Mom,” I said muffled from under the blankets.

“She has an appointment at eight o’clock this morning. You need to get out to Chattaroy and pick her up.”

“Eight?” I replied, pulling the comforter down over me. Looking over at my alarm clock on the night stand, I saw it was only six. “It’s not even light out, Mom!”

“Come on,” she said, pulling the comforter off of me. “I made you some breakfast to help get you motivated.”

Clenching my jaw as my comfortable blankets were now off my bed and on the floor, I said, “Okay.” Sitting up, I dropped my legs over the edge of the bed and leaned over for a moment. Looking up, I saw that my mom was still standing there. “Come on. Let me be. I need to get ready and toss some stuff in a bag.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t take too long, or your food will get cold.” She left my room and shut the door behind her.

“Man . . .” I said, sighing as I shook my head. Looking back at the alarm clock, I continued, “This is ridiculous.”

I got up and dressed, tossed some clothes into a backpack and headed out to the kitchen. As I walked in, I saw my father reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee while my mother dished a plate of food for me. “I spoke to your grandmother this morning. She’s looking forward to your visit,” my mother said, bringing over the plate of food to the table as I sat down.

I acknowledged her with a nod and took a drink of the glass of orange juice that was sitting in front of me. If it was a couple of hours later in the morning, the smell of the eggs and bacon would have caused me to smile, but at six in the morning, I was just trying to wake up.

“It’s the right thing to do, Son,” my father said, lowering his newspaper.

“I know,” I said, picking up my fork.

As I came to my grandmother’s driveway out in Chattaroy, I saw a tree on the corner near the gravel entrance. The tree hung over the road and looked to have a few low-hanging branches. I didn’t recall the tree being like that the last time I had visited, but I hadn’t been out to see her in at least a year. Usually, Grandma would come to town to visit us rather than the other way around.

As I drove down the driveway, the branches scratched against the roof of my car, making a hissing sound. I cringed. Looping around the bending gravel path and trees, I arrived in the parking area in front of her house. Her house was small, but cute. It was green with a white trim, and the porch to the side was separate, but covered. The snow on top of the porch seemed to be rather deep and appeared to be causing a bow in the roof.

Grabbing my backpack from the back seat, I got out of my car and headed up the icy walkway to the house.

“Ahh!” I shouted as I slipped on an icy patch up near the porch. Luckily, I caught myself before falling. I continued to the door and said under my breath, “Should probably salt that.”

“Why do you think you’re here?” my grandmother suddenly asked from an open window that looked out onto the porch from the kitchen.

A bit startled, I shot a look over at her. “Grandma, why’s your window open?”

“It was stuffy in here. I need to get my outfit on, and then we can leave.”

I looked at my phone and saw that it was thirty minutes until her appointment. “We don’t have time to—” I began to say. The window suddenly shut.
Here we go
, I thought to myself.

I opened the door off the porch and went inside. Walking into the kitchen, I saw a gallon of chocolate milk out on the table. I poured myself a glass and sat down at the table. I could see out the window and into the front yard. Taking a drink, I wiped my mouth and let out a yawn. Parts of me were still not fully awake.

“You tired?” my grandma asked, coming into the kitchen.

Nodding as I turned and looked at her, I replied, “Kind of early.”

“Early to bed, early to—”

“Rise. Healthy, wealthy and wise. Yes, I know, Grandma. How are you moving around?”

She smiled at me. “It’s bruised. I’m in a lot of pain, but I manage. I do a little better in the mornings, and I hide it well enough. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Full of clichés aren’t ya?” I laughed and took a drink of milk.

“You been thinking about what you’re going to do with your life yet, Kyle?” she asked, coming over and grabbing the chocolate milk from the table.

“Not yet,” I replied as she went and put the milk into the fridge. I could see that her movements were full of hesitation, and her steps were strained as she maneuvered across the floor.

“You should figure that out soon,” she replied. “You can go and do anything with your life. Anything at all, Kyle.”

“Yeah, I know . . . I gotta figure out my passion though.” Standing up, I asked, “You ready to go?”

Grabbing her purse from the counter and slinging it up on her shoulder, she replied, “I’m ready.”

After my grandmother’s appointment, we were on our way to pick up a prescription and it began to snow. Looking up through the windshield in the middle of the slow moving traffic on Division street, I said sarcastically, “Oh, the joys of winter.”

“It’s beautiful,” my grandma replied with a grin. She had such a bubbly personality; I couldn’t imagine how my sister ever got her to a state of meanness.

“I know. It’s just hard to enjoy sometimes when you’re sliding all over the road and it’s freezing outside.” Relaxing back in my seat, I focused on my driving.

“It’s all about the perspective you take with the snow. Really, that goes with everything in life. God designed everything, including the seasons,” she said with a nod.

I laughed and glanced over at her. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that this is a design?”

“People don’t like change, Kyle.”

“I accept that, but I’m not following . . .”

“Think about it like this: the seasons change all year long. It helps us adapt and accept more change in our lives. That’s why many people who live in the south get stuck in their ways. Not much change goes on with their weather.”

“Neat concept, but a little far-fetched, Grandma.”

Her lip tightened to one corner of her mouth and she looked narrowly over at me. “Don’t let a closed mind be a part of you. That’s what the world does. A closed mind will only hold you back in this life.”

“Uh . . .” I hesitated to reply.

“Go ahead. Speak your mind.”

I let out a hesitant laugh and said, “I’m sorry. This is just odd to me though.
Christians
are the ones who are closed minded, not the world.”

“Can I call you CNN?” she asked.

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“Because you sound like a propaganda machine, not a kid who thinks freely for himself.” My grandmother pulled her purse up onto her lap and began thumbing through it. She didn’t look happy as she did it.

“I don’t appreciate that, Grandma,” I replied as I turned into the pharmacy parking lot. “Life stopped for me to come out and be with you for a week. I’m trying to help you out. I don’t need your insults.”

She looked up at me from her purse, bewildered. “Because I called you CNN?”

“Yeah. That was hurtful. I think a lot for myself,” I said as I parked.

Her face loosened and her eyebrows went up as she seemed surprised. Looking down at her purse, she said, “I shouldn’t assume you don’t think. You’re just so young, Kyle. These newer generations . . .” She cut her words short.

“What?” I asked, leaning in a little toward her.

“These newer generations terrify me. This world is far beyond corrupted. It’s a dark and unfamiliar land to me and my generation.”

“Don’t you believe there is still good in the world?”

She squinted as she set her hands together on top of her purse and looked out the windshield as she contemplated. “Yes. It was
His
design. We just have to keep perspective. I’m guilty of that and trying to work on it more.”

Grabbing for the handle of my car door, I asked, “Okay. Anything else but the prescription?”

“No. I’m okay,” she replied with that warm grandma type of smile on her face. “Get yourself a candy bar, though.”

Chuckling a little bit, I said, “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

Heading through the store toward the back area where the pharmacy was, I came around a corner of an aisle too quickly and bumped into a girl and a woman, sending the girl’s items crashing to the ground.

Bending down, I hurried to help without even looking up at the two of them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been going so fast around that corner.”

Looking up, I paused when I saw that it was her—the girl from the church. She was beet-red as I handed them over to her. With a quick nod, she hurried past me with her mom and continued on her way.

“I’m sorry about that!” I said to her as I watched her hurry away. “You go to that church, right? Calvary?” She just kept walking, ignoring my comment entirely. I walked a bit slower as I continued to the pharmacy. Arriving at the pharmacy, I couldn’t stop looking back every few moments, hoping that maybe she’d come back. Why’d she act so strange and ignore me like that?

“Something wrong, sir?” the gentleman behind the counter at the pharmacy asked.

“This girl. We bumped into each other in the aisle.”

“Okay . . .” he replied with a perplexed look on his face.

“Could you give me her name? She had curly—”

“No,” he replied sharply.

“All right,” I replied. “That’s understandable. I’m here to pick up a prescription for Ruth Miser.”

“Just a moment.” He began clicking around on his screen with a mouse and then typed a few quick strokes on the keyboard. I thought about the girl again. There was something about her that I didn’t understand. I glanced back over my shoulder again, hanging onto the shred of hope that she might have returned, but she didn’t. I spent the rest of the day thinking about our encounter. Was she being rude? Or was she just in a hurry? I didn’t know, but I kept thinking about her. While she was fairly attractive, I knew it wasn’t lust that was pulling me toward her. There was something more. Something unseen.