There Must Be Something More

13 | Grandpa Chuck

"There's something more to life," I said. It sounded ridiculous to me, to think of something more than baseball. To think of doing something else in life than it. 

Meredith didn't seem to get my gesture of skepticism. She closed the book, tapped the cover, looked at me. "We should get someplace else to write our report."

I looked around. "But... this is the library. People make reports here."

"I know," she said, "but sometimes I don't like to be around this much people, especially like this. Why don't you come over my house tonight, and I'll even let you try grandpa's all-famous chili."

"Excuse me?" I boggled. "Are you inviting me to come over your house?"

"Yeah," she said smugly, but I knew it was more of a friendly gesture. "Got a problem with that, baseball boy?"

"Baseball boy?"

But she was already leaving. She pranced away, her shadow wobbled with her, changing through transitions of walls. She was humming. She was disappearing behind a wall and I knew I had to decide soon if I should follow or decline her invitation.

I caught up to her.

"Look, how do we even get to your house? Don't tell me you're going to drive me there. What about my car?" I said it all at once. I was that nervous.

She smiled, poked my shoulder. "No, you are."

"Excuse me?"

"That's another reason why I want us to write in my house," she said. "The bus left and my car is still in the junkyard for fixing and my house is a kilometer off. I need a ride."

"And you think I'll let you ride with me and drive you to your house?"

"You're here now, are you?" she said. Her eyes covered me like the sky, as if I had no other choice but to agree. But maybe it wasn't just her. It was something else. 

The way she treated people, the way she said what she believed, the way she showed what she preached. It was all real. She was the realest person I've ever met. She was the opposite of cool, she never held anything back. To normal people, you'd have to be real close or host a party to have a complete stranger over.

But not to her.

"So, your house," I said as we pulled onto the driveway. "Where is it?"

"You don't know?" she said calmly.

"That's why I'm asking."

"West Brenden Square."

I stepped on the brakes. I boggled. I turned. "We live in the same street?"

"I sometimes see you out on your roof," she whispered. She smiled nicely, but she made me feel embarrassed. 

I grimaced. "You watch me? You're weird."

"No, I do not. I just saw you. Get over yourself," she said. "And we're all weird. Sometimes, a person just seems normal because that's what they want you to think. But we're all weird. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Who talks like that?" I said. I started up the engine. 

"I do," she said. She looked out the window this time. I figured she didn't want to dwell on the subject. I didn't either.

Her house was a single detached bungalow. It had a dark roof and white walls. It actually looked like any other house in Clarkdale, Arizona. I supposed that wasn't weird. She wasn't really weird, she was just... different.

"Grandpa will be glad to see you," she said.

I stopped, stared. "Why?"

"I told him about you."

"Why?"

"Sneaking in the infirmary, joining in my conversation about God? No one has ever done that before."

She giggled, hopped off my pickup. Her boot heels clicked on the gravel drive. An old man stood out the porch, grinning. He wore a blue flannel shirt, a big belt around his waist, and denim pants two sizes too big.

Meredith waved, gestured for me to come over. With a reluctant sigh, I jogged past their grassy lawn and stepped on the porch.

"And you must be the famous Charlie Borlock," Meredith's grandpa said. He grinned at me. He looked friendly, just like Meredith.

"Yeah," I said. "I practice baseball every week."

"Oh, you do?" he asked.

"I mean... that's what you were talking about, right?"

Meredith laughed. "He meant because I keep telling him about you."

"Oh," I said. The old man laughed, patted my shoulder.

"Charlie, this is Grandpa Chuck," Meredith introduced. "Grandpa, this is Charlie."

The old man put his arm around her and looked at me. "She isn't allowed to date, boy."

Meredith boggled. "Grandpa! You know me. I won't date till God says so."

I laughed awkwardly. "And I have a girlfriend."

"You do?" Grandpa Chuck said. He studied me for a moment, then he smiled. "Did God tell you to be with her?"

I stared at him. Did he think I was a Christian like them?

And I should've denied it. I should've said I did not believe in God and all that religious stuff. I should've said I was my own man with my own decisions, but all I said was: "No."

The old man's lip curled in a sneer of some sort. He glanced at Meredith knowingly, as if I was missing something and he knew about it. Before I could tell him off, Meredith interrupted.

"Okay, Grandpa, we're actually here to write a book report. I hate crowded libraries. And Charlie's going to eat dinner with us," she said it as if having strangers over for book reports was something she did everyday.

"Book report? About what?" Grandpa Chuck followed us inside the house.

"Baseball!" Meredith replied enthusiastically. She spread out her arms as she said it. Her grandpa chuckled.

I looked around and observed the living room. Just a normal table, a normal flat-screen TV, a normal dining table, a normal wallpapered wall, and normal paintings of flowers. It was just like every other home. 

Except for the peaceful ambiance.

It was as if I didn't need to do anything but receive the peace. I saw hand-knitted frames on the walls. They were Bible verses.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. ~Galatians 5:22-23

For His anger is but for a moment, and His favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. ~Psalms 30:5

but God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ~Romans 5:8

And as I looked at all of these, I could do nothing but smile and receive that peace for myself.