Inachevé

Sixteen - Simply Chosen

She asked him what he wanted to drink. He told her nothing. She asked him what he wanted to eat. He gave a careless shrug and told her the same answer. She began thinking he meant something else, so she eased herself onto his lap and began toying with her garment’s fasteners. He stopped her and shook his head. By now, she was thoroughly confused. The woman asked him if there were any particular favors or performances he wanted her to do. Again, he told her there was nothing she had to do. The girl, with her silkly blonde hair, highlighted with brown streaks, stood up and shoved his shoulder hard against the back of the chair.  Insulted, she asked him again, what do you want?

The young man sat in that chair and pondered. The colored lights streamed over them and the loud music shrieked from the speakers. Blinking several times and moistening his thin lips, he said in his soft, boyish voice, “I want you. I’m not asking for anything in return, I’m not asking for favors or sex, or anything.” He opened his suit jacket and showed her that he hadn’t brought any wallet or any fancy jewelry to bargain with.

“What kind of man would cross the tracks to find a girl like me?” She propped her hand on her hip and gave him a challenging waggle of her head. While he was still forming my answer, she lifted an eyebrow and rolled her tongue between her cheeks impatiently.

“I want to give you everything you’ve wanted and will ever need.”

“Baby, plenty of men have money. I’ve got enough of that.”

Seeing her trying to leave, he reached out and grabbed her hand. He held it tightly in between his, surprising her. Looking up at her strong, structured face, he pleaded in a voice weighed in sincerity. “I want you to be my wife. Before you think I’m crazy, hear me out. I’ve been searching for a woman who’ll be perfect for me. Who’ll understand me, feed me, be with me, and know me. But then I reazlied, I don’t want a perfect woman. I want you, and all of your brokeness, all of yours fears, all of your rebellion. Give it all to me so that I can love past it.”

Laughing, the girl jerked her hand away, “You’re crazy, mister. No man can ever, ever be like you. You’re good at sweet talking; keep it up, you need some practice.” The girl sauntered off towards the back rooms, flipping her hair defiantly over her rounded shoulders.  But before she could even walk past the tables, the boy stood up and shouted as loud as he could over the music,

“Stella! I love you. I love you not because you did anything for me, but because you exist and I want to love you. I want to know you. Please, let me show you what you deserve…”

This is the story of a courageous, yet treacherous relationship, where one man dedicates his life to woeing a woman of many lovers into a new life of redemption and love. 

==

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth swung the blue and orange hammock.  The large oaks that suspended the fabric cradle stretched their thin branches up into the gentle wind above them, and allowed their green leaves to crinkle and dance in the breeze. The sun, warm and yellow, flooded its glorious light over the young man asleep in the hammock’s folds. As he lay peacefully, the squeaking and complaining of his pet raccoon woke him up.

The large, ring-tailed scavenger dropped into the carrier and pawed consistently at his owner’s dark, tawny colored hair. Sitting up, the young man captured the animal under his arm and knuckled him playfully above the signature black mask. Throwing the creature out of the hammock, and then climbing out as well, the young man dismantled the hammock and stuffed it in the drawstring bag. Clicking his fingers, he looked over his shoulder and called after his wandering pet, “Hey, Bandit, come on, boy.”

Bandit scampered after the young man and the two of them ventured out of the woods and onto his father’s golf course. The greens had recently been maintained, reminding the young man to remove his shoes and walk in his socks across the course. While removing his Nike sneakers, he spotted his dad, well-groomed and wearing his grandfather’s wool sweater, approaching him.

“Louis!” Mr. Conway hollered, “You got a letter!” at that announcement, Mr. Conway pulled out an envelope from his khaki pockets and waved it overhead.

Louis trotted across the greens with the raccoon nipping and grabbing at his heels. Slowing down to a stop beside his father, Louis took the envelope, held it up in front of the sun, and then brought it down slowly before him. Holding it taught between his hands, he took in a deep inhalation and peered over at his father.

Mr. Conway gave his son an assuring clap on the shoulder along with, “Don’t adjust your hopes yet, son. Just open it, and whatever happens, that’s the way it’ll be.”

Exhaling, Louis scissored the envelope open with his fingers and pulled out a tri-folded piece of paper. Opening it up and straightening it so that the words were legible, he sped through the greeting and introduction until he came upon the words that would direct his life. Louis gasped, his body tensed up in a position ready to tackle; wide and low to the ground. Letting out a whoop and throwing his arms in the air, he shouted, “I got in! I’m going to Stanford!” 

Mr. Conway joined in the whooping and gave him son a long embrace. “Proud of you, Louis. Come on, let’s go tell your mother, she’ll be thrilled.”

Catching his dad’s leaving arm, Louis pulled him back. “Hey, would it be a problem if I told my friends first, and we can tell her over dinner?”

“Sure, buddy, it’s your day!” Mr. Conway patted Louis’s tawny-colored hair and headed back to the house with lightness in his step. As he watched him leave, Louis’s face softened into a strange sense of disappointment and his shoulders slouched and the letter in his hand went limp.  Louis had applied to several colleges, Stanford being one of them and his parents’ top choice.  Looking down at the acceptance letter and knowing there was no way turning back, Louis let out a shuddering sigh.  He wanted badly to have gone to Wheaton College to study as a minister, but when he received that acceptance letter, the level of excitement from his parents made his decision.

Heading slowly to the garage, Louis couldn’t help but believe that his parents wanted him to go to Stanford so that they could merely brag about him going to such an elite school. His father had gone there for law, and came out as a promising lawyer. Thankfully, his father didn’t want him to be a lawyer, but he did want him branded with a good college name. Louis clapped his hands, getting the attention of his part-wolf pet, Cachet. The majestic head rose from between the tapered grey paws and the dark, liquid eyes followed his master from the greens to the garage.

“Cachet, buddy, been taking care of Mom for me?” Louis asked, walking up to the monstrous dog. He patted the sturdy the muzzle and ran his hand over the grey and white speckled coat. Holding up the letter, Louis whispered, “Guess who got into an elite collage?” Cachet cocked his head, pulled an ear back in thought, and then tried to snap at the paper. But Louis pulled it away and wiggled a displeased finger in front of him. “Nah, can’t eat this one this time.” He gave him a final pat and went over to his motorbike.

Picking up Bandit from the scruff of the neck, he placed the coon in the box behind the driver’s seat. Pumping the gas, revving the engine, Louis pulled out and headed down the sunny pavements of Los, Angeles, California. As he rode out into the traffic, Louis began thinking. He tried to put things into perspective the best he could for a nineteen-year-old. He had already taken a year off from school to be tutored in higher math, and he knew taking that year was a risk for his reputation, as his other classmates were already preparing to leave for college.  

Louis tried to settle within himself that Stanford would surprise him with new things, new interests, and new people. He had already decided that if he couldn’t get into Wheaton for ministry work, he would consider a degree in psychology and then apply for a job as a counselor. He didn’t mind the idea, as he had a heart to help others and watch them step-ladder into a better way of living, but his heart was set on seminary, and he knew it would be his dream for a long time.

However, there were two factors Louis was overlooking. The first one was that it wouldn’t be Stanford that would change his life. And the second was that, even though ministering to many was a noble pursuit, perhaps ministering one person was all that he was called to do.