There Must Be Something More

74 | Michael

"Fore!" Trey screamed. His baseball bat made a loud thunk! when he hit the ball. Samuel watched and sprinted from base to base. Meredith watched, her two braided ponytails sticking out of her helmet. Her arms looked too small for her catcher's mitt. I watched without zeal from the bleachers.

Remember the last time I said we should have a Grace Club baseball game to make Liam comfortable with us? Oh, we did. We did have the baseball game. But it happened twelve weeks after his death.

I could admit I was still grieving. It wasn't natural, I knew. Meredith had already witnessed to Sophie and she became a Christian after. Then she and Meredith are spiritual sisters now. And Sophie had gotten better--she broke up with her boyfriend, and their house was forfeited. So Sophie now lived in Meredith's house.

But I knew I wasn't getting better when it came to Liam. At most times I'd be weeping by my windowsill thinking what could have happened if I swerved from those pedestrians on time.

If I just told him about God on time.

My shoes seemed planted on the searing hot metal of the painted bleachers in our neighborhood's diamond. I didn't volunteer to play. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus. For weeks I had pretended I was fine--but behind closed doors I wasn't. I was beyond repair.

I could accept Liam's passing, I thought, if he had accepted Christ before he died. If. But there was a one percent chance for that and ninety-nine for him that he didn't. Come on, in real life, things like that didn't happen, I thought. This wasn't some kind of novel or movie. This was real life. And just at the thought of that I was downright broken.

"Okay! That's enough!" Grandpa Chuck ran inside the diamond. His denim pants were belted high on his waist and he wore a striped polo shirt. His gray hair had thickened and lengthened over the month. And he looked a lot older. I wondered how old he was.

"Are the quesadillas ready?" Meredith asked excitedly. She took her helmet off and her hair looked silly.

"You bet," the old man said, grinning. "I didn't know Sophie and Mrs. Borlock were a good team of cooks together."

"Are they, really? Where's the evidence?" Trey asked jokingly.

"I'm terrific," Sophie said, jogging from behind a random house. "But I'd like you to be the judge of that."

Sophie glanced at me. She smiled and gestured for me to come with. I nodded.

----------

"The very first time I ate quesadillas was when I was seven years old!" Meredith said. "I liked to ride on my very first white horse named Daniel. I would ride and eat at the same time!"

Everyone broke out into laughter. Meredith started talking about the very first time she fell off a horse and completely laughed it off. I imagined her as a kid like from one of her pictures and smiled. I remembered the better days of my own childhood.

We were in our house. Mom and Dad had gathered around the living room with us. Even though they weren't Christians, they liked Grandpa Chuck and Meredith. But they often refused any invitation to come to our church. I kept praying for them, though. I prayed God would remove their hearts of stone and give them hearts of flesh for His Word.

Anyway, I sat in the corner of everything. I didn't feel like joining the fun. Especially when I see Sophie. She just kept reminding me of her brother, my best friend. And then it reminded me to a rather older pain from six years ago.

And I just gave up.

I stood to leave. Meredith saw me first. Steven followed her gaze and looked at me next. And then came everyone else.

"Where are you going, honey?" Mom asked.

"My room," I said plainly. "I'm... tired. I'm going to get some shut-eye."

"But there's plenty more corn dogs, dude!" Samuel protested, waving his corn dog.

I shook my head, smiling. And then I jogged to my room. I didn't lock it. I didn't want them to think I was some kind of buzzkill or something. I just needed a little space from everyone.

And then I reached from under my bed. It was the same cardboard box I kept from six years ago. Capital letters that spelled MICHAEL were written in front in felt pen. I pulled the two lids open and started to weep. It was an album--

My front door burst open. A puppy prodded inside and jumped on my bed. And then Steven came in.

"Sorry, Charlie, your mom insisted I come check on you. She said she didn't want to do it, because you'd probably tell her off." He said, with a shy smile.

I smiled dryly. "Why's Meredith's puppy here?"

He smiled wider. "She told me puppies are the best excuse to open someone's door without permission."

I shook my head, smiling. "Barging into someone's door isn't good, you know."

"Yeah, but it's not always bad," Steven said, sitting down the floor beside me. "I mean, what about people who attempt suicide? When you know they're going to do it, you're not going to knock on their door and wait for them to answer."

"I'm not attempting suicide."

"Not physically, you're not," he snapped. "But Charlie... you can't keep shutting everybody out. It's scaring your mom and dad."

"They told you?"

"No, but I can tell," he said. He turned to me and patted my shoulder. "Why don't you tell your old dad Steven about it?"

I sighed and leaned on the side of my bed. I was quiet for a long time. And then I said, "Do you know I had a younger brother?"

"You did?" Steven said. He studied the cardboard box that I took out. "His name's Michael?"

I nodded. "Hmm-hmm. He and I were the best of friends. He's only two years younger than me. We'd do everything together. Bikes, sand castle building, baseball, monopoly, and even falling asleep.

"Even when we found out he had lung cancer. I would plead the nurse to let me bring his bike in his private room and I'd accompany him as he rode it around. I'd bring fake sand and we'd still construct buildings inside. I'd bring the monopoly set. I would even stay the night with him. The only thing we couldn't get to do again was baseball, and that broke my heart. It was the very thing we loved to do.

"I really had high hopes he'd make it. After all, he was just eight years old. He had his whole life ahead of him."

Steven stared at me intently, listening.

"But one day, as Dad picked me up from school and we visited him, the doctor rushed out of his private room and asked to speak with my dad. It took over two hours he was gone and I waited impatient and puzzled outside my brother's room. And then Dad came out. He had the most painful look in his face as he did. But when he saw me, his face brightened and he said we should get home.

"'What about Michael?' I asked. And he told me we'd talk about it when we get home. When Mom was around now too."

Steven exhaled.

"When we got home, Dad told me to be in my room and play video games while he waited for Mom. I did. As soon as I heard Mom's car outside, I hurried outside my room. And that's when I saw Mom and Dad crying in the living room, saying Michael's name over and over again. At first I didn't understand, but then I heard one word that spoke for itself: Dead. That's what Dad said at the end of my brother's name."

I lowered my head and wept again. Steven put his arm around me and rubbed my back in comfort.