“Thank you . . . I have my moments.”
“Yeah!” Laci said, smiling. “Especially when it involves making sure you get some hot tub time every year!”
“I’m not telling you what you should do,” I continued, dropping down into the water so that I was finally at the same level with them, “but every time you see someone having fun or spending money, you can’t just say that they shouldn’t be doing that.”
“That’s right,” Greg agreed.
“You must think that I sound really . . . self-righteous,” she said.
“No,” Greg said seriously, “not at all.”
“Laci,” I said, shaking my head, “you have never been self-righteous.”
“And we think it’s very sweet,” Greg added, “that you want to run off and save the entire world – right this very second. That’s why you’re our girl.”
They smiled at each other and then she glanced at me. I nodded at her and smiled too.
“Thanks,” she said.
After the youth rally, the three of us became particularly close. Maybe there was a bond between us because we all put God first in our lives and we knew that about each other and we respected it and we were willing to share that with each other. Maybe it was because we had done so many things together that a strong friendship had developed. Probably it was a combination of both.
Whatever the reason, it was something that all of us realized was happening, and that just brought us closer still.
~ ~ ~
THE FIRST WEEK of summer vacation Greg went to Florida to visit his grandmother like he did every year. Tuesday morning I had just finished working out at the pool and was floating lazily on my back when I saw Tanner waving a hand at me. I popped up and started treading water.
“What’s up?” I asked, but he just knelt by the edge of the pool and motioned for me to swim over to him. I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong.
When I got there I put my arms on the edge of the pool and looked up at him.
“Mike’s dad died,” Tanner said.
I looked at him for another moment and then laid my head on my arm against the edge of the pool and closed my eyes.
The visitation was on Thursday night and the funeral was on Friday. The funeral home had a large chapel and Mike and his mom and both sets of his grandparents were there. Jessica was home from her freshman year at State for summer vacation and we all stood in line together.
I embraced Mike’s mom and told her how sorry I was, and then introduced myself to his grandparents. They had met me years before, but I’d changed a lot since then. When I got to Mike I couldn’t say anything, so I just gave him a big hug.
It was an open casket and I had never seen a dead person before. It was an eerie experience. Mike’s dad looked gaunt and waxy, yet he didn’t look dead. It seemed as if he were only sleeping and I kept expecting him to twitch or move.
The casket top was split in half and the part covering his legs and feet was closed. I could see things tucked down in there: a teddy bear . . . a picture of him holding Mike as a toddler . . . a model rocket . . . a can of his favorite soda . . . a pocket watch.
“How do they stand there and talk to all those people without crying?” Jessica asked on the ride home.
“They’ve probably spent the last three days crying,” Dad told her.
“Everybody reacts differently when they lose someone,” Mom said. “I remember when my father died . . .”
I had never met my grandfather on my mom’s side. He had died before my parents were even married.
“I was home from college for Christmas break,” she went on. “He had a heart attack and died before the ambulance could even get there. It was just such a . . . such a shock. It didn’t seem real.
“It was as if I was in a fog for the entire three days before the funeral. I didn’t cry at all. I really don’t even remember much about the funeral. The only thing I really do remember is that when I got home, I headed to my room to change out of my black dress. I was going up the stairs and I just . . . I just collapsed on the steps and started crying and crying. I lost it. I just completely broke down and lost it.”
We rode in silence for a few moments.
“I hope Mike’s okay,” I finally said.
After the funeral the next day we were invited to Mike’s house. There were a lot of people there – cars were lined up and down the block and the funeral home had posted signs along the curbs: Please drive slowly . . . death in family.
Mike lived three blocks from us. We walked.
Everyone who came brought food – my mom and Jessica brought deviled eggs and strawberries. It was like a party. Not a loud party, but a party.
The doorbell rang. Mike’s mother was standing near me and she asked me if I could get it. I opened the door. It was Laci.
As soon as she saw me she burst into tears. I grabbed her arm and wheeled her back around. I closed the door behind me and we sat down on the steps.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I just feel so bad for Mike and his mom.” I didn’t say anything; I just sat there and rubbed her back like I had in Mexico. After a minute, the front door opened again and I looked behind me. It was Mike. He looked at Laci and then at me and he gave me a small, sad smile and shook his head. He sat down on the other side of her. I let him take over rubbing her back.
“It’s okay, Laci,” he said softly.
She looked up at him and flung her arms around his neck.
“I’m so sorry, Mike,” she cried.
“I know,” he said, hugging her back. “Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” she asked him
“I am,” he nodded.
“How’s your mom?”
“We’re doing fine. We’ve had a long time to get ready for this.”
Laci looked at him.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’m going to miss him-”
His eyes filled with tears.
“But,” he went on, “Dad was so sick . . . for so long. He was ready to go and he knew where he was going. He wasn’t afraid to die. That makes it a lot easier.”
Laci nodded.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. She nodded again.
“We’ve got a video we’re going to show with pictures of him when he was little, and Mom and Dad’s wedding and stuff,” Mike said. “Do you want to come in?”
“All right,” Laci said, and we all stood up and went inside.
The next week Greg returned from Florida. When I got out of the pool he was sitting in a lounge chair waiting for me. I let him know what had happened.
“How’s Mike doing?” he asked, obviously concerned.
I told him about the conversation he’d had with me and Laci on the steps.
“I think he’s alright,” I said. “He went to football training camp with Tanner this week.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“How was Florida?” I asked.
He shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic . . . what happened? You were so excited about going . . .”
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just different every time I go back there.”
“How so?”
“It was just different with my old friends, you know? We’ve all changed so much and . . . I don’t know. Things just weren’t like they were before.”
“Weren’t they glad to see you?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, “and we went out and did stuff and everything, but . . . I don’t know how to explain it. It was just different.”
“Oh . . .”
“You should come down there with me next year,” he said.
“Yeah, right.”
“No,” he said, sitting up on one elbow. “I’m serious. I already asked Mom and Dad and they said if it was all right with your parents it was okay with them.”
“For real?”
“
Yeah, for real. I think they felt sorry for me because I was moping around. You know – kind of like you do all the time.”
I let that pass.
“Wow . . . Florida!”
“So I take it you want to go?”
I’d never even been out of the Central Time Zone before.
“Oh yeah!” I said. “I wanna go!”
We didn’t see Mike and Tanner too much over the summer. The football coach saw to it that the weight room was kept open and they were both expected to take advantage of it. In addition to the training camp that they’d gone to right after Mike’s dad died, they had another one at State that lasted for five days and a two-week-long training at the high school itself. Football was pretty big in Cavendish.
Laci and Greg, on the other hand, apparently had nothing to do. They were usually both there by the time I finished swimming laps in the morning. We hung out together most days, swimming, playing pool and wasting our money on video games and pinball machines.
“You’re getting a job next summer,” my mom said one day, handing me money as I walked out the door.
“You’d better get me a car then,” I said. “So I can get back and forth to work.”
“We’ll worry about that after you get your driver’s license.”
“Only eight more months!” I grinned.
“Don’t remind me,” she said.
The next day I noticed a poster on the bulletin board at the pool for lifeguard certification classes.
I walked up to Josh, one of the lifeguards on duty, who was usually there in the mornings when I worked out.
“Hey, Josh!”
“Hey, David. What’s up?”
“How hard do you think it would be for me to get a job here next summer?”
“You thinkin’ about getting certified?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Just apply really early . . . like in March. I don’t think you’ll have any problem. I can put in a good word with the manager for you if you want me to.”
It didn’t take me long to decide that it would be a perfect job so I nodded and said thanks. Before I left that day I jotted down the number and called that night to sign up for the classes.
Mom wasn’t thrilled when she had to start driving me to the YMCA three times a week. Every time she complained about it though I reminded her that it was her idea for me to get a job next summer.
“You should be proud of me that I’m planning so far in advance,” I told her.
“I am, David,” she said, smiling. “I’ve always been very proud of you. I’m also glad that you’re planning on getting a job that you can get to on your bike.”
“I’m never going to get a car,” I moaned.
“Not if I can help it,” she agreed, still smiling.
Not surprisingly, Mike made the football team with Tanner in the fall. Greg and Laci and I always sat together at the games to cheer them on, and Natalie and Ashlyn usually joined us. After the Homecoming Game the seven of us went to the Homecoming Dance. I danced with Laci and Natalie and Ashlyn and when some girl I didn’t even know asked me to dance I said yes.
I don’t know if Sam was impressed or not, but at least Greg seemed pleased.
I was in Algebra Two and chemistry and although I did pretty good I had to work awfully hard and that helped keep my mind off Sam . . . sort of. I didn’t have any classes with her this year, but I still kept my eye on her in the hall or across the lunchroom.
My sophomore year was the only time that Tanner and Mike and Greg and I all had the same lunch together. Laci and Natalie and Ashlyn all had it too and we sat together almost every day. Greg and I usually had our heads stuck in a book while the rest of them talked.
“I hope you two aren’t taking your school work with you to Chicago,” Laci said. We were scheduled to go to the youth rally again over spring break. “You’re no fun when you’re working all the time.”
“Math is fun,” I reminded her and she rolled her eyes at me.
“By the way,” Mike said. “I’m not going with you guys in the spring.”
“Why not?” five of us asked at the same time.
“I’m going to the Bahamas!”
We all stared at him.
“My mom and I are taking a cruise,” he explained.
“Life is so unfair,” Tanner said, resting his cheek on his hand.
“What are you doing over spring break?” Natalie asked him.
“I imagine I’ll be playing video games with my little brothers,” he said.
“I’ll send you a postcard,” Mike said, grinning.
“Gee,” Tanner said, narrowing his eyes at him. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry,” Greg said. “We’ll send you one too.”
“Wow!” Tanner said as he plastered a huge, fake smile on his face. “You guys are just the greatest.”
Natalie and Ashlyn wound up not going with us to Chicago either because Natalie’s family went to Denver to visit relatives and they invited Ashlyn to go along. It was too bad they couldn’t all come because the rally was as good as it had been the year before.
On the second day, after lunch, I was sitting between Laci and Greg, listening to a speaker. He was young – probably in his early twenties – and he was talking to us about how important it was for us to show Christian love to each other.
“Love is one of the central themes of the Bible,” he was saying, “and we all know that we are called to love one another. But how often do we really let our fellow Christians know that we love them?
“We should be hearing Christians say ‘I love you’ to each other on a regular basis . . .” He held up his hand in the universal “I love you” signal – pinkie finger, pointer finger and thumb up . . . ring finger and middle finger down. He turned from one side of the audience to the other, showing us his hand. “We should be seeing Christians, holding up this sign to one another on a regular basis . . .”
Now, knowing how much Greg liked hand signals I should have guessed what was coming next. But I didn’t.
He looked at Laci and gave her the sign. She did it right back and smiled at him. Then he gave it to me.
“Oh, no you don’t!” I said, shaking my head at him.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“NO! You are not flashing me an ‘I love you’ sign at school. You can just get that out of your head right now!”
“Why not?”
“Because everybody’ll think we’re gay, you moron!”
“You mean you’re not?”
I smacked him (hard) and Laci burst out laughing.
“Oh, come on,” he chided. “Weren’t you listening to what he was saying?”
“Yes, I was listening to what he was saying, and now I want you to listen to what I’m saying. Under no circumstances are you to ever flash me the ‘I love you’ sign. Do you understand?”
He honestly looked a bit hurt.
“Besides,” I said, hoping to placate him a little, “all your hand signals are secret, remember? You don’t want everybody else knowing what you’re saying . . . do you?”
His face brightened. “What if I do something else?”
I rolled my eyes.
“How ’bout this?”
He pointed to his eye. “I.” He pointed to his heart. “Love.” Then he pointed at me. “You!”
“Get away from me, you long-haired, hippy-freak.”
Laci laughed again.
“Okay. No, seriously,” he said. “What if I make up something different so that no one else would know?”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “It depends on what you come up with.”
“I could give you the bird,” he grinned.
“That would be good,” I nodded. “Instead of killing two birds with one stone I could express two feelings with one bird.” I wasn’t smiling, but they both were.
“I’ll help you come up with something that won’t embarrass old grumpy here,” Laci offered, poking me in the
ribs. Greg nodded at her.
“I have to approve of it first,” I said, “and if either of you ever tell anybody what it means, I’ll never speak to you again. Understand?”
They both nodded at me solemnly and then flashed me the “I love you” sign before they started laughing.
They took their new task quite seriously. Laci came over to our room that evening to help Greg come up with an idea. I went into the bathroom to change into my bathing suit and when I came out, they were both sitting on his bed with their heads bent together.
“Go away,” Laci said when she caught me listening to them. “You’re going to be lucky if we even share our signal with you.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, heading out the door. “I’m going swimming.”
“We’ll miss you!” Greg called after me.
I’d done forty-two lengths when Laci’s hand appeared underwater, waving to me from the end of the lane. I stood up and took off my goggles.
“What?” I said as if I was not happy to have my workout disturbed. Actually, I was so out of shape that my muscles were throbbing and I was just about to quit anyway.
Both of them were squatting down beside the pool, twisting the straight index finger of one hand into the palm of the other. They both had huge grins on their faces.
While I ran my hands over my face to get the water out of my eyes I decided that no one would ever be able to figure out what it meant.
“Okay,” I said, looking up at them. “Tell me about it.”
Greg held up his index finger. “This is a nail,” he said. He pushed it into the palm of his other hand and twisted it back and forth. “Christ loved us so much that He died for us-”
Laci went on. “That’s how much we’re supposed to love each other.”
I looked down at my hands and twisted my index finger into my palm.
“I love it,” I said, looking up at them and grinning back. “It’s perfect.”
“Yeah,” Greg agreed. “It’s better than the bird.”
~ ~ ~
THE WEEK AFTER we got back from the rally I turned sixteen. I got to go to any restaurant I wanted to for dinner that night and I’d picked Hunter’s.
“I cannot believe this is where you wanted to come,” Jessica said, pulling off a slice of pizza.