"Isaiah's Gift" - the conclusion This is a much larger portion than the others, but it is the rest of the story. I hope you enjoy it and understand it. I would love feedback on the story.
...Monday morning Sarah waited in the hallway of the
science building. She decided the missing
student in B lab was way too effeminate and manicured to ever be caught dead in
a sweat shirt of any kind. As the
student in D lab entered the room, he did so without a limp or a gray hoodie,
but he was bent over and had multiple bruises on his cheek and jaw. The young student was wearing black leather
gloves but was wearing a blue windbreaker. It was dark that night, maybe Chrystal had
made a mistake. Sarah took a picture of
the boy with her phone. Then, she turned
the audio recorder on, held it to her side, and introduced herself to the
stranger. “Hi, I’m Sarah. What’s your name?” He looked up, but didn’t answer. “Your name?” she asked again.
The
boy looked around the room. “Is this
some kind of joke?” he asked through swollen lips.
“What? A joke?
Heaven’s no,” she said. “I just
wanted to get your name.”
“Isaiah,”
he said shyly. “Isaiah Carpenter.” He extended his hand and shook Sarah’s. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.” He sat on the gray metal lab stool and set
his backpack on the counter. “Are you a
new student too?” he asked, making room for her at the next stool.
“Goodness,
no.” She blushed at the thought of
Isaiah thinking she could possibly be a medical student. “I’m a journalism major.” Then she took a wild shot. “I’m Chrystal’s roommate.”
He
put his laptop on the desk. “Who?”
“Chrystal
Jennings. She’s my roommate.”
“I’m
sorry. Am I supposed to know her?” he
asked, flipping up the screen.
The
graduate student running the lab cleared her throat and motioned to the
door. Sarah whispered, “She was attacked
last Thursday,” and then left. As Isaiah
looked back to his laptop to turn it on, he noticed a card with Chrystal’s name
and number. He glanced back to the door,
but the girl with short brown hair had gone, so he slipped the card into his
pocket and quickly busied himself with the lab assignment posted on the
whiteboard.
Two
days later, as Isaiah walked down the hall towards his lab, he recognized the brown
haired girl from Monday. Sarah was
standing at the door to his lab with the red-headed girl from the
courtyard. She was smiling at him. “Isaiah,” Sarah said, pointing in the
direction of her friend. “This is
Chrystal…my roommate.”
He
held out the gloved hand and Chrystal shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
Isaiah
was befuddled; people actually wanted to talk with him, but it was time for
lab. He pulled his hand free from her
grasp and added apologetically, “If you don’t mind, I’ve got class.”
“Did
you get my card?” Chrystal asked.
“Yes,” he said, looking
past the two women and into the awaiting lab.
“But you didn’t call,”
she said.
“I’m
sorry, but I’ve got class and I’m already a week behind.” Isaiah slipped between the two women and into
his lab.
“Wait,” Chrystal said. “I need to talk with you.” They watched him take his seat, but he never
looked back.
“You sure that’s the one?” Sarah
asked.
“Absolutely,”
Chrystal answered looking through the small square glass window to the
room. “I’d remember that voice
anywhere. And look, he’s still wearing
the gloves.”
Sarah
couldn’t imagine the scrawny little boy scaring anyone off. “He’s sweet, but he’s just a kid. I mean he’s what fifteen…sixteen at the most?”
“That’s him.”
“So
where’s the limp?” Sarah failed to
notice the lack of bruises on his lip and face.
“Come on,” Chrystal said as she pulled Sarah from the little window in
the door. “He
won’t be out of class for another hour. Now that we know who he is, we can print off
his class schedule and find him any time we want.” Chrystal checked her watch and ran on to her
own class. “I can’t afford to miss my
class either.”
They
ran their respective ways: Sarah to
world literature and Chrystal to calculus.
Her math class ran five minutes over-time, so as soon as the professor
dismissed them, she bolted out of the room and over to the science
building. By the time she arrived, the
lab was completely empty. Chrystal ran
out of the building and scanned the campus for any sight of Isaiah. Off in the distance, down the sidewalk beside
the early education department’s affiliate school, Chrystal caught sight of the
back of a blue windbreaker. Isaiah! She ran after him.
Isaiah
rolled his neck from side to side. The
bruises had healed quickly, but the stiffness in his neck and back were
lingering. He had taken quite a
beating. Isaiah walked down the shaded
area of the sidewalk, past the preschool manned by Everbrite’s education
students. As he glanced over to the
playground full of children, a little girl waved at him. He waved back. When she waved again, her other hand slipped
momentarily from the swing’s chain, causing her to flip back out of the seat
and land awkwardly on the ground. She
screamed as she got to her knees and discovered her right arm bent back behind
her, dangling loosely. Isaiah was over
the chain link fence in a single leap.
As children scrambled chaotically, screaming for the nearest teacher to
come see Izzy’s arm, Isaiah rushed to the little girl’s side.
Chrystal
watched quietly from the other side of the fence as Isaiah looked toward the
school building one more time before removing his black gloves, rolling up the
girl’s sleeve, and touching her arm. She
screamed for anyone to save her from the strange man, but the moment Isaiah
touched her skin, she stopped. The
little girl stared in awe. She straightened
her arm and moved it back and forth without pain. Even though he was a complete stranger,
something about him seemed to calm her. Isaiah
whispered something in her hear as he wiped her eyes with his left hand; she
stared into the eyes of the strange man kneeling over her. It was a moving sight. Chrystal felt the tear rolling down her own
cheek. Isaiah whispered something else, picked
up the gloves in his left hand, and grabbed his right arm that had gone
suddenly limp, pulling it to his side.
Isaiah bit his lip as he doubled over in pain and shuffled to the
fence. He glanced back once more to see
if anyone was watching before struggling to climb back over the fence. As soon as Isaiah got one leg and the upper
part of his body over the edge of the fence, someone grabbed his jacket and
steadied him as he fell to the ground.
Isaiah winced in obvious pain. As
Chrystal reached for his hand, he pulled away.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Sorry,”
she said.
“Just give me some room,”
he snapped as he struggled to put the gloves back on his hands.
“What’s going on?” she
asked. Chrystal looked back and forth between the little girl who stood
silently waving and Isaiah who was bent over in pain, cradling his own arm. The moment Chrystal grabbed Isaiah by the
shoulders to make him face her, he dropped to his knees. He slumped over and cried silently for a
moment or two before rising, pulling away from her grasp and running off. He cradled the injured arm with his
left. Chrystal started to follow after
him, calling, “Isaiah!”
“Leave
me alone,” he said. “Just leave me
alone!”
Chrystal
let him go. Instead she returned to the playground. The little girl leaned against the fence,
gripping the chain links with both hands, and watched Isaiah run away. “What did he say?” Chrystal asked. But before the girl could answer, one of the
preschool teachers found Izzy, pulled her from the fence, questioned her about
the stranger and examined her arm. She turned
and chided the children gathered around for lying and corralled them all back
inside. Chrystal stood silently for
several minutes before realizing she was once again late for her next class. Isaiah was hiding something, and she was determined
to discover what his secret was.
Three
days later, around four in the afternoon, Chrystal spotted Isaiah across the
courtyard in front of the library and waved him down. He waited for her. “Where have you been?” she asked.
“Around.”
“You
missed class yesterday.” She looked at
his right arm holding the heavy backpack containing his laptop. “I’m so confused,” she said, pulling her long
red hair behind her ear. Isaiah noticed
her slurred speech and alcohol soured breath.
He set the pack on the ground and motioned to a nearby bench. Chrystal sat.
“I saw it” she swore, pointing to his shoulder. “Your arm was hurt.”
Isaiah
stretched it out and showed her nothing was wrong. “I’m okay.”
“But
I saw you,” she challenged. “You touched
the girl, healed her arm, and yours was suddenly broken.”
Isaiah
pulled the windbreaker’s hood back and smiled.
“There’s nothing wrong with my arm.”
“No,
no, no” Chrystal said, waving her finger back and forth in Isaiah’s face. “You can’t fool me. It’s just like my ankle.”
“You
don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, leaning away to take a breath of fresh
air.
“You
touched my ankle, and then you limped away.
Today you don’t have any limp.
Your arm was broke and now it’s not.”
“Are
you drunk?” he asked.
“Want
some?” she asked. Chrystal smiled and
put her arm around his neck. “You’re
cute. If you weren’t so young, I might
just take you home with me.” She winked.
“No
thanks. Besides, I’m not as young as you
may think,” Isaiah said. He looked at
his watch. “You’re drunk and it’s only
four in the afternoon. What’s going on?”
“It’s
Saturday.” She grabbed a lock of his
chocolate brown hair and twirled it between her fingers. “Do your parents let you go out yet?” she
asked, nuzzling against his shoulder and neck.
“My
parents aren’t alive; they passed away several years ago,” Isaiah said,
scooting down the bench to create a little more space.
“Oh,
no!” she said. “I’m soooo sorry.” When she said it, she let out a big breath of
air, right in his face. Then she covered
her mouth and giggled. “How did they
die?”
Isaiah
waved the fumes from his face. “Natural
causes, why are you suddenly so interested in me?”
“You’re
cute!” she said. Then, scooting back
toward him on the bench, she asked, “Do you think I’m cute?”
Isaiah
didn’t know how to answer. If he said, “No,”
he’d hurt her already fragile ego. But
if he said, “yes,” he’d encourage more of her inappropriate behavior. He’d just tell her the truth and let her deal
with it. “Chrystal, I think you are a
beautiful woman, but not so much when you’re drunk or being promiscuous.”
“You
think I’m beautiful?” she asked.
Isaiah
pulled away from her touch and stood next to the bench. “Not right now, I don’t.” About that time, a familiar group of athletes
came their way.
“Chrystal,”
one shouted. “We’ve been looking all
over for you.”
Isaiah
looked deep into the girl’s bloodshot eyes.
He knew exactly what lay before her.
He’d seen it before…too many times before. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“You
don’t understand,” she said. “Someone
like you would never understand.”
“Like
me?” he asked
“Come
on, baby, let’s have some fun,” another one said. “We brought the stuff.”
Crystal
looked up into Isaiah’s eyes and matched his glance. He could tell her eyes were distant and full
of sorrow. She seemed momentarily to
plead with him for help, but then she winked, blew him a kiss and said, “Let’s
party, boys!”
Isaiah
turned to the crowd of men. They were as
drunk as Chrystal. “Leave her alone,
guys. She’s in no shape to party.”
The
leader of their group stepped forward and grabbed Isaiah by the collar. “Hey, it’s the black gloved freak again. I thought I taught you a lesson the other
day, but…” Before he finished the
sentence, he punched Isaiah in the stomach and kneed his face. Isaiah reeled backward and fell to the ground,
grabbing his face. “Come on, Chrystal,
the guys are waiting.”
She
was torn, even in her inebriated state.
She wanted so desperately to help Isaiah as he had helped her, but she didn’t
want to jeopardize her popularity with the in crowd on campus by sticking up
for the outcast. But he looked so
helpless and desperate, lying there in the fetal position. Once again, Chrystal’s desire to be social
won out and she left in the groping arms of the men. She hated herself for it, but didn’t have a
choice. Did she? She needed to be needed, if even just for
sex.
Later
that same night, there was a knock at his door.
“Pizza,” she said.
“Just
a minute,” Isaiah said as he put the gloves on his hands and grabbed the money
from the counter. He opened the
door. “Sarah?”
“What
happened to your nose?” she asked, noticing the broken nose and the swelling
eye. “Some jocks on campus…”
“Who?”
she asked. “Let me know and I’ll…”
“Do
nothing,” he said. “Every campus has
them.”
“Well,
that doesn’t make it right.” He
smiled. It felt nice to have someone
come to his
aid.
“I appreciate the
sentiment,” Isaiah said, “but it’s best if we just leave it alone.”
“I don’t think leaving it
alone will help anything,” Sarah said.
“Those bullies need to be taught a lesson.”
“They will one day. Trust me; they will.” She could tell he didn’t want to linger on
the subject. He was grateful for her
keen sense of perception.
“Hey, I didn’t know you
lived in Pembroke Apartments.”
“Yeah,”
he said, handing her the money. “It’s
cheap and close to campus. Keep the
change.” He wished he could give her
more. These were the kinds of people he
wanted to help.
“Thanks,”
she said. Pointing to her red hat with a
caricature of a short stumpy Italian man tossing a pizza, she said, “Goofy,
huh?”
“Not
really,” Isaiah assured her. “It’s my
favorite place. Besides, nothing to be
ashamed of; it’s an honest living.”
“Well,
I have to pay for school,” she said.
Noting
that Sarah wasn’t rushing off, Isaiah said, “Won’t you get in trouble if you’re
late getting back?” He opened the box
and offered her a slice.
“Not
really,” she said as she shook her head to the offer of pizza. She’d eaten enough pizza to last her a
lifetime. It was cheap and when someone
failed to pick up his order, they were allowed to eat it. Those were free, and even Sarah couldn’t pass
up a free meal. Right now she had other
things on her mind. “But you probably
want to be alone,” she offered picking up on his subtle cue.
Isaiah
smiled. Sarah was the first person in
decades to actually show interest in his opinion. “Not really,” he said. “It’s just ends up that way…a lot.” He put his hand to his ribs as he bent over
and set the box on a small coffee table.
“You
okay?” she asked, noticing the wince on his face.
He
cocked his head to the side. “I’ll be
fine; thanks.” Turning to the curious
girl, Isaiah added, “You’re welcome to hang around…if you want.”
Sarah looked at the clock
on her phone and said, “I gotta go.”
“Sure,” he said, “I
understand.”
“But I get off in a
couple hours.” Then something hit
her. “Oh, I better not, Chrystal would
kill me.”
“I
wouldn’t worry about Chrystal,” he said.
“She’s occupied at the moment.”
“I meant…you know…she
kind of likes you.”
“Oh!” He was taken back that Sarah would be
concerned for her roommate’s relationships, but not for her reputation.
“I definitely wouldn’t
concern yourself with that. I have no
romantic interests in Chrystal.”
“Who
talks like that anymore?” Sarah asked.
“I know this is none of my business, but I am a journalist after
all. How old are you, really?”
“Forty-seven,”
he said with a straight face.
“Yeah,
right,” she said. “I meant
chronologically.”
“I’m a whole lot older
than I look,” he said with a smile.
“Okay, so don’t tell
me.” She put the red oven bag under her
arm and turned for the door. “You sure
it’s okay if I stop by later?”
“Of
course,” Isaiah said. It would be nice
to have company, especially intelligent, nice company. The years had left him feeling incredibly
lonely. “My door is always open to
you.” Sarah left and he secured the door
behind her. Once she was out of sight,
Isaiah took the gloves from his hands and started to take a bite of the pizza,
but stopped. They never believe me, he thought.
Isaiah looked in the mirror. Why
should they? He’d stopped aging right
after his sixteenth birthday…right after his dad…
Isaiah’s
cell phone rang. “Hello.” He listened to the aged voice quivering on
the other end of the phone. “Hey sis,”
he finally said. “What’s up?”
There
was a long pause. “Isaiah, I know I
swore I’d never ask this of you again, but he’s really bad.” Isaiah took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. He really didn’t want to go
through this another time. “If you could
just come back home…just for the day…just long enough to…”
“Marcie,
you know I can’t. Some things are just
meant to be.”
“Just
one more time, Isaiah? Please, for
me? Henry’s in a lot of pain. His heart isn’t strong enough to go through
another attack.” He didn’t answer. The silence was deafening. “Just once more? I promise I won’t ask again.”
Isaiah
wiped the tear from his eye and covered the phone as he sniffled. “I’m sorry, Marcie. As much as I hate to say it, 'no.' It’s his time. It’s been his time for the last five years.”
Suddenly
her demeanor and attitude did a one-eighty.
She turned angry and violent. “Don’t
you be a selfish little twit, Isaiah Carpenter!
Don’t you dare turn me away this time…”
She never got to finish the thought for Isaiah hit the red button
marked, “end.” He pushed the pizza box
away and sat down. He put his head in
his hands.
Two
hours later the knock woke him.
“What? Coming.” He opened the door and there stood
Sarah.
“You
look awful,” she said. “Should I come
back another time?” He waved her
in. She noticed the untouched box of
pizza. “What happened?”
“I
got a call,” he started, but choked up.
“My brother in law…he passed.”
She
put her hand tenderly on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry.” She followed him
to the small table and sat down. The
apartment was tiny with only a small kitchenette, a bed and a bathroom. “Would it be better if I left you alone, or
do you need company?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d
prefer you stay,” he said. It had been
so long since he had someone to talk with…someone who wanted to give…not just
take from him. He asked her to stay, and
she did; they talked for hours. After
the first half hour, Sarah stopped her journalistic probing and just chatted casually
with Isaiah. They had more in common
than either realized. The two talked and
laughed until Sarah received an emergency text and had to excuse herself.
“Everything okay?” he
asked.
“It’s
Chrystal,” she said with a sigh. “She’s
gotten into a little trouble again. I’m
going to go get her.”
“Do
you need any help?” he asked. She nodded
with a smile. He was cute, even with the
broken nose and blackening eye. It was
too much of a shame he was so young.
Even though he had to be in his mid to late teens, he acted more maturely
than all of the other college guys, even those twice his age. They got into Sarah’s car and drove to the
frat house across campus. When they
pulled up, they found Chrystal lying sprawled out on the lawn. Her skirt was torn up the middle; her lip and
cheek bloody.
Sarah
and Isaiah helped her up and put her into the back seat of Sarah’s car. “Let’s get her to the hospital,” Sarah said.
Isaiah
took a slow deep breath and said, “That won’t be necessary.”
“Of
course it’s necessary,” Sarah scolded.
“Look at her. Who knows what else
they did to her.”
“Just
bring her to my apartment,” Isaiah said.
“I can fix her up.”
Sarah objected, but
Isaiah finally persuaded her to do as he said.
All the way there, Chrystal mumbled Joe’s name and the words “stop…please
stop.”
“I’ll kill him!” Sarah
said.
As much as he understood
the feeling and wanted to hurt Joe himself, Isaiah asked, “And what would that
accomplish?” They put Chrystal’s arms
over their shoulders and helped her into Isaiah’s second story apartment. Once they lay her on the bed, he turned to
Sarah and asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Yeah, of course, why?”
“I’m serious,” he
said. “I know as a journalist it’s not
in your blood, but I need you to swear secrecy.”
“Fine, I swear,” she said. “Off the record.” Sarah crossed her heart with her hand. As soon as she did, Isaiah removed his gloves
and touched Chrystal’s lip and cheek.
Both wounds healed immediately.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. As
she started to ask something, she looked up and noticed Isaiah was bleeding
from his lip and cheek. “Oh, my god!”
“Not even close, but
thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smile. Isaiah cleaned himself up in the bathroom,
returning with bandages over his lip and cheek.
“It’s the price I pay for the gift.”
Suddenly, everything came
clear to Sarah. “The limp? You took her broken ankle?” He nodded.
“But your ankle’s fine now.”
“It takes about three
days, minor wounds quicker, but I heal completely.” Sarah crumbled to the floor, her hand over
her lips. “It’s kind of like I’m a
hybrid of Wolverine and Rogue,” he said in an attempt to explain.
“Who?”
“You know…the X-men? One who takes the other person’s power and
one who heals quickly.”
Sarah had no clue what he
was saying. She turned to face
Isaiah. His wounds were fresh. “Does it hurt?”
“For a while,” he
said. He could see the wheels turning in
her head. “You promised.”
“What? No…I won’t tell a soul.” She looked at his hands. He had put the gloves back on. “Why the gloves?”
“I can’t always control
the transfer,” he said.
“The little girl?” she
asked, thinking of Chrystal’s tale the other day.
“Yeah, that really hurt.”
Then Sarah returned to his
previous comment. “Transfer? What transfer?”
Isaiah sat on the floor
next to her and leaned against the bed.
“I can take someone’s wounds, but I can also pass them on.” He held the gloves up and touched her
face. “Without these, you’d be sitting
here with a bloody lip and cheek.”
Sarah suddenly had a disturbing
thought. “You mean we could go back to
the frat house and…”
“No, Sarah. We can’t.”
He got up and stared out the window.
The thought had crossed his mind many times before. In fact he had given into the temptation once
long ago. So many others deserved the
pain even more than Joe did. But he had
promised his father. He would never
again use the gift for harm, only for good.
“There’s also a possibility I could transfer the gift by accident.” Isaiah had taken it as a curse. His father called it a gift and did his best
to convince Isaiah of that truth. His
mind returned to Sarah and her desire to inflict pain where pain was
given. “I can’t do that. Even if I could control it, I can’t play God
and exact judgment.”
“Well if anyone deserves
a little payback, it’s Joe Harrison.”
“I’m not going to argue
that point,” Isaiah said coldly. He turned
to face her. “It’s not my calling to
inflict the pain, just take it away.”
“What a crappy gift,” she
said. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“It’s okay.”
“I just meant it’s crappy
for you. Everyone else gets healed and
you have to suffer their pain. How long
does it last?”
“About three days. I just told you that. Remember?”
“I’m sorry. This is a lot to digest in one day.”
“Believe me, I
understand. It took me a long time to
accept it and I live it.”
Sarah felt so badly for
him. “Were you kidding about your age?”
“Yes,” he said and
blushed.
“So you’re not
forty-seven?”
“Right numbers, wrong order. I’m actually seventy-four years old.”
“No way!” She laughed.
He didn’t. “Seriously?”
“Swear to God,” he said.
“So why do you look so
young?”
“I stopped aging when I received
the gift. I didn’t even realize my
father had passed it on to me until shortly after my sixteenth birthday.” Isaiah stood and turned, displaying the
marvel of his ageless body. “I was helping
a friend who had fallen off of her bicycle when we both noticed the transfer of
her wound to my body.”
“Wow! Can you die?”
“I don’t know,” he said
with a chuckle. Of course his father
had, and he had the gift before Isaiah.
Then he added, “I’ve never tried.”
They both laughed at the ridiculousness
of it. How would you even investigate
that concept? Chrystal stirred and
mumbled something. Sarah got up to check
on her. “Hey, girl, I’m here.” As Chrystal opened her eyes, she could tell
she wasn’t in her own bed. She suddenly
panicked. Her mind was still
blurry. Although Isaiah had healed her
wounds, he had not cleared her intoxication.
Chrystal closed her eyes and drifted back asleep. Sarah crawled up next to her and gently
stroked her hair. Isaiah made himself a
pallet on the floor.
He woke to the sound of
running water. Sarah was cuddled next to
him on the floor and Chrystal was gone. The shower.
That must be Chrystal in the shower.
Isaiah eased Sarah’s arm from his stomach and set it on her hip. He rolled away and stood. What
time is it? He looked at the
clock. It was only seven in the
morning. He still had plenty of time to
make it to church.
“Hey,” she said, coming
out of the bathroom wrapped loosely in a towel.
“You and Sarah getting cozy?”
“Sarah?” Isaiah looked back at the pallet. It did look as though they had slept
together. They probably had, but not the
way Chrystal was implying.
“Friends…we’re friends.”
“Since when?” Chrystal
asked, drying her hair with a small hand towel.
As she rubbed her hair with the small towel, the other began to loosen
from its wrap around her body. The slightly
larger towel barely covered her and was never meant to be a body wrap. Isaiah was afraid she might spill out and shyly
motioned for her to return to the bathroom.
He turned away. “There’s a robe
on the back of the door.”
“I know. I saw it.”
“Please use it,” he
said. As soon as he turned back to see
if she had complied, she winked at him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t jump you,” she joked. By that time Sarah woke and was gathering her
things as well. “I don’t mean to be
rude,” Isaiah said, “but I would like to get ready for church.”
“Me too,” Sarah
said. “Don’t worry; we’ll be out of here
in a jiffy.” She leaned in and
whispered, “And your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks,” he whispered
back. He actually believed her. It had been a difficult burden to bear. The secret of his gift only served to
increase his loneliness.
After church Isaiah grabbed
some drive-thru for lunch. He pulled
into the parking space designated for his apartment. He saw a woman sitting there and secretly
hoped it was Sarah; it wasn’t. He was
disappointed to discover it was Chrystal instead. “Now that I know where you live,” she
started, “we don’t have to be strangers.”
Great. Just what I wanted. Isaiah
forced a smile and got out. “I don’t
know what you want from me, Chrystal, but I’m really not interested.”
“I just want the
truth.” She followed Isaiah up the steps
to his apartment. “Are you mad at me?”
“Just disappointed.”
“She didn’t seem to
care. Are you and Sarah in love?”
He laughed out loud. “Wow. Is
that all you think about? Can’t a man
and a woman be friends without it having to be more?” Isaiah unlocked the door and walked
inside. Without being invited, Chrystal
followed. “Help yourself,” he said with
heavy sarcasm.
“I know you don’t like
me,” she said. “You think I’m a drunken
whore, and Sarah’s a goody-goody church girl.”
“She’s the first person
to befriend me in a long time,” he said, setting the bag on the table. “I don’t think you appreciate the value of
that.”
“Oh, I like Sarah, but
that’s not why I’m here.” Chrystal sat
at the table. “Why did you help me?”
“What do you mean?” he
asked.
She stood and reached for
his injured lip. Isaiah pulled
away. “I may have been drunk last night,
but I remember that.” She pointed to his
cheek. “That too.” Chrystal took her seat again at the table. “I don’t know how you do it, but you healed
my ankle, my head, the little girl’s arm, my lip and my cheek.”
“That all sounds pretty
amazing,” he said, trying to laugh it off.
“It is,” she said. “I don’t care how you do it. All I want to know is why?”
Why not? “That’s funny
because most people want to know how.”
She smiled and stood,
pointing her finger in his face. “I knew
it!” She realized it sounded accusatory,
so she quickly apologized. She settled
down. “But why me?”
It was a good
question. He normally didn’t get
involved unless the person deserved a second chance. Did Chrystal deserve a second chance? “I don’t know,” he admitted. “You just looked like you needed help.” He looked up.
“You still do.”
“Still?” she asked. “I’m not hurting anywhere.” She looked over her body.
“Of course you are,” he
said. He pointed to her heart. “But I can’t take that kind of pain from
you.” He had watched her for
months. He had wanted to help her, to
tell her she had value greater than her physical appearance…far greater than
her body. He wanted to sit her down and
help her see life as he did now. If he
could only give her that gift, it would all be worth the pain in the world. But he couldn’t. Whatever gift or curse he had been given many
years ago only healed physical wounds.
Emotional pain…spiritual pain…they were beyond his gift…beyond his
power.
She began to cry. Before long her body was shaking with the
heavy sobs. “I’m so ashamed,” she
said. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold
her tight, to assure her as a father would his own daughter that everything was
going to be okay. She needed to hear she
was loved as a person and not just a body, but she wasn’t ready to hear it from
him. It would only confuse her more. She still couldn’t separate the two. “I just wanted to belong…”
Isaiah couldn’t stand it
any longer. “Chrystal, you do belong,
but not to that life...not to that group.”
He searched for the words that could make everything clear. He had never been good with words…especially
with women. “You’re more valuable and have
a much greater purpose in this life than…than…”
“Than being a drunken
whore?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that.” He knew he should have kept his mouth
shut. His life had been so much better
when he had learned to keep to himself.
“You didn’t have to. It’s true.”
She wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“I’m the easy girl on campus, I know.
It’s just like Joe said, I’m ‘used merchandise.’”
“You don’t have to be,”
he said. “You have the power to change
all of that, and you’re the only one who can change it.” That’s what he had wanted to say. That’s what she needed to hear. She needed to stop being the victim and start
taking control of her own life. He
wanted to tell her about the pastor’s sermon this morning, the story in the
Bible about the woman caught in adultery.
She’d messed up. She’d chosen the
wrong kind of life, but she’d also been forgiven…she started over…she changed.
“Yeah, I’ve tried.”
“Then try again.”
“Why? No one would want me now anyway.” she said. “You don’t.”
Chrystal wiped her runny nose again.
“All I wanted to do was get out of that crappy little town and…I just
wanted to fit in. Is there anything
wrong with that?” She’d opened the door,
so he told her about the woman and about Jesus.
If Jesus could forgive that woman, He could forgive Chrystal. “That sounds a little too simple,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s the beauty
of it,” Isaiah began. “The forgiveness
is there; the love is there. All you
have to do is accept it.” He stopped
suddenly at the sound of screeching car tires and a loud thump. Isaiah and Chrystal both rushed out the door.
A woman with short brown hair lay face
down in the street down beneath his apartment.
The man shouting obscenities from his car, hitting his steering wheel
with his head, looked familiar.
“Oh, no!” Chrystal
cried. “Sarah!” She ran down the steps and into the
street. “Sarah, are you okay? Please be okay.”
“I didn’t see her,” the
man said, stumbling out of his red Camaro.
“Joe!” Chrystal knelt beside the limp body of her
friend. “How could you?”
“I can’t handle this,”
Joe said, stumbling back to his car. It
was obvious he was still drunk. He
slipped and fell to the pavement.
“Don’t you dare run away,
Joe Harrison. For once in your miserable
life, stay and make this right!” she screamed.
Isaiah knelt beside Chrystal
and pulled the hair from Sarah’s face.
Blood began to puddle around her head.
She wasn’t breathing. “Sarah?” he
whispered.
“Oh, God, she can’t leave
me.” This time it wasn’t an
explicative…or a curse…or even a flippant word.
This time she was calling out. “Sarah,”
Chrystal cried. She looked up. “Not this; Not now, please.”
Isaiah looked over at
Joe, who sat on the street, leaning back against his car. His hand reached up for the door handle, but
his body didn’t have the wherewithal to follow.
Isaiah wished so desperately it had been Joe lying here and not
Sarah. Isaiah dismissed the thought that
plagued him and resolved to do what he was gifted to do. “Chrystal, I want you to remember you have
value and purpose.”
“What?” she asked.
“I need you to remember
something.” He took his hand, grabbed
her chin and turned her head. “Look at
me!” She did. “When you lose perspective, think of
others. Love them more than you love
yourself. And please, love yourself too.”
“What are you saying?”
Chrystal said. “Sarah’s dying; help
her.”
“I will, but first I need
you to promise you’ll remember what I said.”
She nodded. “Okay, take Sarah’s
hand,” he said as he pulled the gloves from his hands. Chrystal slid to the side and made room for
Isaiah. He put one hand on Sarah’s forehead
and the other on Chrystal’s hand. “You
may feel strange for the next day or so, but don’t worry.” Oh,
God, please let this work. He took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. As he
did, his head began to bleed and his body slumped over Sarah’s.
Sarah suddenly gasped for
air. Pushing herself from the pavement,
she rolled the limp lifeless body from her back. As soon as she saw the blood seeping from Isaiah’s
cracked skull, she cried, “No!” But it
was too late. His body lay still beside
her. She took his hands and put them up
to her face. She pleaded with him to
come back to her. She touched his wounds
and prayed that she could take his pain.
But it was futile. Isaiah
Carpenter died in the middle of the street.
He gave more than one gift that day.
It’s hard to say which was greater.
Chrystal knelt beside her
best friend who was dead but now alive, and she finally understood why the
strange boy had come into their lives.
He came to teach and to heal. He
came to give hope and to give life…even if it cost his. And at that moment, Chrystal understood her
newly found purpose. She felt surprisingly
alive and strangely powerful. She pulled
Sarah close to her chest and held her tight.
“It’s okay, Sarah. It’s going to
be okay.”
The first book I ever read for pleasure was The Haven by Graham Diamond. We (my older sister, older brother and I) were kind of stranded in a Miami hotel (I know it sounds horrible) while our father attended post graduate dental seminars. We went to the pool, stayed in our room and ate in the hotel's dining room. 
