Still focused on the bar employee, he pursed his lips. “Not sure. I haven’t looked through the paper. I’ll need to draft a new resume and send it to the right people. It may take a little while to find something that fits my talents perfectly. That’s why I’m glad my dad gave me some cash. Should get us by for a while.”
Not knowing what Cody planned for our life, I made what I thought was an appropriate suggestion. “I can spend my time setting up the house while you look for work. Maybe I could call my mom and Brittany and have them help us get set up.”
His tone sharpened. “What, you’re not going to contribute to our life? You think you’re too good to work, now that we’re back in Alaska? And no. You’re not going to call those losers. You really think your momma wants to hear from you? You were a burden toher; she doesn’t want you. Never has.”
“Cody …” My heart raced as the Dallas version of my husband returned.
“You listen to me.” He leaned in so only I could hear him. “I’ll not have my wife be an ungrateful, assuming, spoiled brat. I may have ruined you in Anchorage, but things are different now. You’ll work for your keep.”
“Okay. Yeah, you’re right. That’s what I thought.”
Chapter 23
Jake, age twenty-three—June 2008
THINKING ABOUTthe past was just a waste of time; just about as much as thinking about the possibilities of the future. The mountain of horrible things I had done could not be undone. The reasons leading up to my actions still confused me;why did my dad have to be such an asshole?Things could have easily been so much different.
I missed my mom every day. Her words of how to be a good man never left my thoughts, but I couldn’t imagine a way I would be able to improve someone else's life. It took all I had to keep my own life moving forward. All I could do was ask for forgiveness and pray that one day I'd have peace. Which didn’t make sense when I thought about it because I didn’t believe in God. Not anymore.
It dawned on me how I’d never done anything good; never helped anyone when they needed it. Everything in my life revolved around my needs. The more time I hadto think about it, the more it bothered me. If I had found a job and made something of myself, I wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't be relying on drugs and liquor for a reprieve to life in general which I used as a reason to continue down the path of destruction.
I knew it was wrong, but this was an incredibly difficult time; I had literally nothing to look forward to. The pills took away the physical pain and the whiskey removed my ability to give a shit. It was my way of escaping.
Some of the guys in the camp did more than take pills and drink whiskey. Most of them abused meth because it was cheap and readily available. From what they told me, the high lasted for hours. They could forget about their worries and just be.
Sitting in a lawn chair all day, doing absolutely nothing, certainly not anything productive, had not been any better than walking around looking for work. Nothing ever came from either activity. Life passed by a little more with every semi which rumbled above us on I-45.
Dennis and Felix made a few dollars a day at street corners, but I didn’t want to beg. I still had a very little amount of money left and I thought about looking for a place to work. Doing the right thing appealed to me, but motivation was hard to come by.
If I could just gather enough cash to get anothermotel, I could take a shower every day. I’d rather be broke with water than have a couple dollars and be dirty. My hair had grown out of control, and I couldn’t remember the last time I shaved. Probably in Alaska. Felix didn’t seem to mind, but he stayed high all day, so whatever had plagued him in the past didn’t bother him anymore.
Somehow, though, the minute I opened my eyes, I could feel something was going to be different today. Storm clouds kept the sun from reaching us, but the day held a promise of sorts.
The camp of homeless men didn't usually come alive until after noon; most of the time the statistic included me. I fought through my hangover because I felt like I deserved to feel the repercussions of my actions.
Random passers-by typically didn't slow down as they approached the camp; they sped up and ignored our bodies lying in an open grave. This lifestyle is, in general, the end for most people. Our tents acted as a makeshift coffin.
A clean-shaven man with dark hair and glasses looked out of place as he and a friend with a mustache slowed in front of our camp. If it had been raining, I would’ve understood the need for them to wait under the bridge until it passed. I didn't expect these guys to approach anyone.
When they greeted the one person most of us stayed away from, I held my breath. Known as Crazy, because that’s what someone labeled him a long time ago, his off-color actions and out of place outbursts fit the nickname. I think his real name may have been Bob.
Mustache offered Crazy his hand in greeting. After he inspected it from afar, Crazy accepted it and squinted. I couldn't quite make out what Mustache said to him, but when Crazy bowed his head, I knew it must have been something impactful. Crazy hadn’t been known as accepting.
Offering his new friends a dirty lawn chair, Crazy invited the men into his sacred space, then he waved to me and invited me to join them. Most likely because I had been watching the interaction.
Three other men had observed the strangers and joined us around the firepit. I woke Felix and pulled him with me; this person may be offering jobs. Or money.
We all brought our own chairs and formed a small circle. Crazy introduced Andrew and Chad to eight residents of the camp and sat beside me.
Anxiety filled my chest like I was late for something or had somewhere to go. I almost wanted to leave but talked myself into staying. What else did I have to do? The rest of the crowd leaned forward, ready to discover why these men had stopped.
A voice full of joy and kindness reached my earswhen the man with a mustache spoke. His love for life was evident in his expression and stance.
“Hi, guys. My name is Andrew. My friend here is Chad. We came out here today to pray with you.” He held up a bible. “We’re offering the love of Jesus.”
Underwhelmed, I rolled my eyes and almost got up. Seriously, to ask God to help us, as if was going to help, sounded ridiculous. I had asked God to help me throughout my entire childhood and nothing ever happened. Would it even be worth sticking around to hear what these yahoos had to say? Probably not. There had been no reason for me to believe such a being even existed.
One of the other guys did stand up and Andrew said, “It's okay if you wanna leave. I understand not everybody wants to hear about Jesus and not everybody wants to accept that people like Chad and myself are out here praying for you. If you just give me five minutes, I just want to let you know we are here. And we're thinking of you and want to support you. I would like to take a moment to say some words on your behalf. Would you let me do that for you?”
