Twenty-Six
____________
Night Light
Midnight, one in the morning,
then two… Jenny sat up in her bed and switched on her night light. At least I’m not dreaming of
shootin’ up or dingy motel rooms and middle-aged men!
Jenny picked up her Bible and
read for almost an entire hour, not anywhere in particular though; she jumped
around to various sections reading a chapter or two at a time.
A bird without wings, a turtle
without a shell, a comet wandering through the black emptiness of space, Jenny felt alone, empty and scared. Feelings
she had never paid much attention to before flooded her soul.
Jenny thought about some of the
Bible verses she had read during one of her many sleepless nights concerning a
boy with his lunch, he had
some small loaves of bread and some fish. The thought entered her mind
that God might use what little she felt her life had to offer to help a
lot of people… if only
God wanted to.
I need so much repair work, God, Jenny half prayed.
Jenny’s thoughts raced through
her mind faster than a Kentucky Derby three-year-old Thoroughbred running to
win that race’s coveted blanket of roses. Revenge, Jenny
relished the word and desired its fruit for those individuals who had ruined
her life. This desire for
revenge just doesn’t feel exactly right, she moaned to
herself. She quickly retrieved her diary and wrote her fleeting thoughts
down before turning off her light and attempting to sleep again.
“Jenny, Jenny,” she could not
open her eyes and felt paralyzed, she could only listen. “I will help you!”
The morning light peering
through Jenny’s bedroom curtains woke her abruptly. She did not know if the
voice she heard was real or only a dream. After a long soothing
shower and getting dressed, Jenny closed her bedroom door and started to walk down
the stairs. She observed two staff members, Blaž Krajišnik and another man
later identified to her as Omar Saeed Qaidar, standing in the entry discussing
something with Terry Grant.
“Not coming back?” Jenny heard
Mr. Qaidar question. She surmised that Nash and El Pino managed to have
obtained for themselves a faded entry into the past history pages of the
FHG mythical annual yearbook.
The three men decided to
continue their conversation at a later time upon observing Jenny on the stairs.
“Jenny,” Mr. Grant said with a
smile, as Jenny stepped off of the last stairway step, “good morning.”
After a formal introduction to
Mr. Qaidar and a brief chat with the three men, Jenny followed the smell of
fresh cooked food into the dining room.
“I’m late!” commented Amir while
shoveling his last huge forkful of food into his already full mouth.
Jenny only stared at him.
Mumbling with food spraying out
from his lips, Amir stood, dropping his fork to the floor in the process, “I
gotta work today.”
“I’ll get it,” Jenny informed
her friend concerning the fork.
“Thanks, Jen.”
“No… prob—” Amir was gone.
Jenny reflected and surmised, Oh, well, that’s life in the fast
lane.
Jenny knew members of Amir’s
family had been tortured and killed, everyone knew, but it was one of those conversational
topics people tended to avoid at all costs. I’m going to bring it up
sometime, Jenny decided, maybe he really would like to talk about it.
After breakfast Jenny took a
walk around her neighborhood. It was quite different than the greyness and
bleakness she was accustomed to in the city. Pristine homes lined the
streets, flowers blossomed in manicured gardens lined with picturesque white
picket fences, and tree branches supported choirs of chirping birds.
Things Jenny had never truly appreciated or noticed before came to life, but
feelings of being cheated out of life pressed upon her. She could only
mumble, “God….”
Jenny sat on a bench in a park
to watch some little children who were playing together. She wondered why she
never enjoyed a normal child’s life, why she had experienced the pain of
life’s darkness; she felt bitter. God, protect these kids, she
silently prayed.
After what felt like hours,
Jenny returned home to FHG. She took a walk through the garden and stopped
again to ponder the statue of Samson. Samson never blamed God for
whatever mess he was in. Why should I?
“Hey, little lady,” a voice
behind Jenny cheerfully greeted. “And how are you today?”
Jenny immediately recognized the
voice. “Ok, I suppose,” she replied.
Mangas Cochise Coloradas stood
silhouetted against the greenery of the garden like an ornament on a Christmas
tree. His long hair glistened in the sun’s sparkling light like the
fleeting flashes that crest ripples of water in a pond.
“I thought you were off today?”
Jenny’s questioning voice commented.
“I am, but I had to stop by for
a moment to drop off some papers. I saw you from the window and thought I’d
just say a quick hello. Hope that’s ok.”
“Yes, yes,” Jenny smiled
slightly.
Mr. Coloradas could see an
obvious change in Jenny’s attitude; she was much softer in her response and
demeanor.
“I’ve been out walkin’ around
and thinkin’ a lot today,” Jenny informed the counselor.
“Ah, contemplation. Anything in
particular? Samson?”
“Just life and all that,” Jenny
sat down and leaned upon the statue.
“I really enjoy the book of
Ecclesiastes for contemplation,” Mangas commented, “especially chapter nine.”
“What’s that about?”
“Well,” the counselor went on to
explain, focusing on the tenth through twelfth verses of the chapter, “I like
those verses because they sum up about making the most out of life and
also how life is towards us.”
“I’ll read the book,” Jenny
fiddled with a blade of grass at her feet, “I promise.”
Feeling he may have pressured
Jenny a little too much, Mr. Coloradas changed the subject, “Did you ever
happen to run into an inmate construction worker at the Y-MAX prison where
you were named Renwick Stone, Jenny? I know his mother.” The counselor placed
his hands into his front pockets.
“Yes, I did… and one of the Cyrene
Ministry people that visited us there even used him as an example in one of his
talks about how God can change someone’s life in prison. Renie, as he
liked to be called, went to work up north constructing a Super Y-MAX prison, or
something like that.” Jenny did not let anyone know that Renie had sent
her a postcard once.
“Oh, well, I was just
wondering,” Mr. Coloradas removed his hands from his pockets and adjusted his
collar. “I need to run. See you Monday, Jenny.”
“You’re sure busy,” Jenny
stopped the counselor briefly from leaving.
“Busy… active… two words. I
prefer active, myself. It sounds a bit more positive to me than busy.”
Jenny looked perplexed, “How’s
that?”
The counselor leaned toward his
left and replied, “Active sounds more like things you’d like to be doing, busy
can sound like stuff you have to do.”
“I get it.”
Mangas continued, “One of those
Bible verses I mentioned says to do whatever your hand finds to do with all of
your might.”
Jenny turned her head and looked
upward at the statue she leaned against, “Like Samson pushing these pillars.”
“That’s it. And it is what ‘your
hand’ finds to do.”
Jenny contemplated Mangas’ words
as he departed.
“Read the book of Lamentations,”
someone from Cyrene once told Jenny during her stay at Y-MAX, “it shows how you
can talk to God… honest expression, all of your thoughts and feelings.”
Lamentations… Ecclesiastes… I guess I’ll either be
actively reading those books or busy reading them, Jenny thought. I
guess it all depends on me and my outlook.
Next Chapter: Monday's Child
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