Page 44

Forty-Two

Jensen

I replay the video of Isaac on the stage over and over in my mind. I don’t have access to my phone while I’m here, so my dad showed it to me on one of his visits two weeks ago. I’ve asked to watch it again and again on each visit since.

I’ve never seen anything so brave in my life. He must have been terrified, but if I know Isaac, then I know he put a lot of thought into that. And it was the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.

Sitting on the grass, I stare out at the setting sun over the hills in the distance. Tomorrow is my last day at Pathways. Eight and a half weeks have felt like a lifetime. But at the same time, I worry that it isn’t enough.

I had the option to extend. I could have stayed longer, and I’ve been mulling it over a lot. Will I ever feel ready? There are moments where I don’t feel healed at all, and then there are moments where I feel like a different man than the one who came in here. I’ve cried, sobbed, really. I’ve confessed and mended and cut people out. I’ve written letters and even burned a few.

At this moment, in my heart, I feel confident that I will never do what I did again.

But what happens when things go wrong, or I’m triggered by the past? What if I’m not as healed as I thought? Are my convictions enough to get me through?

Are they ever enough to get anyone through?

Wrapping my arms around my bent knees, I close my eyes and pray.

“Dear God, give me strength. Please. I need you. I’m afraid,” I whisper.

Tears moisten my eyes as the sun sinks below the horizon. A gentle sigh escapes my lips as I bury my face in my folded arms.

“Please, don’t leave me. Not when I need you the most.”

Call me crazy, but I swear God hears me better now. I feel his acceptance in a way I’ve never felt it before. His gentle touch on my shoulder. His guiding voice in my ear.

I talk to him every night, but tonight feels the most terrifying because my future is so unclear. Will Isaac still want me after all this time? Do I have a following left at our church? Is there a home for me in the ministry? Even after everything, I still miss it. The congregation. The community. Will they still want me? If not, what will become of me or of my church? I don’t know who I am without this job.

It’s dark when I finally feel ready to stand and head inside. It’s my last group session tonight, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Have you talked to him?” my dad asks from the driver’s seat.

“No,” I reply. “I don’t want to bother him while he’s finishing up his tour. He still has a week left, and I just want him to focus on that.”

“His last show is here, isn’t it?”

I turn to face my dad with surprise. “Yeah. How did you know?”

He shrugs. “I have a life, Jensen. And I know how to use a computer.”

“You didn’t buy tickets, did you?”

“What? I can’t go to concerts now?”

My head tilts as I glare at him. “Dad.”

“What, son? You realize you’re not a burden on him, right? You’re his boyfriend, and you deserve to be there. Don’t you think he’d want you there?”

My jaw clenches as I turn forward. “I don’t know…”

He picks up my phone from the center console and tosses it in my lap. “Then call him.”

“I will,” I argue. “I just got out. Can you give me some time, dammit?”

He chuckles, his large stomach shaking as he drives. His smile is infectious and I have to admit that it’s nice to be back to this new vision of normal. The last two months have been heavy, and they will continue to be heavy for a while.

My mom hasn’t come home from her sister’s. My dad told her not to, and while that’s not something I can really carry right now, I still feel the guilt of it. He asked me to live with him for a while, but I told him I really needed to do this on my own. I didn’t go through those eight weeks for nothing. I’m ready to live my life now.

“What about work?” he asks.

“I meet with the board tomorrow.”

“So you’re going back?” He glances my way with uncertainty, but I give a solemn nod.

“I want to. There is still a lot of good I can do.”

Technically, the board decides, but I built a following. I brought it back to life. I worked hard to save it from ruin and scandal, so I have every right to keep my position. But if I lose my attendees, I lose the church. And if that happens, then I’ll find another. There are always options. Nothing is hopeless.

Reaching across the seat, he places a large hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

With a subtle smirk, I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Home sweet home,” my dad says as he opens the door to my house. I have my duffel slung over my shoulder as I step inside. He rushes into the kitchen while I stand on the mat.

The broken glass is gone. The TV replaced.

“I stocked the fridge for you. Plenty of water and soda and stuff to make dinner if you feel like cooking. Or…I can cook you something if you want. I bought a couple T-bones. I can fire up the grill.”

I smirk at him. “Thanks, Dad. I got it. I promise.”

He lets out a sigh, and I can see his discomfort. Leaving me here must be harrowing for him.

“I promise I’m going to be okay.”

“I know you are,” he stammers while rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’m your dad. It’s my job to worry.”

Walking in, I drop my bag on the floor. “I’m just going to do some laundry and throw a frozen pizza in for dinner. Call it an early night.”

He nods while looking at me with mischief on his face. “And maybe make a phone call.”

I shake my head with a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe make a phone call.”

My dad walks up to me before pulling me in for a bear hug. He pounds a hand on my back affectionately. As he pulls away, he holds my arms as he says, “Don’t forget to check in.”

“I won’t.”

“And let me know how the meeting goes tomorrow.”

“I will,” I reply with a nod.

Before letting go, he gazes into my eyes like he wants to say more. “They’re lucky to have you,” he adds. “Just the way you are.”

I give him a tight smile, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve needed that. Just a boost of confidence that I can do this.

“Thanks, Dad.”

With a fatherly nod and a pat on my arm, he walks toward the front door. Just after opening it, he turns back toward me. “Oh, I went ahead and wrote the night of that concert on your calendar in the kitchen. So you don’t forget.”

With a laugh, I shake my head. Then he’s gone.

And for the first time in eight weeks, I’m truly alone.

Immediately, I busy myself. I empty my bag in the laundry room, throwing all of my clothes in the wash. Then I preheat the oven for the frozen supreme pizza. Stopping by the fridge, I pull out a bottle of water and notice the date on the calendar that my dad circled with purpose.

It’s next week. Isaac’s tour ends in a week, and he’ll be home in Austin. While the oven heats, I pull out my phone and check his schedule on his website. He’s not playing a show tonight. He’ll be in New Orleans tomorrow. Houston, a few days later. Then Austin.

My stomach clenches with anxiety. Every time I start to spiral with thoughts of Isaac moving on without me or me ruining a good thing with what I did, I stop and ask myself… What do I know to be true?

I know I love him more than anything.

I know he loves me.

I know he promised to wait.

I know I told him I’d call him as soon as I could.

And now…I can. My phone is sitting in my hand, waiting for me to make the move. So what’s holding me back? It’s just one small step in the direction I want to go in, so what is my problem?

Pulling open his contact, my finger hovers over the call button. But at the last minute, I click on the text icon instead. It feels like the cowardly thing to do, but at least it’s something.

Hey. I hope you’re doing well. I just wanted to let you know that I’m home. But please don’t feel obligated to…

“Ugh, I suck at this,” I mumble to myself as I delete the whole thing.

Hey. I’m home.

“No, no, no. I wasn’t out for milk,” I mutter to myself. Delete .

The oven beeps when it’s heated and I set down my phone to put the pizza in. After setting the timer, I pick up my phone again and close my eyes, imagining Isaac in my hospital bed that day and everything I did to him. The stupid phone call I made to him. The way he found me. I told him he needed to finish his tour without me dragging him back down into all of my shit.

But he deserves to at least know I’m home.

Hey. I just got home from the recovery center. I still need some time, but I just wanted you to know. I’ve been watching you on your tour. You’re doing amazing. Keep going. When it’s over, I want to see you again. I hope you still want to see me.

I’m chewing on my lip as I hit send. Was that too impersonal? Too cold?

I pace some more while I wait. What if he doesn’t respond at all? What will I do? I’d have to move on, I know that, but it would be miserable.

Then my phone pings with a message and I nearly drop it as I scramble to see it. And when I open the text message thread, I let out a soft whimpering sound.

It’s a selfie of him lying down in his bed with a soft smile on his face. Below the picture, it says…

Best news I’ve heard all year. When you’re ready, I’ll be there.

And just like that, all of my anxiety dissipates. Just his face and those comforting words. He knew exactly what I needed.

Composing myself, I hold up my phone with the selfie camera on. I snap a picture with the softest smile.

After I send it, I write:

I can’t wait.

“You’re the pastor, Jensen. They hired you for a reason.”

“I know that,” I reply with my hand around my coffee mug. Adam is sitting across from me at the diner, and I’m replaying the entire meeting today with the board at the church. Redemption Point has a large team, including the two other preachers who stepped in while I was gone, but Adam is right. At the end of the day, I am the one they want.

“Are you thinking about stepping away?” he asks, and that is the question that’s been hounding me.

“No,” I say without hesitation. “I love my job.”

“Okay, start over. Tell me exactly how the meeting went,” he says as he leans his elbows on the table.

Setting my cup down, I cross my arms over my chest. “I sat in front of the entire board, and I told them everything. I told them that I’m gay. That I have a public boyfriend. That I won’t be stepping down. I worked for that spot and that church. If they want to fire me, they can face a discrimination lawsuit.”

“What did they say?”

It’s my turn to tilt my head toward him. “A couple of them threw a fit. Tried to bully me out of the job. But some…were supportive.”

Adam is wearing a smug smirk as he tosses a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“What is that look for?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I wanted that job more than anything. I thought I was going to be the man standing at that pulpit, but my father made sure that never happened. And now…the church belongs to you . His son’s boyfriend.”

“I call that irony,” I say with a smile.

“I call it providence.”

With a tight-lipped smile, I nod.

“So tomorrow is your first sermon back,” he says as he continues to pick at his breakfast.

“Yeah.”

“You ready?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I wrote this sermon the entire time I was gone. But no matter what I try, I can’t seem to find the right words.”

“Speak from the heart,” he says. “They’ll listen.”

We sit in silence, my back straight against the diner booth. For the first time in a long time, I’m starting to feel like myself again.

“You’ll be there, won’t you?” I ask.

Adam looks up at me with a subtle nod. “Yeah, of course I will.”

I smile softly at him, lifting my coffee to my lips when he adds, “We’ll consider a trade.”

Pausing, I ask, “A trade for what?”

“I’ll come to your service if you…come to his show.”

The corner of my mouth tics with a hint of a smile. “His show?”

“The whole family is going on Friday night. We have room in our VIP section, and you belong there. You know it.”

Hearing his brother say that feels amazing. To be truly accepted by his family is more than I ever expected. And to be honest, I was planning on going to that concert, regardless. After my dad brought it up, I knew I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But now, to be invited by his family is the icing on the cake. Truly, nothing could stop us now.

Lifting my coffee cup to my lips with a smirk, I reply, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”