Listen To Me Page 10

CHAPTER NINE

  The Truth

  Max is sprawled out face down on the couch. Three empty beer cans lie beside him on the floor. A fourth teeters shakily beside them, still trapped in his hand. Max’s eyes are half opened, darting lazily from one image to another before resting on the front door. Mr. Shaw walks in slowly with his head down, barely noticing Max on the couch. He sighs and puts his keys on the table, then looks up and sees the scattered cans, the grungy couch, and a very disjointed Max.

  “Maxwell Shaw!” he roars.

  Max leaps to a sitting position at the sound of his father’s voice. He looks up, unable to comprehend half of what his father is now screaming at him. He can only make out the words in broken, telegraphic form. “Some nerve… leaves less than an hour… no sense... break his mother’s heart…”

  Max can’t keep up with the rest. His face becomes hot with embarrassment. He should have known better than to lay on the couch in plain sight, but he didn’t expect his father back for at least another couple of hours.

  Did he run out of money? Max wonders. Tired of his father’s tirade, Max finally slurs, “Why are you back so soon?” His expression is one of total confusion.

  Mr. Shaw thunders over to Max, ejecting insults like missiles in his son’s direction. He pulls him by his shirt and forces him to stand upright.

  “Get your tail off this couch and clean this mess up!” he snarls.

  Max’s head begins to spin from the sudden change in motion. Max sways and stumbles forward as his father releases him.

  Without thinking, he launches a verbal attack on his father.

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?” Max scowls while trying to steady himself.

  “You’re just another deadbeat dad. Why should I listen to you? You spend all your time drinking your problems and your money away, and you leave mom and me to fend for ourselves. You’re no father!”

  “Watch your tone, Max!” his father bristles. “I’m an adult! What I do is my business. You’re just a child! You don’t understand a thing about the world you’re living in!”

  “Like you do?” Max laughs mockingly. “You spend all day circling want ads and you think that you’ve accomplished something? As soon as you get a job, you celebrate at Willy’s. And you never stay. You always quit or get fired.”

  “Max, that’s enough,” his father warns.

  Max ignores him. “I could make more money raking leaves than you make working your one-day jobs. And I know you and mom are behind on bills because you keep squandering your paychecks.”

  “I said watch your mouth, Max!” his father barks.

  Max stops swaying and looks his father in the eye, no longer disoriented. “You want to call me irresponsible, fine, but take a good look in the mirror, Dad, because this,” he points to the empty cans around him, “is what I see every day!”

  Mr. Shaw stares at Max menacingly. His fists clench and unclench several times, and he speaks slowly, pronouncing every syllable. “Don’t you ever disrespect me, boy.”

  He points to the clutter on the floor. “Get this cleaned up and go to your room. Your mother will deal with you when she gets home.”

  Max throws down the half empty can he is holding in his hand and stares back, eyes full of rebellion. “Clean it yourself - ”

  Before Max can get the words out of his mouth, he is in the air, his father’s fist wrapped tightly around his shirt.

  “Don’t test me, Max!” he bellows.

  Max stares at his father, stunned. Mr. Shaw releases him quickly and repeats his demand.

  “Get this cleaned up and go to your room.” Max rubs at his chest and picks up the empty cans as his father leaves. Hot tears stream down Max’s face as he watches the fourth can empty itself onto the carpet.

  •••

  Mr. Shaw closes the door to his room, sits at his desk, and places his head in his hands. He didn’t mean for things to get so heated. The things that Max said…they were all true, weren’t they? He spent more time at the bar than he did with his own family. His wife had been right. Max was just following his example, and he wasn’t doing Max any favors by sticking around. Maybe Bambi was right too. He was probably making his wife miserable. She would be better off without him. Both of them would be better off without him.

  •••

  Martin walks into the living room and puts his book bag on the floor.

  “Pick that up,” his mother chides him as she walks from the kitchen to the living room.

  “What are you doing home so early?” Martin asks as he picks up his book bag.

  “Making sure you came straight home,” his mother states simply. “I let my last class leave early so I’d beat you home.”

  “Right, because I’m grounded,” Martin flexes his jaw and heads to his room. He slams the door, but grabs it before it makes a sound and closes it properly. He dials the number for Mr. James on his cell phone and waits for him to pick up.

  “This is Mr. James.”

  “Hey, it’s me,” Martin flops onto his bed and pulls out his Chemistry book. “How long is it gonna take for my family to trust me?” he asks, his frustration clear.

  “What’s that?” Mr. James asks him to repeat himself.

  “My parents grounded me last week for something I didn’t do. They just assumed I was guilty because that’s the way it looked, and my father found out I lied to him, and he says he can’t trust me until I earn it. What am I supposed to do?”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Martin,” Mr. James sighs. “I know it hurts to have your family not trust you, but put yourself in their position. They’ve known you to be a certain way for a long time, and it’s going to take some time before they see that you aren’t that person anymore. And it’s going to take some time before you stop seeing yourself as that person, too.”

  “What do you mean?” Martin asks.

  “I mean, you still see yourself as the old Martin. You feel guilty for the things that old Martin did, right?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Martin nods. “Shouldn’t I feel guilty?”

  “For a short while, yes,” Mr. James replies. “But those feelings of guilt can get so overwhelming that you never feel adequate. You never feel like you’re good enough so you constantly try to prove to yourself and to others that you are.”

  “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” Martin is confused.

  “Your new life in Christ requires that you walk in the spirit, and not in the flesh. If you still have this idea that if you make yourself behave, then you’ll be counted worthy, you’re missing it. Remember what I taught you about salvation. It’s a process, and everything won’t happen all at once. If you try to change all the bad things about you on your own, you’ll only frustrate yourself. Let God do the work through the Holy Spirit.”

  “So, I’m not supposed to do anything?” Martin crinkles his brow.

  “When we are convicted of sins in our life, the Holy Spirit gives us the ability to overcome those things. What you need to do is learn to hear from the Holy Spirit. The closer you get to God, the more change you’ll see. First, you’ll stop wanting to do the wrong thing and desire to do the right thing. Then, you’ll stop doing the wrong thing and start doing the right thing.”

  “Okay,” Martin sighs.

  “If you want, I can talk to your parents,” Mr. James offers.

  “That would be great,” Martin agrees.

  “Martin, you don’t have to prove to everyone that you’ve changed. Continue to seek God and it will be too obvious to miss. In fact, you’ve already changed. I want you to learn this verse. It’s 2 Corinthians 5:17. ‘Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’ Now repeat after me. Old Martin is dead.”

  “Old Martin is dead,” Martin mimics.

  “I’m a brand new Martin,” Mr. James continues.

  “I’m a brand new Martin,” Martin laughs.

  “Believe it,
and memorize the verse?”

  Martin sighs. “When will you be back?’

  “Next week,” Mr. James answers. “How is everything with Rick? I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk with everyone before I left.”

  “Rick’s okay,” Martin shrugs, though Mr. James can’t see him. “He’s talking to us about drinking and stuff.”

  “What do you think about the message?” Mr. James asks.

  “It’s okay,” Martin hems.

  “But?”

  “Mr. James, can I ask you something?” Martin crinkles his brow. “It’s about my friend, Max. I invited him to come to bible study on Wednesday.”

  “It’s good that you’re sharing your faith with your friends, Martin,” Mr. James encourages.

  “I guess, but he doesn’t really listen to me. I don’t think he’s coming.”

  “Even if he doesn’t, it’s good that you asked him,” Mr. James continues. “Sometimes the best way you can help the people around you is by being a good example, and a good friend.”

  “I’m trying,” Martin sighs. “But sometimes I can be a little... intense.”

  “I see,” Mr. James chuckles. “You want some help with that?”

  “Yeah,” Martin laughs, remembering what Jennifer told him.

  “When’s the last time you spoke to Max about something important?”

  “Before this week?” Martin squints in thought. “Never.”

  “So talking to him about your faith is outside your comfort zone?”

  “Definitely,” Martin scratches his head.

  “If you’re freaked out about what you’re saying, I can imagine Max will be too,” Mr. James adds. “Why don’t you try practicing with Jennifer?

  “Practicing?” Martin crinkles his brow.

  “The more comfortable you become with talking about faith, the easier it will be to find the words. If you can’t talk about your faith with other believers, how can you talk to your friend Max?”

  “Good point,” Martin accedes. “But I don’t know if I can talk to Jennifer.”

  “I thought the two of you were friends?” Mr. James pauses.

  “We are. It’s just that she’s…” Martin doesn’t finish.

  “Intimidating?” Mr. James offers.

  “Well she’s been saved for forever, she’ll probably think I’m an idiot,” Martin mumbles.

  “I think Jennifer will help you,” Mr. James laughs. “Give her a chance?”

  “Are you going to call her?” Martin asks, hopeful.

  “You should call her. Tell her what your problem is and go from there.”

  Martin groans. “Couldn’t you call instead?”

  “You’ll be fine,” Mr. James encourages him before they hang up. Martin stares at the phone a moment and smiles.

  “Old Martin is dead,” he repeats quietly.

  •••

  “Max! Arthur!” Mrs. Shaw calls out as she walks in. The house is clean and eerily quiet. She opens the door to her bedroom.

  “Arthur?” she calls softly. She looks around the room, but he isn’t there. She checks the room to see if he’s left a note and finds one neatly folded on top of the bed. Her heart rate rises as she goes to pick it up. After reading the first sentence she gasps, placing her hand over her mouth. She puts the letter down without finishing it, swiftly making her way upstairs to Max’s bedroom.

  “Max!” she exclaims. “Max, answer me!” Her voice cracks as she screams his name.

  “Max!”

  Max opens his bedroom door and walks slowly to his mother. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is stained with dried tears.

  “Max, where’s your father?” she asks. “He says he found you drinking this afternoon. Max, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Max answers only her first question.

  “Max, you know the rules,” she reprimands him. “You can’t afford to violate your probation.”

  “Mom, can we please not go through this now?” Max pleads. “Please?”

  Mrs. Shaw sighs heavily and looks at her son. “Max,” she begins. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’re my only child and I feel like I’m losing you. I don’t know how to get through to you.” She raises her hands in resignation.

  “I’ve done everything I know to do, but things keep getting worse.” Without warning, Mrs. Shaw begins to cry, and Max can’t take it.

  “Mom,” he places his hand on her shoulder. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I was going to bible study this Wednesday?”

  His mother looks up at him, incredulous. “What?”

  Max removes his hand and shrugs. “Martin invited me to bible study this Wednesday. I guess it couldn’t hurt me to go.”

  “Really?” his mother wipes her eyes. “I didn’t know Martin went to church very much.” She eyes him warily.

  “Yeah, his parents made him start going after he got into that fight at school. Now he’s there every time the church doors open.” Max resists the impulse to roll his eyes. His mother seems genuinely happy to hear that he’s considering going to church.

  She looks at him and smiles. “That’s wonderful, Max!” Hope replaces the despair that was in her eyes, and she walks back down the stairs. She goes back to her room and grabs the letter her husband left her. She hopes it will tell her where he’s gone.