6
When Simon came home and they sat down at the small dining room table to eat, Jill asked Simon to pray. Alex didn’t know how to act – there had never been any prayers at his family supper table. Simon didn’t seem bothered at all. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, so Alex did the same.
“Dear Lord,” he said. “Thank you for this food and for Jill for making it. Thank you for providing us with everything we need. Thank you that Alex is here and I pray that you will be with him and help him. Amen.”
Alex opened his eyes. He looked at Simon, who had picked up his fork and started eating his spaghetti bolognaise. “Thanks, Simon,” he said.
“For what?” said Simon, his mouth full. He swallowed. “For praying? Sure. I figured something is wrong. I know it’s not my business. But God can help you. I hope he will.” The boy carried on eating.
“It’s not a secret,” said Alex. “I can tell you what’s wrong.” He looked at Jill, then back at Simon. “I found out my dad is sick. He has a disease that damages your brain. I might have inherited it from him. My sister too.”
Simon put his fork down. “That’s terrible,” he said. “Is your dad sick now?”
“He has some symptoms. His movements are affected. And his mood. He gets depressed and anxious.”
“Wow,” said Simon. “Is he going to die?”
“Yes,” said Alex. “It’s incurable. But it can take years and years.”
Simon shook his head. “So, can you find out if you have it or not?”
“Yes. But I’m scared. I don’t know if I want to know.”
“Wow,” said Simon. “Now I understand why you look so sad. Have you prayed about it?”
“Me?” Alex shrugged. “I don’t really pray, Simon. I’m not … into religion much.”
Simon picked up his fork again. Jill waited, fascinated to see what her brother would say. “You should pray about it anyway. God is still God, even if you aren’t into it.”
Alex was silenced. He stared at the boy, who was rapidly working his way through his food. God is still God. Did he believe that? He thought he probably did. Not being “into it” suddenly seemed a pathetic reason not to face that fact. He looked down at his food, and then at Jill. She smiled at him, her fork full of spaghetti.
“Eat up,” she said. “It’s getting cold.”
After supper Alex offered to wash the dishes. Jill stood beside him with a dish towel as he worked.
“So, tell me about this trip you’re going on,” he said. “Anywhere interesting?”
“We’re going to Lesotho,” she said. “Have you ever been there?”
“No,” he said. “I went to a resort on the border once, to a ski lodge. But not into Lesotho.”
“I’m so excited to go on this trip,” said Jill. “I feel like I’ve been stuck here; I’m quite desperate for a change of scenery.”
She told him all about their plans. They were going to visit a church there, in a small town close to the capital, Maseru. Pastor Tim knew the pastor and after visiting himself a few years previously, had suggested to some of the young people at the church that they organise a trip. In the area around the church there were many children, mostly orphans, whose main meal of the day came from a feeding scheme run by the pastor’s wife. The team from MBCC had raised some money over the past few months and planned to take two trailer loads of food up, and to give the pastor’s wife and the women who helped her a break by doing all the cooking while they were there. They also had boxes of English and Sesotho bibles that they had been collecting for the last year to donate to the church. When the volunteers had got together they realised that since two of them were medical doctors and one was a nurse, they could set up a little clinic for the week they planned to be there. The doctors had managed to get a stash of donated medication and other medical supplies together.
“It sounds amazing,” said Alex. “Especially the clinic part.”
“It’s going to be really cold,” said Jill. “And we’re staying in the village at the church. I don’t think we’re going to be especially comfortable. But I can’t wait.”
“I hope you’ll tell me if I’m in the way, Jill. I can easily go and stay somewhere else. Really.”
“No, Alex, don’t say that again. I told you, you can stay until I leave on Tuesday. Simon’s going to stay with James’ parents. But tomorrow evening there’s a meeting here. Everyone on the team is coming. They are all locals, or at least ex-locals who live in PE. You can stay or go out somewhere; it’s up to you. But you’re welcome.”
“Okay, thanks,” he said. “Should be interesting.”
“You can meet my friends,” she said. “My friend Melissa is coming. We’re going to do the cooking together. You’ll like her husband JP – he’s one of the doctors, an orthopaedic surgeon. And Mark, I suppose.”
“Mark’s going on the trip?”
“Yes. But he’s going to be doing separate stuff to me, mostly. I hope.”
“Sounds as if you’re avoiding him.”
“I think I am. Hmm.”
After they had done the washing up, they went back to the lounge. Simon went off to his bedroom and came back, headphones around his neck, with a book which he handed to Alex.
“Here,” he said. “Take this book. It’s really good. You should read it.”
“Thanks,” said Alex, taking the book. It was a slim paperback. “A Fresh Start,” he said, reading the title. “by John Chapman. Why not? I’ll give it a try.”
“You should,” said Simon. He put his headphones on and went back to his room.
Jill and Alex looked at each other. “You wouldn’t have accepted that five years ago,” said Jill. “James tried to get you to read Christian books.”
“I know,” said Alex. “I don’t exactly want to read a Christian book. I don’t want to think about God.”
“I think this time you will,” said Jill. “And I can’t think of a better book to start with.”
“Okay then,” said Alex. “I’ll read it. But how about watching a movie this evening? I need to tune out for a while.”
“Sounds great,” said Jill. “We can go to the DVD shop. It’s on the main road.”
“You still rent DVD’s?” laughed Alex.
“This is a small town,” said Jill, defensively. “I know you city people stream everything these days, but I don’t have a streaming device thingy. So, it’s the TV, the DVD player and a possibly scratched disk. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” laughed Alex. “Come on. I’ll drive.”
When Jill went to bed that night she lay awake for a while. Despite the heaviness of the day she had enjoyed the evening. She and Alex had chosen an end-of-the-world disaster movie and had sat on the couch together watching it. When it was finished they had laughed about how terrible it was and talked for another hour. It was still so easy to talk to him. She found herself completely relaxed, never worrying at all about what he might think of her. I am just being myself, she thought. Like it was with James, or Anya. She thought of how careful she had to be with Mark, how she had to measure every word to make sure he didn’t get the wrong idea, and how little she laughed when she was around him. I have missed laughing, she thought. The last six months in Marshall Bay had been lonely for her. None of her old friends lived there any more, except for James. She didn’t love working at the primary school, and her copywriting job was a solitary one. Her relationship with Mark had been good for a while, but it had become uncomfortable and stressful. She didn’t want to live in Marshall Bay anymore; she wanted to go overseas or at least to a bigger city, but she was stuck there for now. She didn’t resent it, but it was still hard and it had been lonely. She had found herself spiralling downwards some days, grief over her parents resurfacing, wondering if she would ever have a real family of her own. Except for the last few days. Since Alex had arrived on her doorstep, dripping and exhausted, desperate and grieving, she had not felt lonely once.