“Likewise. Because even if you didn’t believe in God when you first met me, you never ostracized me because of it. I’m glad we’re friends.”
Javier leaves soon after, and I lean back against the couch armrest, stretching out my feet before me. My phone rings, and I let out a sigh when no resounding pain echoes in my head.
“Hello?”
“Jabari, how are you?” Mom asks.
“Fine,” I say cautiously. Something’s different in her voice, but I can’t figure out what. “How areyou?”
“Today’s a good day. I got groceries and watched a couple of dating shows. We haven’t talked since last week, so I wanted to check on you.”
When Mom visited last, she made me promise to keep her updated on everything going on with me, even if I thought she couldn’t handle the news. When I started getting the migraines, I’d told her. Also told her about the clean CT images and retinal scans. Not holding back secrets from her has been freeing on the one hand and anxiety-inducing on the other.
“I had an awful headache this morning, but it’s a dull throb now.”
“Mm. I wish I could take them away.”
“I know, Mom, but I wouldn’t want you to feel like thisatall.” Who knows what migraines would do to her depression. Nothing good could come from it.
“So . . . I went to church last weekend.”
“Yeah? Me too.”
“I said the salvation prayer,” we say simultaneously.
I laugh. “Want to tell me about it?”
“No way. I wantyouto tell me how it happened.”
So I do. I explain how I’d been praying as Javier taught me,exploring what it meant to believe, and the changes I noticed in people who lived out that belief. Even though I felt like I’d accepted God before going to church, a complete change hit me after the altar call.
“I love that, son. For me it was a little different. I believed as a child, grew up in the church. But I let an experience within the church keep me from living my faith. I needed to repent, and saying the prayer felt like getting a clean slate.”
“I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“There’s a reason for everything, right?”
That’s what they say. I’m not sure who came up with that expression in the first place, and I certainly never had any harmonious thoughts toward it before. Yet now, I can hear the phrase for what it is and understand the subtleties it’s trying to explain.
“I also saw a therapist.”
Shock fills me. “Why? Is it worse?”
“No, no. Just realized I needed to get some added help.”
A silent breath whooshes out of me. “I’m happy for you.”
“Going back to church showed me I needed to do the things necessary to give me a better life. My doctor’s going to try me on a new medication and start me off on a low dose.”
“Wow.”
“But enough about me. How’s Val?”
I’ll let her change the subject, but this is definitely something I’ll be thanking God for. “Perfect. Every day I’m with her feels like a gift.”
Mom sniffs.
“Are you crying?”
