Sorta Like a Rock Star

Sorta Like a Rock Star Page 22

“It was just a stupid game. It wasn’t real.”

“The Wednesday Afternoon Battles are something to look forward to and—”

“I’m retired. Joan of Old can have the title by forfeit.”

“Forfeit? Retired? Are you kidding me? You haven’t even begun to peak and you—”

“I’m done making old people smile. It’s over.”

He pauses for a second, gathers his thoughts.

So softly, Old Man Linder says, “Amber.”

When I look into his eyes they are moist, and I can tell that he loves me like I am his own granddaughter, but I can’t play that game anymore for him, so I look away.

“Life goes on,” he says. “Whether we choose to enjoy it or not. So you might as well find a way to enjoy the parts you can. You can’t just give up on life, Amber.”

“Why not? Everyone else does. Everyone. Why don’t you get up there this Wednesday and tell jokes? Why don’t any of you take on Joan of Old yourselves? I’m tired of carrying all you people. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be the Princess of Hope for you, because I’ve got no hope left! Didn’t you read the papers? Don’t you remember what happened to my mom? How can anyone have hope after something like that? And yet you expect me to snap out of it and carry on for you? Give you a laugh once a week? Get well just so I can play some stupid game with old people every Wednesday afternoon? For what? Why should I?”

And then I break out in tears.

I sob for minutes.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Old Man Linder says. “I was just trying to—”

“Just leave, okay?” I scream.

It takes Old Man Linder a long time to stand, and from the sounds he is making, I think he is crying now too, which makes me feel even worse, but I don’t try to stop him from leaving and I don’t say I’m sorry.

I just want him to leave.

I can’t be what he needs me to be anymore.

In fact, I was never really who he wanted me to be—I was a fake.

For the next few minutes or so, I listen to him take one step at a time, setting down his oxygen tank with heavy clunks—Old Man Linder sucking air like a madman.

I hear Donna apologizing for me downstairs, and Old Man Linder says he shouldn’t have come again, which is when I realize that I crushed him—that I kicked him square in the metaphorical balls and knocked what little hope he had right out of him, the lightweight. It’s so easy to crush men like him. I pity Old Man Linder. How did he ever make it to old age?

After I hear the front door open and close, Donna comes up to my room and says, “You should be ashamed of yourself. This isn’t you, Amber. You’re better than this.”

“Fuck you,” I say—still sobbing—shocking myself.

Donna looks at me for a second or two—like I had slapped her—and then her bottom lips starts to quiver, which is something I never even thought was possible.

I see a tear slide down her cheek, and then she is gone.

So even the mighty Donna can be crushed, I think.

CHAPTER 30

WRITING HAIKUS ONE

AFTER THE OTHER, KNOWING

ONLY THE MOMENT

CHAPTER 31

“Father Chee?”

“Amber?”

“What is it: is man only a blunder of God, or God only a blunder of man?”

“So you are quoting Nietzsche now?”

“You know his work?”

“Yes.”

“Does reading Nietzsche ever make you doubt your faith?”

“Yes.”

“But you still believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“How do you keep believing?”

“I have faith.”

“Why?”

“Because when I asked Him for help, God sent me a young, hopeful girl who was able to convince a group of shy Korean women to sing The Supremes—making ordinary women into divas—doubling my church’s membership. This was a great miracle that I saw with my own eyes. It boosted my faith much.”

“What if that young, hopeful girl never recovered from the blow God sent her way? What if she never sang with those Korean women ever again, and people stopped coming to your church and the Pope fired you and then you got sick and were about to die all alone feeling like your life meant nothing—and then some mentally insane man appeared and killed you in a strange and bizarre and terrifying manner? Would you still have faith in God then?”

“I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 32

THE SUN IS NOT A

BALL—IT’S AN ENDLESS WHITE STREAK

TIME’S AN ILLUSION

CHAPTER 33

“Father Chee?”

“Yes, Amber?”

“If I had followed my mom on the night she was killed, do you think I might have been able to stop that man from doing what he did?”

“I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 34

FOUR-LEAF CLOVER: A

MIRACLE, MUTATION, OR

HAPPY ACCIDENT?

CHAPTER 35

“Father Chee?”

“Yes, Amber?”

“Why do some people go through life never knowing a single major tragedy, and then others have horrible things happen to them over and over again?”

“I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 36

BITING INTO MY

YELLOW–GREEN APPLE—LIPS AND

FINGERS GET STICKY

CHAPTER 37

“Father Chee?”

“Yes, Amber?”

“Do you believe that I was a pretty good person before my mother died?”

“I know it. You still are a good person.”

“So it really doesn’t matter if we are good or not—bad things will still happen to us regardless?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 38

OUTSIDE MY WINDOW

SPARROW MAKES A NEST OUT OF

WHAT I THREW AWAY

CHAPTER 39

“Father Chee?”

“Yes, Amber?”

“Why didn’t God turn the other cheek when Adam and Eve ate the apple? Why did He have to punish all of mankind for eating a damn apple?”

“It is a metaphor for wanting to know more than what we can handle. God tried to protect us from the consequences of knowledge, but we failed to listen.”

“Do you think I ate some metaphorical apple? Do you think my mother was killed because I pissed God off somehow? Did I fail to listen or something?”

“No. I do not think this. Not at all.”

“Then why was my mother killed?”

“I don’t know.”

CHAPTER 40

HOW MANY PIECES

OF BREAD SEPARATE THESE WORDS:

NEEDY, FINE, WASTEFUL?

CHAPTER 41

“Father Chee?”

“Yes, Amber.”

“Why do you keep coming here every day?”

“Because you are worth visiting.”

“Why?”

“Because you will come through this and be stronger on the other side. You will help people again someday.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yes. It is inevitable.”

“So why do you need to come if it’s inevitable?”

“No need. I like visiting Amber Appleton. I want to be here when you are reborn—when you finally come through this and are stronger for it.”

“Is that why bad things happen—to make us stronger?”

“Maybe, but truthfully—I don’t know.”

“I miss my mom. She was a terrible mom, but I miss her. I really do.”

“I also miss my mother.”

“What are your parents like? Are they here in America or in Korea?”

“My parents were very good people. They are both dead now.”

“How did they die?”

“They were murdered.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“You did not ask.”

“How were your parents murdered?”

“Many years ago. In a detention camp.”

“What’s that?”

“It is a prison where people who criticize the North Korean government are taken.”

“What did your parents say about the government?”

“They said that people should be allowed to believe in Jesus and build churches.”

“That’s a crime?”

“It is in North Korea.”

“And they were killed in prison?”

“Yes.”

“Why would JC let them be killed after they stuck up for Him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that why you became a priest here in America? Because of your parents?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“So my parents’ death would mean something.”

“How does your being a priest make your parents’ death mean something?”

“They gave their lives for a good idea. Now I use my life to tell other people the good idea.”

“What’s the good idea?”

“That no matter how much evidence we have to prove that life is meaningless, we should believe that life makes some sort of sense—and that the story of Jesus is a good story, simply because it teaches us that we should be kind to others. That we should do whatever it takes, that we should sing soul music if it makes the lives of others better. That we should try to be good people, and love everyone.”

“Do you love the people who killed your parents?”

“I pray for them, and all like them.”

“But do you love them?”

“I don’t know.”

“You think that I’m going to be like you, don’t you? That’s why you come here every day?”

“I think you are going to be much better than me.”

“Why?”

“Father Chee cannot do the soul clap so well.”

For the first time in many weeks, I smile—and Father Chee laughs out a single note—ha!

“I’m sorry your parents were killed for believing in JC,” I say.

“I am sorry your mother was taken from you for no good reason at all, Amber. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“But there is nothing either of us can do to bring our parents back, right?”

“There is nothing we can do to bring them back, but we can honor their memory by moving forward.”

“Why should we do that?”

“Maybe it is better than sitting in a room forever?”

“Why?”

“You know why,” FC says.

“It’s not fair.”

“Life is not fair. You are correct.”

“Then why should we be fair?”

“Because we can.”

“I don’t know, FC. I mean I totally dig your coming here every day. I do. True. But I don’t think I can go back to being who I used to be.”

“Who were you?”

“Amber Appleton. Aka the Princess of Hope.”

“You were, are, and will always be a hopeful person, until you die.”

“Why do you say that to me? Even now, when you know I’ve got nothing left. Why do you put that on me?”

“Because I have faith, and it is riding on the Princess of Hope. I believe in you, Amber Appleton. I’ve seen your powers.”