couch with a box of cereal in his lap. There was no way we'd be able to get inside without being noticed, so we watched from the open living-room window.
With the service over, Herbie was flicking through the different holovision stations looking for something to watch. My Dad walked into the room wearing an old pair of torn jeans and a black leather vest. Surprisingly, he was carrying a glass of tap water rather than a beer. "What are you doing, kid?" he muttered as he dropped into the chair across from the couch.
"Not much," Herbie replied. "Just watched Pastor Hoskins."
Dad looked back with a raised eyebrow, though both eyes were nearly squinted shut. "Pastor who?"
"Hoskins. He was on just a little bit ago teaching about how God wants families to treat each other, and I think we should follow his directions."
My father roared with laughter. "And what were his directions? Send him a couple thousand bucks?"
I was too young to understand what he meant. "Why would that—"
"Herb, a church is just as much a business as any other company in this country," Dad said before gulping down half the glass of water. "Their ultimate goal is to make a profit. Ain't you ever heard them asking for donations? That's how they make their money."
Herbie shook his head. "But they use that money for student trips and charity donations."
"Then how do they pay their employees?" Dad asked. "How do they pay for those holovision shows? How do they afford those giant arenas where they preach their garbage?"
"Those things are necessary to help people," Herbie said. "Why would they take advantage of both God and people like that? It's a church; they're supposed to help people in need."
"Help people? Bah!" Dad laughed again. "It's all a scam to make you think you need some kind of magician to believe in otherwise your homes will be taken away. That's how they get people to open up their wallets and drop their hard earned dollars into the company. Who's gonna turn down a donation drive to help some cancer victim, huh? Those church people know exactly how to reach into purses and wallets to help themselves."
Herbie was defiant. He didn't know the answers to Dad's questions, but he was certain there had to be a reasonable explanation for all of it. "You're wrong."
"You can believe in that nonsense if you want, boy. But I ain't no fool. I'm keepin' my money where it's safe." He patted the pocket of his jeans.
Mom came into the room, her hair a mangled mess. "Who do you think you're foolin'?" she asked him. "You ain't got no money."
"That's cause my no good wife has done gone and spent it all," he grumbled, turning his attention back to the holovision.
"Mom, Dad says that churches steal from people," Herbie said. "Is that true?"
"How the hell should I know?" she growled, lighting a cigarette. "Everybody steals from everybody these days. Them God people ain't no different."
"But God says people are supposed to love each other. How can they love each other if they're stealing from each other?"
"Honey, ain't nobody lovin' each other 'round here. Don't listen to those Bible-thumpers. It's easy for them to say there's a God that loves 'em when they got all the money they need. Meanwhile people like us are stuck livin' like this."
Herbie put his head down for a moment and stared at the floor. He looked like he was trying to come up with something good to say, but at the time, he was armed only with the knowledge of what Pastor Hoskins had said just an hour earlier. "I'm sure there's a good reason for it," he said in a soft voice.
"Course there is." Mom openly glared at Dad. He pretended not to notice, so she emphasized her point by throwing a pillow at his head. "We ain't got nobody bringing in any real money to this family!"
"Dammit! I told you it's not that simple to find a job out there! And I ain't seen you lookin' for work, neither!"
Mom swore loudly as she jumped out of her chair. "I told you!" she yelled, pointing at Herbie, "I gotta take care of him!"
"He's old enough to fend for himself after school," Dad shot back. "Not like he's got any friends to get him into trouble. He'll probably—"
Apparently, Herbie had heard enough. "Why do you two always have to fight?!" he yelled, jumping up from the couch. "Why can't you just love each other like God says?!"
Mom turned her attention toward me. I could see the anger in her eyes. "Ain't you been listening? There is no God gonna come to save you, boy! Them stories are nothing but fairy tales!"
Herbie was in rare form that morning. He bravely stepped toward Mom even though she seemed poised to strike. "That's not what Pastor Hoskins says! He says God is real and that I got Him in my life now just cause I asked Him to come in!"
"I don't like your attitude!" Mom growled. "And I don't want you watchin' that God show anymore!"
Herbie's eyes grew. "My attitude?! I just want you to love each other! To love me! I just want us to be a real family for once!"
When my father spoke, his voice was frighteningly calm. "You can't force love, Herbert." That was all he said. It was all he needed to say.
Herbie stormed through the kitchen and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. My mother slumped back onto the couch and took a big puff from her cigarette. After a brief silence, she muttered, "If you didn't let him watch that damn show, he wouldn't be—"
That set Dad off. "If I didn't let him?! Since when is it my responsibility to watch what that kid does?!"
"You're his damn father!"
I had seen enough. I backed away from the window. "C'mon Doc, there's nothing more to see here."
I could only assume he was following me, but once we were back on the sidewalk, Doc spoke up. "So your first attempt to share the Word of God with others didn't exactly go over so well. I have to ask you why you continued to believe in and follow God despite what you just experienced? Why did you ignore everything your parents told you?"
It was a simple answer. "Hope. If I gave up hope, I'd have nothing to look forward to in life."
"But how did you rationalize your parents behavior? You believed that loving them as God instructed would in turn cause them to love you, did you not?"
"At that time, yes. But I started to think that maybe the reason God wasn't making them love each other or me was because I hadn't been obeying His commands. I had only just asked Christ into my life, so I hadn't had much of a chance to show Him that I could obey Him. In time, He'd surely see that I had changed, and then He'd make people love me. At least, that's how I saw it."
In truth, that was probably the only thing that was keeping me going at that point. I wanted to believe that a time would come when God would protect me from my mother's fists, my father's hate, and my schoolyard torment. On top of that, I was starting to feel more and more lonely as I grew older. I would hear other kids in school talking about what they were going to do together after school or over the weekend, and I'd wish someone was making plans with me for the weekend. Add with that a sudden and growing interest in girls—none of whom spared me so much as a glance—and I was beginning to feel pretty miserable not only about myself but the direction of my life.
But my brain kept telling me that it was only temporary. As long as I did what God asked of me and did it long enough to erase the bad things I'd previously done, He'd eventually reward me for my dedication. I'd have friends. My family would love me. A pretty girl would think I was handsome. I just needed to please God.
So when I went to school, I decided I was going to try to do the exact opposite of every negative impulse that came to me. If someone did something mean to me, I'd let it go rather than retaliate. If a hurtful comment came to mind, I would either say something uplifting or just keep my mouth shut. I'd do whatever it took to earn God's love so that He'd take care of me. And I'd show the people around me that it was okay to love each other because that's what God expects of us.
It's funny, actually. Today, of course, it seems silly that I
actually expected people to care about each others' feelings. Humans don't want to love each other, they only want to degrade and belittle each other so that they themselves might be exalted. But when I was eleven, the need for God's love seemed so ridiculously obvious! Why wouldn't people want to live in loving harmony with each other? The perfect world was just waiting to be claimed! All anyone ever needed to do was simply love each other!
Naive of me, I know. But that was my frame of mind going into school that week. I wanted people to love me, so I was going to show them love. It was as simple as that.
Not surprisingly, it wasn't simple at all. Doc and I followed Herbie as he went through his Monday, and every ounce of kindness he administered was met with either anger, laughter, or just general disdain. When Ronnie Chambers dropped his lunch money, Herbie picked it up for him. But Ronnie accused him of stealing when he gave it back. When Henry made fun of Jules Pagosa, Herbie neither laughed nor joined him. That earned him dirty looks from Henry. And, on top of that, when Jules told Miss Boyd, she said that both Henry and Herbie had been harassing her.
But there were two incidents that week that really drove home just how hard it was going to be to love people with an unconditionally forgiving heart. One I should've expected. One I never could have.
The biggest weight on my mind was my feud with Aaron and Nick. I wanted to apologize for the mean things I'd done and said