The Broken Miracle Page 2
“You’ll be fine,” she said with a wave of dismissal, turning the radio back up.
Mom was the honorary driver and disc jockey to all my destinations. She made the rides more fun by taking the hills a little faster, so when we went over the bumps, I got butterflies in my stomach like on a roller coaster. I honestly loved my parents—I knew it was a rare thing for a thirteen-year-old to say, but it was the truth. They never treated me differently because of my heart. They just boasted that I was a living miracle. I felt bad for my seven siblings whenever they were reminded that anything was possible if Paul’s heart was still beating.
“Let’s do this!” Mom said excitedly as she parked in front of my future high school, Mount Olympus High. Her brown dress stamped with yellow flower patterns flowed in the breeze when she got out of the car.
“Did you bring your pompoms, too?” I asked.
“No, just a shirt with your face on it,” she replied, locking the doors.
We entered the school, Mom’s hair bouncing with her every step as she commented on all the posters and class projects hung on the walls.
I was greeted by the other boys when we entered the indoor pool area, where we were told our mission for the day was to swim a mile without stopping. Well, except for me. I was allowed to hold on to the edge of the pool when needed.
Mom and I parted ways. I headed to the locker room to change, and she made her way to the bleachers.
Coach Dave stopped me before I could reach my destination. “How are we feeling, Paul?” He wore a cardigan sweater despite the 80-degree weather, bald head reflecting the light from the tall glass windows.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I frowned at his thick, foggy glasses.
“Good.” He took the glasses off and wiped the lenses on his sweatshirt. “Very proud of you, kid. And remember, if you’re feeling tired—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t drop dead in the middle of the pool,” I said as he put his glasses back on, fixing them on top of his nose. “And if I spot the Loch Ness Monster, I can always use that curly mustache of yours to help me float.”
“Very funny.” He nodded. “Go get ready.”
I entered the locker room and quickly put on my swim shorts, but the reflection of my massive scar pulled me to a stop on my way out. It was long, streaking from my left armpit all the way to my back, underneath my shoulder blade.
I placed a hand over my chest. “Don’t fail me today... please, please, please, please.”
I walked out to meet the others and approached the edge of the Olympic-sized pool. Mom waved proudly once she spotted me. I returned the gesture with a thin smile. For a second, I wondered if I made a mistake in thinking I could do this. I looked at the other boy scouts, knowing they were going to finish their laps way before me, and then glanced at the spectators on the bleachers. Many probably didn’t know who I was. What would they think of the boy coming last? I knew, at the very least, my scar would inspire some pity in them. And I hated that.
“Alright, everyone jump in!” A blaring whistle followed Coach Dave’s loud voice.
We dove in, the water too freaking cold for an indoor pool. With every kick of my feet and move of my arms, I was reminded of how unqualified I was.
I kept pace with the others for a lap and a half, Sawyer fluttering wildly, before my lungs suddenly craved air, and my muscles decided to go on vacation. Heavy breaths replaced my optimism. I held on to the edge of the pool, watching the other boys continue. After resting for a few seconds, I carried on swimming only to have my body start shutting down again.
I kept repeating the cycle. Hold the edge. Swim a little. Hold the edge. Swim a little. People would be surprised at how much of a workout that was. Though a part of me worried what the others thought, I was determined to finish regardless of the cost.
The other scouts were already wrapped in towels, standing by the edge of the pool laughing and goofing around. They were done. I was still dragging and swimming, wondering if I was going to finish. But every lap was already a victory. Everyone else could wait a little longer.
Suddenly, every single one of Sawyer’s frantic beats turned into victory horns. I laughed the moment I finished my last lap. I climbed out, my body shaking, my fingers wrinkled like shriveled prunes.
Dave approached me, a high five at the ready. “You did it, kid.”
I slapped his palm with my own. “Yeah,” I said behind heavy breaths, lowering my hand to my thumping chest.
I looked over my shoulder, surveying the empty pool and the crowd on the bleachers.
I did it. I finished.
Coming Full Circle
JULY 2005
Olivia and I arrived at the Assembly Hall early. After being greeted at the back door, we were led to the green room. She had my suit jacket in hand, holding the hanger by the hook.
“Pretty surreal that we’re here.” Olivia said with wide eyes, closing the door behind us. “We’re actually backstage. Can you believe it?”
I laughed and told her to pinch me. My reflection appeared in the wide mirror on the wall to my right, gelled hair reflecting the scattered light. “I heard we have a full house. Who would’ve thought?”
“I don’t think you’ll need that emergency Elvis song tonight,” she said, handing me my navy-blue suit jacket with a thin smile. My eyes scanned her body’s figure as I put it on, admiring the way her dress accentuated her curves.
“Still can’t believe we’re here.”
“I’m so proud.” Her hazel eyes looked down as she caressed her belly. “Are you proud of your dad, too?”
“Fingers crossed he is,” I said, gaze fixed on her face.
In front of the mirror was a long wooden table crowded with trays of fruit and cheese. Beside them were red plastic cups and soda bottles.
After pulling out a chair for Olivia, she sat down and reached for the bottle of Diet Coke. “I’m not even going to ask which one you want,” she said, twisting the cap.
“It’s a shame they only have one bottle.” I sat beside her, observing our reflection.
Maybe it was the lighting in the room, but my dark circles looked like charcoal smudges, adding a touch of gray to my blue eyes. My cheeks were puffed, my skin flushed. But Sawyer was still pounding.
“Being here is full circle for me.” She slid a red cup of Diet Coke over and then poured herself one. A long sigh followed. “I never told you, but Mom played piano here before she died.”
“Really?” I said, body suddenly numb.
“Sorry if this is a bit out of nowhere. It’s just that being here is sparking all sorts of emotions.” She took a sip from her cup. “It’s a sad thing to say, but when I think of her, I only remember sickness and pain.” She fixed her brown locks behind her ears, pursing her lips. “I’d watch my siblings help her to the bathroom so she could vomit after her treatments. I was three. It was horrible.”
She had shared a few things about her mom’s disease in the past. But Olivia’s days with her dying mother were somewhat of a mystery. She often chose not to talk about them. Her dad had been my main source of information for that time.
Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “In the few good memories I have of her, I hear her voice whispering, ‘Seeing the cup half full paves the way for many blessings.’ I’d look at her every time she repeated it, wondering how someone in her condition could keep saying that.”
“How come you never told me?” I asked as she rose to her feet.
“Some things are just for me. That was one of them,” she replied as a frown formed on her face. “Funny how life works, right?” The corners of her lips trembled. “You always want to avoid painful situations, and plenty of times that’s exactly how you get placed right in the middle of them. You choose to believe in some sort of miracle only to be disappointed in the end.”
“What do you
mean?” Sawyer rushed his pace.
“I used to believe Mom would get better. But then she played here and died.” Her eyes grew vacant. “Now you’re playing here and—”
A knock.
“Hello!” Dad appeared from behind the door.
“Hey, you!” Mom emerged beside him, both of them wearing their Sunday best.
“Hey.” I got up and gave them a hug, Olivia’s words playing out in my head. “You guys are early.”
“You know how much your dad dislikes looking for parking,” Mom said.
We all shared a laugh. “I see you’re stocked up on food.” Dad circled the table, carefully inspecting the choices on display.
“Help yourself to anything you want,” Olivia said, struggling to keep her emotions from showing on her face.
“How’s the baby?” Dad asked, a few grapes in hand.
“Very good,” Olivia replied. “Growing.”
Dad nodded before turning to me. “And how are you?”
“I’m good. I keep thinking about this hall.” I put my hands in my pockets. “I mean, there’s a Steinway Model D on stage. That alone would have made me happy even if no one showed up.”
“The finest piano for the finest son,” he said in a serious voice. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I wish Jonahs was here to see this. I’d find a way to sneak in a few bars of Rush for him.”
“There’ll be other opportunities,” Dad said.
“He called, by the way.” Mom reached for a slice of cheddar. “Wished you good luck.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll give him a ring tomorrow.”
“Alright, Maggie, we should head inside.” Dad grabbed an apple.
“Be honest; you only came early for the free food.” I chuckled.
“How did you guess?” Mom smiled after taking a cracker.
“Good luck, Son,” Dad said.
“Bye, you two.” Mom waved. “It’ll be great.”
I returned to my chair after they left, lacing my fingers over the table. Olivia kept pacing around the room.
“You can sit back down.”
“I’m alright.” She nibbled on the corner of her thumb.
“I want you to know I’ll make it through this ordeal,” I declared.
She halted and looked at me, confused. “I’m sure you’ll be amazing tonight.”
“No, I mean I’m going to beat the odds of this jacked up heart.”
A few members of the backstage crew entered the room, interrupting us, and Olivia left soon after.
The moment I walked onstage, the crowd stood and applauded. They weren’t there to see some random artist or because they felt sorry for the man with half a heart. They knew me. They knew my music. They knew my journey. The crowd reminded me of the pool and how hard I’d worked to finish my laps. How, even if I had to cling to the edge, I could accomplish my goals.
Peace came to me as I played. I looked around the room and could somehow feel a divine power wrapping a blanket around those present. But even in the middle of such a glorious moment, in the back of my mind, Olivia’s words echoed like haunting lyrics to my melodies.
“She played here and died. Now you’re playing here.”
Brothers (part one)
JULY 2005
Jonahs called the day after the concert, apologizing for not making it. I told him not to worry, but he insisted on me coming up to the family cabin on Saturday so we could go fishing. I quickly agreed, thinking he probably needed to talk after what happened to him. He had yet to broach the subject since being sent home from the hospital.
After a week of working on my new album, Primary Worship, and shopping for baby stuff, I was on my way to Pines Ranch in full fly fishing armor: a vest packed with supplies, beige waders, and pull-on wading boots with new felt on the base so I wouldn’t slip on the rocks. The thirty-minute drive inspired me to be bold and roll down my windows in the Utah summer. My courage lasted for as long as it took me to start sweating. I rolled the windows back up, and blasted the A/C, along with a Rush song from the CD I had burned especially for the weekend.
Pine trees stretched far beyond my line of sight, and snow covered the mountain peaks on the horizon. I drove slowly. Distractedly; the memory of Olivia’s rigid face and those haunting words sparking all my doubts. My attention switched between the road and a photo stuck to the car’s dashboard of Olivia and me. In the picture, we smiled at each other. If a stranger were to glance at it, unaware of my story, they’d think we were just an ordinary couple.
Sawyer pounded faster against my ribcage as the conversation replayed in my head like a piano scale—up and down, up and down, back and forth. Maybe, deep down, she wished she’d listened to her dad and not chosen me.
I feared being right and shoved those thoughts away.
After turning off the highway, I drove another half a mile until coming to a dirt road. I lowered the music at the sight of the cabin gates, the words Pines Ranch suspended in an arch.
The dense pine forest had been replaced by a vast field of grass crowded with grazing horses and skipping foals. Driving down the dirt road brought me back to my childhood. This place was stuck in time, never changing—a reminder of simpler days.
The cabin, built by my father and uncles, was in full view as I pulled around the final curve. Mountains peaked behind it, their summits disappearing into clouds. Jonahs emerged from the door before I even parked. I rolled down the window as he rushed my way.
“I thought you were never going to make it,” he said, a red plaid shirt, blue jeans, and boots his outfit of choice. Jonahs insisted on keeping a short buzz cut and a stub of a beard.
“What are you talking about?” My hands abandoned the steering wheel, falling to my lap.
“You drive like an old lady, Paul.” He shrugged. “It’s either that, or you took the long route.”
His voice faded as I turned up the music, banging my head to Rush’s “YYZ.”
Jonahs shook his head, clearly disapproving of my brief rebellion. I shut off the car and opened the door. His arms wrapped around me before my feet could even hit the ground.
“Good to see you too,” I said.
“Same.” He looked me up and down. “You look good,” he said, tilting his head to the side, a common gesture after people complimented me. I wondered if they knew their faces didn’t match their words. But then, I knew my appearance shocked them.
“Thanks.” I tapped my stomach. “Keeping the weight off, you know.”
“Very funny.” More disapproval followed. “And hey, sorry I couldn’t make it to the concert. Really wanted to.”
“No worries.” My arm hooked around his shoulders. “I’m just happy you’re alright.”
“So, you drove here dressed in full gear.” He snickered. “Tell me, is my famous musician brother so short on cash he can’t afford luggage and has to wear all his gear?”
“I’ve barely arrived, and you’re already testing my patience,” I said. “I’ll be honest, I think the only reason you keep shaving your head is because you know you’re going to be bald in five years.”
My words earned a smile. “Come on,” he said. “Hannah cooked lunch. It’s probably already cold since it took you forever to get here.”
“What can I say?” I smirked. “I followed the speed limit.”
“The words of a person lacking an adventurer’s spirit.” He leapt up the steps to the porch, standing with hands on his waist and legs spread out like a superhero.
The inviting smell of a home-cooked meal filled my nose as I neared the door. Hannah appeared in the doorway, her blonde hair tied back and an old white apron around her waist. “What’s up, Pollyanna?” she said with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry. We’ve been waiting an eternity for you, but glad to see you finally made it.”
“Now you’re just being too nice, Paulie,” she said. “Give me some time to set the table. You want something to drink?”
“You guys have any diet soda?” I sat on the couch.
“We knew you were coming,” Hannah said. “There’s plenty of Diet Coke for you.”
“Water for me, honey.” Jonahs sat next to me. “Unlike some people, I don’t enjoy drinking poison.”
There were family photos scattered everywhere, surrounded by oil paintings of mountains and landscapes. On the mantel of the fireplace was a framed photo Jonahs took of the cabin. He edited it to look like a photograph taken last century, adding texture and removing some of the colors. On the coffee table beside me was an old portrait of Jonahs and me as kids, riding horses with our siblings, Dan, Janet, and Greg.
“This is new.” I grabbed the frame. “Wasn’t this the week we forgot you when we went to church?”
“I think so.” He laughed. “That was an interesting day.”
Hannah brought the drinks and quickly returned to the dining room. Still holding the picture frame, I chanced a question I had never asked before.
“What went through your head?” I put the frame back and took a big gulp from the cold can. “When you realized we were all gone?”
“It’s human to forget.”
“I don’t think it’s very human to forget someone,” I retorted.
“I wasn’t forgotten by you guys,” he said. “I was simply left behind. If I had really been forgotten, Mom wouldn’t have come back to pick me up.”
I kept my eyes on the frame. “You never really spoke about it. You also ended up missing church.”
“Lunch is on the table.” Hannah’s voice startled me.
“Enough of this.” Jonahs finished his water and darted to his feet. “Time to eat some grub,” he said, walking to the kitchen.