Page 42 of Consumed
The nickname was fond, not teasing, and it did something funny to Con’s spine, making him shiver even as he grew warm. To his family he had always been Salvation and nothing else. To the people he worked with, he was Agent Becker, or Con if they knew him a little better. Or the Phantom. Never Conny.
He sat across from Isaac, the letter between them. “That’s not my mom or dad’s handwriting.”
“Whose then?”
“One of my sisters, I think. Probably Humility. She’s the oldest of the girls.”
Isaac silently mouthed her name. Someday maybe Con would rattle off the entire sibling roster, including Diffidence and Redeemed. But not now.
“What’s she like?” asked Isaac.
“I don’t know now. I haven’t seen her in… God, over fifteen years. But she was… kind. She used to help me with my schoolwork when I was little. And if any of us got in trouble—punishment was paddling, prayer, and fasting—she’d sneak us something to eat.” He smiled a little at the memory of illicit peanut butter sandwiches.
“Are you ready to read it?”
Con winced. “Will you? I know I’m being chicken, but….”
Isaac grabbed the envelope and tore it open. “Happy to.” He cleared his throat.
Dear Salvation,
We’re all so grateful you wrote to us. We’ve been praying for you every week. You know, Dad read in the newspaper when you rescued all those people on the bus. We knew that Conrad Becker had to be you. We were so proud. But then we never heard another word from you or about you. Still, I was sure you hadn’t yet passed on. You have too much to give the world before you go.
Your letter told us some things about you that were hard to read. Mom and Dad and some of the others, your news made them sad and maybe angry too. Dad says you’ve moved away from the Lord.
But I don’t believe that. You were always good, and none of those things changes that. So me and my husband and kids, and some of our brothers and sisters, we’re praying that the others will understand that too. I think someday they’ll see the truth and they’ll know that accepting you and loving you just as you are is what we’re meant to do.
Until then, I’ll keep writing you with news of the family, if that’s all right with you. And maybe someday soon we can see each other.
You know, I have two daughters. The older one, Emily, she’s fourteen. And she hasn’t said anything, but I’ve been wondering about her. Whether she might like girls. When I finish with this letter, I’m going to go tell her that if she does, it’s all right. I still love her just as much. Because hearing from you has made me think about how alone and afraid she might feel, and how much I don’t want to drive her away. So I thank you for that, Salvation.
All my love,
Humility
The kitchen was silent except for the ticking of the vintage clock mounted on one wall.
“I’m going for a swim,” Con said quietly. “Want to join me?”
“I’d like that.”
It took a couple of minutes for Con to change into swim trunks.
When he emerged from the bedroom, Isaac had stripped off his shirt and was waiting by the patio door. He looked larger than life in Con’s kitchen, and if Con had been an artist, he would have painted him just like that—skin golden, hair mussed, smile warm.
“Swim,” Con said.
And they did: laps back and forth for quite a long time with periodic pauses at an edge to catch their breath. Here in the pool together, Con could almost forget about the scars and the missing pieces of himself.
Eventually Isaac hauled himself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool, dripping and magnificent. He shook his head like a dog, sending droplets flying. “I already worked out today, you know.”
“And this is my second swim,” countered Con.
“Have you ever skinny-dipped?”
“Never. But I bet you have.”
“Are you kidding? I spent half my childhood running around as bare as one of those coyote kids. Sometimes a prude at a beach or campground would make tsking noises, and then Mom would give them a lecture about how children should be free and all bodies are beautiful and we should be proud to share them.”
