The Awakening of John - Episode 7

With trepidation and something else fluttering inside, John entered the house. It was silent and with no smell of cooking. Having been anxious about Bob’s presence, he was now angry about his absence. He half-stormed into the kitchen and saw there was a note on the table. “Hi John, I’ve gone to get us some takeaway, I thought Indian, easier to talk when there’s fire in your mouth as well as in your heart. Bob.”

So, he knew. Knew the pain his crass words had caused. Well, that made things easier, the barriers to his anger that had been getting smaller all day were now completely gone. He heard the door open as Bob arrived. He came into the kitchen, no words, no apology, nothing to defuse the ticking bomb.

John turned to stare Bob in the face and mimicked his words from the morning. “Feeling bad is good. Your body is wonderful, it heals itself.” He turned away, unable to look at Bob anymore as he screamed, “No, it fucking doesn’t! She died.” A sob broke from his chest as he tried to continue, “We prayed, we fasted, people had words about her being healed, she seemed to be getting better, and we were all praising you and then she died!” He’d grabbed the bag of takeaway from Bob as the explosion built and flung it across the kitchen. “I don’t want your takeaway or you funny comments or a sermon. I want her back.” And with that John crumpled to the floor, weeping. Bob sat down on the floor leaning against the opposite wall, curry dripping down the cupboard door and tears streaming down his face.

After minutes, John glanced up, defeated. “I don’t know why Jesus didn’t heal everyone, I don’t know why you don’t answer prayer. I don’t know what love is if it lets... I don’t know why I still go to church…” Then he noticed Bob’s tears, and the anger grew in him again. “Don’t you dare cry – you don’t have the right – you could have done something, you could have healed her – then there wouldn’t be a hole in my heart, there’d be no need for tears.”

Bob looked up and wiped his tears on his sleeve. Quietly he said “I’m not just crying for Claire – I’m crying for my friend. For his loss, for not being able to take the pain away now, for his sister dying… I’m crying for his loss, for how lost he feels. I’m crying because my words hurt him. I’m crying for every wound that we endure, I’m crying because of what love costs…” then, after more silence punctuated with sobs, “If you want me to go, I will…”

John looked up and something of Bob’s vulnerability touched him. He didn’t understand the tears, but they were clearly real. He didn’t understand the why of it all and the anger hadn’t fully gone, but it was the raw, unmitigated pain of loss that permeated his soul. Slowly, he shook his head. “I want you to stay, I can’t bear anyone else leaving right now. I want you to stay and explain, I want to know it hurts you as much…”

Bob nodded and gradually got up, opening the cupboard door to find a bin liner and a mop.

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