Castles On The Sand Part 17

"I've got Black Bear here. I know you don't remember him, but he was your favorite toy, and you gave him to me. Wouldn't take him back, even when you were leaving and I'm sure you guessed you might not ever see him again. All the time that I knew you, you were the sweetest, most forgiving person I've ever known. Someone pushed you down, you'd offer them a hug."

"Carson says I always do the nice thing."

"You do."

"So he says I'm destined to end up in a trailer park with some guy just because I can't say no to people."

"Fifteen angry emails telling me to shut up says that you have no problem saying no to people. He's wrong."

"Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

"JP doesn't want a girlfriend, but whenever he's wanted to hook up, I've gone along with it. It's like I can't say no."

"Well, sure, you're human, and I can tell you really like him. This mean you've slept with him?"

"No."

"Good. Don't, and that's not me just being a religious guy. You aren't even in a conventional relations.h.i.+p, which has gotta already be hurtful enough. Don't make it worse."

"He's not pushy like that. Except..."

"Do I need to take a deep breath and count to ten before you tell me this?"

"I gave him a backrub one night, on my bed and that made things much more... um... heated."

"Well, listen, and this isn't just your brother talking, listen to me as a guy. When you're that close with someone, know that you and your body will test any guy's control."

"No-"

"Dead serious. Yes. Guys are wired differently than girls, okay? I'm just telling you how it is. If you weighed 500 pounds and had chin hair, I'd tell you the same thing."

I blink and let that sink in. "Okay."

"And I told you before, Jean-Pierre didn't make a good impression on me."

"I still think you were being a little racist."

"I really don't care about his ethnic background. I care that he doesn't realize he's dating one of the most amazing people on the planet."

"It'd be nice if he treated me like he thought that."

"It'd be more than nice. It'd be normal. Dating someone means you think they're wonderful. I mean, that's kind of central to the whole concept of dating."

"I can't imagine a guy treating me like that."

"Not even Carson?"

"He puts me down. Told me I was being charitable for holding his hand tonight."

"Was he trying to be mean or was it a misunderstanding?"

"I think he thought I was flirting with someone else."

"And I take it you weren't?"

"No."

"Okay, dumb question. What I should have asked is, was the other guy flirting with you?"

"No. The guy's psychotic. There's no way."

"I think you mean psychopath."

"Same difference."

"No. Psychopaths are the dangerous ones. They've got no empathy for other people and no innate sense of morality. Psychotic people are the ones who can't tell the difference between real and imaginary and spend a lot of time very confused. Sorry. I'm trying to relearn psych before I start school again."

"Well, fine, Alex is the dangerous kind then. Total loner. Never talks. Wears a military jacket all the time and stares at people and flips his lighter." I realize as I say this that I haven't seen him do the lighter thing for quite a while.

"Okay. I'm not sure how that would preclude him being interested in you."

"He's also really, really good looking. Like, male model good looking."

"Uh-huh. And?"

"Come on, I-"

"I sense you're about to put yourself down again. Don't do it. I am the Y-chromosome holder in this conversation, so I am the expert."

"You're biased. You're my brother."

"Yeah, I'd think you were cute no matter what, but I can be objective. You're the kind of sister who makes a brother contemplate getting a firearm. Guys are going to go after you because of how you look, even if they don't appreciate the person you are. Deal with it."

"You are... psychotic."

He cracks up. "No, I'm not."

I chew my lip. "Mom got so mad at me tonight."

"Because you went out with Carson?"

"Yeah."

"She's not a big fan of the Church."

"I looked up stuff on The Book of Mormon online."

"I'm sure you found all kinds of garbage."

"Well..." I recite to him what I remember, about Joseph Smith translating gold plates with magic stones and then practicing polygamy and running for president.

"You've got the facts right, though I'm sure what you read didn't put the nicest spin on them," says John.

"You believe those facts?"

"Well, those pretty much are the facts. I mean, that is what Joseph Smith said about how he found and translated The Book of Mormon, and the Saints did have to flee west several times."

"What about the polygamy thing?"

"Oh yeah, that's true too. Our great-great-great grandfather had five wives. Scandalous, huh?"

"And running for president?"

"Mmm, I've got the election platform he used in my notes somewhere. That happened, yeah."

"And you believe this stuff?"

Much to my surprise, he laughs. "You mean, do I believe the religion that that guy founded? Yes, I do. I don't think he was crazy. I think there's more to life than meets the eye, and some of it will blow your mind. But you have to find out for yourself what the truth is."

"What if that isn't possible?"

"Congratulations, you're agnostic. I'm religious. I believe it is possible."

"How? By asking G.o.d?"

"Yeah. Follow the counsel in the Book of James."

"In The Book of Mormon?"

"Bible. New Testament."

"You believe in the Bible too?"

"Yep."

"I'm not really interested in all this stuff."

"Fine, sure. You're missing out, though."

"I read part of The Book of Mormon. It was kinda boring. If you obey G.o.d you get blessed, if you disobey you get cursed. I mean, I got it the first time."

"There's always more than meets the eye. You can't just read it like a novel. You've got to take your time and think it through."

"That sounds... even more boring."

"You ever hear of likening scripture?"

"Lichen scripture?" This, I fear, is going to get really weird.

"Likening," corrects my brother. "Taking a situation that comes up in the scriptures and thinking of an equivalent in your life. If you had to trek out into the desert and leave a comfortable life behind in Jerusalem, how grateful would you be to G.o.d? There you are, living in a tent when you used to have a house and servants. You think it's easy? You think it's obvious that if you do what G.o.d says, you'll be blessed? His first blessing was to get them out of Jerusalem before it was destroyed, but they never saw it actually get destroyed. Talk about needing faith."

"Oh, well, I guess I didn't get all that."

"The scriptures are about life, about real things that happen to real people."

I decide not to bring up again that his scriptures were supposedly taken from some golden plates that are now nowhere to be found.

"G.o.d does communicate with us. You've seen one miracle, after all," he says.

"You finding me?"

"Yep."

"I think that was a coincidence."

"Yeah, well, here's the thing, we all see miracles. It's what we do once we see them that makes all the difference."

"So I should be thanking G.o.d that you found me?"

"Well... only if grat.i.tude really is what you feel. You sure you wouldn't rather tell Him off for putting this really annoying guy in your life?"

"You aren't that annoying."

"Well, thank you for saying that, but... I dunno. I think people overlook a lot of miracles because they're more common than we realize, but if we sit down and think about all the coincidences that help us, we start to see a pattern."

"You sure you're not just picking a pattern out of randomness?"

"Well, try it sometime. See what you think."

Out of politeness, I don't answer that. Last time I agreed with someone to be polite, I had the senior cla.s.s psycho prank me with an a.s.sault. "Sorry for telling you off in email."

"It's all right. You don't remember me. I get that."

"Thanks for talking to me."

"Anytime. Seriously. Three a.m., I don't care."

"Thanks. I'm gonna go to bed now."

"I love you."

I have no idea how to respond to that, but without missing a beat, my brother says goodbye and we hang up.

The next morning I wake up after Mom's already out in the shed and take a good look in the mirror. I can still see the outline of the bruises on my face, but they're still fading. Mom's slap didn't bring any back.

When I meet up with Kailie to walk to school, though, she takes one look at me and says, "What's wrong?"