New Heart Church by Jim Barringer
Chapter Five
My phone rang at eight-fifteen the next morning. I opened my eyes, taking a second to fully realize what was going on, then leaped out of bed and charged across the room.
“Eli Radak,” I answered breathlessly, one ring before the answering machine would have picked up.
“Hello, Mr. Radak. My name is Chase Pierce, and I work at the Wells Fargo bank downtown. I received your job application and I’d like to know if you can come by for an interview today.”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’m free all day, so just let me know what time works for you.”
There was a slight pause, and the sound of rustling papers – hopefully not a large stack of other applications that they’d gotten. “Ah, yes, how about one o’clock?”
“One sounds just great to me. I’ll be there.”
“Great. See you then.”
There was no need to rush, as I had five hours to get ready and get to the bank, but I hurried anyway, jumping into the shower, coming out, putting my dress clothes on, and then feeling a bit silly as I realized it was still not even nine o’clock yet. I decided, somewhat on a whim, to grab a book, head down to the coffee shop Danny and I had gone to, and spend some time there reading.
I’d been reading an old Robert Ludlum novel, the original “Bourne Identity,” and it only took a minute of digging through one of my boxes to find it. Book in hand, looking so sharp I could pop a balloon, I strode out the door and almost ran into Stanley coming out of his own door.
“Looking swanky,” he said, eyeballing me up and down. “You getting married or what?”
“Next best thing,” I told him, “job interview.”
“Well, hey. That’s great news. Do you mind if I pray for you?”
“Sure,” I said, thinking that what he did in his room was his own business.
But he grabbed my shoulder and started praying right there on the spot. I glanced both ways down the hall, embarrassed, but Stanley was oblivious. I was actually so distracted that I didn’t even listen to most of what he said.
“Thanks, Stanley,” I told him when he was finished. “The other prayers about my job seem to have gone unanswered, but who knows, maybe God will actually listen to you.”
“What other prayers? Did you pray?”
“Yeah, I tried a couple nights ago. Didn’t know what to say, and it didn’t sound anything like what you just said.”
“Well I’ll be, son. You keep surprising me. Let me know how it goes. And hey, what do you say to dinner tonight at my place? A certain friend of mine, Miss Abbie Grant, is going to be there.”
“That sounds great. She’s a neat girl. I’d enjoy getting to know her better.”
“And so you shall. Six p.m. Don’t be late. You can show up wearing that, if you’d like.”
“I just might. Thanks, Stanley. I hope to be back with good news.”
The morning was cool and brisk as I strode down the sidewalk, unfamiliar clopping of my dress shoes echoing off the buildings. In about twenty minutes, I came to the coffee shop, taking a seat in a chair by the front windows, and opening the book.
I found, a while later, that I wasn’t reading at all. My eyes were skimming over the words, but I couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened in the book. My mind was still off in another galaxy.
Somehow, something had to go right for me.
A few hours later, I strode into Chase Pierce’s office. “Mr. Radak,” he said, looking up from his desk. “How are you this afternoon?”
“I hope that I’ll be better when I leave here,” I said with a nervous smile. “How are you?”
“Oh, it’s been busy, but good. Sit down. I see from your resume that you don’t have any experience in banking. What makes you think you’d be a good teller for us?”
I stumbled over the question. “Ah, well, you can see from the fact that I’ve had educated – I mean, that I’ve been educated. I’m capable of learning almost anything, given a little time and someone who’s willing to give me the chance.”
Pierce nodded, neutrally. “And what makes you a better candidate than the other thirty people we’re looking at?”
Thirty people? That rattled me. I knew I wasn’t the best, the most qualified, the anything-est out of thirty people. The unluckiest, maybe; the most insecure. But those wouldn’t land me a job. “Well, like I said, I think I can learn the job easily. I like dealing with people. I’d like to think that I can be a teller, can do something like that quickly and accurately, can bring a smile and good humor to the customers.”
“Can you give me an example of a time when you’ve learned a job quickly?”
I paused, nodding slowly, thinking of the best example. “Well, if you look at my resume, you’ll see that I had no experience doing most of those things before I actually started the job. All of the jobs I learned on the fly and in very little time.”
“I see.” He fiddled with his pen and I had the sinking feeling that I was about to get some very bad news. “Well, Mr. Radak, I’m afraid I can’t offer you the job today.”
“Oh. Thanks for your time,” I said, standing.
“Have a seat for a second,” he told me, looking me in the eyes, then breathing out, long and slow. “Look, this isn’t a part of the interview, but do you mind if I give you some constructive feedback on why I didn’t hire you?”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging.
“I believe you when you say that you could learn this job in a hurry. I believe you really could excel at it.”
“So what’s the problem?”
He fiddled with his pen again. “I believe you…but you sound like you don’t believe yourself. It’s almost like you expected bad news before you ever sat down here. Your handshake was limp and weak. You didn’t look me in the eye while you were talking. You just ooze insecurity.”
I stared at the stack of papers on his desk, digging my fingernails into my palm. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
“I don’t expect you to thank me,” he said, with a thin smile. “I’m just bringing it to your attention so you can work on it for the future.”
I blinked a few times. “Well, thanks anyway. For your time and for the advice.”
“I wish I could do more for you, Mr. Radak. Blessings to you as you continue your job search.”
I walked out of the bank, head down, cheeks probably red, and out into the cool afternoon. Disappointment and anger squeezed my heart, and I lingered on the street, unsure of what to do next. I wanted to go home as fast as I could and shut myself in my room, but I had a feeling I was going to run into Stanley; either he would catch me on the way in or come knocking in a little while. I resented him for caring so much; I was so embarrassed, and I didn’t want to explain what had just happened, but I knew I would have to sooner or later. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?
I went home anyway, and was surprised and relieved to make it all the way to my room without anyone haranguing me. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, I crashed onto my bed and closed my eyes, not bothering to change out of my dress clothes.
I was still there when a thudding on my door roused me a few hours later. I ducked into the bathroom to see if I looked alright; I was still in my dress clothes, which thankfully hadn’t wrinkled during my nap. Even my hair was still as it had been. Satisfied, I pulled open the door.
Abbie’s eyes widened. “My gracious. If I’d known you were dressing up, I’d have worn something more than a sweatshirt.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but it’s not entirely for you. I had a job interview earlier today.”
Even as I said the words, I groaned inside, wishing I could take them back. Mentioning the interview would prompt her, or else Stanley, to ask how it went. I should never have raised the topic. But it was too late.
“Stanley made steak for dinner,” Abbie told me cheerfully. “What do y
“Yeah, let’s do that,” I said, faking a grin. As I stepped inside Stanley’s apartment, I looked once again at the rows of pictures on the walls, all the happy and smiling people. For a moment I lingered on them, jealous of those nameless strangers and whatever they had that made them so happy.
“You can’t eat the photos, Eli,” Stanley announced from the kitchen, as he came out holding a steaming plate of steak and mashed potatoes in each hand. Expertly he laid them on the table, then turned around for the third plate and some barbecue sauce. “Get to the table.”
I obeyed him, slipping in to the chair nearest the door. Abbie took the seat on my right, leaving Stanley across from me. Momentarily, Stanley reappeared, laying his own plate on the table and glancing at Abbie. “You want to say the blessing, sister?”
“I’d love to.” She bowed her head solemnly. “Good food, good meat, good God, let’s eat.”
Stanley and I stared at each other, baffled, then burst into laughter. “What was that?” I asked.
“I got it from a movie,” Abbie said with a mischievous giggle, slicing her steak apart. “No sense wasting God’s time when there’s dead cow to be had.”
I shook my head in amusement. “Where have you been all my life?”
“Speaking of which,” Stanley said, “how did the job interview go?”
“What does that have to do with beef?”
“I guess if you want to be particular, it doesn’t. What, are you dodging the question?”
“I’d like to. I didn’t get the job.”
“Why not?”
“I just didn’t get the job.” I glared at Stanley, hoping he would get the signal: please don’t press this further. Don’t make me explain what happened.
Whether he missed the signal or deliberately ignored it doesn’t much matter, but he did indeed press further. “What did they tell you about why you didn’t get the job.”
I stuffed a forkful of meat and potatoes into my mouth, buying myself some time.
“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” Stanley scolded, taking the opportunity to spear himself some green beans from a bowl in the center of the table. Abbie sat mutely, looking at her plate, looking as if she was equal parts curious about the answer and sorry for how awkward I felt.
I swallowed and then met Stanley’s eyes again; he looked back impassively, a slight smile on his face, as if he knew what he was going to hear. “You really want to know it all?” I asked him.
“Sakes alive, Eli, I asked if they told you why you didn’t get the job. Why are you being so evasive?”
“Alright. He told me that I had a weak handshake, that I didn’t make eye contact with him, that he felt like I doubted myself and didn’t believe in my ability. He told me I didn’t have any self-confidence.”
“Do you think he’s right?” Stanley inquired.
“I don’t have anything to be confident about. Nobody’s given me the time of day in this job search so far. Why should I walk in there like I expect him to hire me?”
“You’re making your confidence a prisoner to your current circumstances,” Abbie observed. “You’re basing your opinion of yourself on other people’s opinion, whether or not they’ll hire you.”
“What else am I supposed to go on?”
“Look, Eli,” Abbie said gently, “I like you a lot. You’re funny, smart, and I’d enjoy getting to know you more, maybe even date you. But you don’t know who you are, and I can’t date a man like that. You’re missing something crucial at your core. You can’t give yourself to me, or any other woman, if you don’t believe that you have something worthwhile and valuable to give.”
I pointed angrily at Stanley. “Did you bring her here to tell me this?”
He shook his head. “Eli, what do you see when you look at me?”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“Answer the question, please.”
I sat back in my seat, flinging my fork onto my plate. “Fine, I’ll humor you. I see a fiftyish black man, who spends a lot of time helping people, who’s friends with pretty much everybody, who takes his faith seriously.”
“Okay, so I’m someone who helps people. The times when you’ve refused my help, has that changed the way I treat you, or the way I think of myself?”
“No…”
“Because I know who I am, even if you don’t agree with me. That’s what you don’t have.”
“How do I get it?”
Abbie leaned in. “You can’t tell yourself who you are. Someone else has to tell you.”
“But I thought you just told me that was my whole problem, me letting other people tell me who I am.”
“Not other people. One person. God. He’s the one who made you, so he’s the only one who knows what you’re really like, who you’re really supposed to be.”
I scowled, not expecting God to be brought into the conversation. “I’ll think about that.”
“Alright,” Abbie said, not wanting to push too far.
“You need to know,” I told Stanley, “that if it weren’t for all the kindness you’ve shown me, I wouldn’t be listening to you right now. You obviously believe in this God business. I don’t, but I have to admit that your actions make me wonder.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to be,” he said. “Now, why don’t you and I finish this conversation some other time. I think we need to enjoy each other’s company, get some laughter up in here.”
“I would like nothing more,” I agreed.
With that, Stanley launched into a hilarious story about some of the misfortunes he’d had while traveling the world on missions trips. Abbie and I were nearly in tears we were laughing so hard, and at one point I actually fell out of my chair and lay on the floor, in the fetal position, unable to even breathe. Abbie chimed in with a story of her own, and I shared a few from college. Several hours later, refreshed and full of good food, Abbie and I took our leave, and stepped out of the apartment.
“I had fun with you tonight,” Abbie said, brushing her hair back behind her ears.
“I always have fun with me.”
She laughed, looking up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and shaking her head. “Hey, are you coming on the hiking trip this weekend?”
“Yeah, I am. I didn’t know you were.”
“Surprise! I guess I’ll see you then.”
“Take care of yourself, Amy.”
Abbie winked, then moved in for a tentative hug, which I returned, unsure what was happening, but not wanting to offend her. “See you, Eli,”
I stood, leaning on my door, watching her disappear down the hallway. I could hear Stanley still banging around in his apartment, hauling dishes into the sink, running the water to rinse them off. Part of me wanted so badly to go back and ask him what he had been talking about. Yet a bigger part of me was still hesitant, scared maybe, unconvinced that what he was saying could possibly be true.
I stared at the door of his apartment, which was still cracked open. Going in to talk to him would be as easy as that. Two steps forward. But I didn’t go. I turned around and went back into my own room. Try as I might, though, I couldn’t get his question out of my head.
Who was I?