Marcus Redding: The Lost Episode

Everything was a blur. He was 18 years old and lost. He was barely able to hold down a job, working for Gladebrook Sheetrock during the week and doing his best to imitate the prodigal son on the weekend.

The guilt over Bruce's accident had simmered for a while, then boiled over. Insomnia made it worse. Nightmares made it intolerable. Every time he heard a car come to a screeching halt he would have flashbacks. He grew farther apart from his family. He couldn't even talk to them. Wouldn't answer his dad's phone calls. He was too ashamed. They were good people. He used to be one of them. Not anymore. His tolerance for alcohol increased and his tolerance for people decreased. His temper could be set off with a word or a look or for no reason at all. He was on a downward spiral and he knew it. He felt like he deserved it.

But he wanted peace. That's what he would tell people. Not that they asked. But if anyone annoyed him it was, "Leave me alone. I just want peace." If his boss rebuked him for coming to work hung over, Marcus would say, "Leave me alone. I just want peace." Some guy would set him off and he would throw punches and yell, "Leave me alone. I just want peace." Satan had that kind of hold on him, crying out for peace in the middle of a fight he had started himself.

He really did want peace. He would come home and do Google searches for the word "peace." He kept scrolling down and scrolling down, looking for an answer, until he came across the word "halcyon." He liked history and legends. He read more, "The legendary bird is usually identified with the kingfisher that was also said to nest on the sea and was believed to be able to calm the sea for the seven days before and seven days after the winter solstice." He latched on to the idea. In the back of his mind he could almost hear a scripture that started with "Come to me..." but he pushed it away.

The next day was Labor Day. Since he didn't have to work, he went to get (another) tattoo. He had been saving his left forearm for a good one. He showed the guy a sketch of a stylized kingfisher. He sat for a few hours and forked over a few hundred dollars and now he had a symbol of his spiritual longing permanently engraved on his body.

On the way home from the tattoo place he stopped to get gas in his truck. An old man pulled up to the pump across from him. It wasn't his grandfather, but it looked like him. The man noticed Marcus was looking at him and just said, "Hello, son." Marcus nodded. And now he was thinking of Grandpa Sam and looking down at the nozzle in his gas tank so he wouldn't have to look at the man and be reminded of his saint of a grandfather. He finished filling up the tank and took the receipt and threw it away and jumped up into his truck. He started to pull away but somehow he lost all his energy. He could barely move his arms. He eased over by the side of the gas station and took the keys out of the ignition. A wave hit him. A wave of grief, guilt, and anger. He laid himself down in the cab of his truck and cried for a long time. Then he fell asleep.

When he woke up the sun was going down. His arm hurt where he got the tattoo. He sat up in the truck and remembered where he was. He went into the gas station to get an energy drink. When he came out of the store he looked over at the gas pumps and saw the same old man was still there, looking at him. Had he watched Marcus all this time? Marcus tried not to look at him but the man kept watching him. Marcus stopped and said, "Do I know you?"

The old man called out, "Matthew 8:26" and got in his Oldsmobile and drove off.