Instrument

The Prayer

At 21 years old, Samuel had started thinking about his life. It wasn't much, and that was what distressed him. He'd done it all just as expected. Raised in a good home, even after the divorce. Mom had been strict, but not extremely so, and had kept a good relationship with his father. School, after school jobs, homework, and church on Sundays. Samuel had been comfortable with his life until recently. Sundays were his problem.


He'd sat in church every Sunday, listening to the sermon, singing the hymns, even going to the deacon's breakfasts once a month after services. There were always interesting conversations there. The deacons were businessmen from every enterprise he could think of, and every week they seemed to cover the whole gamut of everyday topics from every angle he could imagine. One Sunday, the conversation had turned to religion. Samuel had rarely spoken during these talks, being a newly appointed junior deacon, but this particular week he'd been learning about all the different religions in the world in his psychology class at school. It had raised questions that he felt compelled to ask, and these men seemed to be a good place to start. They were, after all, major players in town and served as deacons in the First Presbyterian Church. When the subject of religion came up, Samuel listened to all they had been discussing until he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He sat forward and placed his forearms on the table and looked at each of the deacons in turn. They all fell silent, waiting for him to speak. The silence stretched for a moment longer than anyone was comfortable with before he spoke, "Have you ever wondered about religion? I mean, not only the 'what ifs' of who's right or who's wrong, but the big what if?" The older deacons stared at him, as if they were trying to decide if he was being serious, or if he was leading up to a smart remark of some type. He went on undisturbed, "You know, that 'what if we're all wrong?' question." The deacons each looked at the other in turn. A few of them took on thoughtful expressions, but several of them looked almost ashamed to hear the question spoken. His father, sitting across the table from him, gave a little smile before speaking, "Sam, I think most of us have had that question in one form or another at least once. The only advice I can give you is to learn all you can about all the religions, then ask the question of yourself again." The other deacons nodded sagely, but his father was the only one smiling.


Over the next several months, Sam went to another church each week. After going through all the churches, cathedrals, synagogues, temples, mosques and shrines, he finally came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to find any answers to his question at any of them. Then he came upon an idea. That Sunday, he went to his own church again. After services, while the congregation moved towards the big front doors at the front of the church to leave, Sam went up to the altar rail and knelt. He looked up at the crucifix, the candles, and all the finery arrayed there and said simply, "I do not know what is right or what is wrong. I don't know how it all works, but I want to. So, if you are God, or if you are just the universe unfolding, I will be your instrument, to follow the flow of creation as I am needed." A calmness seemed to flow into Samuel then, and he felt a profound sense of himself for the first time in his life. He had a feeling that things would be different. At least he hoped they would. When he stood up and turned towards the doors, his father was standing there at the first pew, looking intently at him. As he approached, his father took him in his arms, hugging him close. He returned the embrace, not sure what his father was thinking. They held on for a moment, then his dad pulled away and said, "Let's skip the breakfast today." Samuel agreed to that, and the two of them walked out to the parking lot together. Sam followed his father's pickup out to the baseball field and parked alongside when the older man stopped. Samuel watched him for a moment, then got out as his dad beckoned him to come over to the truck.


As he climbed in, his dad leaned over and opened the glove box, pulling out a half-pint bottle of bourbon and opened it. He took a sip, then offered the bottle to Samuel. Samuel was still new at a lot of things, but he had a little experience with alcohol. He took a small sip, then passed it back. His father slipped the bottle into the door pocket and smiled. "I'm proud of you Sam, I really am. I don't know what'll happen in life, none of us does, but I think you might just break the mold of your life if you follow through on that prayer."


Sam didn't know what to say to that, but he smiled broadly at the thought of where such a commitment might lead. They sat there and talked for awhile, the topic of discussion following no set pattern and changing often. As the sun arced just over center, they both looked at their watches, and Sam said goodbye so he could get home. As he stepped out of the pickup, the old man tossed the bottle to him. Sam grinned and put it in his jacket pocket and got in his own car. The two parted ways, his dad going to his apartment, Sam going home to mom's. Sam had a feeling it would be awhile before he saw the old man again, and he was right. But somehow, he knew that was the way it would be and it felt right. He spent the evening loading his car, making all those decisions about what you want and what you need and then went to bed, falling into a deep slumber almost immediately.


The next morning, Sam sat down to breakfast with his mother, and told her he loved her. She tilted her head, looking at him questioningly, "Where did that come from?" Sam just smiled and said, "I just wanted you to know that before I left." Her expression changed to a sort of blank look. She looked lost for a moment, then kind of shook herself. "Where are you going?" Sam looked down at his plate, "I'm not sure yet, but I guess I'll have to figure that out as I go." She looked for a moment like she was going to protest, but caught herself and sat up a little straighter in the chair.


"I guess I felt this coming, Sammy," she paused for a moment to look at him, like she was memorizing every inch of his face, "I suppose it's right that you go, I just hope you'll remember where home is." Sam grinned at her, "I won't forget that, mom, don't worry." With that, he stood up and went out to his car. At the end of the drive, he turned right and headed for the Interstate. When he got near the highway, he wondered how he would figure it all out. A cat jumped into the road, forcing Sam to swerve left. The flow of traffic pulled him along onto the Interstate headed south. He looked into the mirror, and saw the cat sitting by the lamppost on the corner, unharmed. The cat seemed to be watching him as he accelerated into traffic.


"Holy shit" was all he could say. He wondered if the cat was really a sign of some kind for a long while. For several hours he turned it over in his mind again and again, then just began to listen to the radio stations as they faded in and out across the miles. He was headed east, and had just crossed over the Texas line when he looked at the gas gauge. "Uh-oh...I sure hope I'm not too far away from gas." He watched the road sign approach, and he realized he had enough gas to make Amarillo. The sun was beginning to set in his mirrors, but he didn't feel really tired. So, he decided to pay attention to whatever he might see when he pulled in for gas, looking for a clue as to what his next move should be.


As he pulled into one of the big travel centers, he ended up at the only unoccupied pump, down at the far end of the row from where he entered, near the dark end of the building. He got out and made the long stroll inside and prepaid for his gas. On the way back to the pump, he heard a small whimper at the corner of the building, and saw a tall muscular man holding a girl by one arm and her hair. He was whispering to her harshly, and she looked terrified at whatever the man was saying. Samuel altered his course, approaching the pair. This was a rough looking guy, easily three inches taller than Sam, and with an air of violence about him that seemed almost palpable. He immediately took notice of Sam changing direction, and looked at him with a withering expression, "You don't want to come over here, fella. It won't be good fer yer health." Sam slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and kept walking towards them. A calm settled over him as he got close enough for the man to hear him over the incessant wind. "You'll need to let her go, or I'll have to do something unpleasant." The man's eyebrows arched up in surprise, "Like what, sonny, ya gonna kick my ass?" The teeth missing from his leering grin showed he was no stranger to violence. Sam kept walking, his hand in his pocket, "No, I'll just blow a hole in you big enough to throw a cat through." The tough's face froze, and he looked down towards Sams jacket pocket. Sam stopped about 8 feet away and addressed the girl, "Miss, why don't you come over here before I have to kill this man?" The troublemaker released her as if she was electric, and she nearly jumped to Sam's side. "Well you just go ahead girl, but I'll be around when he leaves, and it'll just be you and me."


Sam locked eyes with the man. "What makes you think I'll let you live long enough to hurt anyone around here?" Sam was calm, and the tough guy was suddenly aware of Sam's obvious determination. Something in his mind clicked, and he started backing away. After seeing that Sam wasn't following, he turned and ran, the hair on the back of his neck prickling, waiting for a bullet to part it forever.


As the man receded into the dark, Sam turned to the girl, "I hope you've got somewhere better to be than here." He looked at her carefully. She was about 5'3", with bright blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. Her clothes were good quality, but a little rumpled, as if she'd been wearing them a little longer than they were intended to be in use. The blue and white striped top fit tightly, and was cut low in front to accentuate the girl's cleavage, and the blue skirt hit her about three inches above the knee. Her eyes were dark, and she looked tired. She looked down at herself, as if to apologize for her appearance. She looked up at Sam and tried to smile. She couldn't quite place what she saw in his eyes, but it made her feel she had to speak or be lost forever. "I ran away from Fort Worth a couple of months ago with Ronnie, my boyfriend. We went out to California. We were gonna make it big out there, you know, get into movies and all that." She looked down again, "It didn't work out though. Ronnie started smokin' weed, and then dealin' it. I didn't want anything to do with that, so I hit the road with whatever rides I could get, tryin' to get back home." Sam looked at her, figuring her to be about his age. He gave her a small smile, "So I take it that wasn't Ronnie." She looked at him, shocked, then started to laugh nervously, "No, oh no no no. That guy picked me up in Albuquerque yesterday. He told me he'd get me all the way home, but when we got here, he told me it was time to pay up." She blushed, obviously ashamed. "When I told him I didn't have much money, he told me it wasn't money he was after. I jumped down out of the truck and ran. I thought I'd gotten away from him until just a few minutes ago." She shuddered, thinking about what Sam had walked up on. "He told me he was going to take what he wanted however he wanted it, and if I gave him any problems, I'd never see home again." Sam watched her for a moment, thinking about what needed to be done. He knew this was the beginning of it all. He held out his hand, "The name's Sam." She shook his hand, smiling comfortably for the first time, "Lori. I don't know how I can thank you, Sam." Sam thought for a moment, then looked around the gas station. "Come over here while I fill my car with gas, so our 'friend' doesn't creep back out of the dark."


She followed him back to the car, and they exchanged small talk while the tank filled. When he was finished filling the tank, he asked if she had anything she needed to retrieve from her ride, but she just shook her head. "All I had was my purse, and I've still got it." Sam beckoned her to follow him, and he went back to the front of the travel center. He pulled out a roll of quarters, and told her to call home. She took them eagerly, dialed the phone, and then added a few quarters extra for the toll. She spoke with her parents for a few moments, then Sam motioned for her to give him the phone. She looked at him, then just said, "Dad, I'm going to let you talk to Sam." She handed him the phone. He cleared his throat before he spoke, "Hello, I take it this is Lori's father?" The man on the other end of the line said it was, and Sam went on, "My name is Samuel, and I'm in Amarillo with Lori. We're fixing to pull out from here, and I'll be bringing her home to Fort Worth. Will that be alright with you?" The man sounded ready to break down, "Yes, yes, of course it's alright...how do you know her? Who are you?" Sam just said, "Don't worry about that for right now. We'll see you by morning." Then he hung up the phone. Lori looked stunned when he turned around to her. She was shocked, but hope was shining in her expression. "Are you sure that's okay? Can you really get me home?" Sam's smile was nothing more than a little movement at the corners of his mouth, "That's what I said, and that's what I'll do." She fell against him in a hard embrace, burying her face agains his chest. As she began to sob quietly, Sam gently turned her and put his arm around her shoulders. They walked back to the car, and he put her in the passenger's seat. As he walked around to get in his side, he noticed something on the hood of the car that made him stop. He grinned broadly, then climbed in and fired the car up and pulled away. As Lori fell asleep, he pondered his prayer, and thought about the feline footprints he'd found across the hood of his car when they'd gotten in. He couldn't help but think about the cat he'd barely missed and then watched in his rear view mirror as he left home. He pondered the nature of the universe and cats, and how it all meshed together in the answering of a prayer as the miles rolled by in the night. As he passed through Wichita Falls, he looked in the rear view mirror, thinking about the hard case he'd taken Lori from. "If I'm going to keep going with the flow like this, I'm going to have to get a gun." he said quietly.