Chapter Twenty-Six
Lucky held the envelope up and looked at it again. He'd been reaching for it and placing it back on the bed several times, afraid to open it up. He placed it back down and threw his head back on his pillow. He felt so tense and anxious and craved a drink. He imagined a nice bottle of Southern Comfort, his favorite liquor. Mentally, he unscrewed the top and tilted the bottle back, letting the strong liquid ease its way down his throat. The drugs had mainly been a diversion, something different to try. But the alcohol…he really wanted it - bad.
Lucky picked the envelope up again and slowly ripped open the flap. He didn't raise the flap, but pushed the envelope away from him. He reflected on the last words his father had spoken to him, and he didn't know if he could take any more. Luke's face raged at him in his mind, telling him to go away, that Lucky wasn't his son anymore. Lucky's fingers courageously moved toward the envelope again and pried the letter out, placing it onto the bed. Lucky sighed as his fingers rubbed the paper and noted the texture.
"Aw, what the hell," he said, grabbing the letter and yanking it open. He cautiously began reading it. After a few minutes, he carefully folded it back into thirds and placed it back into the envelope. "I love you, too, dad," he whispered.
Lucky bent over and opened the table next to his bed, intending to place the letter in the drawer. He saw a bible there, pulling it out instead and tucking the letter into the back of the book. After some of his immediate crises were resolved, and he was moved out of ICU, Lucky had found himself alone more often. He didn't feel well enough to concentrate on television or reading, so he'd started thinking a lot. There were some things that he wouldn't talk to anyone about, even Kevin. He burned with shame over his robbery at Roy's, his assault of Carly, and his treatment of that Cindy girl. He didn't know how he could have done those things. His mind reflected on that night when he'd held the gun to his temple and felt its cold presence daring him to kill himself. He didn't think that he could ever describe to anyone how it felt to fully stand with one foot in death and the other in life at the same moment in time. But something pulled his foot from death and brought it back to the side of life. He remembered the warm, loving presence that enveloped him before he lost consciousness and the words that he had cried just before that.
Curious, Lucky flipped through the book in his lap until he reached the chapter that he was looking for. He flipped some more until he came the specific verse: John 3:16. He read the entire verse, chuckling when he realized that the mission people had only used part of the words. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Lucky read the next verse. "For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved." Lucky continued to read through the chapter, and he stopped when he read: "I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you." Lucky recalled his feeling that he was dying while on the ventilator as he struggled for his life. Did he really visit me? he wondered. Lucky placed his hand on his chest. Lucky remembered feeling such a warmth and peace. "What happened to me?" he asked aloud. Lucky's eyes began to grow heavy with the effort of reading, and he nodded off with the book resting on the bed under his hand.
~*~*~*~
"Hey, mom!"
Bobbie looked up to see Carly strolling into the brownstone. "Hey yourself," she replied. "I haven't seen you in weeks. Is your new husband keeping you busy?" Bobbie asked with a lilting voice and a mischievous smile.
"My husband, who's that?" Carly answered sarcastically as she sat down on the couch, her leather pants squeaking against the leather upholstery.
Bobbie asked wearily, "What's wrong now, Carly?"
"Mom," said Carly in a hesitant voice, "Am I a tramp? Do I come on to every guy in the room?"
Bobbie raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I'd definitely say that you are a sexual person, but not a tramp. Whatever would make you ask me that? Did something happen to you?"
"Maybe it's the way I dress," Carly suggested. She looked over at Bobbie with her low cut, revealing sweater. "Maybe it's genetic?" She paused for a moment, tittering. "I didn't offend you, did I, mom?"
"Oh, like you've never offended me," Bobbie replied with a trace of sarcasm and hurt as she self-consciously took a mental inventory of her outfit.
"I wonder if Sonny stays so busy with his business and leaves me out of it because he is embarrassed by me, that I'm not wife material." Carly looked sad and wistful.
Bobbie expressed the voice of reason. "All this is because Sonny wants to protect you and remove you from his business arrangements? Did it occur to you that he wants to distance you because he loves you and doesn't want you to get hurt?"
"Well, actually, it all started with Lucky," Carly stated, glancing up at Bobbie with a look that was hard to read. "He, um, he kinda sorta came on to me at Jakes awhile back. Actually, he was shoving his tongue down my throat, and Jason had to rescue me. Jake kicked him out after that."
Carly looked back over at Bobbie skittishly with a trace of a blush blotting her cheeks.
"So that's how he became homeless," Bobbie said with a slight shake of her head. "He probably was tanked when he did that to you and didn't mean it, but of course, that doesn't excuse what he did. Still, I wouldn't feel bad about it like it was your fault or that you asked for it, Carly. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I do. It's just that Sonny makes me feel so…insecure or something. I never felt that way with Jason. I always felt safe and protected."
"But was it love?" asked Bobbie inquired a raised eyebrow.
"Sort of," Carly said, hugging her knees. "With Sonny, it's just much more intense - emotionally I mean."
"Sure," laughed Bobbie. "Just emotions."
~*~*~*~
Tony stopped by Lucky's room before he left work. Lucky was asleep with a book under his hand. Tony turned around to leave without disturbing him, but Lucky called out sleepily, "Hey, Tony."
Tony went back and sat down on a chair. "How are you feeling, kiddo?" asked Tony.
"Better, but it seems like I sleep all the time," complained Lucky.
"That's a good thing. It helps your body to heal," explained Tony. "Are you having any more problems with wanting to leave the hospital? I hope not since it seems like you keep breaking something every time you leave that bed," he laughed.
"Kevin's been helping me with techniques to use if I start feeling funny or like I'm back with Faison." Lucky looked a bit upset at mentioning the man's name. "It seems to help some. Um, Tony, can I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure, Lucky, I guess so," Tony replied. "Fire away."
"Well, do you believe in God?" Lucky looked nervous at asking the question.
Tony was quiet for a minute, lost in thought. "Yes, I do, Lucky. I think he's the one who helped me get my life back together after I went off the deep end a few years ago. My granny Jones used to take us to church when we spent summers with her in Texas. It's been a long time since I've gone to any church, but I was recently feeling like I wanted to go back. Would you be interested in going to the GH chapel with me?"
Lucky didn't say anything for a minute, but then relaxed and said, "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Tony."