Rooms - James L. Rubart [72]
He started to toss it aside when a name in the lower-left corner caught his eye. Taylor. He looked more closely. The first name was smeared, but he could still make it out. Micah. Underneath, even more clearly, he saw the sell line: Talent rising. An Exclusive Interview.
Micah knew every magazine he’d ever been interviewed by, and Coast Life was definitely not one of them. He jogged back to his car, got in, and headed for the Seaside library.
His life in bizarroland had added another chapter.
||||||||
“Good magazine,” the Seaside librarian offered when Micah asked about the publication. “Just not enough readers. Went belly up nine months ago.”
“Do you have any back issues?”
“Maybe.” The librarian chuckled. “Problem is, a lot of people don’t realize when you check a magazine out of a library, you’re supposed to bring it back.” He stamped the inside of a book with almost enough gusto to break the spine, and Micah gave him a courtesy smile. The librarian stepped away from the counter. “Let me do a quick check.”
When he returned, Micah knew the answer before he spoke. “None right?”
“Sorry, good magazine, you know.”
Too many questions. Not enough answers.
The marathon continued. At a sprinter’s pace.
He needed explanations, not a slew of more questions.
As he drove back toward 101, he pulled up Astoria movie theaters on his cell phone. Bingo. Time to catch a flick and get his mind off the insanity.
||||||||
After the film was over, Micah took one step outside the Astoria Cineplex and yanked his Seattle Mariners baseball hat down over his face. He rubbed his hands on his shorts and glanced up and down the street twice before jogging across the lot to where he’d parked.
He scrambled into his car and hunched down in the seat. What was wrong with him? For crying in the ocean, was it a crime to go to a movie?
He turned the key and his car purred to life. As he pulled into the street, Micah tried to loosen his grip on the wheel. Boatloads of Christians were going to movies like this one. So it was a little raunchy, the humor a deep shade of blue, and they showed a little skin, but so what? All comedies these days were rated R. He was living for God again; it didn’t mean giving up everything.
How else was he supposed to get a moment’s escape?
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just stolen something and couldn’t return it. When he got home, he went to talk to himself about it.
“How are you?” the voice said as Micah stepped into the darkness.
“Saw a movie tonight.”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“We blew it again,” the voice said.
“Bad choice.” Micah slumped against the wall next to the door. “I knew it and did it anyway.”
“Will we ever stop?”
“God keeps forgiving, right?”
“Hebrews worries me.”
“What?”
“Chapter 10 says if we go on sinning after receiving the knowledge of the truth, then there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins.”
Micah leaned forward. “What does that mean?”
“Maybe just what it says. We know it’s a movie we shouldn’t see, but so many times we go anyway. So maybe for those times we’re not covered. I don’t know. It just worries me.”
Anxiety rose in Micah. The promises he’d made not to touch another movie he wouldn’t be proud to bring God to roared through him. Promises he kept breaking.
“I’m scared He’ll finally leave us forever.” The voice breathed hard. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re right. You are. We are. A follower of Jesus? Sure. The straight and narrow? I’m on the highway to hell.”
A deep sigh floated out of the darkness. “We’re not overcoming anything down here. Seattle’s not perfect, but parts are pretty awesome. I think it’s time to go home.”
“You’re right.” Micah nodded. It felt good to say it. Less failure. Less pressure to be good. Less facing all the painful issues from his past. A world where his relationship with God didn’t pour so much guilt on his head.
He walked out and pulled the door hard behind him. No matter how many times he talked to himself, it was still a little strange having his own voice come out of the heart of a tar black room.
Tomorrow morning