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Josh can’t sleep. There’s rustling and rattling coming from his backyard that’s probably coming from the local neighborhood raccoons or – an irrational fear of his that he’s kept hidden since age six – rats. The thought of a group of Remys emerging from a toxic sewer from downtown Ohio currently partying in his parent’s back garden (where his treehouse is) rattles him. This is what happens when he takes his pills a little later; suddenly, he’s facing a deeply personal childhood fear while glued to a pillow, burrowed in blankets like a rabbit. Rabbits are scared of rats, right? He checks the clock, then his bedside calendar. He has school tomorrow and to his dismay, the time reads 2 AM. His eyes burn and somewhere deep in his brain, he feels a migraine quietly brewing, that knowing-its-coming feeling when you cross a street knowing there’s no ignoring the big NO PARKING sign you always see near that traffic light. Just what is thrashing the place?
Josh tells himself it’s raccoons digging through the dumpsters back there and tries to sleep. He folds the pillows to cover his ears and prays, because situations like these call for a little spiritual guidance from something bigger, stronger. The Universe isn’t really fair, and God has favorites. Get over it, Joshua Dun, it will pass.
Obviously, it does not pass. Turns out, it’s not a problem of what, but who.
The man – no, his 2 AM brain tells him, his face is too young looking, and he swears he’s seen him somewhere, anywhere; it’s only right to call him a boy, a kid who’s sneaking around past his curfew, like Josh does on some nights to buy popsicles from the 7-Eleven at the end of the block. Right. Was he ever this Sherlock-y to strangers?
The stranger just smiles at him, like he’s divulged some kind of potentially embarrassing secret. Because, of course, he probably just did. He’s in his pajamas. Josh pushes the blame onto the hot Ohioan summers and its hellish nightly temperatures only because it makes his heart beat a little less quicker, leaving him less of a clumsy nervous wreck. He didn’t expect other human beings (except his parents) to be within 5 miles of him tonight, what a surprise. Honestly, he expected rats.
“Rats?” the strange boy asks and it sounds like an insult. Lighthearted, but still, ouch. “Really man?”
Wow, he thinks self-deprecatingly, I’m having a conversation with a boy in a skeleton hoodie in my backyard right now instead of sleeping. Or studying for the test tomorrow. He doesn’t like thinking about the math exam waiting for him tomorrow, that’s for Friday Josh to handle.
“I’m just glad you didn’t turn out to be a group of rats in a hoodie, okay.” He tries to smile, but his facial muscles don’t stretch the right way so it comes out lopsided. Real life isn’t meant to resemble all the raunchy comedies he watches too much of – but hey, at least if he turns this guy off, he might finally scram or something. Josh really wants that. Upon further thought…
“Wait! What are you doing in my backyard?”
His nerves are a little late to the party, shooting up his body with fear all of a sudden. Come on, what if the kid’s just trying to have a little fun?
“Now’s a little late for that.” The stranger who can’t be older than 17 answers, explaining visibly deadpan: “Not just your backyard, but everyone’s. It’s this thing I’m doing to help out my mo– the church.”
Josh pauses for a moment. Church. If he’s from church… something something can’t be a bad guy then. The boy is still walking circles around the lawn he mowed just last weekend before reaching over to shake his hand. Josh takes it, hoping his palms aren’t too sweaty.
“You didn’t ask, but I’m Tyler.” His eyes burn holes into his soul and he can’t seem to look away or even shoo him for his unauthorized break-in. He realizes this churchgoer is trying to turn him; Tyler’s voice is pleasant. Extremely pleasant. “I’ve been handing out flyers for The Believers Church. My mom started the church and my dad’s a pastor there. We gather every Sunday at the community hall at 9 AM. Have you been baptized yet?”
“Um, no.”
“Well we also offer baptizing services at most aquatic centers, your pick. Just in case, if you ever happen to have a change of heart. Whatever.” That last word falls like an axe to a wooden block, rendering all barriers between them as invisible in a vulnerable show of honesty. He goes silent, and the quiet stretches between them for a while. Inhale, exhale.
Tyler doesn’t leave for a while.
“I’m not sure if God would approve sneaking into random strangers’ backyards.” Josh says to brighten the mood, not like he often tries to. This is his first time talking to a new person in his life and all he brings to the table is a lame joke most Christians would scoff at him for making.
Josh learns that Tyler is different, as the giggle that leaves his lips is palpable. “Trust me, God's a pretty chill guy most of the time. You know they’ve been forcing me to do this, right? To spread ‘The Word’. I just don’t think this is the right way.”
“I mean, yeah. Who reads flyers anymore?”
“Point proven.” Tyler grins, and his megawatt smile is strong enough to power all of Ohio… maybe. He’s often told he’s a little too dramatic.
So, Josh is most definitely not instantly fond of this guy. He’s not going to ask him what school he goes to or what his Facebook is. He’s not that out of his mind yet contrary to what his therapist thinks of him.
“Finally,” prompts Tyler, “we also pray for people who seek His guidance. Maybe you..?” They’re spinning circles around his back garden now, wandering without purpose. It feels a lot like freedom with wind swirling around them, leaves falling every now and then.
“I’ve got this important exam tomorrow. Math,” he blurts out without thinking, not quite ready to end the conversation yet. A small voice in his heart says that maybe his spiritual side is really making a comeback after all and…
“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing bothering you.”
It’s not Tyler; not the gentle look in his eyes or the way his voice softens when he asks him to pour the contents of his heart.
“I may have clinical depression.”
He pats him on the back, leaning ever so slightly to whisper close to his ear, “I’ll pray long and hard for you, …”
It takes Josh a moment to process. “Joshua.”
“See you on Sunday, Josh.”
How dare he smile like that.
Tyler disappears almost as quickly as he enters his life, climbing the top of his fence before disappearing into the night. Josh has still got a math test to study for and sleepiness, so he tries not to mull over the moment too much. His schedule looks very empty this Sunday – won’t hurt to try. For now though, …
“I’ll see you there!” he exclaims loud enough for Tyler to hear.
There was no rat(s), but a magical boy and a miraculous encounter.