The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

to the empty chair beside him. “No, sorry, Chip, she’s baking tonight.”

“Oh. Alright, thanks.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to her.”

“Is Pastor Rick not home?” Old Joe asked.

“He’s at Ping Pong, but I guess I just feel more comfortable talking to Maw-Maw.”

“Most people do,” Joe said.

“I know. I had some memories about the crash, they’re not all clear and, well, can you tell her I stopped by?”

“Sure thing.”

Jonas stepped back.

Old Joe stood. “Chip, you know I am here. You can bounce them off of me. If something is bothering you, or whatever, I wouldn’t mind at all, in fact, I’d like to talk to you. I remember that night. It was a scary night.”

It wasn’t that Jonas didn’t trust or like Old Joe, that wasn’t it. He knew there was a safety factor with Maw-Maw, a no judgment, yet honest zone. However, Jonas needed to talk, he was afraid if he didn’t speak his thoughts of the memories out loud he’d forget or distort them somehow.

“If you don’t mind,” Jonas said.

“Not at all. Have a seat.” He patted the chair next to him. “Watermelon?”

“No thank you.” Jonas sat down. The chair was comfortable, and he sank into it.

“That there,” Joe said. “Is a talking chair. Maw-Maw sits in it and doesn’t stop chatting.”

Jonas laughed.

“Now, let’s talk.”

“I had flashes of memories from that night. Sights, sounds, it wasn’t a long stream of the entire accident, but flashes. But they weren’t the memory feelings I have been getting.”

“Memory feelings?” Joe asked.

“It’s like I feel it, I sense something, but I can’t remember if it’s true. An example is the memory feeling I have about being a smoker. I can’t remember smoking. It just feels like I enjoy cigarettes.”

“Oh, you were a smoker,” Joe said.

“How do you know?”

“I could smell it on you when you were in my car.”

“Maw-Maw didn’t say anything.”

“She probably didn’t notice or remember. I noticed it because it immediately made me think of someone. Like …” he lifted the plate. “Watermelon makes you think of summer.”

“Oh, wow, cool, thank you. That just validated my memory feelings.”

“See. I can be a good one to talk to. So how much of the accident did you remember?”

“Not much. We hit a deer. I don’t remember seeing it, but he told me.”

“He? The passenger in the car with you?” Joe asked.

“He said to call him David. Most of what was flashing to me was about him. And we talked, but I can’t remember the context of it., I told him I had been punched. I can’t remember when or why. But it was a reply to something he said.”

“Which was?”

“He asked why I didn’t turn the other cheek.”

“Hmm.” Joe leaned back in his chair. “Then you were probably discussing something which happened that night.”

“I think so. I could feel in those memories I was so angry. So very angry and uptight. Yet, he was being calm and saying things that were just … this is gonna sound weird. He was profound.”

“In what way?”

“He said something about having to admit the truth so I can get on the right path. He said … Mr. Baker, when I asked what he wanted he said he was there to take the ride with me. Then the accident happened, then I saw him. I saw him outside that busted windshield. He said he had me, and he was there, and that was all I remembered until I woke up in the hospital.”

“You’re saying this out loud, you’re wanting to talk to Marge because in your mind, it has this idea.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Let me say this.” Joe leaned forward. “A lot of folks, including myself, don’t think there was a person like you or me in that car with you. Hence why they haven’t found a body. And if you remember him being outside the windshield, they aren’t gonna find that body. Either he is one lucky person and ran away for some reason or … you weren’t riding alone in that car, son. Marge will tell you, one way or another, Jesus was riding in the car with you. I think, and this is just me, he was, and he said his name was David.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does. Think about it. Think about the things he said. He got you. He’s there. Turn the other cheek. He’s taking the ride with you. Then gone, disappeared, nowhere to be found. He knew you were in trouble that night. Like they say we don’t walk alone, well, Chip, you didn’t drive alone.”

“Why me?” Jonas asked.

“Why not you?”

“Because I don’t know, I’m not worthy. A memory or feeling, Mr. Baker tells me I just …if I was all that worthy, why was I so angry?”

“First.” Joe held up a finger. “We’re all worthy. Second, maybe you were angry, not just about that night, but at life itself. Angry because you didn’t like yourself, and didn’t like your choices. I knew someone like that. They hated the world because they hated themselves. God loves us all, faults and all. Maybe He has a plan for you. Maybe that was why He put His son in the car with you that night.”

“Just to save my life? I mean why save my life and then have me not remember it?”

“All part of a plan. You forgot everything, right? But you didn’t forget the passenger in your car. To me that speaks volumes. You remembered what you were supposed to. Let me ask you this. Would it be all that bad to just go on the assumption that He was in the car with you? That you were given a chance? Your memory is gone so you can see through fresh eyes? To walk the walk, He may want you to? Would that be so bad?”

“No, Mr. Baker it wouldn’t.”

“It’s worth giving it a try. In my opinion, I also think once you accept who your passenger really was and what He did for you, you’ll find your path and remember.”