Free A New Death: CJ's Story by Josh Vasquez Page A

Aunt. This is something that my Dad, Uncle and myself have often wondered was a good thing.
    After Aunt Laura graduated high school, she stayed home with Hailey during the day and picked me up after school in the afternoons. Maybe all that quality time was where she gets it from. I’m told Hailey’s potty-training days were quite the experience .
    “I’m telling.”
    Hailey’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
    “Telling? On what?” I asked.
    ‘That you were listening,” she said, adding a certain younger sister emphasis to the word you .
    “I couldn’t really hear anything,” I answered honestly.
    She seemed skeptical.
    “What did you hear?” she asked.
    “If I tell you, you can’t go tattle on me. Deal?”
    She nodded.
    “They were talking about the cabin. I’m not sure why. I couldn’t really hear them through the wall,” I told her.
    I decided to leave out the part about leaving and it not being safe. And Mom’s crying. No sense in sending my sister into a panic. The women of our family were notorious for jumping to conclusions. Not just any conclusions either, but the worst possible scenario conclusions.
    “That’s it?” she asked, disappointed with the information I gave her.
    “Yep.”
    “That’s dumb,” she said with frustration in her voice.
    She turned back to her toys and music, shoving the ear buds back into her ears. I watched as she plopped down and began to play again. 
    I heard a door open downstairs.
    Leaving Hailey, I ran out into the hall to the edge of the stairs. I leaned over the banister, listening. I heard footsteps and the sniffling of what I assumed was still my mother. I waited a minute before calling out.
    “Can we come down?”
    There was a Moment’s pause before I received any response.
    “Yes, CJ,” my Dad said. “I need your help.”
    I made my way down the stairs quickly, but slowed myself as I reached the bottom, to avoid seeming eager. Most of all, I just wanted to know what was going on. I hated being in the dark.
    My father stood near the bottom of the steps waiting for me. Like I said earlier, Hailey received her height from his side of the family. I, on the other hand, somehow received my maternal grandfather’s stature. I wasn’t taller than Dad yet, but it wouldn’t be too long. Maybe next year I’ll finally inch him over him.
    But now, even as I stood on the bottom step, my Dad seemed to tower over me. The look on his face was one of concern, a look he reserved mostly for serious situations. He had his arms folded across his chest. Before I was born and shortly after, he was an Army Ranger. His appearance hasn’t changed much since then, with the exception of letting his “high and tight” grow out and putting on a little extra weight from not being as active as he was. I guess when you stop running and jumping out of helicopters, your body tends to slow down a little.
    He smiled at me when I reached the ground level, but it seemed forced through his set jaw line. It was as if he was trying to smile for my sake. I rarely saw my father worry, so his stance really began to work a number on my imagination.
    What would have Dad so worried? I thought.
    His Ranger days were now well behind him, and Dad found himself in a slightly different line of work.
    He was a pastor.
    Well, Assistant-Pastor , if you want to be technical, but from what I overheard, they share the work load pretty evenly. It was more of just a title, than anything; they were both full-fledged pastors.
    During his service, my father became a believer and surrendered to the call of ministry. He attended seminary, once finished with the Rangers, and began working on a degree in pastoral ministry. Not too long after graduating, we moved to Florida where he worked as a youth pastor, but after a few years, we moved back home to Savannah. He helped plant a small church in Pooler, a small town outside of Savannah, where he currently works.
    My father was one of the strongest Christians I knew.