Queen Esther & the Second Graders of Doom

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As she put away the workbooks after class, Essie pondered how overwhelmed she had felt about this “Doom Room” class. Hadn’t she felt like it was way too much to handle?

Suddenly, it wasn’t exactly clear who was teaching whom.

Cool.

Oh, it was cool all right, right up until Mark-o’s phone call that evening.

“Congratulations, Essie, you made it four whole weeks before the first call. That may be a record.”

Essie put down the stain stick she was using to try and get the Baby Tylenol stains out of a batch of Josh’s onesies. “What?”

“I was just congratulating you on going a full four weeks before some parent found something to gripe about it. That’s a pretty neat trick in my book.”

Essie sunk to the couch, deflated even before she heard the details. “Yippee. What is it?”

“Do you want the pastor version, or the brother version?”

Essie found the sheer fact that he had versions to be mildly annoying. “Which one’s more amusing? I gather this isn’t exactly good news.”

“Well, I admit to some level of bias, but I think the brother version has a bit more humor to it.”

“Ooo, I can hardly wait. Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Steven Bendenfogle’s mom is concerned that her son now accredits our Lord and Savior with the powers of X-ray vision.” He was laughing when he said it.

“That’s the brother version? And no, I did not say that Jesus has X-ray vision. As a matter of fact, I went out of my way to point out just the opposite.”

“I believe you, relax. How did the subject of X-ray vision come up, anyhow?”

Essie wanted to hold her head in her hands. Here she’d been spending the afternoon in a glowing joy about how the kids had really grasped the truth of miracles, and it was all coming undone in the space of one disgruntled mother’s phone call. “We were talking about the miracle of the loaves and fishes. They were really getting into it—you know, trying to figure out how that little bit of food fed all those people. We talked about God’s power, and what miracles are. They saw Jesus’ power as a sort of superpower. I think that’s a pretty good grasp for kids of that age. Oh, Mark-o, you should have seen their faces. They began to think of Jesus as cool. As someone to help them when they felt overwhelmed. It was great. And now this. I could just scream.”

“Look, Essie, don’t get worked up about this. You need to remember that we’re working on thirdhand information here, with one of those hands being eight years old. Things are bound to get twisted. You can’t let it get to you.”

“Then why am I suddenly envisioning ‘This session may be recorded for quality control purposes’? She doesn’t really think I told them Jesus has X-ray vision, does she? It’s…she can’t…”

“It’s no big deal. Actually, I think it’s rather funny.”

“You would, but…”

“What it does tell me, is that you have these kids thinking. Engaged. Working through ideas in their own terms. Surely the educator in you can see what a good thing that is. I’d much rather have this than a group of kids who can recite the books of the Bible in bored voices.”

“But…”

“It’s an imperfect system. We’re imperfect teachers. You’re not going to get perfect scores on this, Essie, ever. You’re going to miss the target lots of times. But it seems to me you’re going to hit the mark lots more times, and in the end these kids will be the better for it. Will you believe me if I tell you that this phone call just reinforces for me that I got the right person for the job?”

“Oh, yeah? Then why’d you call me to tell me Mrs. Bendenfogle believes I’m bordering on blasphemy? Why didn’t you just keep your satisfaction to yourself?”

Mark-o’s reply was a frustrated groan. “Be-cause, Mrs. Extreme Drama, I need you to tell Steven Jesus doesn’t have X-ray vision so he can go home and put his mother’s mind at ease next week.”

“I already told Steven Bendenfogle that superpowers aren’t real.”

“Then be more specific. Something along the lines of ‘Steven, Jesus does not have X-ray vision’ ought to do just fine.”

“Mark-o…”

“One kid got his information twisted. Now stop getting all worked up, simply set him straight and get on with it, no matter how ridiculous it seems. You missed one shot, Essie, not the whole track meet. And it’s not a competition. Look, if you knew how many calls like this I get a week, you’d see this for the minor detail it is. I get notes about how I don’t comb my hair, or how I don’t use the Bible translation they like, how the organ’s too loud or the praise band isn’t loud enough, or that we should be using white bread instead of wheat bread for communion—all kinds of tiny grievances.”

Essie moaned. “How do you stand it?”

“I try to remember that if they care enough to make a comment, then I’m at least getting them to care at all. In my business, opinion isn’t the enemy, apathy is.” He paused for a moment before adding on a sigh, “And some Sunday afternoons, you hit the golf ball really, really hard.”

“Okay. Young Master Bendenfogle will get his X-ray vision thing straightened next week, count on it.”

“I knew I could. And promise me you’re not going to get all worked up about this. It’s one detail in a whole stack of successes. Got it?”

Essie sighed. “Got it. Hey, wait a minute! Doesn’t seeing into our hearts, seeing past our actions into our intentions count as a spiritual sort of X-ray vision?”

The Pastor Taylor tone came back into his voice. “Essie…”

“Okay, okay, point taken. I’ll be crystal clear next week. By the way, what did Dr. Einhart say about Pop’s latest blood work?”

“The appointment got moved to this week. I…uh…meant to talk to you about that.”

In Mark-o’s world, “I meant to talk to you about that” translated directly to “I need you to take care of this for me.” Esther didn’t even have to guess what was coming next.

“The appointment was moved to this week on Wednesday at eleven o’clock, and I had to book a counseling session for that time. You can take Pop, can’t you?”

Essie fisted her hands around an unsuspecting bath towel. “We agreed to split these. I’ve done the last two. I’ve got something going on Wednesday.”

The silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes about how much Mark-o thought Essie might actually “have going.” He didn’t even have to say “can’t you move it?” His pause said it for him.

She beat him to the punch. “And no, I don’t want to move it. It’s an appointment, by the way, that I’ve had to bail on twice because you called me to pick up your end with Pop.” She stood up off the couch, pacing the room now, her agitation growing. “You keep saying ‘it’s just this once,’ but it never is. Both of us need to deal with this, whether you’re off saving the world or not.”

“I thought you came out here to help with Pop.”

“Hold on there. I came out here to help, not to take over so you could get back to your oh-so-busy life. I know you did lots of this before, and I know you’re an important man, but don’t go dumping all of this in my lap just because I showed up on the West Coast.”

“So you want me to tell this woman that I have to put off her counseling session—with a depressed daughter who has resisted counseling for six months and has finally relented—because I have to drive my Pop for a checkup?”

Oh, she hated it when Mark-o played the emergency card. Yes, lots of what he did was urgent, but it was always urgent. She hated how he made her life feel mundane and insignificant. How he made her feel selfish for wanting to keep a much-needed lunch with Cece. She’d already had to cancel twice on Cece in order to cover for him. He was a lifeline to lots of people, but did that mean she had to go without her own lifelines? “I want,” she said slowly, “for you not to have said ‘yes’ in the first place. To have found another time because you had a prior commitment. What about Peggy? Can’t she help you out?”

“Peggy’s got a sales meeting in L.A. for two days. I just thought…” His voice was so annoyed that he didn’t even finish the sentence.

“I know exactly what you ‘just thought.’ It starts with ‘since you’re not working anymore and babies are so marvelously portable.’ Taking Pop to the doctor’s is a pain, but when will you to realize it’s just as much a pain for me as it is for you?”

His silence told her he didn’t exactly see it that way. After a long pause he said, “So will you do it or not?”

Essie rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Were you listening at all?”

“Look, Essie, I just need you to cover for me…”

“Don’t you dare say ‘just this once’!” she yelled into the phone. Loudly enough, unfortunately, to wake up Josh, who was napping in the swing beside her. “Oh, great. Thanks, Mark-o, this is really how I wanted to end my afternoon.” Josh wailed, angry at having had his late afternoon nap cut short. “I’ll talk to you at adults’ Bible study if I see you. I’ve got to go take care of Josh.” With a growl, she stabbed her finger onto the off button of the cordless phone.

Chapter 8

The Downpour of Demands

The clock seemed to delight in clicking over another digit to the brutal hour of 1:30 a.m. Essie let out a sigh as she dropped her bathrobe to the floor and climbed back into bed. Doug, to her surprise, was wide-awake.

“Josh nod off finally?” His voice sounded as tired as she felt.

“We can only hope. I think I’m gonna die if he’s working on another ear infection. I finally gave him some Tylenol, and he seemed to calm down, so it’s either his ears or his teeth keeping him up.”