All of the apprehension and stress had burst out of Andrew one day when he was out with friends at a Chinese restaurant. Kate was in the hospital for her third week, and there was no sign of her coming home. Despite everyone asking how they could help, Andrew said he had everything in hand. He ordered one of those fruity drinks that had a dozen different types of booze in them, and practically chugged it before their appetizers arrived. He thought he was having fun, a pleasant distraction with friends during a particularly trying time. It was nice to be away from the hospital, far from the beeping machines and antiseptic smells, and with that sense of relief came guilt. How dare he enjoy himself when Kate was trapped in that hospital bed? Beneath his smile and jokes, he began to simmer.

Then the man at the table next to them asked him to keep his voice down.

Andrew snapped.

The next few moments were still a blacked-out blur, but everyone who was there had filled him in on the embarrassing details. Without saying a word, he got up, grabbed the table next to them, and flipped it over. Plates, food, drinks, and cutlery flew in every direction. The man who had politely asked him to chill out ended up on the floor. Andrew attempted to stomp his head and thankfully missed. Before he could try again, he was wrapped up by his friends, Brent and Mitchell. They dragged him out of the restaurant, Andrew screaming all the way that he was going to rip the man’s head off – in front of his terrified family, no less.

An automatic sprinkler popped up from a lawn, dousing him in cold water. Andrew veered into the street, running hard, breathing harder, the soles of his feet starting to ache.

No chemo. No chemo. No chemo.

With every heavy footfall, he repeated the mantra.

Envision it and make it your reality. Wasn’t that the stuff Ryker babbled on about all the time? A lot of people paid for that babble.

He’d been envisioning Kate’s health finally taking a turn for the better for ten years now.

No chemo. No chemo. No chemo.

No better, either.

The incident at the Chinese restaurant had been like popping the cork from a shaken champagne bottle. All of Andrew’s fear and sadness and hate for a Creator who could do this to his wife had finally found an outlet – rage.