As Sick as Your Secrets

It was really refreshing to receive such positive feedback from my retreat tribe last night. The consensus was that Steven's flashback should stay, so I'll make it work.

*Spoiler alert*

I spent this morning reading through chapters 2 and 3, and at tonight's hash session, I'll share the scene where Steven comes out of the drug spot and Subria is not where he left her outside.

 From Chapter 2 - As Sick as Your Secrets

Steven didn't realize how long he had been inside the building.  It wasn't until he opened the door of the apartment building and felt the cold hit him in his face that he remembered Subria.  He sprinted over to where he left her.  There was now at least an inch of snow on the ground.  Had it really been snowing when they got off the train?  He couldn't imagine that he'd leave her in the snow.  She wasn't there.  Had he even brought her with him?  Maybe she was still at the party with Renee.  That would make sense.  No – she had been with him.  He faintly remembered the look on Subria's face when she told him that she was cold.  Steven figured that he must have come back to the wrong place.  That was the only explanation – or at least the only one that he could really consider.  The alternatives were too much for him to even imagine.  His high was gone and the reality of what he had done began to choke him.

Steven ran toward the corner.  There was a coffee shop there, and maybe Subria was safe inside, keeping warm.  Then he realized that he hadn't left her with a plan.  If he was in his right mind, he would have told her what to do if she couldn't find him.  What was he talking about?  If he was in his right mind, he never would have brought her here in the first place.  Steven had become careless.  All those times he brought Subria here, nothing had ever happened to her.  She had been fine – or was she?  Had something happened to her then, too, and she just never said anything? 

There were two young men standing on the corner near the coffee shop watching as the blue and red swirling lights faded down the street. 

"Excuse me," Steven said.  "Have you seen a little girl?  She had on a pink jacket, I – I think?"

"Nah, man," the lighter skinned young man replied, as he drew from his cigarette.  "I saw that dude shootin' at that kid, though.  I even caught the license plate number, but I ain't sayin' nothin' to the 5-0."

So there had been a shooting.  Steven kept moving frantically toward the coffee shop, hoping against hope that Subria was inside.  He threw open the door and quickly approached a man waiting at the counter.

"Excuse me, sir, have you . . ." Steven began.

"You must be Steven.  Don't worry.  She's safe," the man replied before Steven could really ask.

"You saw my little girl?" Steven said, wondering how the man knew his name.

"Yes, I saw her.  A little girl, two ponytails, pink jacket, white shoes."

"Where is she?" Steven implored.

"I called Renee, and she came to pick her up."

"Renee?  How do you know my wife?"

"Subria gave me your number."

Steven's stomach knotted at the thought of facing Renee, and pushed the thought from his mind.

"Is Subria okay?"

"Well," the stranger replied, as he took his coffee from the counter, thanked the cashier and started toward the door.  Steven followed.  "It depends on how you define 'okay'.  Is she physically hurt?  No.  Perhaps a little frostbitten, but that will heal.  If you mean emotionally – well, that's another matter entirely."

"How did you find her?" Steven inquired.

"She was standing near the sidewalk in the snow, shivering, and as I walked up to her to make sure she was okay, there was gunfire."

Steven lowered his head and had a hard time making eye contact with the stranger.  "Was she scared?"

"She put on a brave front, and she covered for you."

Steven looked at the stranger with his mouth hanging open.  "What do you mean?"  Steven followed the stranger outside and stood in front of the store waiting to hear the stranger's answer.  In any other circumstance, Steven would have wanted to fight this guy, but he felt so guilty about what he had done, and he seemed to have a lot of answers.

"She told me that she didn't know what building you had gone into, but I know that's not true.  As a matter of fact, I saw her a little earlier.  And I saw you too.  I saw you leave her, and I saw what building you went into.  I saw how scared she was.  I saw her waiting outside, and I decided to keep an eye on her.  It didn't seem safe for her to be out there by herself."

Steven covered his face with his hands.  "God, help me!"  Steven bit his bottom lip to keep from crying in front of this stranger, but he wasn't successful.

"Look, my name is Phillip, and it seems like you need some help.  Thankfully, I was the one who found your daughter, but it could have gone another way.  You and I both know what's in that building."  If you ever need someone to talk to, here's my number.

Phillip handed a piece of paper to Steven, and there was an uncomfortable silence between the two until Phillip patted Steven on the back and said goodbye.  Steven knew that he should go home to see about Subria, but the shame he felt kept his feet moving away from home and toward his brother's place in Brooklyn Heights, leaving Renee to clean up his mess yet again. 

Steven found his way back to the train station and boarded the F train out to the York Street station near where his brother Junior lived in Brooklyn Heights.  Thankfully, Steven had keys to Junior’s apartment, so although Junior had taken his wife up to Lake George to spend some time alone before the holidays, Steven still had someplace to hide.  He had fallen asleep on the living room couch and woke up to the sunlight filtering in through the plants hanging in the window.  Steven went over and looked closely at the decorations on the Christmas tree.  Junior and his wife had great traditions – each of them had special ornaments to hang on the tree each year, and as he searched through the tinsel and candy canes, he came across a New York Knicks ornament.  That had to be Junior's. At the top of the tree below the star was an old gingerbread man ornament with the name Joy spelled out in golden glitter across the middle. Steven backed away suddenly, bumping into and almost falling over the arm of the couch.

Steven went to the kitchen to see if there was something he could eat for breakfast, and next to his keys, he found the paper that Phillip had handed him last night.  He unfolded the paper, and underneath the phone number, it said, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit." Romans 8:1.  No condemnation.  He couldn't imagine feeling no condemnation – from Renee, the kids, his family, himself, and definitely not from God.  He had made so many mistakes and caused so much hurt.  Did he even deserve to feel no condemnation?  He was intrigued, so he picked up the phone and dialed the number. 

"Without Cost Ministries.  How may I help you?"  Without cost and no condemnation?  His intrigue turned into hunger.

"Yes, is there a Phillip working there?  He said I could reach him at this number."

"I'm sorry.  We don't have a Phillip here," the woman replied.

"Are you sure?" Steven asked, placing his hand on his forehead. "I just met him last night, and he gave me this number."

"I'm positive.  This extension is actually for our rehabilitation outreach program.  Maybe your friend didn't make a mistake in giving you this number."

Although he was embarrassed by the operator's comment, his hunger turned into desperation.  "No, actually, I don't think he did, but . . . uh, I'll call back later, okay?"

"Sir . . ." the voice pleaded, but Steven hung the phone up before she could continue.