Faith

As I limped in from the cold, I nearly stumbled as I tripped over the same ledge I have for the past ten years. Angie’s Diner on Main had been our usual meeting place for nearly a decade, but my friend’s latest drama had kept us from meeting for nearly six months.

 

Despite the “Please wait to be seated” sign I strolled to my usual booth overlooking the busy street outside. She might not have been to our meetup in a while, but I still frequented this restaurant at least three times a week. I had been here so much that this table and floor had been autographed mine with paint stains transferred from my clothes and shoes. As soon as I slouched into my seat, Angela, the sole proprietor, cook, and apparently, the only waitress on duty, looked up from her grill and gave me a quizative look.

 

“Where the hell is your cane, Ryan?”

 

Without letting her finish I blurted out, “Damn thing slowed me down. Besides, I told you I’d give that fucking tripping hazard the hammer years ago. Problem solved.”

 

Angela rolled her eyes. “The usual; ridiculous quantities of coffee?”

 

“Keep it coming. I want to taste colors before I’m done here. Tonight promises to be a long night.”

 

“Have you even ever had a short night?”

 

“If I did, you might want to check if I was still breathing. While we’re on the subject that we’re not, tell that husband of yours when he get back from Tokyo, that I need those prints from the shoot...YESTERDAY. City Hall is on my ass to prove I spent their money on community art and not another of my frivolities.”

 

“As I told you six times this week, he gets in tomorrow night. I will tell him again and he will be sure to promptly ignore you.”

 

“Speaking of ignore, uhh... coffee?”

 

Angela might’ve taken this for rude, if she wasn’t already used to my caffeine addiction, and quickly filled my cup. At that moment the phone rang, and she, more than obviously relieved, left to escape another of my black hole conversations.  

My attention quickly shifted from my steaming life elixir to the patrons standing around. My friend was as usual, predictably late. I looked up at the smart menu board, my eyes wandering past the ads to the clock; 7:17 PM. Yup. 17 minutes late. Is this even the right day? It would not be the first time I showed up here on the wrong day for a meeting. This is what happens when habit meet age. The board read, “Sunday, January 12, 2028.” Nope. This is the right day.

 

Suspecting disappointment, I turned around to look at the smoker’s pit outside. I frowned as I caught sight of her with a cigarette in her mouth. At least this time it was only tobacco. Ever since Ohio became the 26^th state to legalize marijuana, I still could not get used to people baking in public. Never liked it, never will. The decision made the majority of states weed friendly, forcing the Supreme Court to finally overturn the Federal illegalization. Ohio became the champion of pot heads everywhere. Roger would have been so proud.

 

I got up from my seat, doing my best to not draw attention to my limp and tapped on the window. Her head shot around.

“What the hell are you doing? C’mon.”

I did not wait for a response and went back to my booth.

 

She snuffed out her butt and opened the back door, bringing a bitter chill with her.

“Trading one addiction for another,” I said to her, “You smell like poison.”

 

“Shut up, old man. As weak as they make this shit nowadays, the air is more toxic.”

 

“Tell that to my punctured lung. And 45 is not old, anymore. You’re nearly the same age as me, ya bitch.”

 

“Where the fuck is your cane?”

 

“For the love of Christ, I keep telling people that I do not need it.”

 

She sat down and removed two separate coats. Years of alcoholism had left her unable to stay warm more than ever.

Without saying a word, and potentially getting trapped again, Angela quickly poured her a cup of coffee and left.

 

“Enough banter,” I said, “It’s good to see you on the outside, honey. How’d the program go this time?”

“Boring as hell, same as last time. At least I had your letters to read. Most people in there have burned so many bridges that their alone inside their heads the whole time. It’s no wonder so many relapse.”

 

“You write enough prison letters, you begin to understand how alone people trapped in their own problems really are?”

 

“I still can’t believe that Shawn fucking Kinney is my sponsor.”

 

“Better that than the alternative. We were all sure he was gonna drink himself into a coma after the divorce. But, hey, kids have a way of changing people. Who knew he’d grow up?”

 

“Yeah, he’s been telling me that the Cleveland Aquarium and his son have been keeping him running nonstop. He never even has the time to think about drinking.”

 

“Yeah, I think our parent’s deaths had a lot to do with that too. He fell heavier into meth after Dad’s pill overdose, but Mom’s death really woke him up.”

 

“This might be shitty to say, but at least John passed peacefully in his sleep, long before he ever had to touch a nursing home. But, your Mom, I could not think of a more Michelle Kinney way to go.”

 

“Yep,” I said, chuckling, “sipping Bacardi and Coke on a cruise ship and a heart attack on the dance floor. None of us knew Dad’s pension paid the remainder in full to his survivor. I think the peaceful way she went really made Shawn accept it so much better. Without Mom there to bail him out, and Jen’s pregnancy after the divorce, he realized there was no one to get him out of trouble anymore. He really put his shit together. Well, with the help of an ass kicking from his half-crippled brother.”

 

She laughed, as I began absently mindlessly playing with the larger of the two rings on the chain around my neck.

 

“That’s your mother’s ring, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it’s the only thing I wanted of my mother’s. Shawn needed the rest to buy the house for the baby. I’ve been hanging onto it for when Xander proposes to a lucky woman.”

 

“How is the little, eh... big man these days?”

“He got his temps and has been generally terrifying his mother lately. She absolutely refuses to drive with him. He’s a little bit too much like me when it comes to driving. But, I’ve had him behind the wheel of that clunky ass truck since he was 14.”

 

“..You had him driving, at 14?”

 

“Relax; it was only in the high school’s empty parking lot. Besides, in all honesty, the kid’s probably a better driver than I ever was.”

 

“Let’s hope so,” she says, nodding at my leg.

 

“Hey, can’t walk away from every horrific accident. I got through three before one finally caught up with me. The fourth I had to crawl away from. Ehh, it was beautiful fire.”

 

“And she lets you teach him to drive?”

 

“I think she’s got a little bit of empty nester going on already. Watching her little boy drive away is the first step to him leaving the nest. Besides, what better warning to drive safely than looking over to see your car accident crippled father. Well, that and I didn’t tell her about the early driving lessons until his little sister blurted it out.”

 

“Sarah told on you two, Ha!”

 

“She thought Xander was gonna be her little chauffeur. Once she found out it would be two years till he got his license, she didn’t think she had any other reason to keep the secret. Two years is an eternity for a ten year old.”

 

“Did you try bribery?”

 

“All the candy in the world cannot keep that girl from tattling on us boys. Erin uses her as her own personal spy sometimes.”

 

“She puts up with a lot of your shit. How the hell did you ever get her to tolerate you, let alone marry someone with no religion?”

 

“Annoying persistence...maybe a few orgasms. Hey, it’s worked before.”

“Seriously, how does someone who has faith agree to spend her life, happily, with someone who doesn’t?”

“It’s all a matter of faith, like you said. She has faith in God and Christ, but just because I do not does not mean I do not have faith. I have faith in myself, in her, and our children. I attend church with her and the kids. I listen to the sermons. No, I do not always agree with them or even her. Sure, I do find it terribly subversive sometimes. But, I do believe in love. And those services are all about love. Sure, hers is a greater love, but I believe that my love for her and my family is my saving grace. If I cannot believe in omnipotent love, I can believe in hers. Every time they talk of a savior, I think of her. Whenever I hear redemption, I see my children. The name Kinney has been redeemed, and it is because of their love. The immeasurable love I get from her, is from her faith. It is a wonderfully inspiration environment, great for an artist, even if I disagree with most of the content”

 

“Jesus, I never had a chance, did I?

 

“Nope, not after I knew her love.”

 

“One thing has been bothering me for a while, though, about how we became friends again. How did you know about my mother’s funeral?”

 

“You have Erin to thank for that too. Her mother found the obituary in the paper and passed it on to Erin. Erin wrestled with telling me for about five minutes, because she knew exactly what I’d do. But, very quickly she realized it was something I was gonna have to do. I’m glad that she did”

 

“Her and I have never had a close relationship. I think she’s still pissed about how I hurt you. But, one of things I have to do for AA is apologize to anyone I’ve hurt. You’ve heard my sobbing apologies, but I feel like I hurt her too.”

 

“How?”

 

“The kiss...”

 

“Oh, that, she knew about that right away.”

 

“How much does she know?”

 

“Everything, I tell her everything. I made that mistake before with my stealing, so I made it a point to do this one right. I told her that when you saw me at the funeral, you broke down. After the service, you went out drinking. I followed, because I was really worried. I was able to babysit you for a while, but you disappeared later that night at the bar and I assumed you went home with someone. When the police called me the next day, Erin was right next to me.”

“The only reason they called you was because you were a suspect. Your number was the last one on my phone. I dialed it four times that night, but the guy I was with kept shutting it off.”

 

“If anyone should be sorry it should be me. I should’ve tried harder to find you. I didn’t know someone had slipped anything into your drink. I didn’t know you would be raped that night. I’m just glad they found you so quickly in that alley. Much longer and you could’ve frozen. I just thought that you suddenly remembered how much you hated me and left with the first convenient excuse.”

 

“You know, in a way, I’m kinda okay with how all that happened. I’m not happy, but now, I can see, it was what was needed. You came to the hospital, my only friend, the only one I would ever have, even after I hurt you so much. And I cried and cried and cried. I know I was grasping at straws when I kissed you, but you even let me down gently. If it wasn’t for that night I never would’ve realized where I was headed. I’m just sorry that I might’ve caused a rift with your wife.”

 

“She knew where your head was at. She never held it against you. The only reason she came the first few times we met was because she was worried that I would relapse into old feelings. But, she trusts me. And here we are. She doesn’t come because she wants you to be able to talk openly without fearing any repercussions from her. She wouldn’t have any, but she just wants you to be comfortable.

 

“You know, strangely, siting her in this booth is the only time I’ve felt normal in the past year.”

 

“It’s funny the way things work out sometimes. If I hadn’t been in that accident and unemployed for two years I never would’ve taken the time I needed to write the Ashtabula council. Who knew they were aching to revitalize this community so badly? They were trying anything to get people and money back into this city. I’m just glad mine worked.

Then, between the extra insurance Erin forced me to get, paying out; the Obamacare Reform Plan; and all the government programs they set up to prevent the 2020 Depression, we managed to stay afloat pretty well. Erin was finally able to go back to college, while both kids were in school. She makes one hell of a sexy librarian, even if most of the books are digital these days.”

 

“How are things at the Art Center?”

 

I pointed out the window, and looked across the street. “Well, it hasn’t burned down yet? We got another group of kids from Madison coming in tomorrow, then it’s the usual weekday program for Lakeside’s teenagers.”

“You get people coming from Madison, too? That’s not even Ashtabula County.”

 

“Yeah, but a lot of people know our sculpture at the park, so we get contacted constantly by Madison teachers. We’re getting people from a lot further too, especially our No-Holds Barred Poetry Readings. Every one of the writers I know are advertising us everywhere they go. Josh even stops in once a week to mix up fancy coffee and pretentious haikus. Thank God he got into a bigger city, where his pretension could reach for better things. You know, their publishing his sixth poetry book now?”

 

“Six books, how many fucking published writers do you guys have now?”

 

“Well, technically only two commercially published right now. Aaron just self-published the first book of his series, but I am fairly confident someone is gonna pick up the next one.”

 

“It took him fifteen years to self-publish?”

 

“He spent a lot of time just being a Dad. His writing kinda took a back burner, especially after he got married and have another kid. Dante took till he was ten to finally catch up verbally to the other kids, but by that point he was already so much smarter than them, that he skipped two grades. He’s turning 18 this year, and is gonna be only the second kid to graduate post-secondary college and high school in the same year. He’s gonna start graduate school next year.

 

“What’s he studying?”

 

“That’s the ironic part. He wants to be a linguist and a translator. He already grew up knowing ASL, and by the time he was a teenager, he had already mastered most of his Dad’s Japanese books. I think he knows something like five languages now.”

 

“God, I hated college. I studied and studied and still could not remember anything. Then, even after getting my degree, it took me another four years to get my license. I was well-taken care of financially, otherwise, but after he died and I drank through a half million dollars, I had to get a real job. I barely managed to get my license and pissed that away on booze too.”

 

“Hey, you’re not the only one of us who thought they had everything figured out and had to lose it all. Dean’s idiot brother blew their fucking house up with a meth lab. The accident killed his brother and his mother. His Dad wound up hurt and starting taking Oxys like they were candy. Add some liquor to that and poof; they’re living in a homeless shelter. Dean wasn’t innocent in that either. He knew his brother was cooking drugs in the house, but turned a blind eye for a few dollars here and there. His father and other two brothers had no fucking clue. They thought they knew all about Dale, until BOOM. The family is broken, their house and lives are shattered, and Dean let it all happen. Dean was more than happy to drink with his Dad, the two of them justifying their addictions. That was, until Dean got mouthy one particularly plastered night and told his Dad that he had known Dale was mixing meth the whole time. His Dad beat him within an inch of his life and threw him out of their Section 8 apartment. Dean wound up being picked up by the police trying to shoplift a bottle of whiskey. It turned his whole life around. He spent a year in halfway house, went back to school, and wrote his book. It became a best seller within a few months. Someone is even trying to get a movie made of it, but Dean refuses unless he’s able to direct it himself.

I’m sure he’d be pissed to hear this, but he had to be free of his matriarch and every assumption he ever had before he could grow. He still lives in Ashtabula. He sorta feels that he owes this city something for all the harm he caused. He’s not suffering that much though. Dean has a huge home in a nice development in the Harbor... with a maid.”

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear the words ‘nice development’ and ‘Ashtabula’ in the same sentence.”

 

“Once the Art Center put out a few big public pieces, the hipsters all decided this was the cool new place to remake in their image halfway between Erie and Cleveland. Hipsters have money; undeserved money; but money nonetheless.”

 

Angela walks up to the table and places a Paypad face down between us.

 

“Speaking of money, you got this?”

 

“Don’t I always?” I sighed.

 

“I hate to cut this conversation short, because honestly this is the only human connection I have that doesn’t have the shakes, but I am really feigning for a cigarette right now. If I do not keep my hands busy, then I keep trying to put a drink in it. It’s like second nature, now.”

 

“Fair enough, the kids are waiting for me anyways.”

 

“Same time next week, Ryan. I promise it won’t be six months this time.”

 

“Yep, same bat channel...

Take care, Lisa. Don’t be a stranger.”

 

 

EPILOGUE

This story is one of millions of possibilities for the future. I wrote a lot of tragedies for the people I know, because often it takes something tragic for us to finally find our faith in ourselves. We often have to break every part of ourselves before we can find what was underneath it all. Sometimes, you can never truly know yourself until it is the only thing you have left. Maybe, we have to face a tragic future before we can believe in ourselves, believe that we have choices in our own potential. Or maybe, we can find the faith in ourselves before we ever have to face these tragedies.