“Why aren’t you looking for her?” It said with a tone of exhaustion, before evaporating into the air like ashes in the wind.
I sat in bewilderment. This was not the first time my shadow had spoken these words. Was I missing something? Who was I supposed to be looking for? Caro? Joyce? Maybe it was someone else.
Sleep escaped me that night, so I wandered over to Roots for some coffee- as if it might help. After my shadow’s release of terror, I was feeling light and relaxed, yet pensive. I collected a cup of coffee and found a vacant booth near a window in the shop. I could watch people pass by and observe small clips of their lives to their oblivion. I watched each walk by and imagined how different my life would be if I were them instead of myself. What if I could start my own life over, could I be more like them? A vaguely familiar face crossed the front window. He immediately smiled and waved. Once I realized who it was, I quickly averted my attention.
Less than five minutes later, Caleb came and sat across from me with his cup of coffee and happy-go-lucky smile plastered across his face. I envied his happiness and optimism and honestly despised it.
“Hey, friend,” Caleb said as he sat down. He remained rugged and almost as dirty as from our first encounter.
“Caleb,” I replied.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Good.”
“Danielle, we’re going to have to have a little more dialog if we’re going to be friends. You know, get to know each other. Learn each other’s favorite food, favorite movie?”
“You’re right. Let’s start with names,” I said, sitting up straighter, “My name to you is Dani, not Danielle.”
“I see,” Caleb replied, taking a sip from his cup, seemingly unfazed by my agitation, “Did you know that Danielle is a variation of the name Daniel, whose name means ‘God is my Judge’?”
I squinted my eyes at him, as my mouth hung slightly open, “Are you serious right now?”
“It’s true. Do you know what Caleb means?”
“Faithful,” I said, plainly.
“Wow. Yeah, that’s actually correct. How did you know that?” he asked. I shrugged and continued with my coffee.
“Are you?” I asked.
“Am I what?”
“Faithful?”
“I try to be,” he responded.
“To Law?”
“Law? What? No, I’m faithful to the only person we can truly put our faith in,” he replied. I looked at him questioningly. He waited for the answer to dawn on me, then proceeded, “God... I’m faithful to God.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
“That’s funny?”
“Yeah. Well, to me, it is. I’m not saying I don’t believe God exists, I’m just saying that I don’t owe him my faith or anything else.”
“But you’re gifted,” he replied.
“Gifted? You couldn’t be more wrong. There is no greater curse to live with.”
“Oh, I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“I feel that way because it is that way.”
“Okay,” Caleb said, raising his hands gently in submission to my remark.
“I don’t have the luxury of being thankful for anything that has happened to me.”
“You know, my life wasn’t always easy, and God knows it still isn’t. I have committed atrocities in my past as well.”
“I can’t imagine you doing anything atrocious. You literally let everyone cut in line just to get coffee.”
“Well, let’s just say some things bad enough to land me in prison for several years,” he said.
I was surprised at his admission, and it grasped my attention.
“You went to prison?”
“I did,” he said, nodding his head.
“When? For what, drugs?” I asked.
“No, not drugs. It was about six years ago, when I was eighteen. I’ve been out about a year.”
“Jesus, that’s intense.”
“Yeah, it was. I don’t want to go on about my life. I just want you to know that I know what it’s like to have nightmares in your past that you can’t escape. The terrible things we’ve done haunt us forever. I know what it’s like to begin to move on with your life and almost forget the things that you’ve done. Then you’re sitting at the bus stop or at the park or lying next to someone, and you hear something or smell something or feel something- and whatever it is- it brings you right back to that moment you wanted so hard to forget. You can feel the things you felt that day as if they were happening in that moment. You feel how it made the other people feel. Your stomach begins to turn with guilt. The memories become a movie reel in your mind and replay your shame over and over and over again. And you sit there and you try to think of things you could’ve done differently, like ‘if I had just left’, ‘if I had just waited’, ‘if I had just listened’. Then that guilt in the pit of your stomach grows and consumes you. It keeps you awake at night, it empties your stomach. Most importantly, it makes you think that who you were is who you’re always going to be, because that stain- and all the other stains- they don’t wash away. We cannot change what we have done, we cannot undo those sins. However, a changed person can be forgiven, the same person is consumed by their discretions.”
The words Caleb spoke rang more true for me than any other words spoken to me before, more than Franklin’s words. I wanted to reply with a dismissive comeback, but the words escaped me. I heard a buzz and Caleb reached for his waist band, then looked up at me.
“I apologize, but I must be going. Always a pleasure seeing you, Dani,” he said, as he rose from his seat.
“Where do you have to go?”
“Oh, looks like a couple of our people probably got into it with some of Franklin’s guys. I’ve got to go make sure they’re okay.”
“Oh. . .” I said, as he turned to leave, “Well, be careful.”
Caleb turned and smiled, “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Six
Reverse Baptism
