Children of Wrath

“All of us also lived among them at one time,
Gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and
Following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest,
we were by nature, children of wrath.”
Ephesians 2, verse 3

Imagine yourself running. Time seems to slow to a crawl when you’re running for your life. Your every thought comes to you with a sort of sharp clarity as you hear the sound of your own footsteps echoing on the pavement. Your arms pump wildly in a blind attempt to escape fate and your lungs burn, savoring the breath which may be their last. Then the most remarkable thing happens. You begin to pray. You pray that the man after you won’t be able to handle the fully automatic beast you’ve just seen him pull from the back seat of his car. You pray he just starts spraying wildly from his hip like they do in the movies, instead of holding the rifle tightly against his shoulder, taking careful aim. You pray he doesn’t set his feet, exhaling his nervous breath in order to steady his nerves and his hands. You pray he angrily jerks the trigger rather than giving it the slow deliberate squeeze of a professional. You pray that he misses. You pray that he’s not a true killer. You pray that you get lucky. You pray for forgiveness. But these days they’re all killers, the streets have no room for the weak, and luck doesn’t live here. As for God, well, God doesn’t hear your prayer, doesn’t listen to the prayers of men like you. But you knew that from the beginning.
********

June 13, 2003, Providence KS,

50 dollars a gram, 28 grams to an ounce, 16 ounces to a pound, and two pounds four ounces to a key. That’s $50,400 minus the 18 grand Grey had paid for the product, and a couple more grand for how much he had used himself. That left him somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 grand. Not too bad for a month’s worth of work.
Of course, it wasn’t like Grey could just go out and buy a new car with his new found wealth. Talk to any real dope dealer and they’ll tell you that the hardest part about the game is finding a way to spend the money without drawing a suspicious eye. They say cash is king, and at one time that may have been true, but credit had long since ascended the thrown.
Even so, to Grey, staring at his neatly stacked profits, the feeling of success was overwhelming. Despite what the movies have taught us, a million dollars does not fit into a brief case, and if you’ve ever seen a pile of cash, then you know that 48 thousand dollars in small bills looks like it could very well be a million. Of course, only 30 of that was for Grey to play with. The other 18 was going towards the purchase of his next Key.
Grey had spent a number of years in the ranks of the small time hustlers, working the streets, buying his dope for 700 bucks an ounce or at best 2000 for a quarter pound, but he had finally broken through. They say you have to put in work on the ground floor if you ever want to see the penthouse, and Grey was anxious to see the view from the top.
Grey was a sharp dressed white kid from the lower middle class trying to make his way in an industry dominated by people of color in sagging jeans and bright bandanas representing their various sets. Most people would assume this to be a disadvantage, but in truth it was just the opposite. Being a white kid from the suburbs allowed Grey to slide by law enforcement officials without earning so much as a second glance and it also gave him access to all the college artsy types and rich frat kids rebelling against whatever it is rich kids rebel against.
“Yo Grey, what the fuck man, you ready or what?!” The voice coming from outside Grey’s one room shack belonged to Tom. Tom was a friend from the old neighborhood Grey used as a driver. All Grey had to do was keep him high and Tom worked without complaint.
“Hold on, I’ll be out in a minute.” Grey yelled back through his locked door. He lovingly placed 30 thousand dollars into his safe and the other 18 he stashed in his crotch. He picked up the forty caliber pistol he kept on his night stand, tucked it neatly into the front of his slacks and threw on his coat. He was almost ready for work now. Grey’s tiny studio house which had once been a guest house, looked much the way many dopers’ houses looked. There was a mattress thrown onto the floor, clothes hanging on a bar he had rigged on one of the walls, a piece of plywood resting on a couple of milk crates he used for a coffee table, and a big screen TV someone had given to him when they couldn’t pay their debts on time.
Grey opened the door and Tom immediately came bursting into the apartment as though he were coming in from the rain despite the beautiful day outside.
“Finally man, you about ready?” he asked taking a seat at one of the folding chairs surrounding the makeshift coffee table. “Is it cool if I get one before we head out?” Tom asked this question everyday and Grey handed him the plate anticipating his need. Tom picked up one of the various tooters from the coffee table, put the plate up under his chin and sniffed back hard.
“Ahh, I needed that bro. Thank you.” Tom said
“Aright well, you ready to go. We got some important shit to do today, I gotta re-up.” Grey explained as he ran some water over the plate and returned it to the stack.
“Damn, your taking me with you, are you sure that’s cool with the eses?”
“Your gonna have to wait in the car parked down the block, It might take a while but Ill hook you up with some extra shit tonight for your trouble.”
“Cool man,” His eyes lit up the way only a head’s eyes can when talking about dope. “So how much are you picking up?”
“Enough.” Grey never gave away much through his speech. With him it was always need to know. “Enough that you need to be careful driving. Seriously, no fuck ups today, ok?”
“Loud and clear brother, let’s just get this thing done.” Grey liked Tom. Tom knew exactly what he was. He never wasted time trying to act like he was something other than a dope fiend driver, and he never bragged about his involvement with Grey. The streets are full of kids trying to fake tough these days. They all wanna be ScarFace and won’t hesitate to let you know just how large they are. Of course 98% of the time you can’t believe a word of it. If a kid told Grey that he “moved crazy weight” and “busted his gat” on a regular basis, Grey just assumed that he lived in his mamma’s basement playing too much Grand Theft Auto. Of course, that was just in Grey’s world. The place they were going today was where the real gangsters stayed.
Grey’s attitude towards the ghetto was that you ghetto in, ghetto what you need, and ghetto out, hopefully in one piece.
Tom had an average looking car, a white ford explorer with no tinted windows, fancy rims, or any other attributes which might draw the eye of the police. They rode to the dope spot in silence, as they always did while conducting a risky business trip.
“All right man,” Grey said, “Pull over and drop me off. I’ll walk it from here.” Tom immediately pulled over and put the car in park.
“You want me to wait right here or what?” He asked, “It might look a little weird to any nosey neighbors if I’m just sitting here, especially if you take a while.”
“Just roll around till I call you, only don’t go too far, I don’t want to have to wait for you on the sidewalk with a backpack full of shit.”
“Aright, bet, be safe brother.” he said as Grey stepped out of the car. Grey hated the saying “be safe”, it always seemed like a jinx, and he refused to acknowledge it. One might wonder about a lifestyle and occupation which required the saying “be safe”. The truth was that the life Grey had chosen was not safe, and would never be safe, no matter how many precautions he took.
Grey walked down the street in the direction of the Mexicans house with his backpack slung over one shoulder, trying his best to look like a lost college student. The houses in this neighborhood were dilapidated, with paint peeling from the cheap siding and collapsing porches. It was early, by hood standards, so thankfully not many people had taken to hanging out on their front lawns and porches. Grey had no desire to be hassled on this street, and understood that if some of the people in the neighborhood knew he had 18 grand stuffed in his crotch he would never make it to the dope house alive.
The Mexican’s house was in slightly better condition than the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. There were a number of cars parked in the driveway and on the street in front, which acted as a status symbol of sorts, as well as a deterrent for any stick up kids who may have been watching the house. The idea being that you never knew how many people might be inside, or who they were. Gangsters are like wild dogs, always traveling in packs. Going into the house always made Grey nervous because he never knew who to expect or what their reaction to his presence might be. They seemed to be able to smell fear, again like wild dogs, but as long as Jacob was there, which he always was, Grey would be fine. Jacob liked Grey, he looked at him as a sort of mascot, calling him “little buddy” and throwing his huge arm around Grey’s shoulders whenever Grey came by.
Grey knocked on the door, which was quickly opened by Jacob’s girlfriend whose house it technically was. Jacob was in the living room and immediately reacted to Grey’s presence.
“Hey, hey, is that my little buddy.” He hollered drunkenly as he rose to his feet from his place on the couch. “wasup my little hustlen ass Caucasian brother.” Grey hated it when Jacob called him “little buddy,” it made him feel like Gilligan. Only instead of the skipper he was hanging with a 6.4, coked out, drunken Mexican with a prison chiseled physique and a 357 stuffed into his waistband. Grey always worried that if he wasn’t careful and said something foolish, that Jacob, in the spirit of the skipper, might pull the heavy pistol out of his pants and whack Grey over the head with it.
“Oh you know, same old shit, just a different day.” Grey flashed his crooked grin at Jacob as he spoke, hiding the discomfort he felt with the Mexican. “I need a re-up.”
“No shit,” said Jacob, “You picking up the real deal, same as last time?”
“No doubt bro.”
“Hell yeah, shit, I wish I had few more guys like you on my team, most of these busted ass hustlers sniff up half the shit I give em, and blow the rest of their money on bullshit, and then they come back around tryin to get a front. Not my little buddy though, you just keep makin that money son, you gonna be a shot callin motherfucker before you know it.
“Shit, I’m just tryin to get it like you got it man.”
“Let me tell ya bro, you just keep flyin low and stayin off that radar and you gonna have this whole city locked in no time.”
“I hope so.” Grey said genuinely
“Oh you will, you just stick with me little buddy, and you ain’t got nothing to worry about.” Jacob gave him one of those long looks intended to communicate his sincerity, but only succeeded in creeping Grey out. Grey could never maintain eye contact with Jacob for very long. His eyes were dark and empty with heavy black rings beneath them symbolizing his many years on the street. Grey could see the truth of what Jacob was in those eyes, and was reminded by them that the façade he presented to Grey was a lie. Grey was not his buddy, he was a friend to no one. Grey merely represented dollar signs to Jacob, and for some reason seemed to amuse him, nothing more.
Sitting on the living room floor, Anna, the daughter of Jacob’s girlfriend, giggled at something she found amusing on the television. Grey was surprised to see her intently watching Kill Bill, an exceptionally gruesome movie. Grey could not tell for sure how old she was, but thought that she couldn’t be much older than four or five.
“Aright bro,” Jacob said, “You got the money?”
Grey fished the 18 grand out of his crotch and handed it to Jacob.
“There you go bro, its all there.” Jacob gave Grey a look of disgust as he accepted the money.
“Damn ese, hide that shit in your shoe next time.” Jacob paused as he rose to his feet and rifled through the bills Grey had handed to him. “I gotta go into the back for a while and weigh out the leftovers from a couple of different bricks; I’ll be back with your shit in a little while.”
“I got my people waitin for me bro,” Grey said, “can’t you just give me a fresh brick.”
“Man your people aint goin nowhere Grey. Besides you’re supposed to make em wait, it lets em know that you’re the man. Just chill out, aright, have a servasa homey, I’ll be back in a minute.”
With that Jacob grabbed Grey’s backpack from the floor and headed for the back room. Grey hated hood politics. He supposed that the only reason Jacob was making Grey wait was to prove that he was the man, just as he had explained a moment ago. Grey sighed, realizing that it could very well be hours before Jacob returned from the rear of the house. This kind of thing had happened before.
Anna giggled again as someone on the TV was beheaded, sprouting a ludicrous fountain of blood from the top of their neck. Grey had spoken to Anna before and probably knew her better than he knew anyone else who lived there. He had always felt comfortable with children and had enjoyed Anna’s company during previous waits in the house.
“What are you watching Anna?” He asked, “Isn’t this flick a little violent for a three year old?” He said her age in a teasing manor knowing that she must be older than three.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, turning indignantly towards him, “I’m almost six!”
“No your not,” he said playfully, “your almost four, you can’t fool me.”
“Nah-uuh, I’m five and a half.”
“Are you sure, I could have sworn that you’re only three, judging by how tall you are.” Grey said, smiling a rarely genuine smile, “If your five and a half than you’re a serious shorty.”
“Are you teasing me Mr. Grey?” She asked grinning and cocking her head to one side.
“Oh, just a little.”
“I knew you were because I really am tall for my age.” She said in a matter of fact tone.
“Yeah you are,” Grey said, giving in, “and smart too. You remembered my name.”
“Of course, you showed me a magic trick last time.” Grey had made a quarter disappear using slight of hand while waiting for Jacob on his last re-up, he then delighted the child by making it appear to fall out of her nose and into her lap.
“That’s right, wow; you really are very smart you know.”
“I know.” She said grinning again, ringing her hands together as though embarrassed by the compliment.
“Ok then miss five and a half year old, wanna see me do a trick.” Grey asked still smiling. The innocence of the child had a way of bringing out his own childish nature, a piece of himself that he kept hidden in secrecy. The upside down world Grey lived in was not kind to men with such weakness.
“Ok, show me.”
“Alright.” Grey said as he stood up and walked behind the couch.
“Why…what’s this, a stair case in the middle of the floor?” The over exaggerated tone of bewilderment he used caused Anna to erupt in laughter.
“There’s no stairs there Mr. Grey.” She exclaimed holding her tiny fist to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggling. Grey was now standing with the couch between Anna and himself.
“There is too, watch.” He then placed himself so that his profile would be facing Anna and began to take steps forward. With each step he took he would bend his knees slightly so as to appear to be walking down a flight of stairs. After his head had disappeared below the couch he cried out, “Holy crap, There’s a whole game room down here. You guys have pinball and play station, and some stuff I don’t even recognize.” He heard Anna giggling from the other side of the couch and turned around mimicking the original trick, only in reverse. “How come you never told me you had such a cool room down there!?” He asked once he had reached the top of the phantom staircase.
Now Anna’s giggling was out of control, she wiped tears from her eyes and leaned back on her palms attempting to catch her breath. “You can’t fool me Mr. Grey, There isn’t a room down there. You were just pretending.”
“Nuh-ahh,” Grey said in mock defensiveness. “There is a room down there and you’ve just been trying to keep it a secret from me. I see how you are. This time I’m gonna take the elevator.”
Grey proceeded to stand up very straight facing Anna, pushed an imaginary button hanging in the air, looked at his watch impatiently (despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing one,) as though he were a business man late for a meeting, and suddenly bent his knees in a fluid motion which made him appear to be going down on an elevator. Anna then sprang to her feet, jumped onto the couch and looked over the side to catch Grey laying on his back just as he was about to begin yet another description of the fantastic room.
“See, I knew you were faking!” she said still laughing, “You can’t fool me Mr. Grey, I knew you were faking the whole time.”
“You did huh? Well you know what I think, I think that’s just cause you’re a big cheater!” With this Grey jump to his feet, grabbed Anna with both arms and began to tickle her mercilessly. “I’m just gonna have to call you little lady cheaterly from now on.” He exclaimed grinning as he held the hysterically laughing child squirming in his arms.
“Ok ok,” she said, begging him to stop, which he immediately did. “Do it again,” She said as she sat on the couch gasping for breath.
You want me to tickle you again….ok, have it your way.” Grey said, once again reaching for the child.
“No, do the stairs again.”
“Ok, I’ll do it one more time.” He agreed, despite the fact that he understood that agreeing to “do it one more time,” basically insured he would be forced to repeat the trick for the rest of the afternoon.
In the midst of doing the stair trick for the third or fourth time Grey began to hear the sounds of raised voices form the rear of the house. Jacob and Anna’s mother were fighting. Grey had heard the two yelling profanities back and forth before, usually over something extremely petty, and it had always made him slightly uncomfortable, though he had become used to it. It occurred to Grey that he had no idea what Anna’s mothers name was. For all the time he had been coming to the house he had never been introduced. Grey got the impression that she didn’t even speak English, for whenever he heard the two shouting it was always in Spanish.
Suddenly the sounds of the argument turned unmistakably physical. Anna’s mother had abruptly stopped yelling and Jacob’s savage voice was now accompanied by several loud bangs and crashes. The noise made Anna flinch as she stared through the kitchen towards the door which led to her mother’s bedroom. While only moments ago she had been full of laughter and giddiness, the way a child should be, she now stood with a knowing look on her face and fear in her eyes.
“Hey Anna,” Grey said smiling, attempting to distract her from the noises coming from the next room. “Wanna hear a joke?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Why were all the other numbers afraid of seven?”
“I don’t know” She said softly, still staring at her mother’s door.
“Cause seven ate nine, get it?” Grey said, trying to smile despite the situation.
Anna slowly turned towards him “That’s dumb,” she said, though a hint of a smile did touch the corners of her lips.
“Oh come on,” Grey said, his smile broadening now that he had drawn her attention away from the violence in the next room, “you know that’s funny. You can laugh, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Nuh-ahh, it was dumb” She was smiling now, staring down at Grey’s shoes, seemingly embarrassed again.
“Lemmie ask you something,” Grey said, “How did you get so cute.” Her smile widened as she rocked back and forth, shrugging her shoulders to indicate that she had no idea how it had happened.
Without warning, the door in the back of the house flung open and Anna’s mother ran into the kitchen bleeding profusely from a broken nose. She franticly threw open one of the drawers in the kitchen, Grey assumed she was trying to find a weapon of some sort, but Jacob was quickly behind her. He grabbed her roughly by the hair, threw her backwards onto the floor, and was on top of her before what Grey was seeing had registered in is mind.
“Let’s go outside sweetie,” Grey said to the terrified girl as he swept her up into his arms. As he quickly headed for the front door holding Anna, he could hear the repeated dull thuds of Jacob’s fists slamming into the face of the unknown mother.
Once outside they had left all the sounds and sights of the beating behind. Grey sat down on a lawn chair in the driveway holding Anna on his lap. This was not the first time Grey had witnessed a scene of brutality such as this one, and had in fact become numb to the violent nature of the streets a long time ago. It was however, the first time he had witnessed such a thing in front of someone so young.
Once again Grey tried to distract Anna from the violence occurring in the house.
“Hey, is that a basketball. You wanna shot some hoops, I bet your pretty good, being so tall and all.” This time Grey was too rattled himself do manage much of a smile. He could feel the girls shaking in his arms; she slowly turned her face toward his.
“Mr. Grey,” She said, her eyes shimmering with tears and the tragedy of shattered innocence. Grey saw the true reality of his own existence reflected within those eyes, and was broken by them. It was a look that would haunt him for many years to come.
“Can I call you daddy?”
“But I’m not your daddy sweetheart,”
“I know,” she said somewhat defensively, “I just mean for today, just for pretend, like the room at the bottom of the stairs.”
“I don’t know hone…….”
“Goddamn!” Jacob exclaimed as he came through the front door. Anna immediately jumped down from Grey’s lap and pretended to be interested in something on the other side of the driveway. “Sorry about that bro, that bitch just don’t fucking know when to shut-up, you know how these bitch’s be actin.”
“Yeah, sure man,” Grey replied feeling somewhat numb, unable to look Jacob in the eye.
“Anyway bro, here’s your shit. Lemmie know when you need another re-up. I’m always down to help my little buddy out.
Grey had Tom pick him up in front of Jacob’s house, not carrying if Jacob saw him or not. He just wanted to be away from there. As they drove away he saw Anna, standing behind the screen door, following him with those eyes as he left her behind.
“What’s the matter dude, you don’t look too happy.” Tom asked as they drove out of the neighborhood. When Grey didn’t respond Tom persisted, “Come on dude what’s up? You look like your fucking mom just died or something.”
“I don’t know brother.” Grey responded, and said nothing more the rest of the way home. For the first time he thought about the nature of his lifestyle, and tried to imagine how the path he had chosen might someday come to an end. Grey began to Pray.

Shades of Grey

(Adult Language/Content)
August 7, 1997, Providence KS.

Grey Townson stood arms resting on the pew in front of him mouthing the words to psalm 119 X without ever making a sound. His mother was in front of the congregation smiling brightly, leading the singing just as she did every Sunday, her hand swooping gracefully in a pattern designed to keep her audience humming along at the proper tempo for this particular psalm. Of course this was rarely if ever successful. In fact, the congregation almost always wound up leading his mother’s motions through their lack luster way of singing to their own beat, consequently every psalm, despite its designated rhythm, was sung at the same distracted pace. Even so, the singing was always Grey's favorite part of church regardless of how apathetic the congregation was in its efforts. Hearing the sweet sound of God's word put to music had a way of soothing the hardness of his heart and comforting the sorrows of his soul. Of course, being a teenager he could never allow anyone to witness his pleasure, after all if someone were to observe that he found even the smallest thing viewed as positive to be enjoyable, they might get the idea that he had the capability of having a positive outlook on various other things in his life. To Grey, this was quite simply unacceptable. After all, he was a teenager. And so he stood, head down staring at his feet, moving his lips just enough to ward of his fathers rebuke yet not so much as to give an impression of enthusiasm.

There was no instrumentation at Grey's church, no modern day praise songs or even time tested hymns. Exclusive Psalmody was the RP way. (That’s reformed Presbyterian for all you heathens out there.) Yet, even without a hip rock band on stage singing repetitive praise songs designed to invoke a passionate emotional response void of any real substance, the melodies of the scripture were indeed a beautiful thing. “Before thee let my cry come near, oh Lord true to thy word, teach me.” Grey recognized the beauty of the words despite the fact he could rarely understand their significance. Of course, had he understood the meaning of this particular line at that particular moment, his understanding in and of itself would have rendered the phrase meaningless.

After the service Grey and his brother, who was himself a fairly young man though married with two boys, went with the other young men to debate various aspects of the day’s upcoming sporting events, which was almost always a football game. They would discuss the local NFL team, each with their own reasons as to why their team sucked yet again this year, how badly the coach had bungled last weeks calls, or how so and so couldn’t make a freaking play if his life depended on it. Occasionally one of the teenage boys would voice an opinion of optimism and would immediately be ridiculed for his ignorance. Grey would stand on the edge of the circle with his brother interjecting intermittently, saying things like, “yeah he sucks”, or, “yeah they suck” in order to fit in to the conversion.

It was always at this moment that Grey would take his opportunity to seek out and talk to Samantha Jenkins. Sam was without a doubt, the coolest girl Grey had ever encountered in his young life. Her hair was long, bleached with dyed strips of pink and orange. She wore small tank tops revealing her midsection and a studded belt to hold up her incredibly baggy skater style jinco jeans. She had a bracelet with little spikes on it and wore lip gloss with tiny sparkles that drove Grey completely out of his mind. She was the only teenager in the church who didn’t go to the private Christian school, oh no, she went to public school. And, as if all this weren’t already too good to be true, Grey had recently discovered that Sam had a crush on him, Grey Townson!!!!! Grey had wondered to himself how such a thing could be possible but after many hours of contemplation realized the futility in asking himself such a question. One might as well ask oneself how a beam of light can be made up of both particle and wave, or how when said beams are projected through the earths atmosphere in the early morning hours they display a work of artistic beauty so vivid and extraordinary that mankind, despite all its accomplishments, has yet to duplicate. It was a miracle of nature, and Grey would be damned if he was going to ruin it by thinking.

The approach towards the opposite sex was always a delicate procedure for Grey. He must not seem overly eager while at the same time he must not seem disinterested. Later in his life Grey would learn that women’s desire and need for directly contradictory modes of behavior in a man was just one of the things which made them insane. Trying to understand such things was again like trying to understand beams of light, although this was less a miracle of nature and more of a natural disaster.

Grey made his way over to the entrance of the nursery where Sam stood holding one of the church’s many children. She looked so cute, puffing out here cheeks in a comical fashion causing the toddler to erupt into a giggle fit. Grey did his best to ignore the anxiety which accompanied every approach, as if he had just walked through a spider web of self doubt yet remained undeterred in his path brushing aside the strands of panic seeking to hold him back. This was the ritual. He then attempted to put on the smoothest carefree slickster smile he could manage. A look that would, later in his life, get him into stranger places and more trouble than one might think possible, but for now it was pure gold.

“Hey Sam, what’s going on....”, aaahhh the hard part was over. As usual he was greeted with a mischievous smile and the sweet spark in her eyes, as if she had her own private joke which she stubbornly refused to share with anyone else.

“Hi Grey, how are you doing,” her voice was soft, yet held great confidence. “I would have thought you would have dragged your parents out of here by now, aren’t the chiefs playing today.”

The coy smile that accompanied this remark was clearly to let Grey know that she understood he had only stuck around in order to speak with her.

“Yeah well, you know how hard it is to drag them away from their Sunday rounds, besides the Chiefs freaking suck this year.” The truth was that Greys parents had broken away from their individual conversations and now stood together next to the door, which was the sign that they were ready to go. “Hey,” Grey exclaimed as if he had just remembered something despite the fact that he had planned on this line of conversation throughout the service. “I heard you and some of you friends got busted breaking into the school last week,” by “the school” grey meant south junior high school.

“Yeah, it was really dumb, we got into massive trouble the next day. Principle Marsh is such a freaking tight ass, I swear, you couldn’t pound an inciline needle up his butt hole with a ball pin hammer.” Grey laughed and nodded his head as if he knew exactly what she meant despite the fact he knew absolutely nothing about principle Marsh or for that matter any of the public school staff members.

“Water tight, huh?”

“Hell yeah, we got three days out of school suspension. We weren’t even stealing or vandalizing anything”

“Yeah that’s right, I heard you guys got caught in the gym playing kick ball or something.”

“Yep, I told you it was dumb, but hey, what fun is life without getting into a little bit trouble.” The mischievous smile was back again and Grey stood mesmerized by it, unable to look away, powerless against its charms. He had to say something before it got awkward but what came out of his mouth next he could not believe.

“So, when are you going to invite me to come out and get into some trouble.” He waited breathless praying that she wouldn’t respond with a sarcastic remark or one of those, are you kidding me looks. But of course, as he had suspected he had nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, actually me and some of my friends are going out tonight if you wanna come.” She lowered her voice, “Andy stole a bottle of peach schnapps from his dad and I think were going to go to the park or something.” Now that the incriminating conversation had past she once again spoke in a normal tone. “So you wanna come along maybe.”

Grey was so overwhelmed with joy that his slickster smirk almost became a grin. So much so in fact that he was forced to summon every ounce of his will power in order to keep his oh so cool demeanor from turning into childlike giddiness. “Yeah, that sounds really cool. Besides what else am I gonna do tonight, go to youth group.” Sarcasm is the bastion of the weak and cowardly. Something Grey's father told him on a regular basis.

“Ok cool, I’ll just give you a call tonight when I find out exactly what were going to do.”

“Ok, sounds good.” Now he was ginning, he couldn’t help it, but that was all right because so was Sam and for a moment they were trapped in one another’s eyes.

“Um, I think your parents are ready to go.” Grey look across the foir at his parents who were waiving at him.

“Oh, well I guess I better go, see you tonight Sam”

“Ok Grey, bye.”

Grey walked out of the church that day feeling as though he had just single handedly
conquered a savage army and planted his flag in the soil of an unknown land, thus claiming it as
his own. This was perhaps a bit premature but the feeling was undeniable. Now all he had to do
was go home watch the chiefs loose, eat lunch with his family, and count the seconds until the
sun went down.
********

December 02, 2007, Dodge City KS.

It was ten years later and thoughts of Sam and that Sunday never failed to depress Grey. The memories crept into his mind despite the years he had spent trying desperately to forget, damning him to relive the events of August 07, 1997 over and over again. As if he needed any help becoming depressed at work.

For Grey working the assembly line at the automotive parts factory was a living, breathing, death. He supposed that’s why his coworkers all looked so much like zombies pacing the factory floor. He sometimes imagined himself as a slave. It made things easier to think of his life in this way. He would visualize himself as a once proud young man ripped from the former glory of his old life only to be forced to toil without reprieve for the profit of his masters. He would picture himself shackled to his workstation, the rhythm of the assembly line suddenly doubling as the floor managers deep booming voice cried out over the intercom, “Production speed!!”

It was easier to think of things in this way because every time the simple fact that Grey was there by choice entered his mind it was all he could do to resist the urge to bolt for the nearest exit. He often wondered why it was that he could not be happy with his life as those around him seemed to be, and was once again reminded of Sam.

After Grey was released from the living hell of his job he was immediately returned to the slightly less painful purgatory of his life. He quickly punched his time card threw on his coat and gloves and began the walk home. It was the winter of 2007 now, 10 years since the day that had fatefully changed his life forever. He found it funny how people inevitable measure time in terms of tragedy. A German Jew counts the years since the holocaust, the entire world counted the years since the murder of Christ, and he counted the years since he had been left by Sam.

The sound of the snow compacting beneath Greys footsteps grated on his nerves as fingernails across a chalkboard. Grey hated walking. He was forced to walk everywhere he went due to the multiple DUI’s he had been charged with over the past several years. Greys doctors claimed that he was a textbook example of an alcoholic and a drug abuser. Grey claimed that doctors were absolutely full of shit in every regard. He supposed that they were probably both right.
Grey lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as he rounded the corner of 17th and Harper. The smoke warmed his insides, reminding him that he was officially off work and that the witching hour would soon be at hand. Beer thirty baby, next stop numb Ville followed shortly by hangover junction. He new exactly what the scene inside his house was going to be before he even opened the door. It was, after all, the same every day. Sure enough, as he walked into the disaster zone of his small two bedroom house there, sitting on his couch was his roommate, shoeless boy wonder, smoking bong in one hand, X-box controller in the other. Shoeless sat surrounded by a plethora of empty pizza boxes, ramin noodle cups, a variety of beer cans and bottles, dirty cloths and dishes from last week and an empty garbage can someone had gotten out in order to clean up before they quickly lost the desire or became distracted.

Grey didn’t even know the shoes real name, (the shoe is short for shoeless). Grey used to think that shoeless was his real name spelled with a sch and that he must be Jewish. Later someone had explained to him that it was actually a nickname the shoe had received in college. He had been so lazy in his dorm days that he quite literally never put on a pair of shoes for months at a time. He and Grey had been roommates for a year or so now and Grey had only seen him leave the house on rare occasions and even then it was without shoes. When they had parties on the weekends in order to attract the young and impressionable sort of girls only college parties can provide, the shoe used to impress the party goers by putting out lit cigarettes on the bottom of his feet. Shoeless was somehow quite the socialite despite the fact that he never moved from the couch.

“What’s up you fucking bum!” Grey exclaimed jovially as he burst through the door, “You get up to take a shit today or just do it in your pants again?” Grey was once again wearing his patented slickster smirk as he parked himself in one of the couches opposite the shoe.

“Actually,” he replied, “that nasty bitch you brought home last night wouldn’t get out of here this morning so I took one on her face instead.”

“Dude I bet that freak probably liked it”

“Oh she did.” he said in a matter of fact tone as he handed Grey the bong, “You know how the ladies love my funk bro, they cant get enough.”

If Grey thought that the first drag of his cigarette after work was good than the warm smooth thick liquid smoke from the bong filling his lungs was like gold. As he cleared the chamber he quickly plugged his nostrils shut with one hand so that as he began to gag on the deliciousness he wouldn’t loose any smoke through his nose. He soon couldn’t contain himself and erupted, coughing out a thick cloud of smoke which hung swirling about the ceiling.

“Goddamn!” Grey shouted as he jumped to his feet and headed for the refrigerator still coughing. He opened the fridge and removed a handle a Captain Morgan and a two litter of Dr. Pepper. He had been released from his job and it was now time to get to work. Greys job paid the bills but getting fucked up was his career. He took the ingredients over to the kitchen counter made some room by brushing some empty hamburger helper boxes and crusted over paper plates onto the floor replacing them with the rum and Dr. Pepper. He quickly threw some ice into his drinking glass, which was the only clean glass in the house, took a chug of rum strait from the bottle to get him started and proceeded to mix himself a cocktail. Now he could relax. The hit of weed had put a smile on his face and aided him in shrugging off the anxious feelings left behind from work as he settled into the couch once again, free to slip gently into oblivion.
Everyone has their roles to play in life and Grey was no different. Sadly, as of right now Grey’s role was of the clever alcoholic, which, as depressing as that is, is still better than just the alcoholic. People don’t like an unhappy drunk, but as long as he kept the smile on his face and looked up from his drink once in a while just long enough to make people laugh he would never be short on friends. Grey devoted a great deal of energy to this cause over the years but it seemed to be becoming exceedingly difficult of late. To Grey life felt like a vacuum; cold, dark, and containing an emptiness intent on tearing him limb from limb.

Something Sam had once asked him long ago had stuck firmly in Grey’s head, and it was something he often thought of with a feeling of guilt and remorse. She had asked how he managed to be so happy. He remembered being frustrated by the question due to the fact that he, in his teenage years, had tried so hard to give off the impression of a discontented youth, a facade he believed to be hip at the time. Grey had countered her comment by going on an extended rant about how it was all just an act, and had gone into great detail about how he believed life and the world around him was a terrible thing, full of hypocrisy, corruption, and shattered dreams. He never imagined his words would have such an impact.

Grey was now on his front porch smoking a cigarette and staring blankly at the cars as they passed by his house. Looking back he realized how ironic their conversation had been. Sam had been looking for some kind of hope, and for whatever reason she had found that hope in him. Meanwhile, Grey had been trying to impress her through his lack of hope. How could he have known?

As a car drove by he saw Sam’s face in the driver as it passed, as he frequently did, but of course, it wasn’t her. He would never see her again, at least not in this life. Lessons in life are hard learned; Grey wondered how many more he would have to endure before the Lord might hear his cry.