The Journal

by Ronnica Z Rothe

  “So, Christian, I hear you’re a regular churchgoer these days,” Ryan said at the end of class louder than I would have preferred, interrupting my thoughts. I once again was drawing the stares of my classmates. The way she said “Christian” indicated she could barely make herself say the disgusting word.

  Usually I had my chip set to tell me if Ryan was anywhere near me, but since we can’t use chips in the classroom, I couldn’t do this.

  Ryan’s words stung. Who could have told her about church but Ming? But I would have to think about that later, because Ryan wasn’t through with me, and it took all I had to deal with her. My reticence seemed to egg her on.

  “Nothing to say, huh? I’ll take silence as confirmation. You’re probably too righteous to say anything back to me.”

  What I thought wouldn’t get worse, did. Others started joining in.

  “Imitating Christ are you? I don’t think he ever would have gone down on an old man!”

  As I reached the classroom door, I heard my chip chirp, but I had no time to check it.

  “Too bad we don’t have any stones, because what you’ve done is worthy of a good old-fashioned stoning!” That comment from a boy I didn’t know brought lots of laughs.

  “Are you going to start proselytizing us? Preaching from the corner? Prophesying?”

  “What, are you too shy? You’re in the presence of wicked people...call us out!”

  I had heard enough and ran from the school.

  What happened at school had really shaken me up. Apparently Ming had heard about—or perhaps she could hear the ruckus from her classroom—and chipped me soon after I left school. But I didn’t want to talk to her—she had betrayed me.

  After I was at work for about thirty minutes, I remembered that I had received a chip while I was being harassed. I checked it, and it was from Ethel saying she had something to talk to me about, and asked if we could move our dinner from Tuesday to tonight. I was excited about the prospect—hopefully this meant she knew where to find me a Bible! It’d be good to talk to her again, regardless. I had so many more questions for her. If I was going to continue on this journey, I was going to need some support, too.

  My work wasn’t holding my interest as it usually did. As is my habit, I had opened a blank document on my chip to list the books that I wanted to read, but it remained blank at the end of my shift. Hasan could tell I was distracted, so he let me out a little early.

  In the pod, I was caught up in hearing and rehearing the insults cast toward me earlier. I tried to push out that day’s unwanted excitement and focus on my anticipation about getting my hands on the Bible.

  As I entered the apartment, I was immediately greeted by Ethel.

  “Hi, dear. So glad that you were able to come today, as I have someone who I want you to meet. Eli introduced him to me, and he’s going to be able to help you find a Bible you can actually read.”

  I was so excited, that I gave Ethel a big hug, though I have only known her a week. It felt good to share this moment of excitement with someone.

  After our hug, Ethel introduced me to Leonard. He was an older man with kind eyes and strong, dark hands. During dinner he explained to me that his job was to clean out old apartments after people died.

  “I’ve known Eli for years, as he’s my neighbor. He knows what I do, and he’s heard stories about the things I’ve collected from apartments I’ve cleaned out: I’ve found everything from newspapers—though they usually fall to pieces if you touch them—to classic toys. I’ve occasionally found books, which I’ve been able to sell to supplement my income.”

  “So have you found a Bible?”

  “Well, I don’t have one right now,” Leonard reluctantly admitted. “But I usually find one every few weeks. If I keep my eyes open, I’m likely to find one soon, and I’d gladly let you have it.”

  “What would I owe you?” Knowing that he knew the value of books made me a little worried about what kind of payment arrangement I would have to make with him. I was thankful that Ethel was right there, so he wouldn’t ask for anything demeaning.

  “Eli’s been a good neighbor for all these years. I’d gladly let you have it for free as a favor to him.”

  “Oh,” I uttered, relieved. “Thank you so much!”

  “No problem. Glad I can help a young lady out. I’ll give the Bible to Eli when I find it, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sounds great. I truly appreciate it!”

  And with that, Leonard tipped his hat to us—so old-fashioned!—and headed for the door.

  “Thank you, Ethel,” I said, as the door closed behind him.

  “Oh, don’t thank me. Eli is the one who suggested I ask Leonard. They’ve been friends for years, and Eli’s been trying to help Leonard recognize his need for a Savior.”

  “What do you mean, ‘his need for a Savior?’ “

  “Great question, because this is something I wanted to talk to you about, anyway, after our discussion yesterday. Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable, and we can stop. I know that people your age aren’t used to talking about religious things.”

  “That’s okay. It’s been on my mind a lot, anyway, and I don’t really have someone to discuss it with.”

  “Well, I know we’re newly friends, but my door is always open.” It made me warm to hear Ethel call me a friend.

  “You see, Amala, our problem is that we no longer are who we were created to be. The Bible tells us that we’re created in His image, meaning that we’re like Him in some ways. We’re made to reflect His greatness like a mirror. But we’ve dulled the mirror by scuffing it up repeatedly by sinning—thinking, saying, and doing things that God doesn’t like.”

  Ethel went on to share with me many truths that I later learned to treasure dearly. She also told me more about herself, things I hadn’t expected.

  She started to wrap up, “There’s lots more you can learn, especially in the Bible, but these are the basics. This is enough. Do you want to trust Jesus?”

  “No, not exactly. I mean, I appreciate you sharing this all with me. But there’s just too much that’s happened to me to believe that anything is that simple. I’ve done too much—God could never accept me.”

  “What do you mean? Do you think that I am perfect? I’ve shared with you how I struggle now...but that’s nothing compared to what my life was like before I trusted Christ. Can you believe I used to be a drug addict?”

  “Really?” I almost shouted, shocked. Ethel was so prim and proper, I’d never have suspected.

  “Yes, I was. Until I was about 25, I was a partier and spent most nights—and let’s face it, mornings—stoned out on one drug or another. While my parents tried to teach me the truth, I rejected it, choosing to go my own way for a while. It was never enough, I was always wanting more. I actually don’t remember too much of my life back then. It’s blocked out, which is probably for the best. But not a day goes by without me remembering just how great of a sinner I was—and still am. It helps me appreciate all that God has done for me.”

  “So, now that you know a hint of my past, what is it that you think is too much for our great God?”

  I hesitated. I never thought I would share this with anyone, not after it was all spilled at school. Part of what I’ve enjoyed about Ethel is getting the opportunity to talk to someone without judgment or pity. But could I trust her? Or would she be the kind that would go behind my back and tell my mother?

  Blurting

  “So, tell me, if you don’t mind, about this fight with your friend, Ryan,” Ethel asked.

  I was afraid she would ask. But since I was being vulnerable, I might as well lay it all out.

  “Well, she called me a flooze in front of our whole class,” I said quietly.

  “Ooh,” was Ethel’s reply before pausing for a few moments. After the silence became unbearable, she asked, “Why would she call you that?”

  “Well...” I said trailing off, nervously wiping my hands on my pants. I wanted
to share, but the words seemed sewn to my tongue, unable to escape.

  “You know, Amala, that we’re all sinners. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. I’ve shared with you some of what I’ve done, but don’t feel like you must share your story with me. I know I haven’t earned your trust yet.”

  “It’s not that so much as the fact that I haven’t really told this to anyone. But it’s been killing me, like a toxic poison sitting in my stomach. I want to tell you, Ethel, I really do.”

  “Well, perhaps this isn’t the time. We can talk about something else. What would you like to talk about?”

  “I let a man I had just met touch me,” I blurted out.

  A look of hurt and shock crossed Ethel’s face, but she hid it quickly. She reached over and hugged me again, not saying a word. Tears were flowing down her face, and I realized they were flowing down mine as well.

  “Would you like to share more?” Ethel cautiously queried.

  I did. I went on to explain the details of the night of the Respa concert, pouring out particulars that I hadn’t even realized I remembered. And then I got the point where I was left alone in the living room with that man. After stopping to gain breath and strength, I continued.

  “So there I was sitting on the couch, trying to mind my own business. I was trying watching show on my chip, trying to keep myself from counting the seconds since Clara had left the room. While the man had ignored us when we were all there, he suddenly took notice of me.”

  “He set down the bottle he was drinking from, wiped his greasy hands on his pants, and stood up, his gut hanging out over his pants. Tugging at them, he walked over to me.”

  Ethel sensed this was a difficult part of the story, and reached over to hold my hand. I was so animated in my story-telling, that I accidently swatted it away.

  “This…man came up to me and sat on the couch beside me. After about a minute—I scooted as far away from him as I could—he got right next to me, rubbing the outside of my thigh with the back of his hand. Then his hands—oh, those hands—continued to roam around before boldly going under my shirt.”

  Noticing the difficulty I was having, Ethel calmly asked, “Did he rape you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” I said quietly before pausing. Then more decisively, “No, he didn’t. He touched me and exposed himself to me, but that was it.”

  “Well, that’s not small. He shouldn’t have done any of that. He had no right.”

  “I tried to stop him, but he persisted. Finally, I put my foot down hard on his bare toes, and it distracted him enough for me to get away.”

  The tears continued to run down Ethel’s face.

  I resumed, “I just left. I didn’t wait for Ryan and Clara to finish up and come out like I had planned to. I ran. I ran for at least 20 minutes before I realized I had no idea where I was. When I hailed a pod, it took me longer to get home than I had expected, so I must have been running in the wrong direction. All I could think about as I ran was, ‘I have to get out of here; I have to get out of here.’ It took me a while to realize I was out of there, especially since I could still smell that man on me and even though I did not close my eyes, I could still see him looming over me.”

  “Once I went home, I hid in my room after a long shower. I was hoping Mom wouldn’t notice that I was home, as I was supposed to be spending the night at Clara’s. I was thankful that she was too tied up with work to even notice.”

  “So you haven’t shared any of this with your mother?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “So what was Ryan’s problem with you?”

  “The problem was that this man’s nephew, Jamari, told Ryan what had happened, or at least what his uncle had told him, probably insisting that it was consensual. When I did not wait for them, Ryan and Clara were hurt, so they gave me the cold shoulder. I threw all I had into my schoolwork, I guess trying to pretend I was perfect though I knew I wasn’t. I avoided Ryan and Clara like they avoided me—I didn’t want any more reminder of that night—but Ryan couldn’t leave it at that.” I continued to tell Ethel about being ostracized.

  “What’s so bad, is that I lived up to their opinion to me.” That’s when I told Ethel what happened the last time I went to Sebastian’s apartment. Ethel didn’t judge me like I thought she might, but let me continue my story.

  “The harassment went on for several days, and then Ming popped into my life,” I said, with a smile on my face, the first of the conversation. It quickly faded when I remembered what Ming had done.

  “Ahh, I hadn’t realized you hadn’t known each other for very long,” Ethel replied.

  “No, we haven’t,” I replied quickly, sitting up straighter. “Well, I’ve known of her for a while, but it wasn’t until this point that we had ever talked. You see, Ming was always the girl left out, because of her limp. We used her disability and poverty as ‘reasonable’ reasons to exclude her from our company. We thought that she might share her misery if we talked to her or even treated her like a person.”

  “So when Ming showed up, my first instinct was to shun her again. She just asserted herself in my life, and I thought that was completely rude. But then I realized that she was maybe the only person to understand and that by being together, we could stand up against bullies like Ryan. And it did work, sort of. Except the day we went to your house, Ryan called me out again. This time, I know she bullied Ming. I’m sorry I was the cause of even more hurt and suffering in her life. But she’s been a faithful friend, or at least she was.”

  “Was?” Ethel asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “Yes. For some reason, she felt the need to blab about us going to church. Of course, she probably told it like she was not there, that it was just me. So this afternoon as I was leaving school I got called out by Ryan. For some reason, it hurt even more than the original fight. I guess because I knew I deserved it nefore, but I didn’t know why she would instigate a fight this time.”

  “Does Ms. Oscar or any other adult at the school step in when you have these arguments?” Ethel questioned sympathetically.

  “No. I guess that’s why Ryan takes that opportunity to yell at me. If she got in trouble, she’d be a lot less bold about it, and probably follow us home and confront us there. But I think she loves doing it at school so that everyone else can follow her example in shunning me. They all joined in taunting me about church.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear all this,” Ethel said, hugging me yet again. “I’m glad that you’ve shared it though. Sometimes even just speaking the truth out to someone else can help us feel better, as someone else is sharing the burden.”

  I considered that, and did realize that I felt a little better no longer carrying around my secret about that night.

  “There are a few things I want to say to you,” Ethel cautiously continued, “if you would listen. It’s important, and I don’t want to hold off any longer, even though I know you’re probably tired and want to go home.”

  “I am tired, but I don’t want to leave yet. Your home has felt more like ‘home’ this evening than my apartment ever has.”

  “Good. I promise not to be overbearing. I don’t want to call you out—you know that you’re a sinner. But there is some things that you should know.”

  “The first thing,” Ethel held out one finger as she spoke, “is that you will face even more opposition if you choose to continue to walk down the path you are going down. I know that you are not a follower of Christ, but if you make that choice—and I hope you do—you will likely always face ridicule from people like Ryan.”

  “Sadly, the hurt you feel may never go away in this life time,” Ethel looked at me with pity. “And I hate that, but I have to be truthful. Jesus has told us that we are to count the costs before we follow Him, and this is part of the cost. While God’s grace is free, it doesn’t come without a price paid.”

  “Okay,” I said, not sure what I had expected Ethel to say.

  “Then there’s another point, and
this one is even more important, so please listen closely.” Now I was even more intrigued. I just knew that she was going to pass judgment upon me and send me out of her apartment.

  “What happened to you in Jamari’s apartment wasn’t right. You have your faults and God knows you are a sinner, but what happened there was that man’s sin, not yours. He sinned against you and God. You bear no guilt in that act. God wants to rescue and heal you, not only from your own sin, but the wounds done to you by people like that man and Ryan.”

  That wasn’t what I expected to hear at all. I expected guilt and condemnation, not the possibility of freedom. I broke down. Tears may have been falling earlier, but now I was bawling.

  I continued to cry for an hour until finally falling asleep. I had no intention of spending the night at Ethel’s, but she made up a makeshift bed right there on a couch and wrapped me up warmly and comfortably. She told me later that after I fell asleep, she called my mom to let her know where I was. When Mom had no idea who Ethel was, Ethel told her that she’d be happy to meet her at another time, but for right now, this was what I needed and that she’d make sure I headed to school the next morning. I’m surprised that Mom didn’t hop into a pod right then and there and come and get me, but there must have been something in what Ethel told her that made her trust this loving stranger. I’m glad she did, because I was beginning to trust her, too.

  Revealing

  The next school day was surprisingly quiet. No more opposition from Ryan. No yelling—or any other attention—from Ms. Oscar. I wanted to tell Ming about my conversation the night before, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I did share with her what Leonard had said, and Ming joined in my excitement that my goal was at hand. Though it no longer consumed me, I still hoped to receive a chip at any moment from Eli saying that he had the book for me.

  As I was leaving school, I received a chip from Hasan from earlier in the day saying not to bother coming in for work as it had been quiet all day. Since I primarily focused on organizing the books, I knew that it would not have mattered how quiet it was. Ethel must have told Hasan that I needed the time off for which I was grateful. I had a lot to think through.