Christopher's Journey: Sometimes it takes being lost to find yourself

  * * * * *

  The steady buzz of the wake up call and lights startled Chris. He focused his eyes only to set them upon the barred door of his cell. The bunk shook as his cell mate tossed and turned above him.

  Chris soon realized that his heart was rapid from the dream he'd been shaken from. His mind recalled the nightmare of him running through a foggy street, not knowing where he was or where he was going. All he knew was that his gang whom he considered not only his friends but his family were after him. Chasing him through the cloudy wilderness to kill him. He could hear their angry shouts and thumping footsteps that seemed so close, he expected to be tackled at the very moment he was awakened.

  He knew it was a deadly choice to give the police information about the gang and he tried to be as vague as possible, but his reveal of Joe-Z's residence and activity put a target on his back as sure as he laid there. The only benefit it served Chris was a lighter sentence but somehow, he felt safer on the inside. What would he do when he got out? He had no where to go, no one to go to. He figured he'd be found no matter where he traveled. Joe-Z had connections everywhere.

  A security guard tapped on the cell door. "4 am, time to get up."

  Chris rubbed at his eyes like a toddler and sat on the side of his bunk. His cell mate, Brian, was stumbling down from the top bunk. They simply exchanged looks then filed by the door.

  Chris had now carried out 14 months of his sentence and knew the drill well. After the four a.m. wake up call, the prisoners filed to the cafeteria for breakfast. After breakfast, the groups alternated chores on their specified days. Yard duty, kitchen duty and bathroom/shower duty. After lunch and recreation time, the prisoners had a choice of school or work.

  The prison offered many training programs to get anything from a high school diploma to a certificate degree. If schooling was refused, you had to take on one of the prisons many jobs, mostly manufacturing work making clothing, electronic equipment, furniture and even automobile parts. Chris worked in a department that assembled file cabinets. Not the most exciting job but it kept Chris' mind busy for several hours of the day.

  The cell door buzzed and slid open. They both stepped out to get into the long line of prisoners individually filing out of their rooms. Like soldiers, they began marching down the hallway after the signal whistle blew. Down the hall and a set of stairs was the cafeteria on the left. It was similar to a school lunch room with lines of tables and a pass through window where they all, one by one, grabbed a tray and stood in the assembly line to receive their runny eggs, crunchy hash browns and burnt toast.

  Chris received his food and sat in his usual spot in the back corner of the cafeteria. Similar to school, the room divided into cliques and as usual, Chris was not among any of them. He didn't fit in school, home or on the streets. He didn't seem to ever completely fit in his gang and now here in prison, the last place on Earth, he didn't fit in there either. Exactly where he belonged in this world was still an everyday, struggling mystery to him. He felt he didn't belong anywhere.

  This thought that was no stranger to Chris, followed and haunted him throughout his day. Through his kitchen duty, lunch, as he stood alone along the fence during recreation time and through his work hours. It involuntarily consumed him to where he drifted through the remainder of the day as a zombie.

  "Lights out!" Chris heard the guard say as he rapped on the cell door with his baton. The lights simultaneously switched off at that moment with only an orange glow from the door window to provide overnight light.

  Chris went from laying flat on his back to curling up on his side. His thoughts running in multiple directions made it impossible to sleep even though he felt he could sleep for weeks.

  He could hear Brian above him snoring slightly and the light pings and pangs of the prison building settling for the night. All noises he had become accustomed to.

  He couldn’t wait to get out. He had strived to behave himself and worked hard to hopefully be released sooner than the minimum of two years. His lawyer had met with him earlier in the week and informed him that he had a parole hearing the following month. This could be his chance.

  He didn’t belong in prison, he didn’t belong on the streets, he’d spent the last 19 years of his life trying to figure out where he did belong. Chris knew his shot to finding that place was better on the outside rather than behind bars. His life, thus far, was lived on a day to day basis and there had been little choice left for him to change that now. His first plan was to get out, then he’d figure things out from there.

  Chris woke up to the sun light, from the wide window, gently dancing across his face. He was comfortable, he was warm. He focused his eyes to see the bright room filled with toys, drawings and books. He laid curled up in super hero sheets with a lush home-made quilt covering him. He could smell bacon and pancakes lingering into the room. He knew this room. This was his room at his grandma’s house.

  Just then, the door creaked open and Chris’ grandmother appeared in the doorway. Her blue eyes and silver hair sparkled in the sunlight and her smile shined brighter than the beams. She held a tray piled with fluffy pancakes, crisp bacon, eggs and orange juice.

  “Good morning sleepy head.” She lovingly stated in her gentle voice. She floated to Chris’ bedside and sat on the edge running her fingers through his messy hair.

  Chris wanted to embrace her. He wanted to cry and tell her how much he had missed her, but the confusion fogged his mind.

  “Grandma?” he sputtered out.

  “It’s alright Chris, I’ve missed you too.” she smiled.

  Tears ran down his cheeks as he sat up to hold the only person who’d ever truly loved him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t belong anywhere. You’re gone and you’re the only one I could go to.”

  “I’m not the only one.” she softly stated. “You always have our Heavenly Father. He’s just been waiting for you Chris. Waiting for you to come to Him for help, waiting for your plea of forgiveness. He will help you. Go to Him.”

  Chris looked at his grandmother’s face. It wasn’t as easy as she made it sound.

  “You need to prepare your heart for whatever answer He gives you, Chris. It may not be what you want to hear, but as I taught you from the Bible, He has a divine plan for us all. If you don’t remember anything I’ve taught you, my boy, remember this one word. Trust. Trust. Trust.”

  Chris held onto his grandma with all he could, he didn’t want to even open his eyes for the fear that she’d vanish. He could feel his grip loosening as her fingers stopped running through his hair.

  ‘Hang on.’ he thought.

  “It’s 4 am, time to get up....” her voice faded. “TIME TO GET UP.” a guards voice rasped.

  The alarm rang and the lights flashed on. In despair, Chris dug his face into his pillow. His pillow and blanket smelled faintly of his grandmother’s perfume. Was he imagining the scent or had his grandma truly visited him?

  “Christopher James Scholt. You have served 15 months of your two year minimum sentence. According to your records, you have complied to all of your duties and with good behavior. We had hoped you would finish your high school certificate with your time but your diligent work in the manufacturing plant has been extraordinary. The entire parole board hope that your time here has helped shape you into a functional young man, fit to join our society. It is our recommendation that you be released, on parole, after finishing the 18th months of your sentence as long as this good behavior continues. You would be required to find your place in our society, including a proper place to live, a job, to stay clean and away from the influences of your checkered past. We wish you luck, son.”

  Chris winced in the beginning at being called Christopher and at the end with being called ‘son’. However, he struggled to believe what he was hearing. Three more months he’d be free. Three months seemed so close yet an eternity away.

  “OPEN
THE GATE.” the front guard called. With a buzz, the gate slowly opened. “I hope to not see you back here, Chris.” The guard added as Chris stepped out.

  The warm May afternoon seemed to energize his body. He wanted to run and do cartwheels through the streets. He could have but then quickly realized he didn’t know which way to go. He had no where to be, nobody waiting for him, not with good intentions anyway.

  He knew his gang hung out on the eastern side of town, so he headed West, toward the river, toward the Oak Forest Park.

  With his head down and his hands shoved into his pockets, he strolled down the street. ‘What now? Do I sleep in the park? I’ll have to find somewhere less conspicuous to sleep than a family park. Oh, grandma, I wish you were here to tell me what to do and where to go.’

  Not even thinking about why, Chris turned left, the opposite direction of the park. As he realized his mistake, he looked up to find his bearings and found himself staring at the Coar City Christian Church. The bell chimed as if to welcome him urging him to enter.

  Chris walked through the door and peeked around with the fear that he’d be caught even though he was doing nothing wrong. He shuffled up to the front as his eyes fell upon the three crosses displayed on the front wall. A strong sense came over him as he dropped to his knees.

  “Ok!” he said out loud. “I have nothing left, so I will trust you. Do with me what you will. Whatever you see fit. I don’t care anymore.”

  After what seemed like hours waiting for God to strike him down, to end his suffering once and for all, Chris rose to his feet and trudged out of the church. This time heading Southeast. He needed to find a place to lay his head. He could start again tomorrow, start what exactly, he didn’t yet know.

  The only thing he was certain of was that the Coar City gang would soon know of his release and be after him. He had betrayed Joe-Z and the group, so severely that it could only be punishable by death. He had a target on his back the size of this city. He couldn’t avoid them forever. His only options were to fight or run. As the sun set on this day, his remaining choice for the night was to simply hide.

  Homeless, hopeless and on the run, he huddled near a dumpster in the alley off of 5th Avenue for refuge.

  Alone, cold and confused, he drifted off to sleep.