God & Sinner

18. Not What You Want, What You Need

Another new day brought the same thing, and it honestly didn't surprise me that I was standing in the cemetery once again. Things continued to change—as they had the tendency to do—and I'd started to feel like I'd come to the end of the road. This journey had started out so different, and I had struggled to work through my grief as I clung to my lies. Yet those lies got harder to hold onto as the world opened up, and when I began to realize that every choice had a consequence, I had to start owning up to my demons. That part took the longest, but I'd moved from that place of denial to a place of understanding. It was still hard then, but from understanding came acceptance, and there wasn't really anywhere to go from there—although that might not have been exactly true.

If all the rest had been a trial, I knew now that I faced the most difficult part—my penance. All the work I had done would mean nothing if I walked away now without paying for my sins. Being in a different body limited my means, but I was still determined to find a way. All of it started with the boy I'd killed, and he was the one I'd come to visit, even though I'd been standing in the same spot for close to twenty minutes. It was just like it was the other day, and I still didn't want to go over to him, to introduce myself, to confess what I had done. If this was really to be the end, was I ready for it?

The tires screeched in my ears, and even with my eyes open I could see the headlights bounce off of the trees as I spun out. That night replayed in my mind, the villainous red screaming at me, all the blood. I'd killed him, I hit him hard and then ran away. I'd killed him, I hadn't called for help that still might've saved his life. Murderer. I owed him this, more than anyone else, and even if his mother didn't want to know, I was certain that he did. Nothing I could do would take it back, that was the crossroads, but at least this way I could take the next step in holding myself accountable.

I would've liked to say I'd managed to start walking towards the grave when my phone rang, but the truth was that I was still stuck in the exact same spot. There was a little bit of guilt for how happy I was to be relieved of my burden as I answered it, hearing Kayla on the other end. Things had been going pretty much the same with her since Cassie and I had last talked about it, so it surprised me to hear from her all of a sudden. She sounded distant on the phone, almost like she had forced herself to take some impossible steps of her own, and I said nothing as she worked to get it all out.

My surprise was only deepened when she asked me to come over, and my attempts at acquiring an explanation were not rewarded. I thought that she at least sounded pleasant, which made sense considering the civility between us had gradually been repaired. Then again, she didn't exactly sound happy, which poked a thousand holes in any grand ideas I might've still been holding onto, and I chose not to kid myself about what this was. No, I really had done my best at accepting what the end would look like, but I prayed my resolve would hold once I was face to face with her.

It was such a nice day, and a gentle breeze blew across my skin as I glanced back at the tombstone. The world was not an ugly place; not by a long shot. Maybe it seemed like that sometimes—especially to me—and it was so easy to see something horrible no matter which direction I looked. Yet for all of that there were still so many beautiful things, and I wondered if God hid them in plain sight on purpose. How easy it would be to take them for granted if we just passed them by, but when we were forced to stop and look for them—and they hit us as if for the first time—we learned how much they should be appreciated.

I'd spent an entire life among the ugly, for the most part, letting it consume me and take me over. Even when I'd first began this second life, I had focused so quickly on the bad things that planted themselves right in front of my face. Now I saw the blessings though—the gift that I had truly been given. In hindsight, I also saw all the good things I'd had in my old life too. James had been the most important one, of course, but I'd always seen him as my ray of light regardless. Either way, I'd spent my share of time dwelling on the negative, and maybe that was what made all of this easier now.