K'wan - Gutter

It was the freest Sharell had ever felt in her life. For the next few years she was on a high horse that no one could knock her off. This newfound feeling of liberation lasted up until the point when they got the call that Malik had been killed. You would’ve thought that losing her baby boy would’ve sobered her mother up, but it didn’t. She would go to rehab just to come back out and relapse. What most people don’t realize about addiction is that it’s something that never leaves you. No matter how long you stay clean, you always hear the call in the back of your mind. There was only one real escape from addiction, and Sharell’s mother found it when her heart finally gave out on her.

Sharell now found herself a nineteen-year-old high school drop-out, alone in the world. She would spend her days hiding under the covers and her nights clubbing and smoking weed. Her life seemed to be heading in the same direction as her parents and sibling until a chance meeting with a homeless woman one night.

It was about three in the morning when she and her friends were staggering out of a club, drunk and high as kites. As was their ritual, they stopped by White Castle on 125th for a late night-early morning snack. Outside there was a homeless woman begging for change. Her friends passed the woman by, but Sharell stopped and gave her a dollar, which from the woman’s reaction might as well have been a winning lottery ticket.

“Bless you, child.” The woman smiled, revealing a mouth full of crooked and yellowing teeth. “Bless your heart.”

“It’s all good,” Sharell told her, about to rejoin her friends.

“The Lord is truly gonna shine on you for your kindness,” the woman called after her, stopping Sharell short.

“The Lord?” Sharell snorted. “Ma, your god ain’t got a whole lot of love for little ghetto kids.”

The woman’s face took on a look of shock. “No, child, you’re wrong. The Lord loves everyone, we are all his children. All we gotta have is a little faith.”

“Well, I guess that rules me out because I’m all outta faith.”

The woman looked at Sharell sadly. “Don’t fret, child, we all waver in the faith from time to time, but whether we know it or not it’s always there. But don’t you worry none, I’m gonna pray for you and the Lord will show you that he has not abandoned you, no matter how bleak it seems.”

“I hear that hot shit,” Sharell said, walking away.

“I’m gonna pray for you, child!” the woman called after her. “The Lord loves you, all you gotta do is let him in.”

Sharell was dead tired when she got home, but found that she couldn’t seem to get to sleep. The old woman’s words kept ringing in her head. “The Lord loves you,” yeah right. God had taken everything she ever cared about and left her alone in the world. If that was the kinda love he showed than she didn’t need it or want it.

Before she knew it, the sun had risen high in the smog-filled sky. Sharell decided to take a walk and try to tire herself out so she could crash. Though she didn’t have a particular destination when she left the house, she found herself on the corner of 132nd and Fifth Avenue, staring up at a huge stone church. For reasons that she still couldn’t put into words, she stepped inside the house of worship. Sharell hadn’t been inside that church in almost ten years and even that was on Easter. Her family had never been very religious, but her mother made sure she and Malik were in church every holiday. The inside was the same as she had remembered it. Wooden benches polished to a high shine, and stained-glass windows that reflected rainbows on the floor.

She walked down the aisle, gently touching the backrest of each bench as she passed it. She could almost see her mother sitting there decked out in her good blue dress and white handbag. Being forced to go to church had always been a pain in the ass for her and Malik, but they dealt with it because it was one of the few days that their mother was guaranteed to be as sober as a judge. A lone tear rolled down her cheek, snapping her out of her daydream. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, but there was another one behind it. The next thing she knew the tears were flowing freely down her face. She tried to walk away, but found that she didn’t have the strength to do more than plop down on a bench at the foot of the aisle.

“Why, God,” she whispered, looking up at the large cross that was mounted on the wall, just behind the diesis. “I haven’t been the best person, but I could be worse. I was going to school and trying to live my life the right way, even if people around me weren’t. If you love me so much then why shit on me? Why leave me all by myself?”

“Something that is a part of you can never leave you,” a voice called behind her. Though he was a little heavier and his hair had gone completely gray, Sharell still recognized Reverend Greene. He was dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and gray slacks, his ever present Bible tucked under his arm.

“I’m sorry, Reverend Greene, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Sharell said, trying to compose herself.

“This is just as much your house as it is his.” He pointed his Bible heavenward. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Sister Baker.”

“I’ve been kinda busy,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“So I’ve heard.” He sat down on the bench behind her, so she had to turn around to speak to him.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked defensively.

He shrugged. “It means that just because you don’t come by to check up on me doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping abreast of you.” She was about to say something, but he raised his hand and silenced her. “Sharell, I’ve known your family since before you were born. I’ve watched you go from a promising young lady to a lost little girl who doesn’t know trouble when it’s staring her in the face.”

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself,” she told him.

“Just because your ID says you’re grown doesn’t mean you are. I’m fifty-something years old and there’s still much that I have to learn before my time is done here. What’s weighing so heavy on you, child?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Sharell said. She wasn’t even sure that she did.

“You’d be surprised what I understand. I’ve been around a long time, Sharell, and have seen a great many things.”

“No offense, Reverend Greene, but I don’t think me and you have seen the same things, the hood is a little different than the church. I don’t think you could even begin to grasp my grief.”

Reverend Greene laughed and placed his Bible on the bench next to him. “Grief,” he said, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up and holding it out so Sharell could see the old track marks and scars. “I live with grief every day. The grief of what I’ve done and what I’ll never do. See, this church wasn’t always my life; I was a child of the streets. I’ve sold dope, coke, and my body for all in the name of the devil and his vices. I ain’t proud of it, but neither am I ashamed. We make mistakes so that we can learn from them and pass the lesson on to others.”

“And what lessons would you pass on to me, Reverend,” Sharell asked, in a half sarcastic tone.

“That there is light at the end of even the blackest tunnels,” he said seriously. “Listen, Sharell, I know your grief, and God knows that my heart goes out to you, but you can’t let the devil and your own sadness take you out of the fight. You’ve got to go out into the world and make something of yourself. You’ve got to show your family that you learned from the lessons they passed on to you.”

Sharell shook her head frantically. She tried to maintain a cool façade, but couldn’t hold it together. “I can’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t tackle this world by myself.”