"Taking a Stranger to Church" by Ryan Emmert

...
Fate (noun) \'ft\ : a power that is believed to control what happens in the future; the
things that will happen to a person or thing; the future that someone or something will have.
...
It was the middle of August with only a few days remaining before I was to return to
York, PA and begin another semester of college. The final days of summer could be foreseen,
fully ripe and forlorn, but my sense of time became an enigma. The burdening full-time job that
I had worked all summer hadn't allowed me much time to do the things I wanted.
I laid comfortably in a rocking hammock under the shade of my back porch and thought
about the summer that just passed. I realized how indefinite I felt about it all. I couldn't tell
whether the past three months felt more like a century, or mere minute of passing time. It was all
warped by a mixture of some empty, and some fulfilling remembrances. Still, every summer
memory was just speckling away into the void of passing time, as if I had been trying to write
them out with sidewalk-chalk on a rainy afternoon.
Nonetheless, I was being jerked back and forth between two different recollections of
summer playing tug-of-war. On one side of the rope there appeared the empty, century-old,
solipsistic self who believed he wasted every fleeting moment of summer gambling with the
embellished highs and lows of doing drugs and hiding the evidence. On the other end of the rope
appeared the somewhat fulfilled, freshly youthful, and jubilant self who insisted that summer
should be remembered as well-spent with loved ones on overgrown trails and roads.
Regardless of whatever conclusions I could draw about my summer, it was behind me. I

swung alone in the hammock under my porch for roughly an hour, pensive and calm. Audrey
arrived at my house, and joined me in the hammock only meant for one. She had brought me a
chai tea; a simple gesture I was very much appreciative of.
We swung somewhat uncomfortably, with one of us able to lie down while the other had
to perch on the side. We remained in that spot for a good while, reading books and making
jokes, carrying out our usual conversation in the warm glow of mid-August sunshine. We
discussed what we could possibly do together for the remainder of the day. Throughout the
summer her and I had done so many wonderful things together, but we came to the bittersweet
realization that we had, in fact, ran out of ideas.
The urge to take a whole new adventure was strong between us but we had no clue where
we would go. But there seemed to be something else holding us back from taking any sort of
adventure. Something I never liked to discuss.
The American Psychological Association states that "irrational thinking or acting" is a
common trait in those who are struggling with things such as bipolarity, depression, anxiety, or
seasonal affective disorder. Not to say that Audrey and I were thinking irrationally, but we quite
impulsively wanted to escape the suburban grayness that contained us all summer.
It wasn't long 'til we found ourselves at the park about a mile from my home. A short
getaway that left our adventurous appetites unsatisfied. Still, it was nice to take a step back from
being a teenager and swing at the playground to air out our worries. I remember sitting in the
mulch of the playground looking on at Audrey swinging like a smiling pendulum. I got to
thinking if there was any one thing that instantly made me forget about being upset, it was
playing like a child with my dearest Audrey.

Audrey and I talked and listened to one another, knowing that we could say anything and
still be happy on that playground. I can't remember the specifics of our conversations--I rarely
can--but I do remember the joy I felt. One pestering thought, however, couldn't leave my mind
completely. I wanted something to happen to me--not something bad, or tragic, or ridiculous in
any way; just something. Something to make me feel alright.
After killing an hour or so at the park we left and stopped by a gas station to pick up
some candy and drinks. It was a great day to drive with the windows down. The temperature
was just hot enough to be cooled down by driving fifteen over the speed limit. We took a few
detours down the back roads of my county, hoping to run into something interesting that would
occupy us for the rest of the day. We never found much, and eventually gave up and drove home
again.
At home, we took some time to think in the basement. There isn't anything wrong with
doing nothing, we would just much rather do something was essentially the conclusion we made.
The sky had shed its afternoon blue, and flared up in an evening amber and pink. We tossed
around a few more ideas on where to go, and suggested Dares Beach.
The only way we could get to Dares Beach was through a small privately owned square
of property designated for the people in the surrounding neighborhood. It was about a 20 minute
drive, and typically we were able to sneak onto the beach from there. We set that as our
destination and hopped into the car hurriedly to try and beat the sunset. I drove somewhat
impatiently--which isn't something I typically do--since it was the break of rush-hour traffic.
It wasn't a mile on the main road until I caught a black and white vehicle to my right
pulling out of a parking lot, and onto the main road behind me. The red and blue lights reflected

in my rearview mirror and under my breath I cursed. This was my first time getting pulled over,
but not my first encounter with a cop. I was nervous, I cannot lie. Nothing happened besides the
usual procedure. I received a warning after going 60 in a 45. I consider that getting away with
murder in my county, where the troopers seem only to hide behind billboards and catch every
unsuspecting speeder drifting down a hill. I drove off, frequently moving my eyes off the road to
my speedometer which was statically set at 45.
As we drove we searched for radio stations to listen to. We had about another fifteen
minutes in the car, so we were looking for something to fill the silence in between our
conversation. Sometimes we chose the station playing a song that Audrey and I completely
loathed. We would listen, and dance in our seats just for the sake of enjoying being strange.
As we neared the parking lot for the Dares Beach path, we turned the music down and
slowly approached the turn. A car followed us from behind as we turned in. The past 5 times we
had come here we had gotten away with it, but this time we weren't so lucky.
As Audrey and I got out of the car, a tan, balding man in about his late 40's walked up to
us with a face of quarter-disappointment. He looked like a man with bad breath, but an honest
personality. He had his mouth half open as if he was about to say something.
"Hey fellas, are you all residents of the North Cassell neighborhood?" he asked.
"No, actually, but we were just coming to ta--"
"Well you may have seen the sign up there that says this is for residents only, and we've
been trying to get every resident to put one of these stickers on their cars," he held out a clear
homemade sticker with his greasy, manual-labor-looking hand, "which would mean any nonresidents wouldn't have access to Dares Beach. I'm sorry fellas, but have a nice day." He stuck

out his hand for me to shake it. I gripped his palm lightly despite the tension I felt having driven
all that way to find out that I couldn't even walk a beach for a few hours. Audrey and I dragged
our feet back to my car, and pulled out of the lot as the sun halved itself over the bay's horizon.
We drove away, unsure of our next destination, in the direction back to the main road.
Audrey could tell I was discomforted by the whole day. She asked me what was bothering me,
and I just said I was bummed out. I really felt drained. I felt like something had snuck up
behind me, opened me up, and took everything I had inside of me. It wasn't just the man who
told us we couldn't enjoy Dares Beach; it was everything.
Many who suffer from depression or bipolar disorder deal with a "lingering of emotions
and negativity." If one is scolded for something wrong they've done, it would bother him/her for
an extended period of time. This could mean for the rest of the day, or the rest of the month.
This is one of the most unrecognized symptoms in bipolarity, depression, and schizophrenia.
I felt emotionally drained, and somewhat guilty. I knew it did not matter to Audrey that
we weren't able to walk Dares Beach, but I felt like I had let her down that day. A wave of
exhaustion washed over me, and my eyelids grew heavy. I felt the urge to weep; to lay down,
stare at the pale yellowing walls of my room, and weep. I felt physically and mentally unable to
do anything other than that.
Often considered the most unrecognized symptom of depression is a great lack of
motivation. Simple tasks oft appear too exhausting to even start: getting out of bed, brushing
your teeth, going to the store, anything. However, one must understand the nature of depression
and realize that it is not at all the sufferer's "decision" to do nothing. It is a natural response to
the utter exhaustion one feels while being depressed.

Audrey wrapped her arm around my elbow and rested her cheek on my shoulder. I
looked straight ahead while I drove.
Whether it was out of boredom and dissatisfaction, or actual hunger, I decided to pull into
a Panera Bread just off the main road. Audrey didn't care what we did. So long as I was happy,
she would be too. We sat outside at the Panera Bread and sipped on water with lemon, listening
to the imitation jazz music playing fuzzy through the speakers. We tossed around topics of
conversation that seemed too important to talk of lightly. I was in a weird mood. It was getting
dark, and the red violet clouds dissipated into a deep navy blue pool of stars. The cyclical
colored patterns of the sky seemed to replicate everything I was feeling throughout the day.
Audrey and I sat there until late, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking a lot. I turned
around to catch a glance of anyone else sitting around outside, and took notice of a man sitting
by himself sipping on a tall discolored yellow drink. I didn't think twice about how strange it
was for this man to be sitting all alone this late at night. Panera Bread was almost closing and
even Audrey and I were about to head home. Not even 5 minutes later he approached Audrey
and I holding a small card with his trembling hands. His glasses rested on the ridge of his nose
so that he could see us in full view without the lenses. He spoke so silent and calm it was almost
disturbing.
"Excuse me," he cleared his throat, "if I were to buy you a pastry, would you...maybe let
me make a...a call on your telephone?"
I was taken aback by the strangeness of his question, so I hesitated, but replied "Sure,
uhm."

I looked at Audrey as she began to say "You don't need to buy us anything, you can make
a phone call," and I agreed.
I handed him my phone as he scrutinized the tattered card of phone numbers in his hand.
He slowly dialed the number and put the phone up to his ear. I could hear the series of rings
from where I was sitting. The man turned to me and gave me a peculiar nod and grin. The
number he had tried to call never answered, so he left a message. I listened intently out of slight
curiosity and concern:
"Hey Tyrone...this is....is...is...Stephen. You gave me a ride to the church at the
intersection of uh....2 and 4...that...that one night. If you could give me a ring....a ring back and
maybe a...a ride, that would be great. Alright....again, this is Stephen...hopefully I'll talk to
you....uh talk to you soon." He handed me my phone back with his shaky hands and thanked me.
I saw his eyes look down at the ground with eyes that said "this might be my bed for the night."
Something all of a sudden was screaming inside of me. As the man walked away, I
turned sharply and asked "Do you just need a ride to that church? 'Cause that's on my way home,
and I wouldn't mind letting you off there, if you need that."
He looked at me as if he feared being anymore of an inconvenience. "Well, are...are you
sure...that's alright?" His brief response noted that he was intending on saying yes. I assured
him it would be alright, and he only asked that I give him a few minutes to get his things
together. The last thing murmuring he made as he walked back over to his table was "That is a
blessing in itself," and I
He went back over to his table behind me, where his bag and drink were and sat down.
He smoked a cigarette and sipped on his discolored yellow drink and with his head facing

upwards. Audrey and I sat staring at one another with faces that said "Do you think this is a
good idea?"
There was obviously something wrong with this man I was about to let in my car. I was
second guessing my decision in taking him to the church fifteen minutes down the road. But this
was what I was needing. I needed something to happen. There was no doubt this was an
impulsive decision to offer him a ride. I only began to regret it since Audrey was with me, and if
anything happened to her, I would not have been able to forgive myself.
The National Mental Health Association stresses the difference between analytical and
holistic thinking. Apparently both of these play an important role in mental health, as they are
able to balance themselves out in a healthy mind, but not in an unhealthy one. Analytical and
holistic thinking are two completely different cognitive styles, but both are capable of being done
by the human mind, and it is healthy to exercise both ways of thinking.
I'm not one to advocate that over-thinking is bad, and spontaneity in decision making is
good. But this was a time when I believed I was thinking too analytically, and not holistically. I
was thinking of all the bad things that might happen, and not of the satisfying feeling I would
have after helping a troubled soul find a place to sleep for a night.
The man finished his smoke and packed up his things to be on the way. I pointed the way
to my black 4-door Pontiac, and paused with my hand on the door-handle as he struggled to lean
into my car. He finally made it comfortably in the back right seat and I opened the door and
entered after. Audrey got in the passenger seat, with her head off the rest, leaning forward and
turned so she could see the man sitting behind her.

I backed out of the crooked space I was parked in and began driving away from Panera
Bread. I double-checked that All Saints Church was our destination, as I stopped at a red light.
The car was too silent, and I had no idea what to say to break the silence. Audrey still sat,
untrusting of the man who filled the car with the stench of cigarettes and liquor.
"I've played a lot of music down at All Saints Church, actually." I say suddenly.
"Oh yeah...as like, part of the church....or....or something else?"
"I played in a band at the time, and there were just a few shows set up that we were
invited to play. I came to know Ken Phelps pretty well--you know Ken right?"
"Yeah, I know...I know Ken. He's a...he's a good guy."
Our conversation carried on lightly. He talked about how he used to play bass for a
church in his hometown. He told me about his 80's Fender Jazzmaster bass guitar and how his
favorite bassist was Geddy Lee from Rush. When he talked about these things he didn't stutter.
He actually laughed at times when I would bring up something that he liked. I asked who his
favorite guitarist was, and he answered Randy Rhoads. I smiled looking back at him in my
rearview mirror and said that Randy Rhoads was my favorite guitarist as well.
We pulled into the All Saints Church Parking lot and feelings of relief ran throughout me,
and most certainly Audrey as well. I shook Stephen's hand and he thanked me excessively. I
told him it was nice to meet him, and I was glad to help him out. He struggled in getting out of
the car again, but eventually was able to get out. He waved through the window and started
walking slowly towards the front of the church. I put the car in drive and pulled out of the
parking lot. Audrey wrapped her arm around my elbow again, resting her head on my shoulder.

I leaned over and kissed her head, then resumed looking ahead. Driving. Smiling. Happy to
have helped out a man in need.
I took my right hand off the gear shifter and put it up under my chin. I'm not a believer of
fate, but there was a reason why I was pulled over; a reason why Audrey and I weren't able to
take a walk at Dares Beach; a reason why we sat outside of Panera Bread sipping water until they
closed. It all seemed worth it. It fulfilled me again after being drained by the monotony of my
summer. Maybe I would return to my same old ways; maybe I wouldn't. The fleeting moments
of joy and fulfillment still were vital, no matter their brevity. Some days I just thought I couldn't
go on.