EPISODE 4: THE MORNING AFTER
802 Words
Thursday, 8:00 AM.
Ana’s Apartment, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
Day seven.
Ana woke up to sunlight on her face. That was new. The last six days, the curtains stayed closed.
Her phone had 3 messages.
Pastor Mark: "Motion passed. 6-0. Group stays. Bulletin note added."
Sister Lisa: "Thank you, Ana. Can we talk soon?"
Unknown number: "This is Elder Ruth. My granddaughter is on your list. Coffee Friday? 10 AM?"
Ana read the last one twice. Then she set the phone down and cried. Not sad tears. Release tears.
She wrote in her journal:
They voted to stay.
We get to keep the basement.
***
Thursday, 3:00 PM.
Grace Church Office, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
Ana knocked. Soft.
"Come in," Pastor Mark called.
He was behind his desk. The email about "Concern About Support Group" was in the trash can.
"Ana," he said. He looked lighter. "Just wanted to say... good job last night."
Ana sat down. The chair felt different today. Less like a trial. More like a conversation.
"Pastor, can I ask something?" she said.
"Anything."
"Can we put resources on the table? Hotline numbers. Counselor cards. So people know this isn’t the only help."
Pastor Mark nodded. "Already ordered them. They’ll be there Tuesday."
There was a pause.
"Elder Ruth texted you, didn’t she?" he asked.
Ana nodded.
"Her granddaughter is 15. She’s been coming for a month. Ruth didn’t know."
Pastor Mark sighed. "This is why we do it, Ana."
***
Thursday, 7:00 PM.
Maya’s Apartment, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
Ana knocked. Two times.
Maya opened the door. She was in sweatpants. Hair in a bun. No makeup. She looked... okay.
"You didn’t text," Maya said. But she was smiling.
"I wanted to see you in person," Ana said. "To make sure you’re real. And that last night was real."
Maya stepped aside. The apartment was brighter. Window open. The keyboard was uncovered.
"Did you sleep?" Ana asked.
"Three hours," Maya said. "Which is two more than last week."
They sat on the floor. Same spots as Tuesday.
"So," Maya said. "We won?"
"We get to keep meeting," Ana corrected. "That’s different from winning. But it’s good."
Maya picked at a thread on her hoodie.
"Elder Ruth’s granddaughter is in our group," she said quietly.
Ana looked up. "How do you know?"
"She told me after. Number 9 on the list. Emma."
Maya shrugged. "She said her grandma doesn’t know she comes. But she saw Ruth’s name on the church directory."
Ana’s chest got tight. "That’s why Ruth voted yes."
"Yeah," Maya said. "Fear breaks when it gets a name."
They were quiet for a while. The sound of cars on University Avenue came through the window.
"I’m scared for next Tuesday," Maya admitted.
"Me too," Ana said. "Day seven. I’m still tired."
Maya looked at her. "But you’re here."
"And you’re here," Ana said.
Maya nodded. She pulled the brown napkin from her pocket. Still there. Still folded.
"You are too anointed to die."
"I keep that in my Bible now," Ana said. "So I remember on bad days."
***
Friday, 10:00 AM.
Cornerstone Coffee, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
Elder Ruth was already there. 70 years old. Gray hair in a bun. Two coffees on the table.
Ana sat down.
"Thank you for coming," Ruth said.
"Thank you for voting yes," Ana said.
Ruth stirred her coffee. Didn’t drink it.
"My Emma. She’s 15. She told me last night. She’s been coming to your group for 4 weeks."
Ana didn’t say anything. Just waited.
"I thought church was supposed to make her happy," Ruth whispered. "I didn’t know she was drowning."
Ana reached across the table and took Ruth’s hand. Wrinkled. Cold.
"She’s not drowning anymore," Ana said. "She’s in a boat. With 11 other people. And us."
Ruth cried then. Quiet. Like she was trying not to make a scene.
"I’m sorry," Ruth said. "For the letter. For being scared."
"Don’t be," Ana said. "Fear is how we know something matters."
They drank coffee. Terrible coffee. Cornerstone’s was better than Pastor Mark’s, but still bad.
Before they left, Ruth pulled out her wallet. She took out a $20.
"For coffee next Tuesday," she said. "Buy the good kind. For once."
Ana laughed. "Deal."
***
Friday, 11:30 PM.
Ana’s Apartment, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
Ana wrote in her journal:
We didn’t just save the group.
The group saved us back.
Elder Ruth is buying coffee now.
Emma has a name.
Maya slept 3 hours.
Day seven. Still here.
She closed the notebook. Put it next to her Bible.
Her phone buzzed. Maya: "Can’t sleep. Can you talk?"
Ana called immediately.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," Maya said.
"Just... stay on the line?"
"Always," Ana said.
And she did. Until Maya’s breathing went slow. Until 2 AM came and went.
Day seven. Still here.
- Writer
