Twenty and one
“You can now go to jail,” my friend Kino tells me as I hang my lab gown in the locker. “And suffer the complete sentence,” I quip, smirking. We burst out laughing, partly in recognition that we’re no longer bratty children or irresponsible teens—we’re adults about to venture into this dark world. I leave the lab and go to help out finish some things for a party that my class is hosting. It’s getting dark, and I have things to do. My right pocket is vibrating. I grab my phone, a cheap Nokia model that thieves wouldn’t find profitable, and realize that it’s packed with unread messages, many from friends I haven’t seen in weeks, even months. I read the messages, one by one, slowly but surely—warm greetings of Happy Birthday, Lance!, some with edifying Bible verses, still others with wishes for a good life and a more intimate walk with the Lord. It feels cozy inside me. *** I head for home as fast as I can as soon as my brother texts me. “Where are you? We’re waiting for you.” It’s only 7: