Steve opened the door that would lead to the Evanses' porch, but he lingered in between at first, still watching as Soda played on the floor with Emily while Vivian made lunch. His gaze then turning toward the other direction, Steve saw Samuel in one of the outdoor rocking chairs, the minister's Bible open on his lap. "Hey, what are you reading there, preacher guy?"

Samuel had been expecting Steve to join him on the porch, as the younger man had yet to speak to him about whatever was on his mind. "Oh, just the usual Word of God. I think you've heard of it and even know the author himself. Sodapop still playing with Emily?"

"Yeah. I don't think he'll ever get enough." Steve sat down in the other rocking chair, seeing that Samuel was reading the Gospel of Matthew. "Are you working on a sermon for tomorrow?"

"No, not really. Just studying some spiritual concepts, especially the commands God gave to us."

"You mean like the Ten Commandments?"

"Sort of. But the teachings of Christ go above those. He gave commands in the spirit rather than the letter of the law. We can follow certain rules and still not have the right heart."

"Oh. So what did Jesus tell us to do then? Believe in him?"

"Of course. But he put the most emphasis on how we, as Christians, are to treat others."

"You mean being nice to people the way he was?"

"Yes. Kindness and compassion are good words to sum up how Christ wants us to live in relation to one another. The same with the Golden Rule, which says to treat others the way we would want to be treated. So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

Steve had come out on the porch to approach that very subject, but now that Samuel was asking directly, he got the distinct sense that the conversation he needed had already begun. "Actually, I think I need to talk about this. Spiritual things. I'm just not really sure why or where to go with it."

Samuel closed the Bible, leaving the ribbon bookmark tucked into the Gospel of Matthew as he set it aside. "Well, 'spiritual' encompasses a lot. Do you have an idea of anything more specific?"

"Maybe. I guess I should tell you that I've been thinking about my suicide attempt really often lately. Just remembering what happened and why. 'Cause, at the end of the month, it'll have been two years. But so much led up to it that even right now is turning into this time of reflection."

"Which can be very spiritual in and of itself as long as it brings you to reflect on God as well."

"But it hasn't been doing that. It's taking me back to my old memories of how Clara treated me, how I was abused. I've been through all of that and dealt with what she did, but the flashbacks and the feelings from when I was a kid are the reason I was suicidal. So it's impossible to think about my overdose without reflecting on that too. I'm even remembering things in a different way sometimes, and yesterday I cried because of something I couldn't completely understand. Like there was this missing piece that hurts a lot, even though I can't quite see it."

Samuel scooted forward on his chair as he watched Steve's countenance waver between confidence and a lack thereof. "I think you've been really good at figuring out the reasons behind it when something bothers you. Do you get the sense that it has spiritual roots?"

"Yeah. But it's just a hunch, you know?"

"Or perhaps a nudge from the Holy Spirit."

"Maybe. Clara was the opposite of everything you were just talking about. She wasn't kind or compassionate. She didn't treat others like Jesus did. I don't know why she couldn't have at least tried though. If she had, she never would've hurt me. If she'd had the right heart, she couldn't have abused a kid. I don't know why anybody would want to live like that anyway. To be that kind of terrible person."

"That's because you're a good person, Steve. One with a kind heart. I obviously didn't know Clara, but someone like her couldn't have even known Christ, let alone tried to live anything like him. It's left you with these lasting effects because she preyed on the most vulnerable of God's creation. You were just a child, and a person with any moral awareness wouldn't do what she did, especially not repeatedly."

Not for the first time, Steve imagined what Clara's mindset must have been, wondering how she'd had so little regard for his well being and why she'd targeted him and his dad in the first place. "Do you think she's burning in hell? Or did God forgive her before she died?"

"I don't know. Because I can't know what went on between her and God during those last moments."

"So is it the same for someone like her then? All she would have to do is ask him for forgiveness?"

"Yes. Jesus died for all of us, the whole human race, not only those who would never do the sorts of things Clara did to you. Her sin is heinous in God's eyes too, but he doesn't turn anyone who comes to him away."

"It's funny, preacher guy. 'Cause I've cared that she died and how. I've never been glad that she suffered. But the thought of her going to Heaven bothers me. Like, in the end, it doesn't matter what she did and how she lived. Am I an awful person for being that way?"

"No. And it still matters. But eternity is different. God doesn't see everything the same way we do, and his capacity for forgiveness and mercy is limitless."

"Some things seem like they should be beyond forgiveness. But when I think about that, I always think of my dad because I forgave him. I've had to forgive myself too. More than once."

Samuel touched Steve's arm, thinking of the times he'd needed to forgive himself as well. "Forgiveness is actually one of the concepts I was just reading about. Jesus commanded us to forgive others their sins as he also forgives us. I think that also includes ourselves when it's needed."

"So what does that mean then? Am I supposed to forgive Clara too? Is that was God expects from me?"

Samuel grappled with the question at first, knowing the biblical answer wouldn't line up with human emotion. "Steve, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stumble into this subject. I know it must be painful, especially with what you were just telling me about remembering the abuse."

"It's okay. Just tell me the truth. Please, Samuel. I want to know."

Samuel sighed, Steve's trusting gaze making him wish his response could be different. "Yes. Strictly speaking, the Bible says forgiveness is always the way to go. No matter the reason and now matter how many times someone sinned against you."

"So it doesn't matter what she did or how bad it was? God still commands that I forgive her? I don't even know what that means."

"I think, in this context, it's for you. To release yourself of any anger you still have or any bitterness. It wouldn't be for her, and it wouldn't mean you're saying anything she did to you is okay. It's not okay, and I want to be clear about that."

Steve appreciated the conviction in Samuel's voice, even as the preacher was telling him to do something that seemed impossible. "I do get mad about it sometimes. Maybe bitter too. But when I think about forgiveness, it always means fixing things and reconciling. It means apologies and love. There's none of that here, and there wouldn't be even if Clara wasn't dead."

"I know. Given everything I've heard from you and your dad, I can't imagine her being remorseful or repentant, and I'm certain you wouldn't want or need love from her anyway. You also can't reconcile something that was never a real relationship to begin with."

"So what can I do then? What if this is what's bothering me now?"

Samuel put his hand on top of Steve's, vowing that he'd help his younger friend find resolution. "Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. Only you can draw that conclusion. But forgiveness is nothing more than a choice you make. It doesn't mean you forget, but it does mean you choose to let go, to give the offense to God. It means you recognize the humanity in the person who hurt you, as hard as it may be to see."

"It is hard to see. But I know she was a person too. I've thought of her as someone who suffered. As

someone who must've had something really wrong inside. Something that made her so messed up she wanted to cause pain. Her heart must've been sick."

"Probably. And maybe something happened to her. Maybe she was abused at some point too. Not that there could ever be any excuse for the actions she took herself. But I don't think people are born the way she was. I think something has to happen to create a monster."

"Well, if you ask me, you don't have to do anything, Stevie. She doesn't deserve forgiveness."

Steve had expected just this reaction from Soda, but he'd found that he himself wasn't so quick to dismiss what Samuel had said to him. "No, she doesn't. But that isn't what it's about, man. It's about the way God sees forgiveness. It's not something any of us has to earn, and it would be for me, not her."

Soda usually believed he was a compassionate guy, but as he and Steve walked to the Curtis house and he imagined his best friend extending forgiveness to the woman who'd done him so much harm, he felt only anger. "She was so damn evil that I can't stand to think of you sayin' it's all right."

"I'm not, Soda. 'Cause it'll never be all right. But you know what it's like to be mad, don't you? To have that burden on your heart? It doesn't help me to stay pissed off at Clara forever. Please support me here, buddy. I really need it right now."

"Of course I support you, Stevie. Anything you decide, you know I'm behind you one hundred percent. I guess I just don't get it. It's not like she's going to show up at your door to say she's sorry. She's dead, so you can't tell her you forgive her either."

"No, I can't do that. But, from the way Samuel talked, I don't have to. All I need is myself and God so I can make the choice and try to let go of what she did to me."

Soda remained in step with Steve as they approached the perimeter of Crutchfield Park, stopping to sit down on the bench closest to the sidewalk. The man who'd invested himself so fully in his best friend's recovery had never considered letting go an option. To Soda, it just didn't feel right. "I still think she was a bitch. Even if you can forgive her, I don't. I can't even see how Samuel could say that to you at all. He knows what happened."

"Yeah, but I think he has a little more distance than you do, man. A lot more, in fact. Plus, it's not like it was his intention. I was asking him questions, and at first, he didn't want to answer the one about forgiving Clara. There's a big difference between talking about God forgiving her and me doing it. What he said made sense though. I mean everything too. About God always forgiving people when we ask. About Jesus dying for everyone. About the possibility that she still went to Heaven when she died."

"What? How can that make sense? She was the worst person I've ever heard of. She can't be in Heaven."

"That's not for us to decide, buddy. Or even for us to find out. If Clara asked God to forgive her before she died then-"

"No! I can't listen to this, Steve. I don't get how you could either. I hate her, and you should too."

Steve grasped Soda's shoulder, making sure their eyes met at the same time he spoke. "I have hated her, Soda. But that didn't help me. You know it didn't. And now I keep remembering things, then my head starts analyzing her and why it happened. That's not bad on its own, but I need something else too. I'm not saying she wasn't a bitch or that she was a good person, but I can't get angry over and over again. It's endless, man, 'cause I'll never get answers or accountability from her. Like you said, she's dead, so there's nothing left for her to do."

"She did enough, and you don't need anything from her anyway. I ain't ready to stop hatin' her. I hope that's all right with you."

"It is." Steve had been on the receiving end of comfort so often in the last several days that he saw this moment as an opportunity to give some of that back to Soda. "Because I know where it comes from for you. It's more about me than Clara. And I wasn't trying to say you need to forgive her, buddy."

"But don't I? If that's what Samuel told you the Bible says to do?"

"Maybe. But it doesn't have to mean right now. Just be here for me while I figure things out, brother. Help me do what I think is best."

"And that's forgiving Clara?"

"Yeah. I think so." Steve relaxed his grip on Soda's shoulder, seeing that his friend was becoming more receptive to the idea. "But it's for me, man. Please remember that. Even if she was alive, I'd never tell her it's okay or that I understand. 'Cause it's not, and I don't. Even if I wanted to and it was possible, I have nothing to give her now."

"She took enough, Stevie. That's how I see it anyway."

"Exactly. You're exactly right. Which is why I can't lose any more time to being her victim. And as long as I get mad or think too much about her, I still am. So I need to give Clara and all her shit to God. 'Cause I can't handle it. The most I can do is deal with my memories. He has to take the rest so I'm not bitter or angry. I'm a survivor, and that's part of my identity. But if I stay pissed off and never see her as a human being with a soul, I'll always be her prisoner too."

"Damn, I really wish we were somewhere by ourselves 'cause I could give you the biggest hug right now."

Steve grinned as he got up off the bench. "Well, your house is just up the street. So let's finish the walk, then you can hug me all you want. 'Cause I could sure as hell use it."

"Has anybody ever told ya'll you should get a room? Oh, wait, you already did that once."

Steve rolled his eyes at TwoBit's jab, his head still resting on Soda's shoulder despite the presence of their other friend. "Shut up, man, or I'll put my foot up your ass."

TwoBit had a beer in his hand as he plopped down on the Curtises' couch. "You know I'm just playing around, Steve-O. So what's up today? Everything all right?"

Soda gave Steve an extra squeeze before they parted, though he didn't leave his best friend's side. "It's better, I think. We've seen worse."

TwoBit had been around Soda and Steve enough to know how things worked, so he expected them to find their way through any issues that may come up. However, the timing still made him want to probe a little further. "If I'm way off, you can tell me, but is it about Johnny and Dal?"

Steve was slightly ashamed to realize he'd barely even been thinking about the buddies they'd lost nearly three years ago. He'd gotten too caught up in his own personal conflicts and trauma, that fateful week slipping into the background of his mind. "Oh. Um, I guess that's coming up this month too, huh?"

Soda had his own memories of that time, as well as the feelings he'd only brought into the open after getting shot. Still, he knew the anniversary always had a way of passing with little to no mention among their gang. "Yeah. Three years. But it sure feels like longer."

TwoBit agreed, although there were moments when his night at the drive-in with Pony, Johnny, and Dallas seemed like yesterday. "Cause too much has happened since then. Pony was talking about that the other day. How it all feels like a lifetime ago. Johnny and Dal. Your parents."

Steve's eyes automatically moved to Soda at the mention of his mom and dad, reminded of how his best friend's residual grief had become a factor in his depression. "But it's always still there. No matter what we do, those losses will never stop being part of us."

"Well, of course I still think about it, little buddy. It's one of the nights that changed everything."

Soda had come in Darry's room shortly after they'd all decided to turn in for the night, the middle Curtis not shy about lying in bed beside his big brother even at almost twenty years old. "I guess. I feel kind of bad, Dar. 'Cause I haven't been thinkin' about Johnny and Dal. Not till TwoBit mentioned them anyway. I've just had my mind on Emily and Penny and Steve. But now that I am thinkin' about them, my head goes back to how it started here. Then it goes to Mom and Dad too. Like everything's going backwards."

Darry felt Soda's head as it touched his chest, his arm then keeping his brother close. "It's okay to have other things on your mind, Pepsi Cola. Besides, I'm sure Dally and Johnny would want us to remember them, not just their deaths and what led up to them. If I thought about that part too much, I'd go crazy."

"After I dealt with the guilt I had, I think I let it go. Mostly anyway. Especially after I told Pony."

Darry sensed that Soda wasn't quite done and gave him a nudge. "But?"

"But knowin' it's been almost three years without them and that long since we could've lost our little brother makes that night real all over again. And maybe you're the wrong person for me to be tellin' this to, but-"

"But nothing. I'm the best person for you to tell. The right one. Because I was with you that whole night and that whole week. We were up close and personal at some of the worst moments ever. So, please, tell me what's going on in your mind. I've been to hell and back with my own feelings already, and there's no reason I can't handle yours too."

Not for the first time, Soda recognized the aura of strength Darry possessed, his older brother's gaze piercing his own with the sharpest and most solid of assurances. "I can almost hear and feel it sometimes, Dar. Not really like a flashback, just a strong memory. One where I'm on the outside lookin' in, even though I was there when ya'll were fightin' after Pony came home. Then I can see us when we were outside watchin' him run away. But everything after that is more of a blur, like these short clips going through my head. I remember thinkin' it would all be okay 'cause Pony was home."

"It wasn't though. I felt like that too, and I know what you mean about the memories. That night used to run through my brain on repeat, like it needed to tell me all the things I did wrong. All the things I could've done better. It came with a price, but I did get another chance."

Soda thought about everything he'd learned had happened after Pony took off, from the near drowning and stabbing to the little kids trapped in a church fire. "We all did. Those of us still here anyway. I wish Johnny and Dal could've had a chance at a better life, and I hope they don't think I could ever forget them."

"I'm sure they'd never think that, little buddy. Wherever they are, they're always close to your heart. Right there beside Mom and Dad." Darry shifted so that he could see Soda's face, his middle brother so in touch with his feelings and grief that it seemed to be a burden at times. "And, as for you not thinking about them lately, that just means your life kept going. It doesn't mean you forgot them or that you don't still love them. As much as our lives stopped back then, they did move on after a while. So, please, little buddy, let yourself off the hook."

The pages of Steve's Bible turned, its concordance like a compass pointing him in the direction he should go as he searched for verses that would provide guidance. He scanned each one, reading the phrases 'your heavenly Father will also forgive you,' 'not seven times, but seventy-seven times,' and 'forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.'

"You're looking very focused there, Son."

Steve could only nod in response to Nicholas' observation as he read the scriptures in the latter parts of the New Testament that echoed the words of Jesus.

Nicholas looked over Steve's shoulder, seeing the book of Colossians. "You're also looking very serious."

It wasn't that Steve had ever thought Samuel was misleading him, but seeing the answer he had asked for right there in black-and-white washed away any reservations he might've had. "Dad, you're not going to like this."

"I'm not going to like something that's in the Bible?"

"No. Well, sort of. I just meant that you won't like the way something in the Bible applies to my life."

"Okay. I'm not really sure what to say about that, Son. What exactly are you trying to apply to your life?"

Steve's mouth opened then closed again, as he was unable to get past the knowledge that Nicholas' anger toward Clara had likely surpassed his own in intensity. "Uh, you know what? Never mind. I'm just rambling on about nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing."

Not only did Steve believe that Nicholas would probably dislike the idea of him forgiving Clara, he was afraid his dad may be upset with him as well. "But it was. Let's just forget it, all right? I build things up in my head sometimes before I realize they're not important."

"You do? I hadn't noticed that."

"Maybe because I don't usually mention them." Steve's gaze moved back down to the Bible, its pages full of wisdom and instruction. And I shouldn't have mentioned this either, he thought. It's not something my dad needs to know.

"Well, if you change your mind about it being important, just let me know. I'll listen to anything it might be."

But you won't want to, Steve thought, even as his spoken words expressed a different idea. "I know, Dad. I'll tell you if I change my mind." I'm not going to though. Because I can't take the chance that we'll lose what we have. "But I probably won't. As far as I can see, it's already pretty much forgotten."

"Of course I remember what you said, Stevie. I've still been thinkin' about it myself."

Steve was on the altar at the front of the church after service had ended, Soda beside him as both men sought a little time for contemplation. "Oh, yeah? I guess I left an impression. As if all that's not enough, I felt ashamed of myself at your house yesterday."

Soda's eyebrows raised as he predicted where Steve was going with this. "You too, huh? About what TwoBit was sayin'?"

"Man, I swear it's like we share a brain. Yeah, I realized I was so focused on my own stuff that I forgot about it being almost three years since everything happened."

"If it helps at all, it's no wonder. You've had a lot to deal with."

"So have you, buddy. You know, I don't think we've ever talked about it when September comes around. The other two years, the time just passed. I remember talking about some things after my overdose when it was all bothering me, but that was a little after the one year mark."

Soda knew what Steve was referring to, as he'd been somewhat shocked to hear his friend talk about seeing Dallas get shot and Pony passing out in the street. "I remember that too. You surprised me then 'cause you never mentioned any of it after everything sort of settled down. Pony has talked to me close to this time of year, but not ever as much as we both did when he came to my session with Dr. Morgan."

Steve saw an opening that he wasn't even sure he needed. But still, as he glanced at Nicholas from across the sanctuary, he took what seemed like both a distraction and a way to check-in on where Soda was with past issues. "Speaking of, how are you about the trauma that was bothering you then? Are you in a good place with it?"

Soda had to grin despite the inherent seriousness of Steve's question. "I still think it's great to hear you talkin' like a counselor, and yeah, I'm in a pretty decent place. Though I kind of feel like that's a big question too. 'Cause quite a few things were going on over that summer. So the answer might also depend on which trauma you mean."

"Well, I mostly meant what you and Pony talked about with Dr. Morgan at that one appointment. But it's not like everything isn't tied together anyway." Steve couldn't help but think about how the same was true in his own situation, multiple instances of trauma overlapping with one another to create the perfect storm of effects. "So, if the answer depends, does that mean you aren't in a decent place with something from back then?"

"The grief is just feeling sharp, I guess. Most days, I don't even really know it's there anymore, but I feel it a lot now."

"It's dull most of the time. I know exactly what you mean, brother. And it's impossible to think about Johnny and Dal and what went down before they died without missing your mom and dad too. 'Cause them being gone set the stage for the rest."

"Yeah, it did. That's a weird thought too though." Soda noticed how Steve's eyes kept drifting toward Nicholas, the elder Randle now holding Emily. "I bet it makes you miss your mom. Since we're over here ramblin' about grief, I can't leave her out either."

"I do miss her. Those memories feel so much more faded, but it's the same as with your parents. If she hadn't died, nothing else could've happened."

"Yeah, it's funny how things work, ain't it?" Though Soda's memories weren't as poignant as they had been the night before, they still played on a loop in his mind, the images a continuous reminder of how individual actions could come together to create circumstances. "Last night, I was tellin' Darry about how I was rememberin' stuff 'cause of Johnny and Dal, and I feel like those memories will probably never really fade. They can't because they're from the night that put everything into motion."

"Nice try, Pony Kid, but I think the ball is supposed to go in the basket."

Pony retrieved the basketball, bouncing it over to TwoBit. "Let's see you do it better then, smartass."

TwoBit dribbled the ball twice then lifted it and let go, sending it over the rim and into the basket. "Hey, look at that. So where's my MVP trophy?"

"More like MAP for Most Annoying Player." Pony grabbed the ball and took another shot, this time making the goal.

"Hey, now we're even."

When the ball bounced back in his direction, Pony caught it and started dribbling, his eyes trained on the basket. "TwoBit, would you miss me if I died?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"The kind I want you to answer. Would you miss me?"

"You've got to be shittin' me here, Ponyboy. Of course I'd miss you. But why are we even having this conversation? You figurin' on checkin' out sometime soon?"

"No. I was just wondering. I know Soda and Darry would miss me, so I wanted to know if anybody else would."

TwoBit went over to Pony and snatched the basketball from him, stopping the endless dribbling and making his younger friend's eyes turn to him. "That's not really the kind of thing you 'just wonder.' What's going on with you, Ponyboy Michael?"

"Did you just middle-name me? Give me the ball, TwoBit. I wasn't done with it."

"And I'm not done with you. Park your ass on that bench over there so I can find out why you're asking dumb questions."

Pony did as he was told, though he also rolled his eyes in response to the reaction he'd managed to provoke. "Damn, calm down. It's not a big deal for me to ask you one little thing, is it?"

TwoBit let the basketball drop to the ground as he joined Pony on the bench. "One little thing? No, kiddo, that would be something like, 'Hey, TwoBit, what would you think if I decided to quit track?' or 'Would you be mad if I dropped out of school?'"

"But those aren't little-"

"Compared to what you asked me, yes they are! What? Do you see we all miss Johnny and Dal, so you need to know if it'd be the same way if you were dead? Is that what this is?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. Maybe. I really was just wondering. I guess I shouldn't have said it out loud."

"I can't believe you didn't already know the answer. Ponyboy, you know what you are to me, right?"

"I'm your friend, I guess. And I know now it's not just 'cause of my brothers. I get that you actually care about me too."

"Hell, yeah, I care about you. You're my best friend, kiddo."

"I am? But I'm only seventeen, and you're twenty-one. How can I be your best friend?"

"There ain't an age requirement, is there?" TwoBit put his arm around Pony's shoulders as both a sign of affection and a way to keep him from bolting. "Now, since we got that out of the way, let's get back to your question. I'd miss you like crazy if you weren't with us. So would your girl, and so would Steve. Hell, he'd even admit it now if you asked him."

"Remembering things makes me feel funny, TwoBit." Pony wasn't sure where that admission had come from, but he rested his head on TwoBit's shoulder as he simply let his thoughts flow where they may. "Like it's all this alternate universe where I was a totally different person. Where we were all different. Life seemed so tough then, but it got harder and a lot more complicated. I was just a kid who didn't even realize what I had."

"So was I, Pony. But the important part is we figured it out. And, yeah, we lost plenty, but we gained some too."

As Pony nodded, he felt TwoBit squeeze him, knowing he'd indeed grown closer to the older man who had once seemed to be little more than a thieving jokester. "We did. But I wish it didn't have to happen like that. It shouldn't take a tragedy to make us better."

"No. It shouldn't. But sometimes life is just that way. I'm not the most religious guy on the planet, but I do like to believe Johnny and Dal are better where they are too. They both got dealt a shitty hand for their lives here, but I bet they found something good on whatever other side there is."

"I think there's a Heaven, and as much as Dal did a lot of awful stuff, I still hope he got there. I know Johnny did. He suffered most of the time he was alive, and I can't stand to think that God could be cruel enough to make him hurt more than he already did. Especially not when he saved me and those little kids."

"Maybe you wondered if I'd miss you 'cause you were thinking about almost drowning in that fountain." TwoBit rested his chin on top of Pony's head, hanging on to him a little tighter as they both found comfort in believing their friends were free from pain and sorrow, healed within the safety that only eternity could provide.