The Story Slice: "Revival" (companion piece to "Tudor City")

by Brian Hughes

“Where were you last night? Answer me damnit!”

“Just drop it, Iris – drop it! You’re gonna wake up Kayla.”

Iris was preparing chamomile tea. The tin foil on the burners were charcoal black and hadn’t been changed for months. Caked gravy stains were splattered on the walls behind the stove.

“Where were you Devon? We can’t keep secrets. Not now. Everything’s too fragile, ya know. We can’t. We have to be open – now more than ever.”

Devon leaned up against the fridge and slid down it in a crouch, knocking down a magnet from their accountant. He stared down at the kitchen linoleum floor.

“I robbed a man in Tudor City last night.”
Iris covered her mouth with her hand. “You … what …?”

Devon locked eyes with Iris.

“I … said … I … robbed …a man … in Tudor City … last night.”
“What in the Lord’s name are you telling me, Devon?”
“I don’t know why I did it.”
“Jesus, Devon!” Iris began pacing – tears welling up in her eyes. She banged her fists on the counter top. “Are you fucking insane?”
“Lower your voice Iris.”
“Fuck you Devon. What happened, talk to me.”
“He didn’t even have his wallet on him.”
“What were you doing there? Where the hell is Tudor City?”
“It’s in Mid-Town; I had to make a pickup.”

Iris tore a piece of paper towel from the dispenser. She dabbed at her eyes – tears began to swell there.

“What are we coming too, Devon? What good would you be to me and Kayla if you ended up in jail or dead? Huh?”
Devon stood up and opened the fridge. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t even know why he was looking in there. He was growing fidgety, that much he knew. He shut the fridge door.

“It was like it wasn’t me, you know – it wasn’t. I waited in the shadows for someone, for anyone to come along and I took my gun out and … that was it.”
“Please, please oh Lord; tell me you didn’t hurt anyone.”

Devon shook his head no.

“Oh, thank the Lord God.”

Iris took a seat. She blew her nose into the napkin. Something had to change in their lives. Devon was going off the deep end. There was still time for she and Kayla to pack up and stay with her folks in Virginia. Devon turned the kitchen chair around, put it close to Iris and sat backwards on it. He was trying to look at her, but he was growing too ashamed.

“I love you Iris. I love you and Kayla. I’m worried that we won’t be able to afford the operation. I’m desperate. I walk around and look at people and you know, I think, why can’t we have that? Why can’t I give my family a good life? I get so mixed up, baby – so mixed up. And I get scared, because it seems that I do things like a robot – ya know? I just get something in my mind and I can’t get off that course.”
“We can’t have this. I don’t want this no more for me and Kayla. I mean it this time. I’m going to go to Virginia.”
“No, please don’t baby – please. I’m going to change. I think last night happened for a reason.”
“You need to go have a talk with Reverend Johnston, that’s what you need. Maybe you and I should both go.”
“Maybe, yes, maybe … but listen, I think last night happened for a reason, because I had the gun out, but the guy … you know, he wasn’t afraid. Not one bit. He said he was at peace and was ready to die. And I looked at him, and I felt so small, baby. I felt like I had so much more to do; that I have so much more to give. He told me that we was both young and that we could still change if we wanted to.”

Iris nodded her head. This was why she could never leave him, she thought to herself. She always held out hope for him. Deep down he was a loving father – she knew that. But was he serious this time? Had he finally hit bottom?

“I felt like, that if I hurt this man, I would be hurting Christ himself," Devon said. "He told me he loved me. I was blown away by this. He showed no fear, baby – no fear. And I felt small, small in the eyes of the Lord.”

The tea kettle whistled. It startled Devon. He stood up and kissed Iris on top of her head and shut off the boiling water. He looked out from his kitchen window into the uncertain night. There was the playground he and his friends use to play B-ball in. Imagine a state of mind free of all of this, he thought to himself.

“What would your mother think if she were alive?”
Devon nodded his head. “I will make her proud yet, Iris. I will.”


The sun was just making its presence known as Devon walked into the hall to use the john. Hanging on the wall was a framed poster of the St. Joseph’s Baptist Church of Harlem. A happy congregation of two hundred plus people are lined up on the steps of the church – many of them smiling and happy to be alive. “Come join the revival: guest Soprano vocalist – Jolene Bridges.” Devon, with tears in his eyes, ran his hand across the large, bold name.
Devon flushed and quietly opened up the door to his daughter’s bedroom. He is at once alarmed by the presence of his daughter standing up in her crib – her pudgy right hand on her heart. She was smiling and glowing. Devon felt a blanket of warmth envelope him.
Devon placed the iPod and watch he stole into a C-Town plastic shopping bag. Kayla and Iris were still asleep as he walked out into the cool morning air. The garbage and daily newspaper trucks were plowing through the neighborhood, as teamsters and day laborers sipped coffee and made some noise - waiting for the next bus to pull up.

Weeds sprouted through the pavement under his feet as Devon made his way up the steps of the rectory for The St. Joseph’s Baptist Church. His hand shook from nerves as he pressed the doorbell. In a few moments, Reverend Johnston appeared and opened the door.

“Devon Bridges - what brings you here at this ungodly hour?” The Reverend then noticed tears coming down Devon’s face. “What’s the matter Devon?”
“I, uh, have a watch and iPod I would like to donate to the kids if that would be all right?”
“Sure son, come on in.”

There was warmth again, and the smell of incense, and a peace pervading throughout the entire building and through him: A peace of which he had scarcely known.