Astegos Becomes Dolofonos*

I, the Skeptic, begin my discussion with Astegos,

who has no home.

I am sitting across from him in the common room of his

current residence, a shelter.

everyone here has a story, and not everyone wants to tell it.

i tell mine, but i didn’t used to. it makes me feel better, knowwhati’msayin’.

The phrase is obviously not intended as a question,

but i’m hoping that I eventually do know.

people are here, man, whether it’s because of drugs, alcohol, or they

just not right in the head.

Why are you here?

alcohol, coke, it’s an addiction,

knowwhati’msayin’.

a year ago, stopped all that, got married—met my wife at the rehab place.

she was messed up too.

things was goin’ good for a while—had a job and all that, but that’s

when i put the outside world in front of recovery.

Terry and Mike, the Counselors, they say that’s when you slip,

and i slipped, knowwhati’msayin’.

The Skeptic feels the graze of his words, but their effect

is blunted by the possibility that Astegos is serving only as a

mouthpiece—simply reciting what Terry and Mike tried to instill.

But that’s insight, and I begin to feel the burn of his cognizant

words again.

i gotta get away from it, man.

i’m in sober again, not messin’ with that anymore.

even went to find my wife last night at this party.

she was all high, knowwhati’msayin’, and she probably doesn’t even know

i was there.

but i didn’t touch any of the stuff, man, even though i wanted it.

I can feel his sincerity, and at the same time feel

the Skeptic slowly fade away.

Why were you looking for her?

i was gonna tell her, you know, that i’m leavin’—going back up to Chicago.

i can’t be around this destructiveness, man, or it’s just gonna suck me back

down again. i ain’t living like that no more. it’s worse than being dead.

I had one more question-one question that could allow Astegos

to take his rightful place as Dolofonos and kill the Skeptic.

So, what are you going to do

when you get to Chicago?

probably the same thing I’m doing now . . .

After a few cordial exchanges, I left,

feeling both mad and betrayed by Astegos.

The Skeptic, who laughed loud inside me,

had found a renewed vigor in Astegos’ answer.

After demonstrating such sincerity, such insight,

such a desire for change, he would be going up to

Chicago and doing the same thing he was doing now—sitting

at a shelter for the homeless.

Pre-contemplation, contemplation, who really cares?

he had achieved his stasis, and that’s where he wanted to stay.

Fine. So be it.

It wasn’t until i was almost home that the voice

of the Skeptic was silenced.

i heard Astegos’ words again, only this time they took

on a different meaning.

They became an affirmation of His struggle to maintain

sobriety, to resist the temptation around Him, to

maintain control of His life.

i was embarrassed to have understood his words any other way.

But don’t we all sometimes make our judgments based on

cursory observations, failing to look no deeper for that which

we expect to see, to hear only what we expect to hear?

I made that mistake, but it didn’t matter at the moment.

For Astegos had become Delefonos,

And the Skeptic was dead.

*Astegos is Greek for homeless; Dolofonos is Greek for murderer.

Curt Settlemoir

MS II