Chapter Two
Chapter
Two
“You know God loves you, Alex.” Mark Webber
waited patiently for a response, and was finally rewarded with a
tentative nod. “Maybe you aren’t all that sure,” Mark said. “But
I’m sure. And God is sure.” He wanted to reach out his hand to the
boy in front of him, but he kept himself still. He knew his
intentions were pure, but that didn’t matter—not to the world
around him and not, even more importantly, to this confused
teenager. So he couldn’t offer physical comfort and would have to
do what he could with words.
“You feel alone. And I can tell you as many
times as I want to that you’re never truly alone, but that doesn’t
change the way you feel, does it?”
“No,” the boy said in a small voice that was
cracking with the always volatile mix of emotions and puberty.
“You know there are other kids going through
a similar struggle. I know that you don’t want to meet with them,
but I don’t quite understand why. Can you explain it to me?” And
now it was time for more patience. Mark wanted to throw this boy
over his shoulder and carry him down the street to the youth
center, but he sat still and waited instead.
And waited. Just when Mark was about to break
and ask another question, the kid finally said, “I don’t want
people to know.”
Mark nodded. “Not anyone? Like, if I could
get you to a meeting without anyone seeing, would that be okay? Or
do you not want the kids in the club to know, either?”
“Some of them are out. I’ve seen them at
school, and they don’t care who knows. What if one of them said
something?”
“Yeah. They’re not supposed to—and I think
they’re pretty good about it—but you’re right, I can’t guarantee
that it might not get out somehow. So you tell me: what if one of
them said something? What would happen?”
“Everyone would know! It’d get all over
school. And my dad would find out.” Alex looked ready to bolt out
of the room, and Mark raised his hands in a quick gesture of
surrender. He had a point he’d like to make eventually, but this
clearly wasn’t the time.
“Okay. You’re right, that might happen. It
might not be as bad as you think, but it should be your choice when
you tell people. But I’m worried about you feeling so alone when we
know you aren’t. How about meeting with some kids online? You could
use a screen name for chats, and see how it goes. If you think
you’d like to go a little further, you could use the cameras for a
video chat or something.”
“What if someone found out?”
“I could work really hard to make sure they
didn’t. I could contact someone in, I don’t know, British Columbia,
maybe? Or another country, if you want. And you wouldn’t have to
give your name, or tell the person where you’re from. So I guess
it’s not absolutely sure that no one would find out, but it would
be really, really unlikely. I think it’d be safe, if you want to
give it a try.”
The boy nodded slowly, as if reluctant to
surrender himself to the intoxication of hope. “Maybe. I mean, it
sounds good. But I need to think about it.” He stood, ready to
leave.
Mark rose quickly. “Okay. Absolutely. But,
look, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to let this go for very
long. Will you give me your word that you’ll come back tomorrow and
check in? Just a check in, not more unless you want more. Will you
do that for me? Will you give me your word?”
Alex looked uncertain, then raised his eyes
quickly, the challenge clear. “You’re gay, right? That’s what I
heard. Is that true?”
Mark smiled ruefully. It was amazing how
often it was a factor in his chosen profession, one way or another.
“It’s true.”
“And you just walk around, just…just…being
gay…”
“I walk, I sit, I wake, I sleep. All gay, all
day.”
“And it’s allowed? I mean, your job, or
whatever. You’re allowed to be gay?”
“I am.” No need to get into the shades of
reality, there. On the surface, the statement was true, and it was
what this kid needed to hear. “And you’re allowed to be gay too.
But you’re allowed to keep it to yourself if you want to, or share
it if you want to. And no one else is allowed to treat you
differently because of it.”
“They will anyway.”
“Yeah. Some of them will. But a lot won’t.
And anyone who does isn’t just being a jerk—they might actually be
breaking the law.” Alex looked curious more than anything else now,
and Mark decided to push a little. “So you’ll think about the
online stuff. And you’ll give me your word that you’ll be back here
tomorrow to check in. Same time, same place?”
Finally, the nod. “Yeah. Okay. Tomorrow.”
Alex squinted. “And it’s okay for me to say I’m working on a school
project? You’re telling me it’s not a sin if I lie?”
There were times when Mark’s clerical collar
felt especially tight, and this was one of them. “I can’t say it’s
not a sin. It would be better if you could tell the truth. But God
sees everything, and He is very understanding and forgiving. In
this case, I think He would understand.”
The boy nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow, then.” He
wasn’t exactly skipping on his way out of the office, but he seemed
better than he had when he’d entered, and most days that was all
Mark could hope for.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his
eyes, trying to gather his energy. It had been a long day. A long
week. He loved this part of his job and he knew he was good at it,
but it was exhausting. He wanted to go home, have a quiet drink and
crawl into bed, but he couldn’t do it. His parents would be
expecting him to check in on them, and they might have visitors,
all of whom would want some words of wisdom from him, even though
he was just as confused as they were, if not more so. He was glad
to be distracted by the ringing of his cell phone, and gladder
still to see the name on the screen.
“Hey,” Will greeted him. “You doing
okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. Just packing up at work,
then going to my parents’ place.”
“Which will be more work,” Will said. “Have
you eaten yet?”
“There’s food at Mom’s. People have been
bringing casseroles and stuff over, just like…” Just like when it
had actually happened.
“I already ate,” Will said, “but I could
probably eat again.”
“You want to come with me to visit my
parents?” Will was a friend, but he wasn’t usually that much of a
martyr.
“Hell no. I was thinking of The Garage. We
could have a couple drinks. You could have dinner, I could have
dessert. I think wings count as dessert, don’t they?”
“I shouldn’t. My parents will be expecting
me.”
“I’ll call them and tell them you’ll be by
later.”
“You’ll call them?”
“Because if you do, you’ll wimp out. You know
you will. And I should check in with them anyway. Express my
condolences, or whatever it is I’m supposed to say.”
“Will—” Mark started, but he wasn’t sorry to
be interrupted.
“I’ll meet you at The Garage in fifteen
minutes. And, Mark—remember to take off the collar. It makes people
nervous.”
“It makes sinners nervous to be in the
presence of a righteous man?”
“They think you’re Catholic. It makes sinners
nervous to be in the presence of someone they think is a
thirty-four-year-old virgin.”
“Premarital sex isn’t approved of in the
Anglican church either, you know.”
“And you have the nerve to call yourself a
righteous man?”
“Shut up. I’ll see you in fifteen.”
Mark ended the call and frowned at his phone.
Will was just kidding, and it wasn’t like Mark actually thought of
himself as being without sin. But he shouldn’t joke about his
weaknesses, shouldn’t allow himself to think of them as anything
other than transgressions not only against God, but also against
the congregation he served. He was a sinner, encouraging others to
avoid sin.
He thought of what he’d told the boy: God
sees everything, and He is understanding and forgiving. It was a
comforting thing to tell a kid trying to navigate the tricky world
of family, friends, and uncooperative urges. But was it something
Mark should be counting on in his own life?
“I need a drink,” he said out loud, and
headed out the door.
“She wants another kid.” Will groaned after
the punch line to his long tale of domestic discord. He waved a
sauce-covered chicken wing in the air. “Like that’s what we need!
Another mouth to feed. More daycare bills!” He took a bite and gave
it only the most cursory of chews before swallowing. “We have a
boy. We have a girl. One of each means we’re done. Everything is in
balance right now. Everything but the damn check book.”
Mark had lost some of his friends when he
came out, and faded away from most of the rest when he declared his
intention to become a priest. Will was about the only one who’d
stuck around, and now Mark had to remember to treat him like a
friend, not a member of his congregation. No sermons here. He had
advice involving prayer, conversation and counseling, but he
crammed some fries into his mouth instead. He’d taken his collar
off literally and figuratively.
“How’re your parents doing?” Will asked, and
his voice was quieter with the changed subject. “Your dad sounded
okay on the phone, but I saw them on the news last night. Your mom
looked…”
“Yeah. I know.” Mark could still see her
shattered expression. She was almost as upset now as she’d been
three years earlier. “It’s hard. I don’t know if it would have been
that much easier if he’d served the full sentence, but this?” He
shrugged and tried to look at it philosophically. “In a way, maybe
the anger is good. Before, she was just numb and helpless. She’d
lost her baby and there was nothing she could do about that. But
now she’s talking about writing petitions and getting laws changed
and all kinds of nonsense that’s never going to happen and wouldn’t
do any good if it did, but at least she’s active, you know?”
“And you? How are you doing with it?”
How was he doing? He shook his head and
raised his beer glass, eyeing the amber contents appreciatively
before downing the few inches that remained. Will nodded like he’d
heard and understood the answer, and he raised his hand to call the
waitress over for another round.
“I shouldn’t,” Mark said. “I need to
drive.”
“You live five blocks from here.”
“I have to stop in and check on my
parents.”
“They live three blocks from here. It’s a
small town, man, and your family likes central living. Take
advantage of the fact.”
“What’s it going to look like if people see
my car left overnight in a bar parking lot?”
“It’s going to look like the parish priest
has the sense to be careful about drinking and driving. Or, given
the piece of crap you’re still pretending is a functioning vehicle,
it might look like the parish priest is hoping someone will take
mercy on him and steal his car so he can cash in the insurance and
get a new one.”
So they had another beer, and then another,
and Mark wasn’t drunk but he was pleasantly lubricated when he
finally decided he’d put off his parental visit long enough. He was
walking behind his friend, heading for the front door, when Will
stopped so suddenly that Mark ran right into his broad
shoulders.
Will turned to face him. “Let’s go out the
back,” he said.
“What? Why?” Mark peered over his friend’s
shoulder, searching for an explanation. His whole body froze when
he saw it. “Son of a bitch.”
Will shook his head. “Yeah. I know. Let’s
just get out of here.”
“They’re having a party,” Mark said. He
shifted to the side, staring at the scene in front of him. Three or
four long tables had been shoved together like the bar did when
sports teams came in after their games, but on this night, no one
was celebrating a great pitch or brutal body check. This night, the
guest of honor was a blond kid with cold green eyes, sitting at the
head of the table with his hand wrapped around a mug of beer. He
was smiling at the woman next to him as if she were the most
beautiful and charming thing he’d ever seen. The rest of the
extended table was lined with laughing, celebrating drinkers
welcoming home their prodigal son. The man who had killed Mark’s
baby brother was being treated like a hero.
“Let’s get out of here,” Will repeated, and
this time, Mark let himself be led away.
He made it out into the parking lot and
briefly wondered whether the beer and burger he’d just eaten were
going to reappear, but he managed to hold himself together. “A
party,” he said softly.
“It’s bullshit,” Will said. “The son of a
bitch should still be in jail. He should be rotting in there.”
Mark had worked in prisons, and he still
spent a lot of time at the Anglican-sponsored halfway house in
town. He believed in rehabilitation, and he absolutely believed in
forgiveness. But when he thought of those green eyes, the way
they’d stared out from the prisoner’s dock in the courtroom, cold
and emotionless, showing no remorse, no regret for having taken a
human life? “Yeah. He should be rotting in there.” But he wasn’t.
He was here, back in town. And the town just wasn’t that big. “I
need to get over to my parents’ place,” he said. He couldn’t do a
thing about the killer and his party, but at least he could be with
his family.
He stopped suddenly and fumbled for his
phone. He was giving up too easily, thinking of himself as
powerless. Lucas Cain was a menace. Three years ago, he’d killed
Jimmy, and now, on his first night out after serving his laughably
short sentence, he was back in a bar, drinking and carousing just
as he’d been before. He’d learned nothing, and that meant he was
still dangerous. Mark needed to do what he could to lower the risk.
And if Cain ended up back in prison where he belonged, that would
certainly make things a lot easier for Mark and the people he
loved.
“Just a second,” he said to Will. “I need to
do my civic duty.”