Chapter Ten
Chapter
Ten
The man talked to squirrels. The man made
promises to squirrels. And from what Mark had seen, he kept the
promises too. There were several pine cones covered in peanut
butter set out in the backyard when Mark arrived at the house on
Monday morning, and they definitely hadn’t been there the day
before.
It was impossible to reconcile these gentle,
if eccentric, actions with the cold-blooded killer Mark had been
imagining. But no, not imagining. The man was a killer. He’d
confessed to the crime. There’d been no real trial, just a hearing
to confirm the plea bargain that had diminished the charges from
second-degree murder to manslaughter. Some testimony from witnesses
to aid in the sentencing. Cain had never once denied the act
itself.
Never denied the act. Of course, that was
another thing that could be interpreted in a different way than
Mark had been seeing it all along. Rather than being a sign of
cold-blooded bravado, maybe his honesty was his form of accepting
responsibility.
Mark didn’t want this. The plan had been to
watch the man and find his weaknesses. Instead, Mark seemed to be
uncovering strengths.
The doorbell rang then and Mark was glad to
be distracted from his thoughts. The halfway house was empty during
the day, all the residents off at work or training, so Mark was
there alone. Probably somebody was delivering something and hadn’t
been told about the right hours to arrive at. He headed for the
front door and saw three young men, each of their faces sporting at
least one bruise or cut. It took him only a moment to realize that
one of them was Cain’s friend, the one he’d been staying with.
“Can I help you?” Mark asked, his voice as
unwelcoming as he could make it without being totally churlish.
Residents weren’t allowed to have visitors, and Cain should have
read the rules about that.
“I’m looking for Luke Cain,” the friend said
uncertainly. “I heard he was staying here?”
“He’s not here right now. And he’s not
allowed visitors.”
“Why not? He’s not still in jail, is he? I
mean, even there, we got to visit him.”
Mark wasn’t in the mood for this. “He can see
his friends anywhere else. He can go to see you. But you can’t come
to see him. It’s a shared space, and we don’t need the
headaches.”
The friend just grunted. “Yeah, well, I don’t
think he’s going to be staying with you much longer. Look, can you
tell him Sean came by? Tell him…” The man looked a little furtive,
as if he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say. “Tell him to come
home, if he wants. We’ll figure it out.”
Mark couldn’t say what possessed him. He
couldn’t justify it either as a man of God, devoted to truth and
love, or as a gay man, committed to fighting homophobia. But
somehow, he still said it. “Oh, are you the boyfriend? Did you guys
have a lover’s quarrel? Is that why he had to move out?”
The change in the friend’s face was instant,
and appalling. He’d looked like a schoolboy apologizing for a
tantrum when he’d asked Mark to pass the message along, but
suddenly he was a grown and very angry man. “What? Fuck you,
asshole. I’m nobody’s boyfriend!” He looked from one of his friends
to the other, his eyes wide as he invited them to join him in
outrage. “I’m not a fag! What did Luke say? Whatever it was, he’s
talking about himself, maybe, but not about me!”
Mark’s regret came hard, but too late. “No,
I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “He didn’t say anything. I just…” Just
what? Just gave in to vindictiveness and evil? “I made a mistake.
He’s not gay. I’m sorry.”
But of course his denials just made the men
more suspicious. “I told you, Sean,” one of them said. “No more
drinking, no more fighting, and now you’re his boyfriend? They made
him into a fag in prison.”
“No,” Mark said again. “I was just stirring
up trouble, or something. It was stupid. He’s never mentioned a
boyfriend. He’s not gay.”
“This is bullshit,” Sean said. He was
starting to look like a schoolboy again—a frightened, confused
child trying to figure out the best way to stay out of trouble.
“No, I didn’t mean it.” Mark could see his
words were having no effect. Maybe it would be best to just wrap
this up. “I’ll give him the message. Absolutely. Sean came by and
says he can go back home.”
Sean looked from one friend to the other,
then said, “No. Don’t tell him that. Don’t tell him anything.
Forget we were even here.”
“No, really,” Mark started, and he reached
out to grip Sean’s shoulder. But the man shrugged his hand off
violently.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled. He took a step
backward, then whirled and started down the steps at a walk so
quick he was almost running. His friends followed him, and Mark was
left standing in the doorway, alone.
He had sinned. From anger, certainly, but
maybe also from pride. He had born false witness, deliberately
misleading those men with the goal of seeing another man shunned.
Mark closed his eyes and gripped tight to the doorframe. “Almighty
and Most Merciful Father,” he began, and he could hear the rest of
the prayer in his mind. His daily offices, asking for forgiveness
of all his sins. How many times had he repeated the prayer in the
years since he’d become a priest? But now, the words could not pass
his lips.
He slammed the door shut, locked it, and let
his body sag against its solid wood. What had he just done?
Then he thought of Jimmy. Mark’s younger
brother, the baby he was supposed to protect, and guide. He’d
tried, but he hadn’t succeeded, not as much as he’d wanted. Jimmy
had been wild and irresponsible, spoiled by a doting mother and
absentminded father, and a brother who was busy with his own
awakenings and spiritual journeys. Jimmy had been flawed, but he’d
never been hateful. His heart had been pure, and when Mark had come
out to his family, Jimmy had been the first one to walk around the
dining room table to embrace him.
Cain and his friends? First order homophobes,
obviously. Well, Cain hadn’t done anything overt, but if he was
choosing to spend time with those types, it was clear that his own
opinions wouldn’t be far from theirs. Mark’s words had been
irresponsible, certainly, and he’d have to watch himself more
closely. He needed to be contrite before God, who expected more of
His children and His servants, but he didn’t owe any sort of an
apology to Lucas Cain.
Mark had come to the house for a reason. He
had business to do, paperwork to get out of the way so he could
attend to the more crucial tasks of ministering to his congregants.
It was important for him to be self-reflective, but he couldn’t
allow himself to become self-indulgent about it all. He’d misspoken
to the visitor, done the best he could to rectify the situation,
and he would think about his motivations later, when he was calmer.
For now, the best thing to do was to stay busy and carry on with
the good work he did every day.
He took a deep breath, then left through the
back door of the kitchen and locked it behind him. He walked
through the yard, past the freshly dug garden, and headed for his
car. He saw a thin grey squirrel chewing happily on a
peanut-butter-covered acorn, and he walked a little faster.