Chapter Thirteen #2
approve. So he figured out which arm it was less painful to lift,
clutched the spoon in fingers that were clumsy from stress and
painkillers but not actually damaged, and he ate his soup like a
good boy.
“Do you know what sort of work you’d like to
do?” the priest asked when Lucas finally set his spoon down.
It was a baffling question. “I don’t know. I
mean—something legal. Something stable? Like, regular hours?” It
was pretty clear this wasn’t what the priest was looking for, but
Lucas had no idea what else to say.
“What about the work itself? You were working
as a roofer, as I understand it. Did you enjoy that? Was there a
sense of satisfaction at the end of the day?”
“From roofing? I don’t…” Lucas caught
himself. “Well, maybe. I didn’t use to pay much attention to it.
But I guess I could see how it’d be good to finish a job. Like, to
look up and see that the roof was on and it was done right and that
meant people were going to be dry and warm in that house. Is that
what you mean?”
“Exactly, yes. A sense of purpose, the idea
that your work is somehow contributing to something important.” The
priest smiled. “Even when you have a frustrating day at work, or
when you make a mistake or face a challenge, you can keep the big
picture in mind and be confident that your pain is worthwhile.”
“Yeah. Okay. I don’t know, I guess roofing
kind of has that?” Lucas tried to think it through. “But everyone’s
job does, right? I mean, people aren’t going to pay you if they
don’t think you’re making things better by doing whatever you’re
doing. The guy pumping your gas is making it so people can get
where they’re going, the girl checking out your groceries is
helping you put food on the table. If you twist it around enough,
every job has something like that, doesn’t it?”
“So which jobs require the least ‘twisting’
in order to see their utility?” The priest was clearly trying to
make a point, and quite possibly it was going to end up being a
point about what Lucas should be doing with his life, but the
conversation didn’t feel intrusive. The priest was gentle and
respectful, kind of like Dr. Clark back in prison. And it wasn’t
like Lucas wouldn’t be happy to get some instructions about what to
do next, so he played along.
“It’s stuff with education, right? That’s
what you’re going to say? Like, you don’t have to look very hard to
see how a doctor is helping people. Or a teacher or something. I
guess it’s a bit harder to do with lawyers.”
“I don’t think it’s tied in to education.
It’s crystal clear to me how farmers help society, and how a
cleaning lady makes people’s lives better. It’s interesting that
you took the idea in that direction, though—I started talking about
something that gave you a sense of satisfaction, a sense of
purpose, and that somehow shifted to ‘helping people’ over the
course of the conversation. Do you think that you’d get
satisfaction from helping others?”
“Like, as a job?” The soup had given Lucas a
little energy, but it was fading fast. He couldn’t afford to waste
what was left on this guy’s pipe dreams. “Look, Father, I’m just
out of jail. I’m on parole, and I’m a mess. Nobody’s going to give
me a job where I’m supposed to be helping others. It doesn’t matter
what kind of job I want, it matters what I can get. And whatever I
get, I guess I’ll just have to do whatever amount of twisting it
takes to believe that it’s worthwhile.”
“Nobody’s going to give you a job of any
sort, not looking the way you do. And you’re still going to have a
difficult time finding anything after you’re healed up with your
record. So we’ll have to be creative. We’ll have to work at it. We
might as well be working in a direction that will get you a job you
like, instead of putting all that effort into finding you work that
makes you miserable.”
It was an interesting concept. A job that he
liked. Something he could actually care about. Maybe even something
that could fill some part of the hole in his life where Sean and
his friends were no longer. But he needed to be realistic. The
priest was a dreamer, and that was nice, but it didn’t fit with
Lucas’s reality. “I don’t know. Jobs like that, other people are
going to want them, right? So nobody’s going to hire me. Shouldn’t
I try to find something that nobody else wants, so I have a
chance?”
“You’re twenty-two years old, Lucas. That’s a
long life ahead of you, too long to live it without hope. Without
at least a little faith.” The priest laughed at Lucas’s expression.
“No, I’m not going to try to convert you, although I’d certainly be
happy to discuss God’s role in your future, if you’re open to that.
But faith doesn’t have to mean believing in a higher power.
Sometimes it can just mean believing in yourself.”
Lucas wouldn’t let himself say any of the
self-pitying replies that sprang to his mind, so he kept his mouth
shut. Yeah, the priest was a dreamer. Lucas only let himself dream
when he was asleep.
As if he’d heard that thought, the priest
smiled and said, “Get some sleep, then. I can bring you a book, if
you’d like to stay up here when you wake up. I’ll probably be gone
by dinner, but someone will be here.”
“The other priest?”
“No. I don’t think so. Father Webber is
taking some time off.”
Lucas might not have picked up on it if the
priest hadn’t blinked. Just once, a quick reaction to a misspoken
word. Nothing obvious, but it was enough to make Lucas think.
Father Webber. Mark Webber. Mark Webber. Oh, Jesus, Lucas knew that
name. “Webber?” he whispered. “Jimmy Webber…Jimmy Webber’s brother
is named Mark.” Lucas had seen his name in newspaper articles. And
now that he thought about it… “Jimmy Webber’s brother is a
minister, or something. A…a priest?”
There was no immediate answer. The priest sat
still, frowning at the floor, and finally said, “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to burden you with that. It’s not something you need to
worry about.”
“Father Mark is Jimmy Webber’s brother?”
Lucas couldn’t seem to raise his voice to a normal level. It came
out at a whisper, and he was pretty sure that if he pushed for more
volume it would turn into a scream.
“It was an oversight that brought you into
contact with him. This facility is here to help you rejoin society.
You have a big job ahead of you and you need to keep your focus on
that. Don’t worry about Mark.”
“Father!” Lucas tried to keep his voice
level. “He’s Jimmy Webber’s brother. I can’t do anything for Jimmy.
And his family wasn’t interested in any reconciliation stuff. They
asked about that at the prison and I said I’d do whatever the
family wanted, and the family said they never wanted to see me
again.” It hadn’t been fun to hear, but it hadn’t been surprising,
either. But now? “Why isn’t Father Mark here? Is it because of me?
Because I’m here? This is his job, his thing that…” Lucas struggled
to remember the words. “He gets satisfaction from this, right? It
gives him a sense of purpose? Father, I can’t get in the way of
that! I’ve already hurt him enough. If he’s not here because of me,
I should go. I need to go.”
“No, Lucas.” The priest’s voice wasn’t loud
but it was firm. “Mark isn’t being punished. He isn’t being
deprived of meaningful work. He’s just taking some time away from
this situation in order to regain perspective. Mark is fine. You,
on the other hand, are recovering from some fairly serious
injuries, and when that’s taken care of you’ll be busy working on
your reintegration into society. Please don’t let yourself be
distracted.” He stood and lifted the tray away from Lucas’s legs.
“You’re tired. Rest, now. I’m sorry I disturbed your peace, but you
need to find it again.” His smile was as tired as Lucas’s spirit.
“I know, it seems like a complication. But it isn’t. It’s nothing
to do with you, or what you’re working on. Let yourself rest,
Lucas. Let yourself recover.”
He waited for a response they both knew
wasn’t going to come, and eventually left, shutting the door behind
him. Lucas lay in bed, his body tense and refusing to relax. Mark
Webber. Jimmy Webber’s brother. Lucas had already hurt the family,
and now he…what had he done? What had Webber been thinking when he
saw Lucas? Was it any wonder that the man had been a little
distant? Lucas was lucky he hadn’t been smothered in his sleep.
Or maybe unlucky. At least that would have
been an end to it all. As it was, Lucas was stuck in this
nightmare.
And stuck thinking about himself, as if he
was the one who was suffering here. As if he had any right to feel
sorry for himself after what he’d done. He needed to think about
Mark Webber. The man had lost his brother, but he hadn’t given up.
He’d kept going, kept working and serving and being a good citizen.
And Lucas had shown up on his doorstep and Webber had still been a
decent human being. Now, it was looking like the man had lost his
job, or been transferred, or…Jesus, if the man had been asked to
cross the street in a way he normally wouldn`t have, if that had
happened because of Lucas…
Lucas swung his feet over the side of the bed
and took a deep breath before pushing himself upright. The pain was
bad, the dizziness worse, but he could survive. He could stay
upright. He staggered a little as he moved around the room,
gathering his few belongings into the canvas gym bag he’d been
given at the jail. He needed to get the hell out of there. It was
Webber’s place, and Lucas had already taken far too much from that
family. He wouldn’t take this too. Webber deserved better.