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Trine
Iwatch as a bunch of people in uniform load Tom into the back of an ambulance. There’s some conversation between Rei and the two EMTs loading him into the ambulance, and after they tell him where they’re taking Tom, and the ambulance speeds away, everything in the suburban cul-de-sac feels like it’s fake.
No one’s outside. No one’s watching us. Everyone’s probably at work, or minding their own business, but I can’t help but think that they’re probably peeking out their windows and wondering why a young man is going to the hospital in the first place.
Misha is on the phone. He’s notifying the mother.
Rei is also on the phone, I don’t know who he’s talking to.
Luke’s next to me, his gaze following the ambulance as it disappears around the bend, the sirens getting quieter as the vehicle drives away. He turns to me. “How are you holding up?”
I laugh, my arms crossed over my chest. “Great,” I say. “Awesome. Love that we couldn’t even help him.”
“Yet.”
“You’re optimistic,” I reply. “How? How can you be optimistic about this, when you won’t be able to do an exorcism on him anymore?”
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. They look bright blue in the sunlight, but despite the smile he’s fighting to keep on his face, he looks tired. I can’t blame him. I haven’t even done anything, and I’m fucking exhausted. “I wish I could tell you that I know exactly how I’m going to do it or what I’m going to do, but I can’t,” he replies. “The only thing I can tell you for sure is that I don’t write people off.”
“But you don’t know how to help him.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying,” he replies. “I wouldn’t stop trying with you. Why would I stop trying with him?”
I shudder. I’m suddenly very cold, and I hug myself. I’m trying to stay strong, but this is difficult.
Luke purses his lips. I don’t want him to worry about me, but he looks concerned.
“Let’s take a walk,” he says.
“What?” I ask. “What about them?”
“They’ll be here when we get back. They’re taking care of stuff,” he replies. “You and me, we don’t need to take care of anything. We can take a walk.”
I smile at him, despite myself. I think he’s right. And the way he’s looking at me, like he’s so concerned about me…it’s sweet. He doesn’t know me. I don’t know why he’s so worried about me.
When he starts walking, I walk with him. He looks nothing like a priest right now. He’s wearing black jeans that cling to his long legs, a crisp white t-shirt with short sleeves. It’s tight, and I can see how the rich outlines of his shoulders strain against the delicate fabric. His hair is dark, cropped short, with a fade on the sides. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans and flashes me a smile.
It doesn’t seem like it takes him any effort. I have no idea how, but despite everything that’s happened, his disposition stays weirdly sunny.
“You aren’t letting it get to you,” I mumble, more to myself than to him.
He furrows his brow. “Iamletting it get to me,” he says. “I’m thinking about it as we speak. But it’s not hopeless yet. I have faith.”
I shake my head. “How?” I ask. “Rei and Misha both seem to think it’s a write off.”
“Rei and Misha have to do what they’ve been trained to do most of their lives. Misha is managing a crisis, and Rei is trying to figure out how to help Tom medically, where they’re transporting him, all of that,” he says. “Just like I have to do what I’ve been training to do most of mine.”
“How long does it take to become a priest?” I ask.
He laughs. “It’s not a job, it’s a vocation. So probably the majority of my life, yeah.”
I laugh, too. “I don’t know how you do it. I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I think…when I was a kid, the only thing that made sense to me was music,” I say. “My dad was a drummer in a bunch of local bands, and he would take me with him. I would be there for the set-up, and his bandmates would let me fuck around with their instruments, until one of them just offered to give me guitar lessons. But it was never a purpose. It was always something I did for fun. I guess the rest of the band is a lot more driven than me. I never expected to actually do this for work.”
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“What’s not to like? I play bass in a punk band. Do you know how little I have to do?”
He laughs, shaking his head. We walk around a corner, and the houses here get a little nicer than the ones in the cul-de-sac. The sun beats down on us as we walk further away from the rest of the guys. “That makes sense. Sounds fun.”
