Page 38 of Heathens
I try to laugh, but nothing comes out. I look at the picture again as Lily toils with the coffee. The glasses—the round frames...
“The man who took you... how old was he?” I turn to face her. She brings the coffees to her couch.
“Maybe late fifties? Brown hair, brown eyes, tall... he has a—” She stops suddenly and shakes her head. “Anyways, I haven’t been able to find him, so it’s moot point.”
It’s not the same man.
It can’t—can’t—be.
She sips her coffee and sits down on the couch, pulling her legs underneath her. I take a seat across from her and set my coffee down. I don’t need it—I’m used to all-nighters, being in seminary school and all—but even if my sleep schedule wasn’t so erratic, the adrenaline jolt from hearing Auguste’s name is enough to keep me alert.
The slithering black cat walks over and sits right in front of me, staring. At least he doesn’t look two seconds away from clawing my eyes out like he was last time.
“How do you reconcile giving it all up?” Lily asks, looking at me with bloodshot, tired eyes.
“What do you mean?”
She leans her head back and reclines slightly, moving her feet so that she's laying on the couch. “I mean... how did you go from a party guy to... this?“ She gestures to me. I'm sitting with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together.
“I was lost,” I answer. “And God found me.”
She nods and swallows, looking at me like that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. “I think God forgot about me,” she mumbles, her eyelids drooping.
Holding my gaze for a few seconds, she closes her eyes. I continue to sip my coffee as she begins to snore. Smiling, I grab a blanket from the back of the couch and lay it over her. I should be going anyway. Just as I gather my things, I hear her stir.
“Will you stay?” Her voice is barely audible—and when I turn to face her, she’s watching me with such vulnerability. When I first met her, she was guarded, locked up tight from anyone or anything that might make her feel something. And now? Her soul is cracked open and exposed, laid bare for me to see. I can’t leave her here like this. Jekyll meows and sits on the coffee table, facing me.
Vigilantly protecting Lily like a little, feline guard.
I don’t waver. I don’t even hesitate as I walk over to the chair and grab the remote for the television. My heart lurches when I seeLe Mondeopen to the obituary section. I meant it when I said I would dance with her in the dark. Just as I think it, and just as she settles back into sleep, her eyes closed and her face now peaceful, I hear that rare voice in my head.
The one that called me to become a priest, that led me to Notre Dame, that coerced me to talk to her that night at L’As du Falafel.
The four words repeat themselves over and over again as Jekyll inches closer and closer on all fours, until a few minutes later when he curls up at my feet and starts to purr softly. Until I can’t deny the shouting, victorious voice of my maker in my head.
You finally found her.
You finally found her.
You finally found her.
Mandarin
Auguste
Present
I run my fingers down her smooth legs, feeling for imperfections. She’s new, and therefore a bit stiff as I gently nudge her onto the large bed. Still fighting the drugs. Still fighting this life.
“I want to call my family,” she whimpers, her words blending into one another.
“This is your life now,” I coo, stroking her short, black hair. Yes, she’ll be perfect in our Monte Carlo region. Her silky hair, her unblemished skin... I’ll put her on a train tomorrow. For now, I get to enjoy her for the night.
“Who are you?” she whispers, her dilated pupils roving over my face.
“I’m your friend. You can tell me anything.” I remove my shirt and climb into bed with her.
“I’m scared.” The two words are barely audible. “I want to go home.”
