It took a while but I pulled it together, got out of the water and dressed. We sat at a picnic table in silence. Paul was having one hell of a time with my avoidance issues and I wondered how much of it he’d take.

“Sorry about this.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not necessary and it won’t help. Just listen to what you’re saying and try to see it another way, that’s all. Let’s keep at this, okay?”

Was it really fair for him to push two raging hangovers through the shit? It didn’t seem to matter, he was moving ahead.

“Your mother and grandmother. Tell me about them.”

That, I could handle. If I told it carefully, I could say it all. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but they were … different, you know?”

“Different?”

“Well, different from anyone else. Mom was sort of a caregiver; she went whenever someone was real sick. The next day, like that,” I snapped my fingers. “They were fine. Gandmum said she had the touch. No clue what that meant, but people got better after she went to them.

“Once, I was about nine or ten, she’d gone to help an elderly man living down the street. Dad was out drinking someplace. I was sitting on the porch and I swear I heard her talk to me. It was bloody strange. She asked me to bring her blue bag. It was odd ‘cause she never went anywhere without that ugly big blue pouch.”

“What was in it?” Paul asked.

“Stuff, her wallet, pictures. I have no idea. But I kept hearing her voice inside my head, so I went inside and damn if it wasn’t sitting on the table. When I got to her, she was waiting on the stoop for it. Thanked me, like it was normal, like she’d called on the phone or something.”

“Huh. And your grandmother?”

I chuckled. “That was just weird. Grandmum was, I guess you’d call it, clairvoyant.  People would come and ask her questions. ‘Will I get that job?’ or ‘Where is my missing husband?’ stuff like that. She’d tell them too. Some loved her for it, some hated her. It was tough, mate. Seeing things like like.”

“I bet. Who’s Brenda? You mentioned her a few times.”

“Oh shit,” I laughed. “Brenda’s Frankie’s wife. Mate, she bloody hated me, but one day, it was about a year after Ordination, and I was placed at St. Anthony’s under Father Benedict …

*

I’d just jogged back to the rectory after coaching the school soccer game, feeling good, tired, pleased with the kids. I trotted up the steps and walked inside, running an arm over my sweaty face, suddenly aware of how I looked. With my luck, some visiting dignitary would be waiting in the rectory and I’d frighten the hell out of them. Dust and mud crusted my knees; my black shirt was wrinkled and damp with perspiration. I turned the corner and faced my worst fear. There was someone in the waiting lounge. A woman, prim in a well made tan suit, her dark hair tied back neatly and her purse held tight on her knees. She looked up and shuffled slightly in her chair.

 “Ah, g’day,” I said panting and running a hand through my too-long hair, intending to make a quick escape and reach the shower before she’d take notice the grubby priest who ran past.

“Hello, Michael.” She spoke softly and I blinked, thought hard for a moment then dropped into a chair in disbelief.

“Brenda?”

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you, mate?” She didn’t smile.

I leaned back in my chair and just stared at her. “Good God. Brenda? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, Michael. It’s important.”

I just sat there, looking like a fool.

“Please.” I watched her eyes fill with tears.

“Of course. Sure. You alright?”

“No. I’m not alright. I’ve been driving all night, waiting here for hours. I really need to talk to you, Michael.”

“Come with me. How about some coffee or tea? Are you hungry?” I led her to the kitchen and put a teakettle on the burner then turned. “Sit down, relax. Please.”

I fumbled around the kitchen for cups, saucers, spoons, napkins; anything to help me concentrate and gain control over my complete shock at her appearance. When I turned she was seated elegantly at the table, hands folded, her expression one of royalty. I slid my grubby self in the chair across from her.

“Well.” I tried to smile. “You look great. You haven’t changed at all.”

“You have,” she said, eyeing my dirty white collar.

“Ah, I was coaching a game. Twelve year olds.” I shrugged.

She nodded, understanding.

I swallowed hard and asked the question I’d been avoiding. “Brenda, what’s happened?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

I shook my head, my eyes glued on her tears, my heart shaking inside me.

“Petie. He’s dead, Michael.” She spoke gently, but the impact of her words felt like someone had just dropped a boulder on me.

 I could hardly speak. “How?”

She pushed tears from her cheek and huffed. “You know Petie. He started some kind of riot at that prison, got himself stabbed. That was over three months ago.” She watched me process the disastrous news then reached over and lightly patted my hand. I looked up into her face. “I’m not here about Petie.” She smoothed back her perfect hair. “I’m here because of Frank. He’s in trouble, Michael. Terrible trouble.”

The teakettle screamed and we both nearly leapt out of our skin. I rubbed my eyes and went to pour steaming water over teabags, mindless activity to help me move ahead in the face of information that shook me to the core. “What kind of trouble?” I watched the water darken, then set a lid on the tea pot and carried it to the table with shaking hands, the porcelain rattling like my nerves.

She sighed. “Well, Petie wouldn’t see Frank. He went to that awful place every Wednesday night hoping he’d change his mind, but he didn’t. And … and now.” She lowered her face, her head dangling loose, her sobs silent and shaking the bodice of her well tailored suit jacket. Then she gasped, pushed wetness from her face briskly in an attempt to regain herself. “Well, now, Michael, well, now,” and Brenda looked into my eyes for the first time ever. “Now Frank’s lost. Lost. I’m afraid. I’m fucking terrified he’ll take his own life. Michael … I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to loose him. You’ve got to help him. Please, come and talk to him. I know he’ll listen to you, I know it. He loves you, he trusts you.” She gulped back another sob. “Please.”

“Of course.” I stood, poured her tea and ran a hand down my soiled black shirt. “I just … I have to make a few arrangements so I can leave. Just wait here. I’ll be right back.” I left the kitchen and got only a few feet down the hall when the reality of it all struck me. I leaned back against the wall and choked back the fear and mourning that threatened to crush me. When I reached Father Benedict, I was shaking. He listened carefully then followed me to my room, helped me pack and assured me that they’d all be praying for Frank.

“Take all the time you need, my boy. Take care of Frank and his family. And, say your farewells to Petie.” He gripped my arms tight in his hands. “Be strong, Michael. And pray.”

I drove Brenda’s car, careful to keep my speeding mind slow, to concentrate on the highway, the lights, the road signs. She sat silent as death and for a long time I wondered if she was asleep. About an hour into the trip I turned to her. Brenda was amazingly as beautiful as she was at fifteen; her face radiant, her hair and eyes shiny, and her expression that of pure determination. She needed to talk and obviously I would have to help her start.

“Brenda, you look exactly the same. You haven’t aged one day. It’s remarkable.”

She turned to me, her face blank.

“I swear. You look great.”

She turned away, looking out her window.

“Look,” I said, finally deciding that I’d simply be myself and see how things would fall. “I know it was hard for you to come for me. You never liked me all that much, in fact,” I cleared my throat. “I was sure there for a while that you hated me.”

“I admired you, Michael. I have always admired you. But,” she smoothed the perfect fabric of her skirt over her knees. “I think I was a bit jealous of you. Frank loved you so much; sometimes I thought he loved you more than he loved me.”

“That’s bloody ridiculous –”

“No, no it’s actually not. Since we were kids, twelve, thirteen it was always Michael this and Michael that. He wanted to be like you, think like you. When you quit school, Frank decided to learn for you.”

“What?” I turned from the road ahead to face her fully.

“He did. He started to take more and more difficult classes, leaving his books at that old damn shack you blokes loved so much. He figured that you’d go there and study them, and if you couldn’t do that, he’d get the education first then help you along. Frank would have done anything for you.”

I pulled off the road and rubbed my eyes.

“Since that day. When Petie killed that man … Oh God, Michael. Frank struggled with his conscious. He worried about you, he worried about Petie. And he worried about me and the baby until I thought he’d loose his mind. But after a while, he came to grips with it all. Petie wouldn’t see him, and you, you simply disappeared off the face of the earth. My poor Frank. The two mates he loved most in all the world couldn’t give him the time of day –”

“Brenda, it wasn’t like that.” Hell, I knew she was right and guilt flared from my chest to my toes. “Fuck. I just.”

“Yeah, I know. You just had to move on with your life. I know. Can we get back on the road? Frank’s mum is staying with the kids and I don’t want to take advantage of her.”

I pulled back onto the road. “Kids?”

“Yes, four of them.”

“Four!” I was hoping to move her mind in another direction. We didn’t have to trudge through all of it in fifteen minutes. I surely would have preferred to take it in doses. But Brenda was on a roll.

“I said I admired you, Michael. I never said I liked you. I admired you for everything you endured. Your life was a living hell and you did everything in your power to overcome the worst of it, to be a good mate, take care of everyone, your mum, your grandmum. So I had to admire you. For Christ sake, you were a fucking saint. And of course, you deserve all the good things of life. I won’t begrudge you that. And I really mean it when I say that I understand. You had to move on. You deserved a chance. But, damn it.

“I don’t deserve this! And Frank shouldn’t be suffering this way. I love my husband, more than I could ever explain to the likes of you. And I love my family. I don’t want to loose it all. Frank’s a good man. Where’s his chance? Tell me that.”

I had no words for her. I bit my lip and drove, just listening to her shout a speech she might have been rehearsing for years.

“You deserted him, Michael. He’s in such a horrible depression that he doesn’t talk for days. He stopped working. I have to work two jobs just to keep food on the table! And things were going so well.

“You and that bastard, Petie. Talk about a selfish prick. What’s more selfish than taking the easy way out and leaving someone like my Frank to bear the emotional responsibility?

“And then there’s the great Michael. Off someplace, making a new life for himself, never giving a second thought to the people who love him! Not one thought. Sure, you deserve a good life, mate, but that sure as hell doesn’t excuse your abominable selfishness.”

She stopped talking so abruptly that I turned. There was a look of pure terror painted her face. She shivered then turned to me, tears covering her lovely face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered then sobbed into her hands. I screeched the tires off the road then took her by the arms and dragged her across the seat. I held her close as she cried and begged forgiveness, her face deep in my chest.

“You got nothing to be sorry about. Nothing. You’re right. I’m as much of a selfish prick as Petie. I should’ve kept in touch. I heard you and Frank got married and I just figured he’d be fine. I hadn’t figured on the worst.”

“I never should have said those things. I need your help. I don’t mean to be so ungrateful. I never intended to be so –”

“You got nothing to be grateful for. Nothing to be sorry about.”

She looked up into my eyes and blinked back a fresh wave of tears.

“Now, Brenda,” I ran a hand over her hair. “What do you say we stop all this bullshit? Let’s just leave all this crap right here on the side of the road and get home to take care of Frank.” I wanted to sound confident, sure that I would be able to fix everything, make it better for her. But I didn’t feel that at all. What on earth would I say to Frank? Who was I to think I could help him? “Let’s get you home, alright?”

She slowly pulled herself away.

“Hey, lady, we don’t have to like each other, as long as we both love Frank, right?”

She nodded with a sad smile.

“Now, tell me about these four children you have.”

She slowly warmed to the subject, a natural thing for any proud mother and my guess was that Brenda was prouder than most. I was astounded to hear that Adam, their oldest was nearly eight years old. Colin was seven and the twin girls were three and just beginning to talk up a storm. She genuinely smiled as she told stories of their escapades; it was obvious that Brenda was exceedingly thrilled to have the girls after a hard road in a house full of males. The travel was pleasant enough. We stopped once for a quick bite then moved ahead, hoping to reach Melbourne before dark.

I slowly parked in front of the house, gawking at it in astonishment. I could barely breathe.

Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Christ! I’m so sorry, Michael. I guess I should’ve prepared you. We bought your grandmum’s house two years ago. I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you, it just slipped my mind!”

“It’s fine.” I rubbed my tired eyes, trying hard not to let her see the emotion gathering there. Grandmum’s house; like I didn’t have enough to deal with. I tried to focus on the fact that the porch was nicely painted a color different than before and the small front lawn boasted flowers Grandmum would have never had the time to care for.

Brenda opened the door and prepared to get out.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

She returned to her seat, a tender expression in her eyes.

“How’d you know where to find me?”

She blinked. “Your father.”

“My father? How the hell would he know where I am?”

She squared her shoulders to me. “He’s in Sydney. I thought you knew. He’s working on the docks. Comes back to Melbourne every couple months. He told us he was at your Ordination.”

My mouth had fallen to my lap.

“Michael, he hasn’t taken a drink in years.”

I cleared my throat. “Why does he come to Melbourne?”

Brenda shrugged. “Damned if I know. He visits Felicity. Sometimes he stops in to see Frank. You alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” Amazingly, I was. I looked up at the house. There was only one thing I gave a damn about, and it was Frank. “Let’s go.”

The peaceful façade of the pretty house drastically changed once we entered. Four kids definitely make one great ruckus. We entered the lounge and I stood still as stone, observing a simultaneously comic and frightening scene. Frank sat in an overstuffed chair, his eyes blank, completely glazed over and I could’ve sworn at that moment that he was too far gone for any help I could offer. One little girl sat at his feet, squealing and slapping her hand into a puddle of juice she’d obviously poured on the carpet. Her twin sat on Frank’s lap, crying at the top of her lungs, her little arms wrapped around his neck. Frank wasn’t responding to her, so she cried even louder. One of the boys sat with his nose approximately three inches from the blazing television screen and simply raised the volume every time the baby wailed. And from the top of the stairs, Adam yelled for a bit of peace so that he could concentrate on his studies. I blinked and watched Brenda take a firm handle on things.

She simply walked up to the television and switched it off then pointed to the stairs. Colin eyed me suspiciously, huffed and slunk off to his own neglected schoolbooks. Then she reached down and gently scolded the little girl in the puddle and again aimed her finger at the stairs. The little one stood, wiped her wet hands down her shirt and reached up, bestowing a generous hug around her mother’s neck. I watched Brenda’s eyes close in ecstasy, then she patted the tiny back and the little girl too climbed the stairs.

Just then Frank’s mother rounded the corner armed with damp towels to clean the carpet. I reached for the crying baby and took her tenderly from Frank’s lap. She cuddled and quieted slightly, her wet little face buried deep in my neck, her small sturdy body wrapping itself around me like a warm coat.

“I’m so sorry Brenda. Everything was fine.” Frank’s mom knelt and began mopping up juice. “It was just fine until all hell broke loose about an hour ago.”

Brenda bent down and took the towel from her mother-in-law and helped the older woman to her feet. “It’s nothing mum. I’ll clean it later. Look who I’ve brought back with me.” She took the baby from my arms and stepped back.

Frank’s mum looked up at me and a smile slowly spread across her tired face. “Michael?” She was one of my favorite neighborhood mothers. Not because she was tolerant, or gave us candy or liberties we couldn’t find at home, but because she was always so solid, so sure of things. Her eyes were bright, set deep in a wreath of soft wrinkles and smile lines. She reached out and I lowered myself into her strong arms. “Michael Becker. I’m so pleased to see you.”

My heart was pounding. What if I couldn’t help Frank? What of I let those two women down? If they couldn’t reach him, how on earth would I? “Mrs. Sheldon. It’s good to see you too.” I choked back my fear, then pulled away to take a good look. “You’re still beautiful,” I smiled.

“Father Becker’s a real charmer,” Brenda teased over the baby’s sobs.

“No. Just honest. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so soothing to the eyes in years."

“You just needed to come home for a bit. Things always look better when you come home, Michael.” Mrs. Sheldon chuckled sadly, then scooped the crying baby from Brenda’s arms and swept out of the parlor making soft hushing sounds, leaving the three of us alone in a sudden, unnatural quiet.

Brenda stepped toward Frank and bend down, kissing him softly on the cheek. He blinked then came to life, or some semblance of it. He looked her over, ran a loving hand down her face then cleared his throat, a raw, crackling sound. “You going out, sweetheart?”

She sighed and smiled. “No, but look who’s here.” Frank gazed in my direction, his eyes slowly traveling from my feet to my eyes.

“You invited a priest?” he stated slowly.

She turned to me, concern in her eyes then focused again on her husband. “Frank, baby. It’s Michael.”

“I know who it is,” and again his eyes focused on a world we were not privileged to see.

I squeezed her shoulder and she nodded, taking one more look at her crippled husband before ascending the stairs.

I sat across from Frank and wondered what to do next. Could he hear me if I talked to him? Did he know what was happening around him? I wished I could call Paul, ask his advice. But my favorite cowboy shrink was somewhere in Alaska, working with a small group of priests on a remote wilderness retreat there. He couldn’t be reached no matter how badly I needed him.

So I started to talk. Just rambled on and on, telling Frank about everything that had happened to me since I left him in the convenience store parking lot. I told him virtually everything, confessing things I’d never even confided to Father Benedict.

And I wondered. Was I talking for Frank, or for myself? Finally, a very tired Brenda bundled in a flannel robe came down stairs and sat beside me. “I do that too,” she said softly. “Just talk to him when he’s off like this. I’ve even yelled at him. It’s not always like this, you know. Sometimes he’s perfectly fine for days at a time, but most of the time he’s far away. So far away. Only a touch seems to bring him back, and even that’s less and less often.” She turned to me. “What are we going to do, Michael?”

I rubbed my aching eyes. “We’ll figure out something. Have you talked to a doctor?”

She nodded then hugged herself tight. “I won’t let them medicate him into oblivion or put him away in some mental hospital. I really believe that if we can reach him at all, it can’t be through a haze of drugs.”

I tended to agree with her logic, but pondered the possibilities of some sort of a gentle medicinal therapy. “Do you think he can hear us?”

She shrugged, then stood with a deep groan and gently touched Frank’s arm. He blinked. “Time for bed, baby.” He nodded and stood groggily, following her to the steps.

I went out onto the porch and lit a cigarette. I was starting to feel desperate, hoping I wasn’t their last chance, that I could find a way to reach him easily, simply. I prayed. The evening was cold and I shivered. I smoked and prayed, prayed and cried. Prayed for Frank and Petie and myself. Prayed for guidance, tolerance, hope. Mostly hope in the face of an obviously desperate situation. That’s when I heard it. My blood ran frigid and I sensed a tingle of heat run down my spine. I felt her touch me. “My boy, don’t worry.”

I drew in a deep trembling breath. “Grandmum?”

“Yes.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Nothing.”

I laughed through tears, afraid to turn around, terrified she’d be standing right there on the porch with me. “And that’s going to work, is it?”

“Yes.”

When I retreated to the warm lounge, the sofa was made up with sheets, blankets and an inviting pillow. Without a second thought I dropped onto it, falling into a dead sleep.

I awoke to the sound of Brenda hushing a crying baby.  She walked quickly past me, holding the child close. “Hush, Lili. Shh.”

I sat up and rubbed my face, switched on the lamp and checked my watch. Three-thirty. I listened to the baby who wouldn’t or couldn’t be comforted and wondered if Frank’s condition was affecting Lili in a bad way.

I followed the sound to the kitchen and reached out for the baby. Brenda was rocking and cuddling the poor thing, looking so tired I feared she’d drop. Lili snuggled and sobbed softly in my arms. I pressed my hand to her face. No fever but I could feel the agony radiating from the baby.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Brenda pushed back a loose wisp of hair and put on a pot of coffee. I raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh, when Lili gets like this, it’s usually a very long night. I’ll never get through it without caffeine.”

“What’s wrong sweet Lili?” I asked as I sat and shuffled her on my lap. She looked deep in my eyes, her face distressed, her breath dragging and hiccupping from the hard cry. Then she closed her big eyes and started to cry again, harder. Brenda smoothed Lili’s hair then proceeded to fold an overloaded basket of clean towels. She was trying not to let me see her weakening, breaking under the pressure of her crumbling life. I stood and walked the baby, then pressed her close and felt a sensation I couldn’t recognize; a trembling of my own heart, a cold and hot rush all at once. I looked down at Lili and without warning felt a sharp pain in my sternum, thumping, aching, throbbing … and I knew without question that it wasn’t my pain … it was Lili’s.

*

I stopped talking so abruptly that Paul’s face shot from his contemplative stare at the distant river.

“What was wrong with her?”

Pressing my hand hard to my chest, I felt my heart thump erratically, recalled the sensations of that night, the terror in my soul over what happened next and wanted nothing more than to shut it away. Put it in a hidden, dark place with so many other things. But I knew Paul needed to hear it all, knew I needed to tell it all. I choked back a sob driven by my fears and the intense agony growing in my chest. Not my pain. Lili’s.

His eyes sharp, watching, Paul waited patiently. When I could talk without a tremble in my voice, I continued.

“Our God is something else, mate.”

*

Brenda pulled another towel from the basket. “The doctors say there’s nothing wrong with her. That she’s just the cranky twin.”

I rushed to the table, dragging at the towels, making a cushion for Lili. “She’s in pain.” I said as calmly as I could, laying the baby down.

“That’s crazy, Michael I’d know if my own child was in pain.”

I set my fingertip on Lili’s chest, moved it up an inch then winced. “Right here.” I closed my eyes, open my palm and set it softly on the crying baby’s chest. I felt Brenda touch my arm then suddenly pull her hand away. I heard her ask what I was doing but was completely unable to respond. I was deep in Lili, seeing the defect the doctors never looked for, the tiny heart that was struggling to sustain a vibrant three year old. I watched it push and pull at itself, actually heard it cry out. Then came the blackness, the voices. Without looking I knew that my hand no longer actually rested on the baby, but hovered inches above her. I prayed with the voices, moved with the instruction that had no translation into human language. The light came, hard and fast, blinding me, dropping me like a rock to my knees, but I held on, desperate for poor Lili. 

It went on and on and I held myself tight to the baby. Finally, gratefully, the pain in my own chest slowly receded, diminished and I was drenched with sweat. I drew in a deep sudden breath then carefully open my eyes and climbed to my feet. Lili was sleeping calmly, soundly. I ran my hand over her cheek and silently prayed my gratitude. It had happened again. Came and took me again. And Lili was alright. I felt comforted, having recognized each part of the experience, confident for the first time that no harm would come of it.

“What did you do?” Brenda asked, her voice shaking as she reached for her baby.

“Nothing.” I turned and went back to the sofa, feeling weak, tired and exhilarated at once.

*

“Again? You said it took you again.” Paul said softly. He was looking at his tight hands, locked on the wooden picnic table.

Fuck, I had done it. Verbalized something I’d sworn I never would. Never could. And I realized that I was keeping my promise, letting Paul lead me but I simply couldn’t go any further with that. I didn’t answer his question and he blessedly moved ahead.

“What about Frank?”

Rain pattered in the leaves overhead and a soft rolling thunder called from far away. I pressed the heel of my hand at my tears. “Well, the next morning I woke on that sofa.”

*

“Mom say’s we’ll be late for mass if you don’t get up and get ready now.”

I cracked one eye to what appeared to be a miniature version of Frank in the Dry Dock all those years ago.

“Come on, Father. I’m in enough trouble already for that television incident. If you don’t get up now, she’ll box my ears and send me off to military school.” He shuffled from foot to foot.

“Colin?” I grumbled, my voice thick from sleep.

“Yeah?”

I groaned myself up and stretched my back. “There’s not a military school within two hundred miles of this town.” I yawned. “And I sincerely doubt that your mother has ever boxed your ears.” I pulled at the blankets, attempting to fold them with little success. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty-five.” I turned to a steaming cup of coffee and a smiling Frank. He looked at his watch. “Seven thirty-six. You better get a move on, mate. Brenda likes to attend eight-o’clock mass on Sunday.”

I took the cup and blinked. Nothing. Grandmum said I should do nothing and Frank would be alright. “G’morning.”

He dragged a few blanket up from the floor and rolled them. “Were you up late last night?”

I nodded, unsure how to respond.

“I’m fine, Michael.” Frank ran a hand through his hair and smiled a sad grin. “I’m fine, mate. We got lots to talk about.” He turned to leave then glanced back with a vaguely confused expression. “I heard every word you said to me last night, Michael. Isn’t that strange?”

“Is it?”

He shrugged then gathered up his happy squealing twins in both arms and called for Adam to hurry.

Frank and I sat in the back pew long after the church had emptied, our legs stretched long in front and our heads propped on the back rest. I listened to what Frank heard me say the night before and marveled. Most of it wasn’t at all what I’d said, but exactly what I meant. Frank was conveying my truest feelings about every event I’d described to him.

“Do you remember our Confirmation, mate?” Frank asked after a long silence.

I blinked then laughed aloud. “Oh, yeah. What the hell happened?”

Frank chuckled. “Damn Petie. He spotted that beautiful blonde, you remember, the librarian? The one with the great figure and the –”

“I remember.”

“Well, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, the stupid sod tripped over his own feet and –”

“I looked back and it was just like a line of dominos, six, seven blokes dropping to the floor, making one hell of a noise, all grunting and swearing.” I laughed so hard I had to wipe my eyes. “I thought old Bishop Burk would have a heart attack.”

“And when it was over, the only one standing was Petie.” Frank chuckled then fell silent. “That’s how he was. I thought he’d always be the last one standing.”

I turned in my seat, leaning an elbow on the backrest and rubbing my temple.

“How’d we fail him, mate?” Frank asked.

“I don’t think we did.” I spoke softly, slowly. Making sure I really meant what I was saying. “I think maybe Petie failed himself.” Frank blinked and turned to me. “Are you really surprised it all went down the way it did?”

Frank released a long sigh then resumed his slouch and gazed up to the altar.

I watched his profile, wondered what was going on inside his tormented head. “Where do you go, mate?” I finally asked.

“I don’t know. Somewhere. Nowhere. At first I really wanted it. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I missed Petie, you, my life. I couldn’t bear to hear my poor little Lili cry or watch my wife work until she dropped.” He faced me. “At first I was sick. I mean not in the head. I got a cold, then pneumonia. Was in bed for weeks. That’s the first time I realized how hard things were really getting. Doctors telling us Lili was just a whiner. The priests at the school threatening to expel Colin, the boy’s always in trouble for something. And Petie dying like that. I swear I could actually hear my heart exploding. Mate, I simply couldn’t handle it. So. I just … sort of left.

“I remember it clearly. I was sitting at the dinner table, looking around at my beautiful family and I was suddenly sure I’d fail them. I don’t know why, I mean things were going really great. My boss had just assigned me to a new division at the plant and I was up for a scholarship, you know, the kind of thing where you go to night school and get all the education you need to advance. I was going to be the guy to help take the company into the age of high technology.” His laughed was a bitter grunt.

“Yeah, things were going great, but all I could see was this stinking hole, this deep black pit that I was going to fall into. Brenda and I were talking about … I don’t know, something simple, like Adam's grades, or how the twins were growing. Just simple stuff, nothing bad. And all of a sudden, I started to slip away. Into this warm water and it was dark, and safe. And I just stayed there for a while.”

He sighed. “It’s a strange place, mate. So peaceful. Maybe like death, I don’t know. And for a while it’s wonderful, then after that I think ‘okay, enough of this’, and I come back to check on things.” He turned to me, a strange fear in his eyes. “When did I become such a coward, mate? ‘Cause that’s what I’ve become. A stinking coward. That’s for sure.”

“I doubt that.” I shifted on the hard wooden seat. “Your life isn’t the easiest one I can think of. You’re what, twenty-four? You have a wife, a mortgage, kids. I’d say you’re a bit of an overachiever. Maybe this kind of thing is normal for people like you? You walk a hard road; maybe your mind just needed a rest?”

He huffed. “What hard road? I live with a beautiful woman who loves me.”

“Right, and four beautiful children.”

Frank grinned. “Five. Another coming next spring.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“What can I say? I was lucid one night about six weeks ago.”

“Good enough reason to stick around, I’d say.”

He fell silent.

“Tell me, Frank. Have you always chosen to slip away like that?”

He nodded without looking at me.

“And you choose when to come back?”

Another nod.

“So, choose not to go.” I knew I was simplifying things drastically, but his brow curled with consideration and I wondered. Was his depression and escape like an addiction? Would it take more than desire to stop? We sat for a long time, deep in our own thoughts. When finally he sat up on the wooden bench and stretched.

“Can I ask you something?”

I chuckled. “Just don’t ask me why I became a priest.” I’d heard it several times before and after mass, having for the first time in years seen the people who were my whole life once so long ago.

“Why would I ask you that? It seems like a perfectly logical career choice for you. I wanted to ask you something else.”

“Okay.”

“About Lisy.”

 “What about her?”

“The baby, you know, when she married that old fart from the bank? Is it yours?”

“No.”

He nodded with a sigh. “I saw her at the funeral. She looked terrible. Old, tired. Really worn.”

My heart ached for her and I said a silent prayer that her load would be lightened, her life would be happy. “Well mate, not everyone can age as beautifully as Brenda.”

Frank beamed. “She is something to look at, isn’t she, mate?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’m going to go to work tomorrow, Michael. See if they’ll have me back.”

“That’s great, but I need to ask a favor. I want you to get some help, Frank. Professional help.”

He chuckled. “Ah, the family scandal that’ll cause.”

“It’s not like that, mate. I have a friend, a psychologist. Remarkable bloke. He’s really helped me through some shit. Stuff about my past, my father. He’s taught me how to deal with it, how to work with it. I was really screwed up, Frank. I didn’t even realize how much.

“A good doctor can help you find a way to face the bad stuff, expel all the crap and live a healthier life. I’m sure he could help you choose to stick around, if that’s what you really want.”

“It’s not that I really want to stay or leave. It’s simply time to stand up and walk again. I woke up this morning and I looked at Colin. That boy needs a father to guide him. And the girls, I don’t want to miss them growing up. Adam. Adam is simply amazing Michael. You should spend some time with him, he’s sharp as a nail and such a help when things get bad. He’s a lot like you, actually. A lot.

“Then I saw you this morning, sleeping there on my sofa and I realized that if you could come back here, to this town, sleep in my house, your grandmum’s house … hell, if you could face your demons, then surely I can do it too.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Surely I can do it too.”

Four days later, I stood with Brenda waiting for my bus. Frank had gone back to work, and it was time for me to do the same.

I handed her a card. “This is the doctor I told you about. He comes highly recommended. I talked to him at length and he’s sure he can help Frank. Just make sure he goes. Don’t wait too long, okay?”

She fingered the card. “I’ll make the appointment today.”

We stood there, awkward, unsure. Then she put out her hand and I shook it. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

She released my hand and set hers softly on my chest, then simply threw both arms around my neck, stretching up on her toes to hug me and I returned her embrace. “Does this mean you like me after all?” I teased.
            “I love you, Michael,” she whispered in my ear. “Thank you. Thank you for my Frank, thank you for what you did for Lili. Thank you for saving us.”

I pressed my palm on her back. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did what we needed. You showed us what we’re worth to each other. I’ll always love you for that.”

*

I didn’t realize that I was pacing, talking fast, my hands flexing in and out of a fist. The memories were passing through me like pressured steam. What should have felt healing seemed like an attack.

“Michael,” Paul said. “Why don’t you go take a run? Burn some of this off?”

I’m not sure what he said after that, I was charging along the road, my feet pounding the pavement, the rain spitting on my head, cleansing, baptizing. Refreshing.

The surge and dissipation of adrenalin was fulfilling, head clearing, stimulating. Everything about those twenty minutes was more freeing than I think I’ve ever experienced. I watched the sky darken and wondered how long I’d been talking, telling my soul like a dime store novel. Did it matter? Instinct told me when to turn back and as my feet slowed with exhaustion I became one with it, part of a long road leading somewhere.