Excerpt: When Death Leaves You Behind

Adrian stood on the corner leaning against the light pole. The smoke from his cigarette hung in the air and blended with his crystallized breath. He flexed his fingers, trying to gain some warmth back into his fingertips. Most of people out tonight had the sense to bundle up but Adrian never much cared for the bulk of a winter jacket. He could actually buy one now as apposed to all those years he went without. He scowled, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his sneaker. His past was what had him standing on a corner watching the sky shimmer in the dark as the clouds threatened another few inches of snow. He could stare at the eerie glow all he wanted but it wouldn’t accomplish the task that had him wandering out of the warmth of his apartment. Sighing, he crossed the street. He zipped up his hoodie, pausing briefly to give a car laying on his horn the finger.

It took all his resolve not to change his mind as he approached the white marble church. The flying buttress reminded him of some sinister spider web stretched between the vault. The gothic style, spires jutting up like a cluster of spikes to slay the wicked, seemed malevolent not the meaning behind the design of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, it was how Adrian saw it when he walked this road. The architecture filled him with dread even if the centerpiece high above the doors was called a rose. A symbol of love and secrecy, it fit the place even if he loathed the trip on most occasions. It wasn’t that he thought he’d burst into flames crossing the threshold or the numerous sins he committed with ease. He believed in God but wondered if the heavenly being really cared about the milling ants on his creation. Adrian had lost his mother to a controlling asshole that Adrian had killed when the bastard tried to do the same to him. In the eyes of the church, Adrian had defended himself thus he had not murdered so in a sense at least that Commandment remained unblemished by his hand. Rubbing his ribs reflexively before his steps faltered in seeing the open doors. Many people walked past them and into the church. Adrian sighed and forced his legs to move again. Blocking the way just earned him very un-Godlike stares.

The heat hit him full force and he felt the icy glaze on his face slowly melting away. Inside the lights remained soft and inviting as he tentatively strode forward. The small flames of a dozen or more candles stood stacked against the back pew, their crimson glow reminding Adrian of the richness of blood. Death had touched everything around him but yet spat in his face with he himself had been at the cusp of its embrace. He supposed Death and God got a big chuckle out of giving Adrian a big ‘fuck you’ every time he begged to be taken. One of these days he’d tell them ‘fuck you’ back.

He touched one of the glided boxes in front of long line of stacked candles. You didn’t have to give a donation but Adrian knew, as with everything else in the Catholic religion, nothing came without a price whether physical or material. Adrian dug in his pocket and brought out a tight wad of money. Peeling off a twenty, he folded it neatly and put it in the slit. The grandeur of the place always made Adrian feel small, the high vaulted ceilings an architectural wonder.

More than a dozen times Adrian asked himself why he bothered to do this ritual every December for a woman he barely knew- his mother. She taught him her trade and he excelled in it but even that wasn’t anything to do with being a nurturing soul. She showed him how to steal to feed her growing drug habit instead of his aching belly. He plucked one of the thin wicks up a lit it from another candle and let it hover over a waiting wick of an unlit votive of the vigil candles. His lips pressed together, whitening. He bothered because no matter how much she’d been the worst mother in the world, she didn’t deserve to be thrown away like trash. The fire sparked to life and he blew out the wick, placing back for the next visitor.

“Happy Birthday, Sharon.” A small smile came to his lips. “I’m finished, Father. You can stop lurking.”

“Lurking my son? No. More like giving you your privacy.” Still dressed vestments, Father O’Donnell laced his fingers together in front of him.

“Privacy.” Adrian snorted lightly. “You have time to talk?”

“For you? Always. Your mother might not have been the best… role model. She did care deeply for you.”

“I know.” Adrian rubbed his hands together. “I’ll go around back.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Father O’Donnell smiled warmly. “All are welcome.”

“Just the same, Father.” Adrian shifted to the front doors and stepped away. He never went passed the vigil candles in the church. The ornate design and the tragedy mixed as one inside was something he didn’t want to soak in fully. Catholics shrouded themselves in guilt like a warm blanket. His mother had worn it like a badge, murmuring how sorry she was every time she picked up that pipe for one last hit.

Father O’Donnell left the side door propped open with a brick that had supposedly belonged to the small monastic community that used to own this land, a portion of the orphanage that no longer existed. His cherished memento to a simpler time when hands reached out to those without parents and cared for them. The irony was not lost on Adrian. It had been dropped several times yet only a few chips had been chiseled out of its ruddy complexion. Slipping in, Adrian silently went to the priest’s private quarters. Like clockwork, Father O’Donnell waited patiently in a small sitting room, a more intimate area with the same slow glow as the church. Adrian sat down heavily across from him, the weariness showing on his shoulders. Here he could relax.

“You ever wonder why you do the things you do, Father?” Adrian scrubbed his face, actually feeling the need to sleep for once. The smell of coffee hit his nose and instinctively he reached out his hand for the mug in the priest’s hand. Father O’Donnell always was prepared for guests.

“I would wish what I do brought at least the slightest bit of hope to some. You seem more troubled than usual tonight.”

Adrian waved his hand as if searching for the words in the air around him. He took a sip of the coffee and heaved a loud sigh.

“I didn’t want to have this life again, father. The more I run from it, the more rope gets tied around my neck. I just want to sleep with the nightmares of my past.”

“You know you can sleep here any time. Plenty of bunks in the back. Perhaps in the House of the Lord your rest will come worry-free.”

Adrian laughed. “If I didn’t think they’d do something to this place for that, I’d take you up on your offer.”

“This is a house of God, my son. What reason would they have to wish it harm?”

Adrian stood, draining the coffee. “I like you Father. No matter what, I could come to you to bear my soul. If they ever found out half the shit I’ve told you even without uttering one of their names.” He snorted. “They’d burn this fucking church down without a moment’s hesitation. See you around Father.”

“Aren’t you forgetting the other reason you came here?”

“No. Just hoping you would.” Adrian half-smiled. “Bless me, father, for I have sinned. We talked last week.”