“Stick a thousand needles in your eye.” She looks away and takes a deep breath. “I think everything was leading to this,” she says quietly. “I think this is the real test. For you. For Blue.”
“I’m scared.”
“But loved.”
“Yes.”
She opens the door.
I stare after her for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I hear people shuffling outside the SUV, waiting for me to exit. The church is so bright.
I open the door.
The crowd sighs. All of their eyes are on me. No one speaks. They watch. I’m unsure of what to do. I don’t know what’s expected of me. I don’t know what they want me to say.
Then, a familiar face pushes her way through the crowd.
“Welcome home, Benji,” Rosie says, pulling me gently into her arms. “Oh, honey. I am so happy to see your face.”
“Rosie,” I breathe, trying not to wince at the pain in my chest.
“Your mother called,” she says in my ear softly, so no one else can hear. “She called in a fright, said you’d gone missing from the hospital along with Nina. I told her there’s no other place you’d be going. She asked me to stop you from entering the church before she got here. Can I do that? Can I stop you?”
“No. You can’t. I can’t wait. Not now. Not when I’m this close.”
She nods, pulling away, brushing at the tears in her eyes. “The doc’s in there,” she says. “With him. Pastor Landeros is in there too.”
“How is he?” I ask, searching her face. “Cal. Is he? Is he….”
She shakes her head, crumbling as she’s pulled away by Suzie Goodman. I hear her gentle sobs as she falls back into the crowd.
Dad, I need you. I need you so bad right now. Please, hear my prayer.
“I am going to ask something,” I say, my voice stronger than I think it would be. “I am going to ask something of you. Of all of you. Please. Let me have this moment. If this is supposed to be… good-bye, then I ask that you let me have this moment. Please.”
The mob sighs again, and my words are carried in hushed whispers throughout the crowd. No one says anything against me. I knew they wouldn’t.
I turn and face the church and take the first step toward the light. I do not become lost in thought. Memories do not rise like ghosts, stabbing me like knives. All that matters, and all I focus on, is the angel who awaits me in the church. All my thoughts are with him.
I reach the steps, and they creak under me as I mount them. I count them. There are seven, though I am not surprised. It seems fitting.
The whispers from inside the church grow louder, until they sound like a rushing river. I press my hands against the massive doors, and they vibrate against my fingers. The vibration rolls up my arms until my whole body shakes, and I hang my head. In these vibrations and whispers are songs of grief and loss, of heartache and people forgotten. In these songs are words of sorrow and pain, of regrets never gone, of aches that hurt as if they are new.
But.
There is hope. There is faith. There is belief that maybe, just maybe, everything will be as it was and as it should be. It’s a thread that wraps itself around my heart and soul and tugs on them gently. It calls for one who can be strong. And brave. It calls for one who can stand true.
And there is no one it wants more than me.
I push open the doors. They groan mightily as they part. A warm light washes over me, and the whispers cease. The songs fade. Silence falls.
I step into the church, and the doors close behind me.
o lord, hear our prayer
I stand in the narthex of the church, the entryway lit by hundreds of candles