JAMES
When I felt stronger, and Miri and I had kissed till our lips were raw, we wandered out of Father Morel’s office. I didn’t know when he had left us, but we found him now sitting in the first pew beside a kid with two rings in his lower lip and tattoos snaking up his neck. He stood as we approached and mumbled, “I gotta go,” before bolting down the aisle.
“I’m sorry,” Miri said. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.” She watched the boy as he pulled open the chapel door and slipped outside.
“No, you didn’t interrupt, Miri. Revve is a troubled boy and rarely stays for long. I am glad he comes at all. He’ll be back when he needs me again.”
I watched his face, this priest’s face that been so kind, and tried to reason it out with the cold, over-beautiful li’Morl who’d sent me to Hell. “You really care about these people.” The words rang with truth as soon as I said them. “You cared about me.”