Page 30 of The Reaper

I admired people who could go to those kinds of events alone. I’d never been able to. Andrew and I were inseparable when we were kids, and I didn’t have time when I was an adult. I dedicated my entire adulthood to school, the seminary, and the mission. I sometimes wondered how it felt to have fun. The thought of fun brought me back to last night. I had a different kind of life, but I wondered how it would feel to go to the game with someone. Someone like Archer. I shook off the idea. Moving forward, I had one goal: my mission.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Tim surveyed my solemn face.

“Yes, go ahead and have fun. Eat a hotdog for me,” I said, playfully shooing him away.

“Want me to bring you one?” he asked.

“That’s so kind of you, but no. I’ll stick to my boring salad.”

I entered the church after Tim left and my eyes wandered to the confession booth. Reminders of Archer were everywhere. Concentrating was going to be harder than I realized.

My phone vibrated. When I glanced at the screen, I was stunned. I blinked, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. It wouldn’t be the first time. I accepted the call and brought the phone closer to my ear. “Andrew?” My question was met with nothing but sequential beeps. “Andrew!” My voice echoed through the church. I quickly checked the screen. “Andrew!” The call disconnected.

“Good morning, Father,” Jessica greeted, a little cautiously.

I jumped, not realizing anyone else was inside.

She paused from hanging a bouquet of flowers and looked at me curiously, her eyes furrowed. “Is everything all right?” Jessica climbed down from the small ladder, heading toward me. “Who’s Andrew?”

“Huh?” I staggered back, disoriented by the call from my brother. Where was he? Was he in trouble? Questions flooded my brain. I wasn’t going to admit it, but Andrew’s disappearance had me in a tailspin. It was one of the reasons I ultimately failed my last mission in Albuquerque.

“Are you sick? You’re sweating.” She rushed to a pew and grabbed a box of tissues, pulled out three sheets and handed them to me. “Let’s sit over there.” She ushered me into the first row, her eyes never leaving mine. She took the soaked tissue from my hand after I wiped my forehead and cheeks. “Do you want me to get you a cup of water?”

“No, thank you,” I managed to say, finally. I had to tell her something to explain my reaction moments ago.

“So …” Jessica set the box of tissues aside. “Who’s Andrew? I heard you scream his name.”

I hadn’t realized I was yelling. “He’s my brother,” I answered. The fog that enveloped my brain lifted; I could see clearly. “He called but I couldn’t hear anything. I didn’t mean to disrupt what you were doing.” I looked around trying to figure out who else had heard me.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Jessica said, perhaps reading my mind. “It’s just me since Tim left.” She stood and headed to the bin to discard the used tissues.

“I saw him leaving. I didn’t know he was a baseball fan.” I grabbed the box of Kleenex and placed it back at the end of the pew. I needed to be moving. Sitting around wouldn’t help.

“He’s a huge Yankees fan. I have yet to see him without some sort of Yankees gear. He’s got jackets, hats, and T-shirts. He’s like a walking commercial for them,” she said, chuckling. “I don’t know how I feel about working with a Yankees fan.”

“I take it you’re a Red Sox fan?” I asked, thankful that she’d dropped the subject of Andrew.

“My whole family.”

This was the first time she’d mentioned her family, and I was genuinely interested. I loved getting to know the people in my parish. It was both my strength and my weakness. “You care too much about these people,” one of my superiors once told me. “You have to create a division to separate you from the parish and your mission.” I used to believe that the parish and my mission were the same, but my recent experience made me reconsider. Maybe that was what I needed to succeed here in Boston: detach myself from everyone and focus on the mission. Keep my eyes on the prize. It was easier said than done, especially here with Jessica, awaiting a response. “Tell me about them,” I said.

Jessica beamed. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through images. “This is my husband, Clark.” She pointed to a handsome man with reddish hair standing next to her in a photo. “And that’s our daughter, Lucy,” she said, pointing at the little girl with a pixie haircut on Clark’s shoulders.

“You have a beautiful family,” I said. Everyone in the photograph had their Red Sox attire on and stood smiling in front of Fenway Park. “My brother and I used to watch them every spring.”

“Oh yeah? I didn’t know you were also a baseball fan.” She pocketed her phone.

“Big time. One of our favorite pictures was taken at that same spot before he went to the seminary. He used to say, ‘Always go back to this picture whenever you’re lost,’ before he left.” It had taken me out of some dark times, when I was alone and felt like giving up. Our smiling faces reminded me that I was someone’s family. I was loved. I missed my brother.

“Is he a priest as well?” Jessica asked.

I nodded. “A well-respected one.” Andrew was one of the best and the Church knew it. “If I could be half as good as he is, I would consider myself lucky.”

“I’ve only known you for a couple weeks and I can tell you’re amazing. You’re kind and charismatic,” Jessica assured me. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You’re too kind. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel lost,” I admitted. No guidance. No one to talk to. I was alone.

“Well, remember what your brother used to say …” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, waving the photograph of her family in front of the Fenway Park gate.

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