Page 11 of Soaring and Steadfast

Painful honesty. He knew it took a lot for them to open up and admit that – but they were reaching out, and that was progress in his mind.

Alcohol is evil.

Louis exhaled a dry, humorless chuckle though there was no amusement behind it. It could be, and after waking up in his own puke, he was convinced never to touch the stuff again.

Dude, I think it’s people who are evil, and alcohol lets it show.

He smiled.

You might be right.

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between them like a bridge neither was sure how to cross. He drummed his fingers against the screen, reluctant to let the conversation slip into nothingness.

What are you doing tonight? I’m staying in bed reading where I can relax and not worry about things. You?

You know, I haven’t read a book in forever, so you’ve inspired me. I might download something and read tonight.

There was something in that answer—something quiet and fragile, like a truce with their own mind.

Make sure it’s something light and inspirational. If you are like me, you don’t need anything depressing or disheartening.

I’m a complete chicken – no murder books, no gruesome stuff, no dramas. I like comedy, laughter, or fantasy. Hallmark Channel fan, here!

What are you reading?

The Bible.

There was a beat of stillness before the reply came.

Figures.

Louis barked out a dry laugh, the sound abrupt in the quiet of the ship’s bunks. A few of the guys glanced over, but he ignored them, his attention locked on the screen.

What’s that supposed to mean?

You’re predictable.

We don’t know each other, so how is that predictable?

He saw the typing bubble appear. Stop. Appear again. Stop.

Then, finally?—

I was told you were a pastor to talk to – which is why it’s predictable.

He blinked. So theydidknow something about him.

I see.

Yes, I am reading the Bible because it brings me comfort knowing there is something greater out there. I don’t feel so overwhelmed because it helps to know someone else is in control. Does that make sense?

A long pause.

I guess that would help—to know you weren’t abandoned.

Lucky you.

Louis felt something tighten in his chest. Two words—lucky you—laced with quiet bitterness, with the kind of pain people didn’t speak out loud unless they had no one else to hear them.

---