“He’s gone, Mari.” His soft voice broke the irrational cycle over which my mind had closed itself, and his hand caressed my hair. “He’s gone,” he repeated, trying to calm me down, and I refused to open my eyes, fearing Michael could be wrong.
“What the hell was that?” another voice inquired and I became numb as all tension left my body.
“Who knows?” Michael responded in an undertone, still holding me against his chest.
“Is she OK?” Steven asked, sounding worried, and Michael caressed my hair once again, calming me down.
“Yeah. She’ll be fine,” he assured as if those words were a lullaby, and Steven took a deep breath.
“I’ll be going then. If you need me, call. If not we’ll talk later.” Everything was silent for a moment and then I heard his footsteps as he walked away.
Michael kept his arms around me for what felt like an eternity, simply waiting. Slowly his calm and tranquility vanquished my fear and I stopped shaking. My breath went back to normal and all that was left was a bitter taste in my mouth.
At last I was able to release him from my grip and his arms loosened up, as if he’d been waiting for that signal.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his low voice echoing through the corridor, and I opened my eyes, as usual dried of any tears, nodding. Although he’d released me from his embrace, he kept holding me, probably fearing I might fall, and I lowered my head quickly, trying to put my thoughts in order.
He’d surely ask for some kind of explanation about what just happened or why I’d foolishly reacted the way I did. However, I was yet to understand it myself, much less try to explain it. It had all happened so fast and there were so many things amiss. If only I could cry. Maybe that would give me some time think.
His warm hand lifted my chin, surprising me, and I raised my head to face him. He looked at me in silence, observing me for an instant to make sure I’d been honest in my response, and I was immediately grateful that I couldn’t cry. With a smile, he held my hand, and pulled me along to walk with him.
“I’m taking you with me,” he simply stated and I blinked, confused.
“Taking me?”
“Yes. I’m taking you to my home,” he added in a matter of fact tone. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.
“Mi ...”
“It’s decided!” He cut me off, peering at me over his shoulder with that bright smile on his lips, and went on, dragging me along the corridor towards the main door.
The corridors were empty. Everyone who still remained at school at that hour was in class.
“Michael, I can’t just go to your house,” I argued slightly, sad because I knew I was right. The hand that still held mine made everything that just happened, all my fears, seem like a nightmare, and I wished I could extend that feeling for as long as possible.
“Of course you can! Your mother is away, right? So? Don’t you trust me?” he asked, peering at me once again, and I felt my cheeks blush.
“That’s not the point. Of course I trust you.”
“Then it’s decided!” he declared. “You’re not going back to that house!” His solemn tone surprised me so much that I didn’t protest any longer.
Michael took me towards the bus stop and we didn’t have to wait long until the ‘54’ stopped right in front of us. I was still trying to ground myself when we arrived at our stop, Blackheath, as it was written on a sign. Once again he pulled me by my hand, which he had refused to let go the whole time, and we walked down the road up to a four-story building with small flower beds in the front. Michael walked up to one of the doors and opened it, releasing me for the first time to grant me passage.
I followed him down a narrow corridor to a square room. The light pouring down from the window and through the white curtains wasn’t enough to make that compartment bright. On the opposite wall, next to the window, there was a gray couch, strategically placed in front of a television. On the other side a cupboard with glass doors through which several plates and other glass utensils could be seen. On the walls were some pictures and, on my left, a big crucifix. I noticed the pictures showed several men in cassocks and couldn’t help recognize one of them, since he was right there in person, sitting at the small table, reading a book.
He looked to be about sixty years old, I guessed by the quantity of gray hair crowning his head and the wrinkles marking his eyes, mouth and forehead. The glasses he wore were hanging at the tip of his thin nose, and the eyes that watched us were pale blue, almost like water. The white collar above his black shirt undeniably marked his profession and I immediately knew he was Father Jorge, Michael’s guardian.
As soon as he noticed us, a pleasant smile came over his face and his expression became brighter.
“Welcome back, Michael,” he greeted him and Michael stepped forward, leaving me by the door. I was sure Father Jorge would question my presence. What could I possibly tell him now that I was there? How was Michael going to explain bringing me to his house, just like that? I felt maybe I should leave, knowing how Michael tried hard not to make trouble for the man who had sheltered him. Now I was the one making trouble for the both of them.
“Father Jorge, I’m sorry for being so late,” he said, sounding truly regretful, and I felt even worse. That, too, had been because of me.
“Um,” I muttered, calling their attention, and politely smiled at the watery blue eyes watching me curiously. “Good afternoon, I’m really sorry to disturb you.” I was unable to avoid the feeling of embarrassment from that situation and turned to Michael. “Listen, I’m really thankful for everything and all, but I think I better get going and ...”
“No!” Michael’s response silenced me immediately as I looked at him in disbelief. He wasn’t joking and the deep frown on his forehead stated it clearly. “No way!” he added in the same tone. I took a nervous look at Father Jorge, who seemed just as surprised. However, he quickly recovered, sitting straight in his chair, and put on a full smile.
“Michael, so I guess you were about to ask me something?” he lead him on and Michael’s tense shoulders became more relaxed.
“Ah, I ...” He stumbled, obviously looking for the right words to say, and I truly felt guilty for being the cause of that unpleasant situation. “This is Mariane,” he finally said. Father Jorge took another look at me. “And I wanted to ask you if she could spend the night here, with us.” Michael lowered his gaze, and I felt sad. I’d never seen such an expression on his usually bright face. Father Jorge, however, looked satisfied and a smile brightened his face.
“I see. This girl, you trust her enough to bring her into our home?” he asked in that same calm tone, and I looked at him, not knowing if I should be offended or annoyed at him for trapping Michael in such a difficult situation.
“I do.”
“And what does she mean to you, Michael?”
The uneasiness I felt faded as my heart jumped and I stepped forward nervously.
“I thank you for everything!” I rushed in a clumsy voice. “But really ...”
“Hush, child!” Father Jorge interrupted me as he turned his smile in my direction. “This is between Michael and I. He made a request. However, we can’t ask for something without having a reason to do it. And that’s what I want to hear.” I looked at Michael, who seemed to be at a loss for words, and mentally asked him for forgiveness. “What do you say, Michael?”
“Mari is ... important to me,” he whispered, but then his expression became firmer and he raised his head to face him. “She is important to me. And she needs help! And I want to help her!” he stated vehemently.
Although I knew I shouldn’t, I felt immensely happy. Important. Me. I could hardly believe I’d just heard him say those words.
Father Jorge nodded approvingly, as if he’d been expecting him to say exactly that, and took a deep breath.
“Very well. She may stay,” he told him and Michael smiled, brightening the entire room.
“Thank you! Thank
you very much!”
“Yes, yes,” Father Jorge agreed dismissively, waving his hand as if the matter had no real importance, and his expression became more casual. “Now, Michael, did you buy what I asked?”
Michael’s eyes opened wide and he seemed to panic.
“Ah! No. Completely forgot. So sorry! I’ll be right back.” he said in one breath, nervously looking for the keys in his pockets, and I couldn’t help following his every move. That Michael was also someone I still didn’t know.
“Right pocket, boy,” Father Jorge told him, looking amused, and Michael finally found his keys.
“I’m going. Be back in a second!” he promised and turned to me, his cheeks slightly blushed. “I’ll be right back! Stay here!” I nodded, thinking how amazing it was that he, too, could make an expression like that.
I heard his rushed steps down the corridor and then the front door closing with too much strength.
I was immediately aware of the presence of Michael’s guardian and turned to face him.
“I’m really sorry for all this mess,” I said as he peered at me over his glasses. “And maybe I should really get going. Michael was really nice, and I’m truly thankful, but I don’t want to impose.”
He smiled and I couldn’t help notice that his smile always gave him a peaceful expression.
“Child. Mariane, right?” he asked just to be sure and I nodded. “You’re not bothering us at all. I’m sorry if our previous conversation made you feel ... unwelcome. That wasn’t my intention.” He stood up and I noticed he was a tall, thin man. “Please, do sit down.” He invited me towards the couch and I obeyed, not wanting to look indelicate. He pulled up a chair and sat beside me. “Did you know this is the first time he’s ever brought over a girl?” he asked with a smile, still making me feel self-conscious. “Well, to tell you the truth, the only friend he has ever brought home was Steven. And even then, the invitation was more mine than his.”
I couldn’t help feel surprised at that. No one else? Not even Francis? Sure, I rarely invited my friends over, but I’d already spent some afternoons playing around with Steph, Joanne and Joe, under the pretext of studying. “It has always been like this ever since Michael has come to live here. And I understand the way he thinks. But no one can really live like this.”
“Michael doesn’t want to bother ...” I added and he smiled.
“Yes, I know. But he takes it to extremes. Did you know this was the first time he clearly asked me for something?” I didn’t know what to answer. “He doesn’t even ask me for the most basic things, like a schoolbook, a notebook, or even money for the bus. I always have to pay attention to everything. He even walked to school for a whole week, because I forgot to give him money for the fare. And, more than once, Steven had to lend him sheets of paper so he could take notes in class. Do you understand, Mariane?”
I nodded. Yes, I understood the reason of his inner-struggle; the reason why those words had been so difficult for him. What I didn’t understand was what all that really meant.
“And now he suddenly comes home and asks me to let you stay with us. I don’t know what happened and I don’t need to know,” he added with a kind smile. “But it seems Michael thinks you need help.”
I lowered my head. Yes, I did, but there was nothing anyone could do for me.
“Accept the help he is offering you, at least his good will. After giving up on his past, Michael stopped wishing for things. He abandoned the life he can’t remember, but refuses to live his new one. When there’s a need to make a decision, he always lets others decide for him. Even the classes he’s attending. They’re simply the ones where he graded the highest on the exams he had to take when returning to school. It’s not like they’re the ones he likes most. I guess he didn’t even think about it. He let his grades choose for him, and that was that. That’s how he’s been living up till now. I’m sorry for telling all this. I suppose you have your own problems, too. But maybe, maybe you’ll be able to wake him up from his numbness,” he added, hopefully, and I squeezed my hands together.
“I understand all that, but... The truth is I’m not capable of anything much. Michael and I, we’ve only known each other for a few days. Sure we have similar tastes and have spent some time together, but in the end, I don’t think I have that kind of strength. Besides, right now, I can’t give anything good to anyone. The only thing I can do is get others into trouble, or I wouldn’t be here, now.”
“You don’t have to worry, Mariane,” Father Jorge assured with his understanding and fatherly smile. “Sometimes, just being there is enough to save a Soul.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Michael returned a few minutes later and I couldn’t help smile as I noticed his frustrated expression. I heard voices coming from the kitchen where Father Jorge had disappeared to after our talk. And Michael was at the door, scratching his head with an embarrassed look.
“I’m back,” he announced and took the chair Father Jorge had sat on. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, Michael,” I answered, hoping to appease him.
He nodded. “I’m sorry for before. He’s not usually like that.”
“Oh, I think he’s very nice,” I stated and he looked surprised, ending up laughing.
“That’s just like you,” he said and his expression became serious. “Listen, I know that what I’ve told you before wasn’t all that nice, so if you really don’t want to stay, if you want, I’ll take you back. I don’t want you feeling like I’m forcing you or anything.”
I lowered my gaze. I knew the right thing to do was to go home. That nothing would change by staying away for one night. That sooner or later I would have to return and that when I did, he’d be there waiting. Yet I felt so tired, so close to the limit that I could no longer see. I needed time to put my thoughts in order, and near Michael there was always that mysterious and calming silence. I didn’t want to have to leave that sanctuary, at least not now, not as long as I could avoid it, no matter as selfish as that might be.
“I ... want to stay,” I whispered, ashamed of myself, and he smiled.
“That’s it, then. Let’s not talk about this any longer. Come. I’m sure you’d like to take a shower,” he said, holding my hand and pulling me up.
“But I don’t have anything.”
“Well, true we don’t have girls’ clothes around the house. So you’ll have to put up with some of mine. They should look huge on you,” he observed, laughing, and I was sure he was having fun at my expense. But even that made me happy.
Michael showed me to the bathroom and gave me a set of clean towels, a t-shirt and shorts that I could wear.
“If you need anything else, call me.” I nodded and closed the door when he disappeared down the corridor. The bathroom was as old as the rest of the house, but had been carefully cleaned. I took my shower, trying to make it as fast as possible, and draped my wet hair with a towel. I put on the dark-blue t-shirt he gave me and sighed as it reached knee length. His shorts, completely hidden under the t-shirt, were beige and kept sliding down my legs. I tied a knot at the waistband and folded my own clothes. Then I dried my hair as much as possible using the towel, before stepping out into the corridor, walking up to the living room, shyly peering inside.
Noticing me, Michael jumped to his feet, and I ran a hand across my scruffy hair.
“Hmm, do you have anything I might use to straighten this up a bit?” I asked, too aware of how my straw-like hair looked like some small rodent’s nest, and he smiled amused, walking up to me.
“It’s all standing up.” He made fun, softly pulling a strand to make it stand even more, and I slapped his hand, stepping backwards.
“Stop it!” I reprimanded and his initial smile gave way to a stream of laughter. “And stop making fun! I know it looks terrible! Just get me something I can comb it with!” I demanded, angry at how embarrassing all that was. Of all the people in the world, I had to look like that in front of him!
“Ow, it’s not that bad,” he told me, trying to appease me, and I looked away, annoyed at his condescending tone.
“That’s because it’s not your hair!”
“Fine. Put your things over there.” He pointed towards a wooden ark over which some blankets had already been placed, and I crossed the room to do as he said. He then signaled me to follow him back to the bathroom and I stood by the door, watching as he opened a cabinet; his soft face, his warm and strong hands.
He gave me a small comb and his place in front of the mirror, and I immediately started untangling pale strands of hair, desperately fighting all the standing points. I was so focused in my task that it took me some time to notice him, leaning against the doorjamb, watching me over the mirror with a smile. My hands stopped for a moment and I clearly saw my face turn red. I thought about asking him to leave, reminding him of just how indelicate it was of him to just stand there, blatantly staring, but then … his expression was so adorable. And I recalled what Father Jorge had told me. Maybe he was just curious, I thought, and went back to my task, avoiding meeting his gaze over the mirror; trying to hide just how fast my heart was beating from him being there.
After my combing was done I set out to help Father Jorge set the table while Michael took his shower, and we finally sat down to have dinner.
Michael wore cotton pants and a white t-shirt, and I couldn’t help stare, musing about how everything looked perfect on him, although I’d never seen him in such casual clothes.
Father Jorge held his hands together in a moment of prayer and I did like him and Michael, accompanying them in that moment of silence. Then the ambiance was once more light and cheerful. Father Jorge asked me a lot of questions about my parents, school and what I’d like to do in the future. I answered them all, aware that Michael was listening closely, since he himself had never asked me any of those things. Next I talked about my interest in languages and literature, and Michael confirmed my passion, sharing some of the titles I had lent him. We discussed interesting books for quite some time, since Father Jorge was also a frequent reader, and I took a mental note of some of the titles that, just form hearing them talk, I wished I could read.
Blood of the Pure (Gaea) Page 18
