A pastor and a social worker find comfort in each other after the death of a school shooter disrupts their lives.

————

Jack put on his collar in the bathroom and said a few prayers. Outside he saw more and more protesters gathering with signs demanding the funeral be called off. Jack put his coat on and walked outside. He had no idea how the protesters found out about the private funeral.

They yelled and chanted at him, throwing cuss words at him for daring to go through with his job.

"I need you all to clear out!" yelled Jack.

They shouted louder at him.

"Who do you think you are?" yelled one. "Holding a funeral for this monster! You're going to hell too!"

"Please respect the family's grieving. This is a private ceremony!" Jack yelled. "If this were your kid, you'd want the same!"

One protestor spat in Jack's face. It took every inch of him to keep himself from punching the protestor.

"Please, just go home! I understand your anger and your grief, but you need to give this family space."

That's when a man came out of the crowd and punched Jack in the face, sending him to the ground with a loud thud.

"You fucking piece of shit!" the man yelled. "You're holding a funeral for a boy who killed my daughter! You should be ashamed! You're no man of God."

Jack tried to get up but the man kicked him back down to the ground.

"You stay down!"

In the distance, Jack heard sirens, so he laid still until the police showed up. He closed his eyes and

fought back the feelings of cowardice. He fought back images of his career ending and of his own church dwindling in numbers.

The police were able to drive the protestors back and talk them down. Jack rolled onto his back and struggled to breathe.

---

Jack was holding an ice pack to his face ninety minutes before the funeral. Every time he breathed, it stung his ribs. He wanted this day to be over more than anything else.

"We're going to have a few cars out in the parking lot until this is over," said an officer.

"Thank you," said Jack. "Thank you for being here."

"You're welcome," said the officer.

"I'm going to the restroom to gather myself together," Jack stood up.

"Just so you know… a nutjob on the radio is saying the shooting was orchestrated by some anti-gun activists. Be careful. These things are always a mess, and people always think they're the experts."

Jack sighed, "Yeah, they've been ringing me up too. I'm not a political guy. I just want to do good."

"We all do," the officer straightened out his badge. "I'll be waiting outside."

"Thank you."

Jack walked to the restroom, locked the door behind him, and sat down on the floor.

"God, where are you?" he asked.

Each of his quiet sobs sent a piercing pain through his chest.

---

"Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" played on the organ as Jack walked himself to the pul

pit. He could barely see out of his left eye that was bruised and black. Of the twenty or so people at the service, Jack recognized only some of Nick's family. The family had invited some of Nick’s friends to his funeral, of course, but they did not show up. Jack was expecting about fifty people, but he wasn’t surprised to see such low numbers.

"You may be seated," said Jack.

As the family quietly sat down, Jack belted out: "We are gathered here today to say goodbye to someone whose life unfortunately ended too soon," Jack looked down at his notes. Everything he wrote seemed futile.

"A lot of reporters have contacted me over the past few days. They asked me for all the details of how I knew Nick. I saw him grow up from the day he was born to the young man he was becoming. I saw him worship alongside other children in this church. I saw him laugh and play. But when the media kept pressing for those details of how I knew him, it came down to this: Nick was my friend."

Nick's mother released a quiet sob.

"The thing about friends is that you always love and care for them in your own way, even when you pretend not to. I'm not sure what to say any more. I want to say sometimes that he was a confused, messed up kid who didn't know better. I want to say that maybe none of this happened and that this was all a bad dream. I want to say that it couldn't have been him. I can't say any of those things. I can say though that I miss my friend."

A tear slid down Jack's face, "I would give anything in the world to have one more conversation with him, but I firmly believe that God embraces us and walks with us even in our moments of despair. God knew Nick's despair and He knows our despair. Let us not make Nick's mistake and

ignore each other in our times of need. Instead, let us lean in to each other and trust that God's got us in His hands."

---

"Do you really believe what you said in that service?" asked a female voice behind Jack.

The church was empty, and Jack was decompressing in the front pew.

Jack turned around and took off his collar. In front of him was a beautiful blonde woman in her thirties.

"It just so happens that I do believe it," Jack replied.

She chuckled, "I'm sorry… I'm not religious at all."

"Neither am I some days."

There was a pause between them.

"My name's Christine."

Jack forced a smile, "Nick told me all about you."

"And he told me all about you too."

---

The Many Loves of MLK Jr.: What He Did the Night Before He Died.

Jack read the article in astonishment. How could a man who did so much good do so much damage?

"The night before he died, he had reportedly slept with several women at different points in the same motel room..."

Jack jumped when a purse hit the table. He looked up and saw Christine.

Christine chuckled a little, "Did I scare you?"

Jack smiled, "A little bit, but that's okay. I'm jumpy."

"Thanks for meeting me."

"You're welcome. Thanks for coming."

---

"Are you married, Reverend?" Christine put two sugars in her coffee.

They were the only two people in the cafe. It was late night, and they were both visibly exhausted.

"Widowed, actually," said Jack.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It happened two years ago," Jack sipped his coffee. "One day at a time."

Christine looked at her coffee again and bit her lip, "I've been with the same guy for five years now. We're pretty happy most days. He moved in about a year ago."

"What's his name?"

"Mitchell."

"Well, Mitchell must be happy with you too."

"I think he is. After what happened with Nick, it's pretty hard to come home honestly."

"Christine," Jack touched her hand. "You did nothing wrong. No one predicts that a kid will shoot up his school."

The waitress stopped by the table and dropped off their food.

"You know what the weirdest part of doing a funeral is?" asked Jack.

"What?" Christine started pouring syrup on her pancakes.

"You do a funeral and then you go through the rest of your day as if nothing happened. It's

like that person's life wasn't worth any more distress. For some people, that's the worst day of their lives. For me, it's just a Tuesday. I've always felt wrong about that."

"I get it," Christine took a sip of coffee. "I often go home and forget that I deal with abused kids every day. It's as normal as brushing my teeth in the morning."

Jack chuckled, "What a pair we are."

---

"What was dealing with his family like as a social worker?" asked Jack as he finished off the last of his pancakes.

Christine had a quiver in her voice, "Same old stuff I see every day. Parents could care less about their kid, but the state wants to keep families together. 'Kids always belong with their families' kind of stuff. Do you agree with that?"

"I don't believe that for a second. I always thought that Nick needed to be taken away from his home and put into a foster system. He would've had a fighting chance."

"About a week before… you know, he was obsessively stalking this classmate of his. She told him to back off so many times. He didn't listen. He would hang around the entrance of the school waiting for her to come out. She eventually filed a restraining order."

"He didn't tell me about that."

"He didn't tell anyone about a lot of things. I think that was his breaking point."

Jack sighed and looked out the window. The street lights reflected off of the wet pavement, "I know his family pretty well. I reported them a time or two. Nothing happened. Not enough evidence."

"What pushed you to think something was wrong?" Christine looked down at the table.

Jack leaned back in the booth and looked at her, "I visited Nick's grandma in hospice. She was terrified of death. I must've been with her about eight times when she was close to it. This time, though… there was a look in her eye. She thought she was about to go to hell. She asked God to forgive her for what she did to her children and to Nick." Jack rubbed his beard for a few seconds.

Christine cleared her throat, "Did she give specifics?"

"Not a whole lot, but I've been around dying people before lots of times. I haven't encountered someone as certain as her that God was about to punish them for the things they did before they died."

"Do you think God forgave her?"

Jack sighed again, "You know… I hope so, because I was just as complicit as her in letting it keep going on as long as it did. Every Sunday I saw that family. I should've done more than report them to the police. I should've done more than pretend that they had a place in the community. If I could go back in time and save lives by taking more direct action, I would do it in a heartbeat. But now I have to live with the consequences of what I did."

Christine brushed Jack's hand, "I think I'm going to live with the consequences of what happened too."

---

"Do you have children, Reverend?" Christine put her hands in her pockets as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Call me Jack," Jack cleared his throat. "I don't have kids. Do you?"

"No."

"I've been told they're a blessing."

"When you've seen what I've seen, you can understand why it's dangerous to tell people that kids are a blessing. Every abusive couple I've met started off with that grand idea. That's how we got Nick."

"You have a point there."

They stopped at a bridge and overlooked the river running underneath it. Christine breathed in deeply and exhaled, "When I started working with him, he was the sweetest kid. He would tell me more and more about his past as we played checkers together. He suffered from depression, but he was really good at making me laugh. Then one day he showed me cigarette burns on his body. I couldn't believe it."

Jack rubbed her back, "How did you process that?"

"I've seen stuff like that before… but he was so casual about it. Like this happened to him every day. This was his normal, and I didn't pick up on it immediately."

Jack turned his back on the river and stared down at his feet, "I knew his family for ten years and I didn't pick up on anything for the longest time either."

"Look at us," Christine forced a chuckle. "Two people in helping professions who are the least helpful people on the planet."

"And now kids are dead."

"Yeah."

"Because we assumed that the police would do their job, that the parents would feel remorse, and that Nick would open up to us more as we got to know him. And now kids are dead."

"Yeah."

"What do you do with a world that is so broken that you can't even count on the people that claim to be helping it?"

---

Jack and Christine wound up at the cafe again. His car's windshield had been smashed with a brick wrapped in a death note.

"Something tells me that's not the last one you're going to get," Christine smiled.

Jack laughed heartily, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Want to walk a little more?"

"Sure."

---

Jack and Christine walked past a homeless shelter with a neon cross hanging from the side.

"Do you think Nick is with God?" asked Christine.

"I hope so," said Jack.

"Me too. I'm not religious, again… but what loving father would turn down his child like that?"

"Especially since that child's father beat the hell out of him."

Christine's hand slid into Jack's hand, "I bet you will be a good father someday."

"Thank you," said Jack. "I think you will be a good mother someday too."

---

Jack and Christine found themselves in front of the motel with buzzing neon lights. The words on the sign welcomed them with a quote marking MLK Day: "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."

The motel sign lights flickered off.

Christine's hand slowly travelled up and touched the back of Jack's neck.

Jack stared into Christine's eyes and touched her face.

"Do we want to do this?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Jack replied.

Christine went in to kiss Jack on the cheek. Jack turned his face closer and kissed her on the lips. It had been a long time since he felt the presence of a woman. He wanted to melt into her and embrace her. Tears streamed down his face as he stopped briefly and held her.

She started weeping into his shoulder too, holding him tighter and tighter. The piercing pain of his bruised ribs sent a sobering signal throughout his body as she squeezed him.

Jack wiped away his tears and spotted the neon cross from a few blocks away. It shone brightly. He thought of Nick, and the things that may have happened to him behind closed doors. He thought of the messages he preached of loving one another and restoring peace to the world.

He closed his eyes and continued holding her, "I don't want this to end, and I'm sorry… but I can't do this. You have someone waiting for you at home. I want to look back at this time and be proud of how I handled it. As beautiful and amazing as you are, I know I will always regret this if we get a room. I think we both know how this will end."

Christine breathed on to his neck, "Yeah… I think I do know how it will end too. It's a nice thought though."

Jack chuckled, "Yeah… it is."

"To be honest I was looking to bag you the second I saw you get behind that pulpit."

Jack laughed.

"We all have our dreams, right?" she sniffled.

Jack rubbed her back again.

"Do you forgive me?" muttered Christine.

A lump grew in Jack's throat until he finally was able to force out a few words, "Yes. I forgive you."

She pulled herself away a little and looked at him in the eyes.

Jack looked off into the distance and breathed deeply, "Do you forgive me?"

"I forgive you."

Christine then leaned in for another embrace and wept on his shoulder.

Jack accepted it and closed his eyes tight, "I guess we're both forgiven then."

The motel lights flickered back on.

---

Christine started her car and looked at Jack, "I swear I'm happy with Mitchell."

Jack nodded his head, "I believe you."

"It just gets so hard sometimes."

"I know."

Christine looked ahead for a few seconds and then back at Jack, "I'll see you around, Reverend."

"Whatever you do, don't ask me to marry you two."

Christine laughed, "Don't worry, I won't."

Jack smiled, "Take care of yourself."

"You too," Christine started her car and drove off.

Jack walked back to his car, got his insurance information, and pulled out his cell phone.

"One day at a time, Jack," he said. "One day at a time."

-End-

By Nathan Perrin

From: United States

Twitter: Nate7493