When Frank came into the living room, Gerard held up his copy of Rose Madder and said, "Explain to me again why your books are allowed at home and mine aren't."
"Because your books are work books," said Frank, taking the novel and placing it carefully back on the shelf. "And mine have stories in them."
"Mine have stories!" Gerard protested, trailing Frank to the kitchen.
"Stories about Jesus."
"Those are the best kind!"
Frank rolled his eyes. He had his back turned, but Gerard could see his reflection in the microwave. He opened the refrigerator, then closed it again. "We need groceries," he said, turning around, and kissed Gerard's cheek. "Come on."At the store, Frank sent Gerard in search of frozen vegetables, while he went off looking for fake meat. It was more complicated than it sounded: Gerard liked the brand-name peas with mint added, but Frank thought they were a rip-off and always bought generic, saying they could add mint at home. But they couldn't, because they didn't have mint. Between the two of them they always managed to kill every plant that Ray gave them. Gerard was holding a bag of each kind, looking between them and trying to decide if it was worth arguing with Frank about it today, when a voice said,
"Father Way?"
It had been a long time since anyone had called Gerard that, and for a second he froze, staring down at the peas like they could tell him what to do. They just cheerfully re-informed him that they were 'pod to packed in 24 hours!' though. Help, he begged in a panic, and then the voice said, "Father Way, is that you?" and this time a hand touched his arm.
He had no choice but to look up, and then he was so surprised that almost dropped the stupid peas on the floor. "Nicole?"
"I knew it was you!" she cried, and threw herself into his arms. Gerard waved the peas helplessly in the air for a second, then balanced them on a nearby stack of Crisco cans so he could hug Nicole back.
"It's so good to see you," he said happily, then pushed her back and frowned. "Shouldn't you be at school?"
"We don't start for a week. I'm just visiting some friends here before I go back." Nicole did a funny little bounce in place, then lunged forward and hugged him again, her arms tight around his neck.
Gerard laughed and squeezed her shoulders. "And this is your last year, right?"
She drew back and nodded eagerly. "I'm pretty set on post-grad next year, though."
"That's awesome!" said Gerard, smiling so hard his face hurt. "I'm so proud of you!"
She waved her hand. "But what about you? You never give me any details in your emails. Are you at a new parish near here, or – oh."
Nicole's face fell, her eyes fixed on Gerard's throat. He put his hand up instinctively, and for a second he was surprised to feel no collar there, just the worn cotton of – he checked – Frank's Day of the Dead shirt.
"Oh, no," said Nicole, genuine distress written in her face and voice. "They didn't, Father, not because of me, they didn't."
"No!" Gerard said quickly, taking her hands again, but before he could explain Frank appeared, pushing their mostly-full cart with one hand, his eyes fixed on the list in the other.
"All right, they're out of that cereal you like, we can try the place on the corner for that. But the chickpeas were on special so I hope you're ready to make a whole shitload of curry-" he looked up and broke off, suddenly, folding the list up inside his hand and reaching up to flatten his hair. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
