Trying To Heal

Chapter Fourty-Six

Derek

"I am certifiably an affiliate to the Azrael," announced Father Stychel. "I will be accompanying you to inspect that, ah, orgy party. By the way, is an orgy party what I think it is?"

"Meaning ... ?"

"Is it sinful?"

"It is iniquitous and perfidiously corrupted."

"What does it entail?" I glimpse at his uniform Crucifix. He gestures a wave, "The Lord hears all. Tell me."

"Think of threesomes, although more people."

"Oh," he mumbled subsequent to a long, humorous gap. "It is what I thought it would be."

The dogs loping at our knees, Father Stychel leads me to the teeming, cropped gardens. Paused in the archway, he scans and discovers the children packed near the bark of a tree. He pats my shoulder for a "Good luck" and disappears into the building.

Elijah and Tareq are playing chess. Parker has his earphones on, watching a movie on his phone. Harlow is curved to his side and is reading a book. She is the first to perceive the dogs avidly sprinting toward them.

"Stop!" she squeals.

The dogs refused to listen and attacked her in endearing cuddles and licks, toppling her into Parker. He tumbles sideways, the earphones drooping out. Atlas leaps onto Tareq for the duplicated treatment. Elijah hurls out his arms; Duke buries his snout into Elijah's chest.

Parker heaves up, for Atlas to pounce on him. Parker's head smacks onto the bark. "Ow!" he laughs.

"Alright, alright," I say. "That is enough."

Immediately, the dogs obliges, panting heavily in toothy beams.

Parker rubs his crown. "You miss us that much, huh?"

"What?"

"You visited us, like, twice yesterday, and again today."

Harlow searches the background. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, Derek," teases Parker. "Where's your girlfriend?"

I give the Bransons a look. "She is at home. Resting."

Harlow pouts. "You should have brought her here."

Elijah runs to barely hug my legs. "Did Bodie Banks win yet?"

I look down at him. "Not yet. I came here to ... offer a proposal." I cringe at the choice of words. "To offer you something to consider," I rephrased.

Tareq inches to Parker, and the dogs sandwich the three kids. Parker begins to smile, sensing what is happening. He is eighteen, and I am about to turn twenty soon. Is it strange for him to see me as a father at that age?

My fingers tousled in Elijah's black hair, I buckle to my knees, levelled at their height. "I would like to adopt you."

A roughened, gentle breeze rustling the greens.

"What?" said Tareq, simply to make sure he heard right.

"He wants to adopt us," says Parker, his cheeks squished in a boundless blaze.

"Only if you would like t—"

Elijah crumbles into tears. A sob bombards his short form, choking my chest in a balmy, mellow, emotional furore.

"Elijah," I say delicately.

He kneads his tears through the liberated, uncontrollable breakdown. When I said his name again, he unconsciously eases into me, hiding his face in the crook of my shoulder. His tears wetten my shirt. I properly sit down, flickering to the second source of sentiments, this time much different and much gentle. Tareq quickly blinks to fight off the tears, but when I repeat "I will only do this is if you want it," he relents into the gratitude and folds to his knees. Atlas whimpers and caresses his snout against Tareq's cheeks, as if to get rid of the tears.