Big Bad

Can't I Go?

Kit sat at the kitchen table in the rectory as Fr. Charles moved a flashlight slowly from one eye to the other. There was a first aid kit that appeared to be from the 1960s in front of him, which Fr. Charles was pulling random items out of. Kit fought the urge to squint as the light glared in his eyes, for fear of making Fr. Charles think there really was something wrong with his head.

"Now just follow the light with your eyes," The man said. Kit did as he was told. Fr. Charles turned off the light and set it down on the table with a sigh. "It looks like you don't have a concussion. —But if you start getting headaches, you tell me right away."

"Of course," Kit nodded. He didn't understand all the fuss. He was forgetful, sure, but he wasn't a bad kid. Kit was a rule follower, and a very careful person. He hadn't gotten hurt because of carelessness, but because of outside circumstances and it bothered him that Fr. Charles assumed otherwise.

"I just..." Fr. Charles ran a stressed hand through his thinning gray hair and closed his eyes to try and calm himself. "I'm trying to be reasonable, but I just don't understand why you ran away without telling me. I mean, this is a good home.... Not traditional but I— Sr. Matilda and I —have worked very hard to make this a good home for a child.

"I wasn't running away," Kit countered. "And I'm not a child anymore."

"Then what were you doing? Where were you going?"

"I was... I went out to read, and I lost track of time. I'm sorry."

"The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy," Fr. Charles quoted shaking his head in annoyance. "You told me you were going to the library, Christopher."

Proverbs, Kit knew. "I.. I was! I went to the library to get a book, and then... I just also went somewhere else."

"Why can't you just read at the library?"

"Because.. It's too hard to focus. I get so distracted about everything. I just needed to clear my head... I didn't mean to upset you."

"Christopher," Fr. Charles sighed.

"I know you're disappointed in me, and I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you... you're right this is a good home, and I'm ungrateful—"

"Christopher!" Fr. Charles' tone became more exasperated. "Why couldn't you just tell me where you were going?"

"Because you wouldn't have let me go. I'm seventeen years old, I'm basically an adult now.. I just... I didn't want you to worry, because everything is alright."

"It's not alright Christopher! For Heaven's sake, you've got a giant cut on the back of your head! That's not alright!" Fr. Charles rubbed his pained forehead. "I don't make rules just to upset you! I make them to keep you safe."

The two looked at each other in a standoff neither wanting to relent to the others. It was a loving relationship,but not one without differences of opinion.

"It's just a scratch," Kit mumbled to himself.

Fr. Charles moved around to the back of Kit's head and placed a wet paper towel on the cut, cleaning off the dirt. Once the dried blood was gone the cut appeared smaller, but it was still a good size gash.

"What if you'd gotten a concussion? What if you'd become disoriented or confused out there?" His voice quieted itself and he shifted uncomfortably. "We never could have found you."

As he spoke the man retrieved a brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide from under the sink. He placed a cotton swab on one end and wet the bottle before placing it gently on the back of Kit's head.