MARIEL

8~ Loved ~

After the infection cleared, Fr. Jerome settled on the surgery to reconstruct his tongue. It'd taken some convincing from the surgical team, the nurses, and Nathan. Still under the influence of the narcotics, Fr. Jerome hadn't fully comprehended his situation. In his current state, he hadn't seen the benefit of a surgery, and he'd been terrified that the medical costs would outweigh whatever benefits existed. With Nathan's help, after determining that Fr. Jerome's coverage was still extended for a period of time despite his removal from the church, he finally decided to undergo the surgery.

"I will be here every step of the way, Jerome," Nathan said, squeezing his friend's hand as a nurse placed a cuff on Fr. Jerome's left arm. "Even if you tell me to get lost."

Sleepily, Fr. Jerome smiled towards Nathan, a sound coming from his throat that sounded like a chuckle. He wanted to make a joke, remind Nathan that he couldn't tell him anything. He missed joking, missed expressing himself verbally. He hoped the surgery would give him a portion of that back. There was always a chance his speech would not develop post-op, but the surgeon had told him that the reconstruction surgery would not only help return him to normal methods of eating, but increase the odds of speaking again with the help of a speech therapist.

"Whatever happens, you are God's child and He will take care of you." Nathan bent and kissed Fr. Jerome's forehead.

Fr. Jerome felt the kiss. Soon, as different nurses came and went, he felt nothing.

The surgery went well without complications. Due to his age and the prior infection, the hospital advised him to stay for two days after the surgery before being released. In that time frame, Nathan stayed with him, and Esther visited him for a couple hours once a day. Despite his losses and his pain, Fr. Jerome felt truly loved.

Nathan ensured he understood the post-operative instructions to help care for Fr. Jerome at home. Fr. Jerome watched as they explained the care tasks, watching how Nathan nodded, asked questions, requested clarification. In some ways, Nathan's fervor reminded him of Mariel's a long time ago when his son dropped everything to make sure his father was safe and cared for.

The thought of his son left a burning sensation in his chest.

Was this how God felt when His children went astray?

Had Fr. -

- no, just Jerome -

- Jerome gone astray?

"Are you ready, dear?" Nathan asked, smiling. "I think there's someone at home that misses you."

Mariel? No, the narcotics still blurred his thinking. Nathan was referring to his cat. Oh, the irony that his cat awaited him more anxiously than the son he'd raised. Harlow scratched him at times when she was hungry, pissed, or scared.

Mariel had sliced out his tongue.

The bloody mess of a -

-demon-

-man baring his teeth at him as he plunged the knife towards him gave Fr. Jerome nightmares. Was that something one could ever recover from?

"Earth to Jerome? Nod yes if you're ready." Nathan tapped his shoulder. "The transport team is outside the room."

Fr. Jerome nodded. He missed the comfort of his home. He was ready.

Nathan guided Fr. Jerome to the transporting team outside of the room and helped him sit in the wheelchair.

The hospital appeared to be the size of a city as the nurse pushed him through the hallways, past other rooms, past other nurses in scrubs. He was certain he nodded off while enroute to the bottom floor and hospital entrance. The breeze against his face nudged him awake as they exited the hospital.

"We'll get you home and get you comfortable," Nathan said, patting Fr. Jerome's knee as he drove through the city. "Text me some favorite movies or shows you like to watch."

Fr. Jerome opened the notepad on his phone and typed: 'There's no time for that. Need to figure things out.' He held up the phone in Nathan's line of view with a trembling hand.

Nathan's brow furrowed. "Jerome. There is time. You need to rest."

'There will be time to rest after the Lord comes.'

"Jerome, I don't really know if I should laugh at that or cry. What exactly do you need to do that can't wait a couple days?"

Fr. Jerome typed his message. 'Need to keep writing. Need to figure out lawyer if I need one for the investigation.' He thought of Phil Jameson and would have laughed if he'd had the ability.

Nathan sighed. "We will figure all of that out. You can write between naps and while you watch television. But you're going to be writing nonsense if you're not rested."

Fr. Jerome shrugged.

"No, don't shrug. God sent me to you for a reason, and I think it is partially to be your support since you're a stubborn-ass white man. You're not invincible."

No, that was Mariel.

Fr. Jerome slept for a brief moment and then jerked awake. When he opened his eyes, he glanced out the window. They were still in the city, paused in traffic. People walked the streets hurriedly. Few smiled. How many felt that something was wrong? His eyes moved upward to the billboard down the road.

"JOIN US IN THE GRAND ARENA COURTYARD - SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 15th 5pm: MAYOR KAEMON SPEARS!" The words were large, almost harsh. A torso and head shot of a smiling Kaemon Spears took the bottom-center.

Fr. Jerome turned his gaze to Nathan, who gripped the steering wheel tightly while staring at the billboard. He reached out and touched Nathan's shoulder. He felt weak engaging even in that movement.

Nathan moved the corners of his mouth, attempting to smile in acknowledgement of Fr. Jerome's touch. "I'm alright. Just processing." He inched the car forward a little bit. Someone blared their horn in the distance. "I just miss him still, you know?"

Fr. Jerome nodded. Despite everything, he did miss Mariel. He opened the notepad and typed. 'Hopefully it gets easier for us soon.'

"Or more bearable at least," Nathan added, driving forward a little faster. "We can only hope and pray."

The sky seemed darker.

Fr. Jerome fell asleep again. When he awakened, the vehicle was parked in the driveway to his home. He felt a sense of relief, almost as if he'd been expecting something else horrible to happen to him on the way home. He wasn't sure how much more he could handle at the moment.

"We're home, my friend," Nathan said, and suddenly Fr. Jerome felt as though this was Nathan's home too.

As they approached the door, Fr. Jerome felt a sense of happiness. He wasn't sure why.

The keys rattled as Nathan attempted to unlock the door. "Wait, wrong key. Let's see here... this one." He slipped the key inside and turned the handle. "After you, sir."

Fr. Jerome stepped inside, and gasped.

There, on the wall above the entrance to the dining room, was a large rectangular 'Welcome Home, Fr. Jerome!' sign. Beneath it stood Esther Caravan, holding Harlow as the angry cat struggled to get out of her arms. In the living room stood his new friends: Muhammad Saddam, Ana Juarez, and John Nyugen.

"Welcome home, Fr. Jerome!" Esther exclaimed, scaring Harlow further. The cat growled and leapt from her arms. Above her head, the welcome sign peeled off the wall from the right side and fell. "Goddamn it," she hissed through her smile.

Fr. Jerome's eyes burned with oncoming tears. He wanted to yell thank you to them, to use his voice to express his gratitude, but he could only smile.

"Can I hug you?" Esther asked, and came forward anyway.

They all hugged him. First Esther, then Ana, then John and Muhammad. The tears came. He sobbed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sobbed from happiness. His shoulders shook as he buried his face into Esther's shoulder and released the happiness and the pain through his tears. He felt hands on his shoulders, his back, and he finally felt safe again, safe with his new family.

And loved.