Mercy

Chapter 2

Just as Brooklyn went to grab the door's handle, her phone rang. She let go and backed away as she took out her phone with trembling hands. Page's picture graced the screen.

Clearing her throat, Brooklyn answered and tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. "Hello?"

"Hey, Brookie. Let me pick you up for lunch."

Brooklyn took a few more steps away from the church and stared at the closed doors.

"Brook?"

"I'm sorry. Sure, okay," she said absentmindedly.

"'Kay, I'll be there in half an hour."

Brooklyn shoved her phone into her sweater's pocket and continued to stare at the doors, horrified that she had ever considered going back in. Seeing Page was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was grateful for her friend's unwitting intervention.

Brooklyn dragged her gaze away from the church and down to her attire. Knowing Page, it would be a good idea to change into something a bit more presentable, but the idea of jeans or anything fitted was unappealing. She walked back home as slowly as she could to kill time and opted to risk Page's trademark nose-scrunching and not change. Multicolored leaves peppered the sidewalk, and she kept her eyes trained on them the entire way as she berated herself. What was wrong with her that she had been willing to go back? Or that she needed to explain herself to a stranger? Worst of all, to a priest!

When she reached her building, she continued walking towards the pick-up spot, a small park where she could wait for Page. They did this to avoid revealing Brooklyn's connection to someone with wealth to the people with whom she shared the house. Most of her housemates were the type who walked a fine line that barely kept them on the right side of the law. Along with her generally antisocial disposition, that was the main reason why she kept to herself. But if there was one thing she had learned about them, it was that it wasn't completely due to any fault of their own. Like her, circumstance and society had chewed them up and left them in the fringe. The only thing that separated Brooklyn from them was that she happened to have a rich friend.

Hugging herself, Brooklyn sat on a park bench facing the street and waited. Page pulled up and rolled down the passenger window with a smile. On top of nose-scrunching, Brooklyn had anticipated a scalding critique of her outfit, but as she approached the car, Page said nothing about it. In fact, she was even uncharacteristically dressed down in a pair of jeans and a plain, long-sleeved t-shirt. Brooklyn envied how her friend still looked runway ready in the simplest of clothes.

"How was the rest of your morning?" Page asked as Brooklyn got into the car.

Brooklyn immediately thought of the church and how Page's call had most likely saved her from another panic attack. "It was okay."

"Cool." Silence. "Look, about this morning, I hope you're not still upset about it."

I am. "I'm fine."

"Sooo, you were upset?"

Brooklyn looked out the window so Page couldn't see her face. "No, I meant I wasn't actually upset."

"But you seemed pretty bothered to me. Like, you were sulking all through breakfast and made me feel super guilty."

Brooklyn pressed her thumbnail into her palm in panic. She knew Page wouldn't buy her lies, but she also knew she couldn't tell her just how angry she had been. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention."

Page stayed quiet. It wasn't enough.

"Okay, I was a little upset, but I was just being sensitive," said Brooklyn, clasping her hands together in anticipation. She hoped that would be enough and they could move on, because navigating these kinds of conversations with Page was like walking through an obstacle course.