Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 54 - Love is My Religion

The boys are in my office with the lights off, still watching videos.  One of the problems with ghosts, I realize, is that they don’t sleep. 

But the door is shut and they both have headphones on and – aside from the occasional laugh – they are pretty quiet. 

And yes, I have removed all social media sites from my computer temporarily.  I still have my phone and tablet.  They will do. 

“Hey, angel,” Drake says when he appears, “You didn’t,” he adds when he looks at my office. 

“I did,” I sigh and roll over again, “But they’re keeping me up.” 

“Jesus and?” he tries peeking through the door, but can’t see from this angle. 

“Bob Marley,” I tell him. 

“Wow – really?” he asks as he crawls in bed with me, “Why?” 

“Why Bob Marley or why are they down here?” I ask him, curling into his arms gladly. 

“Well, both, I guess,” he chuckles and kisses my head, “God I’ve missed you,” he tells me. 

“I’ve missed you too,” I smile up at him, “They’re down here so I can forgive them without Michael finding out so that he can’t lock them again and so that they can tell Father Jorge to grant your annulment.  Bob’s supposedly some kind of modern-day prophet.  At least that’s what Clark says.  But it was all of his songs that the letters sang, so even if Clark is wrong about that – and he hasn’t been wrong yet – I still need him, apparently.” 

“Sang?” he asks, lazily stroking my hair. 

“As soon as Bob and Jesus listened to them, they stopped,” I tell him, “Oh, and the four of us are flying to Rome the day after tomorrow to meet with Father Jorge, so be ready to leave by four in the morning.” 

“Ok, angel,” I can hear the smile in his voice, “Anything for you.” 

We’re silent after that, and I feel myself drifting off.  Finally. 

And then more laughter and I’m awake again.  I roll over, sighing. 

“Let me take you to my house tonight,” Drake rubs my shoulder, “They can stay in my office and you can sleep in my room.” 

“I don’t trust you that much,” I tell him. 

“Angel, I’m so close to having you back now there’s no way I’m going to jeopardize it,” he kisses my shoulder softly, “I waited over four thousand years for you.  I can wait a few more days.” 

And he’s right.  It’s so quiet here in his bed with him.  He’s blocked the boys from accessing any social media sites and set them up in his office.  

I can’t hear a thing. 

“Just sleep, angel,” he tells me, “I love you so much.” 

During the next morning, we test our proximity limits.  Having them corporeal has its disadvantages, but I’m really worried about them wandering too far away from me and me losing them. 

But I realize that neither of them have passports – nor any documentation to obtain them – and I want to beat my head against the wall for not thinking of that.  So we push out further and further, but it doesn’t do any good.