Praying Under Pressure

28 - What Goes In God's House

Ward came with his wallet and phone; Not even a toothbrush, he bought that at the airport. Elliot being Elliot knew what Ward wanted to know, so he brought a dress shirt and nice jeans to match a tie. It was the best Noel could scrounge up. 

"Oh, look at you. My pretty boy looks all dapper and grown-up. Before I know it I'll be teaching you to shave and sending you off to college. And I'll be all alone without you."

A half an hour earlier before the whole town congregated in the catholic church, the two took a cab to a horrifically familiar street. Elliot sat there watching Ward look out the window, wondering what was going on in his head that made him choose this.

The cab driver, a very kind woman, slowly pulled the couple in front of the house littered with flowers and hockey memorabilia, and posters. As if the man had been a victim of terrorism and not stage four pancreatic cancer. 

Ward stalled in the cab for a moment, staring at all the colorful flowers and gifts of admiration before he turned to the cab driver, "I'm going to get out. But I will be back in a moment," Then without allowing Elliot to say a word, he climbed out of the cam and stood in the middle of a brown yard.

"People respect appearances as much as they respect intentions, Warren. It's why we look nice. Now, get out there without whining and help us clean the yard up or you won't get a treat tonight."

The house looked so old. Like the loss of the only decent person in the building rapidly aged it. Weeds in the cement, cracking wood and peeling paint. It no longer looked as nice as he did. The windows were drawn shut, hiding the inside.

"In this house, you're always safe. None of the monsters can get you in here. You can sleep safely."

There were many picture frames lounging on the lawn. Different situations, different people, but the same emotions are drawn behind each panel of glass; Humble joy. There was one of his arms around Kenny with the boy wears the Toronto Maple Leaf jersey. A big grin sitting in its purity. Eyes bunched up.

"That's it. That's it- ooh. You feel so good, pretty boy. You know you make me feel so good?"

Ward bent down, picking up the frame from its position in a garden of sympathy bouquets. He covered Kenny's face with his thumb so only Mr. Locke beamed at him.

"You're my favorite, Warren. I don't know what I'll do without you. No one makes me happier than my movie buddy. Now, should we watch Fast and Furious? Or James Bond?"

Ward sniffed, blinking to get the tears to dry out. He moved his thumb so both faces in the picture were covered by his flesh and blood. 

"What have you done? You killed my son, you fucking brat! I have no one. You fucking killed the last of my family and you're going to feel that pain too!"

Ward let out a shaky breath, bending down and setting the frame face down so the two figures were buried in brown grass. Elliot watched from inside the cab, heart filled with worry but a mind full of confusion. He could only assume the frame was a picture of Mr. Locke. It began the question of why Ward didn't want to see it.

Ward bit his lip, taking one last survey of his childhood. 

Playing basketball on the driveway, "Jace! That is no way to treat your brother. Either he plays with one of you or you'll have to find something else to do. Warren, boy, get out there and teach them height doesn't matter, huh bud?"

Cooking dinner, "Oh my, this is a pleasant surprise. What made you three decide to make dinner? I can't wait to try it. And for all your work, you'll get a dessert. Maybe ice cream?"