chapter 18: the gift
Sina loitered at the entrance while glancing around the house with uncertainty. Part of him wanted to bolt. Maybe run to the woods and get pissed drunk. Maybe find the dandelion and get it pissed drunk too, but the weed made a pretty terrible drinking buddy. Another part of Sina (a great big part) felt like he needed to be in the house with Father Cal. So he stayed yet made no move to step in further.
Caleb gestured they enter the living room. When Sina hesitated, he said, "Think of my house as your house. OK?"
Sina nodded and walked into the living room like a stray dog entering new surroundings. "It's nice and warm in here...and dry." Spotting the calendar, he pointed to it. He nearly made a rude comment about the cats but stopped himself and said, "Meow."
Stopping by a lone armchair, Caleb rested his hand on the back and glanced at the calendar. "A little something from Travis Cullen."
"It does not look like something Travis would buy. Not in the slightest."
"Why do you say that?"
"Can I be honest and a bit rude, padre?"
Father Cal thought a moment, then nodded. "Sure."
"Travis Cullen and pussy are not amigos. Understand?"
Before Cal could stop himself, he laughed loudly at Sina's unpolished comment. "Jesus Christ, Sina."
"Can you say that?" Sina asked before peppering Cal with more questions. "Aren't you taking JC's name in vain or something? Isn't that a no-no? Won't your congregation burn you at the stake?"
"I say fuck a lot too." When Sina raised a brow, Cal added, "But please don't let this leave the house."
Sina stuck two ridged fingers in the air. "Scouts honor." Looking up at Father Cal, Sina found himself getting lost. It was like he was floating. Flying. Fluttering. He realized he liked being around this man. More than he'd like to admit. "I brought you something,"
Father Cal ran the tips of his fingers idly over the back of the chair. "You didn't have you bring me anything. I'm not expecting payment."
Sina shrugged. There was a faint quiver in the way he moved his shoulders. "I didn't do it because I thought I had to." He set his bags down with a dull thud. "I did it because I thought it would be nice."
Caleb slid into the armchair and Sina sat on the floor a few feet away.
Father Cal raised a brow and chuckled. "I have the sofa across me that sits three and a set of mismatched chairs in the kitchen if you prefer. The floor isn't the most comfortable place."
"I'm a floor sitter." Sina reached for his backpack and pulled it to his feet. "Like a good dog."
Cal's chuckle was swept away. A frown replaced it and stormed all over his features. "You're no one's dog," he said softly.
"I ain't no one's nothing, padre," Sina said honestly as he unzipped the bag and pulled a bottle of gin out by its neck. "Here." Rising on his knees, he placed it on Father Cal's lap. "Same brand of gin you were drinking in Purgatory. I know you said you aren't much of a drinker but this is definitely the best gin to ever grace the shelves of the club. It's gin for people who don't drink to get drunk and ogle dancers. It's for people like you. Honestly, I never knew anyone who ever ordered gin in that shitty hellhole and I've been working there since the beginning of time."
"You work in Purgatory?"
Sina nodded. "I dance. Sometimes when people want to scratch a certain itch, I oblige."
"What do you mean? Do you –"
"I let lecherous men fuck me for money but I'm not pretty enough. I don't make much. It doesn't matter. I'm not worth a lot anyways. I mean look at me."
Sina's words hurt Cal. A sharp sting of melancholy came over him just as the raging storm had come and battered the fishing boat on the waters of Galilee – brutally and unforgiving. His hands gripped the arms of the chair. He felt like there was no Savior at the helm of this boat. Nothing but a deep pain ebbed inside him. For one terrible second, Cal felt absolutely broken over what he heard. Sina had come into his life like a sledgehammer and shattered his heart in one breath. The desire to pull Sina close and hold him until he stopped feeling this way was overwhelming.
"This is a harsh bit of information to process..." Cal closed his eyes momentarily. His fingers rose an inch from the arms of the chair but his palms stayed motionless. "You work there?"
Sina nodded.
"You strip?"
"I could show you but your God may strike me down."
"You have sex for money?"
"Are you judging me?"
"I'm trying to understand you."
"I'm not complicted." Sina poked Cal's leg. "Don't make it complected. Please. Take the gin. I went to three liquor stores to find it."
"I don't know what to say," Caleb uttered touched by Sina's gesture. "This is very kind of you." He looked up and noticed for the first time how inky Sina's eyes were, yet off-center of one was a dot of hazel – like some aberrational light in that murkiness. He almost commented but instead reached out and wrapped his fingers around his gift. "Thank you."
"It's nothing. Really." In that sliver in time between breaths, Sina felt Father Caleb's hand accidentally brush against his. It was in that sliver that Sina felt like he had just trespassed on something clean. But Sina always had muddy shoes.
"Well." Caleb's voice was a gentle breeze. "How about I make an I-don't-drink exception and we have a glass? How do you drink it?"
"Do I look like a grandma? Straight up, padre. And none of that measuring with a thimble bull. Fill the glass halfway."
"You play dangerously." The words were a ghost on Caleb's lips.
Sina leaned back on his hands and watched Father Cal rise. "I guess I've got a death wish."
"It's a terrifying thing to have."
Caleb knew that he could have a glass of gin because drinking would not hurt him. It was not like food that make him ill. What straight alcohol did to him was absolutely nothing. He could drink a gallon and not get a buzz...not unless there was blood in it. Even a drop would do. Then euphoria would hit like a Dominatrix whipping her sub. It was perfect and harsh and made Cal's head spin wonderfully. Unfortunately, asking his guest to cut his palm and bleed into his drink would be vulgar. He'd have to use his own blood if he wanted to feel anything.
Father Caleb sighed long and hard. He didn't notice it sounded like a lament until Sina cocked his head and asked if he was OK.
Nodding quickly, Cal gestured to the kitchen. "I'll get us some glasses. Make yourself at home."
"Can I put my feet up on the couch?"
"Yes."
"Can I turn on the TV?"
"I only get two channels, but sure."
"Can I smoke?" Sina slid his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled and nearly empty cigarette pack.
Looking over his shoulder, Cal thought a moment before he nodded. "Only if you share."
"You smoke?" Sina laughed. "No shit?"
"I haven't smoked in twenty years."
"Then why the flying fudge do you want to start up again?"
Caleb shifted his gaze from Sina to the window. Outside the wind bashed against a tree relentlessly. "I shouldn't, should I?"
Sina shook his head quickly while mouthing NO dramatically. "If I could quit I would. Hell, if I could quit a lot of shit, I would."
"Maybe I shouldn't then. But you go ahead."
As he glanced at his smokes, Sina trailed the tip of his tongue over his lips thoughtfully. "Naw. That's OK, padre. Maybe later," he uttered as he lifted his gaze to Cal.
A look was shared between them. Something soft and calm and it made Cal flinch. "Alright." When a moment wove around in silence, it took Cal far away – right to the core of that hazel speck in Sina's eye where darkness turned to light. "I...I'll get...us those glasses then."
"I'll be right here," Sina patted the sofa, "padre."
"Oh, and Sina. don't call me padre. Caleb will be fine."
"I can do that."
Caleb heard the wind howl as it clawed at the door. He listened as it groaned against the walls and cried at the windows. But inside it was warm, just like Sina had said moments ago. Warmer than it had been since he had arrived in Heaven.
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