“Oh, I would absolutely believe you. Especially if a priest was involved.”
“Just when I think I’ve got you nailed down, you pull something out of left field and make me question everything. Your morals, especially.”
“Always question my morals, Batman, because I can guarantee you’ve only scratched the surface.”
I took a big swig of Coke and stared at the moon’s reflection on the water. He’d run screaming if he knew just how true that statement was.
Lucifer wouldn’t,my stupid brain intruded.
The intrusive thought promptly caused a mass exodus of Coca-Cola out of my mouth and nose.
“Shit, are you okay?” Joe patted my back as the carbonation burned at least fifty percent of my orifices.
“I’m fine,” I gargled and coughed. “I only saw the light for a few seconds.”
Careful, dearest Dany.
“Sarcastic even in the face of death.” He gave my back one last pat before leaning back over the rail. Amusement sparkled in his eyes as he watched me try to shake the sticky shit off my hands. “I bet half a can came out of your nose.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a sniffle. “Funny. Coke usually burns more on the way in.”
Joe began to smile, then did a double take. “Wait, are you serious? Do you do drugs?”
“That’s definitely not first date material, Batman. You’ll have to apply for a second and get me drunk.”
My cheeks flamed and I turned my face away so he couldn’t see it in the lamp light illuminating the park paths.
I was dead, inside and out. Sometimes that meant I did anything to try and feel alive again.
Drugs included.
I pursed my lips and stared out over the water again. Am I being too much? Was he finally coming to the conclusion that my lifestyle didn’t match that of a heroic vigilante?
Probably. You did, after all, have to have some sort of moral code to want to save people.
Especially filth like me.
My palms began to sweat. Without second thought, I blurted, “So why are you such a savior? People usually give up on me by now.”
Joe was quiet for a long time, staring out over the moonlit water like the picture perfect scene of serenity.
“I used to come here a lot,” he whispered. “My old man left before I was born. My mom was the best, but it was a lot for her. We were homeless. Slept in this very park more times than I can count.”
I turned to watch his face as he talked. Its solemn expression was emphasized in the shadows darkening each line of his frown and crease of his brow. For the first time in eternity, my heart ached for a man.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, I found myself scrambling for words. I didn’t want to cause him more pain. I did, however, want him to feel safe enough to talk. To let me have this secret part of him so I could…
I wasn’t sure. Comfort him? Acknowledge and validate whatever pain haunted his past?
“Was?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“You said your mom was the best.”
“Oh. Yeah. She, uh,” he stopped and turned his head away for a moment, collecting himself in the silence between our breaths. “She died when I was ten.”
There was a fine tremble in his lip that jumped in time to the flexing muscle in his temple. I wanted to reach out and smooth it away.
