Revelation and Confliction

A decision has to be made, yet morals still stand in the way.

Part 2 " Revelation and Confliction

                       The morning sun gently crept through the waving branches, reaching into Joe’s bedroom, clinging to the glass window pane almost begging for Joe’s attention. Sadly the light was too late, Joe’s attention had already been taken, snared by Mr King’s proposition, his brain was hooked and operating at a hundred miles an hour while his body laid motionless on the sunken mattress. His room stood still like a photograph, as silent as the local graveyard with the stand still being broken by the occasional deep sigh. The weight of the proposition brewed frustration in Joe’s mind, it was an opportunity too good to pass up if it wasn’t for Joe’s morals playing devil’s advocate. He was a young man caught in limbo, torn between his morals and his wanting. Finally he sat upright, like a charge had shot through him, desperate to push his moral compass to the back of his mind, Joe quickly threw some clothes on and emerged from his room as the door let out a faint screech as the hinges opened. As he slowly descended each step of the staircase, the crescendo of noise grew from downstairs, fried bacon and coffee intoxicated Joe’s nostrils. Before he even reached the bottom of the staircase a pleasant surprise greeted him.

                   ‘Good morning son.’ Joe’s father said spritely, sitting upright on the end of the sofa, it was a rare thing for Joe’s father to sat upright. Usually he was drained of energy from his treatment.

                    ‘Morning’ Joe responded, perplexed but joyed at seeing his father sitting up. He quickly rushed over to him bemused and concerned, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘You ok? You’re not feeling light headed or anything like that?’ He said.

                     ‘I feel fine, why are you looking at me like I’ve gone crazy?’ Joe’s father responded, bemused as well.

                     ‘Nothing, just wanted to make sure everything is ok. You were weak last night, just surprised me that’s all. I’ll get some breakfast. You want anything?’ Joe said with a gentle calmness. His dad shook his head in reply.

                     Joe slowly stood up and glanced at the television, he lost interest in the weather forecast within a second. As he proceeded to the kitchen the fizzing, hissing sound of frying pan grew louder as if a bag of snakes had inhabited his eardrums. He was greeted by his mother looking more joyous than in recent time, particularly when compared to the events of the previous evening.

                      ‘Morning Ma.’ Joe said whilst tiredly slumping into the closest chair, quick to slip his hands under the table to keep his bruised hands hidden for fear of an inquisition from his mother.

                      ‘Morning Joe, got your breakfast here’ Joe’s mother responded, carrying over a plate of food for Joe.

                      ‘Looks good, thank you.’ Joe commented, glancing at the breakfast placed before him. ‘Did you give him some extra pills or something? He looks like a different man today.’ Joe added, with a bemused expression etched across his face.

                      ‘I wish, I’m just glad he’s looking better today. As long as he’s getting better then I’m happy.’ His mother happily replied.

                       ‘He must be excited for the pretty nurses then’. Joe quipped, peering through the corner of his eyes awaiting his mother’s reaction.

                     Joe’s mother just shook her head, luckily for Joe he could see a slight smile from her. The tension from last night had dissipated, the sight of Joe’s father improving provided a short respite from the stress and anger that pitted them against each other almost every day. Although they were united in joy, they continued to tread carefully around each other with an air of caution accompanying every word spoken, breath taken or second of eye contact made.  

                     ‘You sure you want to take him today? We both know you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. You’ve to relax on the weekend, give yourself a break.’ Joe’s mother calmly spoke in Joe’s ear, placing her hands on top of Joe’s rounded shoulders. Caution ceded to her maternal instincts, she’d never stop trying to open Joe up.

                   ‘I’m fine, ok. If I feel I can’t do something then I’ll tell you. So stop worrying about me please.’ Joe replied bluntly, not revealing his appreciation for his mother’s concern.

                   ‘I’m your mother, I’ll never stop worrying about you no matter how much you’d like me to. It’s what mothers do.’ Joe’s mother replied, it was clear that she was more than accustomed to delivering that sentence to her son. ‘why don’t you let me find a girl Joe, you could use someone to open up to.’

                  ‘Mum not now please, I’ve got enough on my plate ok. I’m going to shower.’ Joe quickly rebutted his mother’s proposal, hastily standing from his seat to make his way back upstairs with the sole intention to avoid the topic of conversation. Joe’s mother just sighed, no words could be summoned to chronicle the worry and dismay at her son’s isolation. Every night Joe was out she felt she was losing a little piece of the boy she raised into a man right before her eyes, every second they shared together became all the more precious to her as the days went on. It had only taken Joe a few moments to reach the shower, with his body leaning back against the shower wall, neck arched downwards, his body seemingly unable to bear the weight life was pressing upon him, unrelenting and eternal, like a King Sisyphus reincarnated, burdened by the weight of consequences, decisions made and decisions pending. Joe remained leant against the shower wall, the stand still had returned to him, morals and desire were tearing his mind apart. It was almost as if Joe was praying for the lukewarm torrent of shower water to erode and sweep away the weight of his confliction. He slowly raised his head and exhaled violently, erupting the shower water from his mouth before shielding his face with his rough, bruised hands trying to shut out the world for one moment before stepping out from the shower to dry his scarred body off. The towel was practically redundant, the scars daubed over his skin had become so numb over time it was hard if not virtually impossible to feel any physical touch. The scars had left Joe as sensual as a statue, cold touched and impassive, he turned away from the sink, unable to bare look at himself in the mirror. The portrait that greets him in the face of the faded mirror above the sink is one that Joe struggled to comprehend and accept, not a day would go by when Joe would not wish that his scars would vanish, this wish would sneak it’s way into his prayers. The scars were his shackles, restraining him and stealing his chance to be the man of his own image. He quickly slid his t shirt over his shoulders before grabbing the tatty jeans floundering on the flooded bathroom floor, hastily pulling them up his legs in sync with opening the door. As he stepped through the cold hallway air swarmed over any exposed skin while he left a trail of steam in his wake as he rushed down the hall to the top of the stairway.

                            ‘We all ready to go?’ Joe said whilst rampaging down the stairs.

                            ‘Looks like you’re the one excited to see the pretty nurses Joe.’ His mother exclaimed smiling.

                               ‘Just want to beat the traffic that’s all.’ Joe quickly responded while he tied his boot laces. ‘Alright dad lets get you up.’ Joe said to his father with no emotion, speaking out of habit on auto pilot as he walked over to his father before squatting down to lift his father up.

                              ‘What are you doing?’ His father immediately shouted in confusion. ‘I’ll walk myself to the car, I’m not a baby Joe and I’m not dead……. Yet.’ He chuckled quietly to himself.

                           Joe remained silent as he ushered his father towards the front door. The journey down the stairs had become as arduous as descending Everest, it would last an age, every step had to be calculated. The moment they breached the door way prying eyes could be felt stalking them from all angles, Joe’s efforts to hurry his father down the steps failed, he could not bare his father to be seen so vulnerable. He opened the door of his car occupying the driveway, it had ticked over a few miles during it’s time, the beat up worn body of the car almost mimicked Joe’s own body but it ran well, that’s all Joe required. Joe quickly glanced upwards towards the heavens, the sky was bruised from the darkest blue to the deepest purple, reincarnate of Joe’s knuckles. As his gaze returned back down to the earth, he spotted an empty beer can at the end of the drive peering out of the pile of browned dead autumn leaves that entombed it. His mutterings of anger and irritation were rivalled by the sound the dry leaves rustling and strumming over the rutted tarmac as he grabbed the bottle, void of its liquor save for the last drop. He quickly cast the bottle to dark depths of the garbage bin before getting behind the wheel, firing the engine with an encore from the crackling of the radio as the car lumbered out of the driveway.

                            Within the hour Joe slowly swung the car round to the hospital entrance, chased by the screams of city life, car horns and sirens slicing through the narrow streets, fleeting beneath the Goliath high rise buildings.

                           ‘I’ll let you two get out first so you can get started.’ Joe robotically muttered, extinct of emotion, it wasn’t his first drive to the hospital and he knew it wouldn’t be his last, no matter how diligent he prayed for it. He trained his yes over his parents until they had breached the door way of the hospital before parking up. With every step he took towards the hospital doors, his heart would begin to pound harder and harder, like a pump action shotgun raging, let loose under his skin, butterflies would turn to dragons in his stomach. Joe only ever saw the hospital as a cage, claustrophobic with sickness and distress rife among the corridors, a sight not even a man with Joe’s reputation could cope with, it would almost strangle him to submission, almost to paralysis if he ever ground to a halt. He fixed his eyes firmly to the ground as he marched through the winding corridors which he’d grown acquainted like the back of his hands to the chemo unit where he found his father hooked up to a drip, his mother sat quietly reading the paper. Joe would try to enjoy every remaining second of his father looking remotely strong until the chemo rear it’s ugly head and drain the strength away. Such a serene few seconds powerful enough to relinquish the claustrophobia, a blissful oblivion.

                           A quiet, angelic voice honed into Joe’s senses and broke the numb transfixion that had trapped him momentarily ‘Mr Nowak?....... Joseph Nowak?’ The gentle voice called out.

                            Joe slowly pivoted towards the nearing voice, the numbness thawed as the keeper of the voice approached ever closer. ‘Yeah I’m Joseph Nowak.’

                          The keeper was every bit as angelic as the voice she bared, her skin adorned in olive, kissed by the sun. A tiny slender figure draped beneath the scrubs, hair tied back as dark and shimmering as oil with bronze woven in. Joe stood Herculean in stature when squared up to the young woman she was so slight. ‘Hello. Maria, I’m your father’s new therapist’. Professional courtesy shrouded her apprehension when she was faced with Joe, his traditional angered expression was never the most welcoming, Joe slowly reached his hand out bruises and all which caught Maria’s gaze as she reciprocated, her face etched a quiet fright and proclaimed innocence as Joe’s grip remained resolute, he could not bring a word to his lips, such his nerves of being close to a woman, as he loosened his grip of her hand déjà vu struck him as he became transfixed by her sparkling eyes lit up by the hospital lights, they weren’t new to him, he’d crossed these eyes before. Before he could decipher where their eyes had met before Maria quickly broke the deadlock.

                         ‘Can we talk in the office just down the hall Mr Nowak?’ gesturing an open hand to the office in question accompanied by the warmest of smiles, almost a measure of desperation to put Joe at ease. Joe’s eyes quickly darted up the hallway and back to Maria, ‘Yeah…..ok.’ He agreed hesitantly as he followed Maria to her office, hands slipped deep into his pockets as he quickly glanced back to his parents.

                           The office was small, cramped for the average body, it was a perfect fit for Maria’s slight stature, clinically white walls encircled the glass desk. Joe gently closed the door before taking the seat, quietly sitting to attention for a few brief seconds to the sound of Maria’s nails peppering the screen of her phone, rapid fuelled with anger perhaps. It wasn’t long for Joe to wait as she finished typing her message, he was glad he wasn’t the recipient to say the least.

                       ‘Sorry Mr Nowak. Family problems that’s all.’ She urgently explained herself.

                          ‘It’s no problem, none of my business. I hope everything sorts itself anyway. You can call me Joe by the way.’ He replied, stuttered under his nerves.

                       ‘Thank you, Joe.’ She softly replied with a smile that broke her caution towards him. ‘Just my baby sister, I say baby, she’s just started college but she seems to be more focused on partying than studying.’

                     ‘I always thought partying was the whole point of college.’ Joe quipped, smiling as he looked down at his hands.

                    ‘Yeah, I just can’t let her throw it all away, become a dama de la noche, as we’d say back home.’ Maria replied, hoping for a simple message on her phone to exorcise all the fears and worries brewing the storm engulfing her mind.

                   Silence overran the conversation as Joe sat, shoulders folding inwards as if he was the subject under a microscope with the walls pulsating. Every word syphoned his being of energy, a hundred fists could not equate to a single sentence of conversation.

                   ‘Right lets talk about your father Joe. How has he been the last week, physically, mentally?

                   ‘Just the same as every week.’ Joe replied.

                     Joe’s answers painted a portrait of confusion across Maria’s face as she sat patiently trying to pry answers from him, as easy as drawing blood from a stone, extract information from a brick wall. With Joe she’d encountered the most resolute of walls. ‘Can you tell me what that is?’

                  Joe raised his head in harmony with a deep inhale, cocking his head to the side, averting his weary eyes from Maria, tears gathering at his eyes. He released his breath, desperate to keep the baying tears suppressed as they charged like clouds of rolling thunder. ‘He’s just not there.’ A plethora of silence enveloped the small office as the shackles of desolation blessed a sole moment of relief to Joe, just four words gave Joe a slight turn of his valve, the most minimal of outlets, a pin hole in the dam to exude the weight and pressure from his shoulders. ‘Every day there is less life in him, no energy, doesn’t eat a lot. I just see him slipping away. He’s been much better today but for how long?’ His voice tremoring beneath the grief that was locked away for an age. Joe could hardly muster his eyes up from the floor, every fibre of the carpet between his feet had been studied meticulously.

                    ‘I know it would be hard to believe but looking at your father’s recent tests his condition is improving slightly.’ Maria politely interjected, subtly emboldened as she realised perhaps Joe wasn’t the granite hearted animal he appeared on the surface.

                   A slight smile broke out across Joe’s face as he quietly chuckled, still unwilling to make eye contact, maybe for prides sake, buying every second for the tears to desiccate from his eyes, turn from waterfalls to death valley. ‘Getting better? He doesn’t look any better to me.’

               ‘I know it is hard to correlate but all I can say is to keep following the treatments your father is receiving.’

               ‘You saying that from a business view or is that your professional view now?’

                 ‘Joe I’m not here to get your money, I’m a nurse, my job is to help your father and make sure he receives the best treatment on offer.’

                 Joe’s eyes slowly rose up with the tilt of his head, reminiscent of a wild west sheriff raising his revolver to an outlaw. ‘I’m glad you’re not after my money cause you doctors and nurses have raped my wallet of everything’ he said with every word intertwined with a cocktail of anger and stern truth. A deafening silence exuded across the air with Joe’s eyes burning through to Maria, paralytic and trapped under his gaze. Her heartened confidence vanished while the cooled embers of her initial unease around Joe grew resurrected, resurgent, roaring, sweeping through her like wildfire, etched in her eyes as Joe maintained a cold steeled stare.

                   ‘Can I ask you a question? Off the record if that’s ok.’

                     ‘Uh, yes ok Joe. What is it?’ Maria timidly responded, fearful to answer no, a canary caught in the grip of a lion could only chronicle the dynamic besieged in the walled confines of the small office.

                   ‘Is it true what they say about weed?’ He muttered almost beneath his breath, suspicious of preying ears.

                   ‘What do you mean?’

                   ‘I’ve been told it can cure cancer, or at least help with treatment. Surely you must know if it’s all true or not.’

                    Maria could do nothing but sigh, exhausted by a question she’s given an audience to all too often. ‘Joe, yes some animal studies have shown that it can kill cancer cells, curing is still unproven. It’s out there, there’s no point trying to hide it from you, there are publications by the National Institute on Drug Abuse for example which have concluded that yes Cannabis can kill certain cancer cells.’

                     Maria’s words were music to Joe’s ears, no symphony of Mozart or Beethoven could compare with the words Maria orchestrated to his ears. He waved his hands up in joyous disbelief with an intoxicated smile as she spoke like it was his eureka moment. Before Joe could speak Maria was quick to snatch the elation from him. ‘I am not condoning the use of medical marijuana for your father Joe.’

                   ‘Why not? You just said it kills cancer cells, why are you holding this back? You have to give your patients access to every treatment or am I just stupid, am I missing something?’ Joyous disbelief morphed into angered disbelief.

                 ‘New York drug laws are incredibly stringent and tough to get around. Only twenty hospitals in the state can prescribe cannabis for medicinal purposes and that’s in exceptional cases. Your father is improving with the existing treatment so there is no need to go down that road.’

                 ‘You’re not gonna try, you’re not even going to try! I bet it if it was your father in the treatment room you’d be trying.’

                ‘Joe I can assure I am doing everything I can for your father.’

                  ‘Really?’ Joe’s voice now an alloy of exasperation and odium, wild eyed contaminated with fury. ‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Guess I’ll have to do it myself then.’ Slowly rising from his chair, exhausted by words, vexed in bemused frustration.

                  ‘Joe you can’t let your emotions take over you. What we’re doing is working, you just have to have faith with it, stay the course. Breaking the law like you’re insinuating won’t solve anything, the prize isn’t worth the punishment.’ Maria said in a caring plea, under toned in disbelief at the depths the man before her seemed willing to place himself. 

                 Joe stood, ghostly and simply stared into Maria’s eyes, the words oblivious to his senses. ‘Well luckily for you it’s not a dilemma you have to face.’ Mercifully for Maria Joe turned away and trudged to the solace of the door, the sharp turn of the handle broke the deadlock of apprehension choking the room. ‘Hope your sister turns up ok.’

              ‘Thank you Joe.’

                With the swing of the opening door, a patient cool air flocked within to exhume the apprehension from Maria. As the door closed behind Joe a relived exhalation was squeezed from her ribcage accompanied with a hurried wipe of her brow, her skin coated with a sweat of anxiety, yet parched as the Sahara desperate as she reached for her water. The sudden vibration of her phone played merry hell with her frayed, fretful, fraught nerves as she bucked in her chair before grabbing her phone hoping for a message from her sister with her pounding heart echoing in her ear drums like an unhinged machine gun. Needless to say it wasn’t her sister, just a message from an unknown number ‘Any updates?’, but surprisingly she wasn’t intrigued or unnerved by the enigma presented before her, almost if she was expecting the message. Coincidence? Or perhaps behind the beauty lay a poker face straight from the Bellagio. Just down the hallway Joe was knelt at his father’s side, already in a realm of unconsciousness, just observing the lifeless body briefly, extinct of words before his mother quietly whispered to Joe, hoping her words would reach Joe’s ears.

              ‘Why don’t you go out? Get some fresh air, go to church. I can look after him, he’s not going anywhere.’ Gently clutching Joe’s hands.

               ‘Yeah ok. I’ll be back in an hour or so.’ Reluctantly agreeing before swiftly breaking for the nearest exit.

                 As Joe breached the hospital doors, the deluge of fresh air left Joe paused, paralysed and punch drunk, with sounds of the concrete jungle reigned supreme within his hears before he reached the sanctuary of his car. A brief moment of tranquillity ushered in the rough ignition and rumble of the worn engine lurking beneath the bonnet as Joe pulled away, no destination in mind, only questions and conflict. Amidst the circus of traffic, endlessly meandering through the streets, Joe remained silent, contemplating the proposition, the next step. His strained contemplation was occasionally broken by glances in the mirrors, his conscience a pendulum swinging between the right and the necessary while aimlessly meandering through the city streets with the world exiled to his peripheral, reduced to a cold eerie phantasm. Blind luck led Joe’s meandering to the most familiar of churches that stood through time and brutal Buffalo winters. A mass of fallen leaves sat lifeless, congregated at the foot of the church, the pallet of autumn reds rejuvenated in the breaks of sun light piercing the passing clouds. The stone façade stood stoic amongst the encircling suburbia, more reminiscent of a mountain face than that of a holy church, miniscule crevasses lined the wall, the skin of the stone was invaded by jagged ridges and the tremors of every approaching footstep threatened to fracture the holy walls. An agonising creek of the ageing hinges introduced Joe as he slowly opened the doors, greeted by a hollow cold skeleton of a building with the only sign of life being the glistening gold crucifix sat stoic atop of the altar watching over every aisle. Joe gently closed the door behind him before his echoed footsteps carried him to the nearest bible awaiting his grasp. He briefly paused to admire and bask in the peaceful bliss serenading him, to an ordinary person a spectral, skeletal church was hardly a setting of solace yet the beast of anger within was sedated in an instant. He quickly took a seat at a random pew, gently prying open the small bible within his hands, gliding through the pages as if searching for the last page he read like a novel he could never put down. He quietly began to read meticulously, pondering over every word, barely into a paragraph of his reading his peace of mind was spooked, severed by the stalking statues looming in the four corners of the church confines. The cold relentless stare only a statue can possess began to toll and intrude on Joe’s solace, as if they had read the thoughts and conflict in Joe’s mind as studious as he had been reading the bible clutched in his hands. His quiet solace had quickly spun into a stalking courtroom of judgement, making his conscious swing from yes to no over and over like clockwork and with every of deliberation frustration raged through his veins, unable to escape from his body. The frustration drove insanity into Joe’s mind to within an inch of violence, the only remedy to mind that can break it. As the frustration drew closer to fever pitch a remedy was sprung to Joe’s aide, a sharp cry that sent tremors through the aged oak pew and brought Joe back from his inner turmoil to the real word.

              ‘Joe my boy!’ An matured voice rang out with excitement. ‘I don’t normally expect to find you here on Saturday’s.’ The aged figure said, his voice lowered by a few decibels, with every footstep the echoes grew fainter and his voice revealed it’s Boston Irish undertones. Joe rose up from the pew, standing to the attention of the Reverend awaiting him to come closer. He made his way up the aisle to Joe and paused to run his eye over him before cracking a warm grin. ‘And to what do I owe this pleasure then?’ He gleefully questioned with his hand outstretched.

            Joe hastily took the Reverend’s offer of a handshake but refraining from gripping his and as hard as usually expected. ‘The old man is in the hospital, so I thought I’d come here and have some peace and quiet Father, think things through.’ He softly spoke, whilst returning to his seat on the pew.

              ‘Well I do hope I am not intruding on your peace and quiet.’ He lightly joked, completely at ease around Joe, a rarity worth a fair sum to see. He joined Joe on the pew, placing a comforting arm across Joe’s shoulders, as if they were playing father and son. ‘How is your dad doing?’ The joking had left his voice suddenly.

            ‘To me he’s fading away. The new nurse thinks otherwise, don’t know whether to believe her or not.’ Joe replied, talking to the altar, unwilling to make contact with the Reverend, either through fear or perhaps shyness.

            ‘A new nurse?’ He inquired.

           ‘Yeah, first time I met her.’

            ‘At least she’s a bearer of good news. You have to trust her opinion, she definitely knows more on the subject than the two us put together.’ He said, reassuring Joe. He paused momentarily, taking in the sight of his church that stood before them both before inquiring again. ‘What’s her name? You remember? There were a few new faces in the congregation recently.’

           ‘Maria. I never got her surname. She was Hispanic.’

             ‘Well that certainly narrows it down for me Joe.’ He sarcastically replied, very nearly breaking a smile from Joe. ‘This city is home to people from all corners of God’s earth. Oh well, maybe I’ve seen her or maybe I haven’t but as long as she keeps bringing good news that’s all that matters.’ The Reverend quickly took a glance at the page left open in the bible still cradled in Joe’s hands, quickly withdrawing his gaze before Joe was made aware. Nevertheless he was only able to make out a single word, ‘Romans’. ‘So what’s troubling you then?’

               ‘Nothing Father.’

              ‘Don’t give me that!’ He exploded almost through irritation. ‘I’ve known you since you were a wee little fella, I’ve watched you grow from boy to beast so it’s time you knew that I can read you like a book, especially as easily as the book you’re holding.’

               Joe sat speechless, frozen like it was checkmate. Several agonising seconds ticked by like ages before the Reverend continued questioning.

              ‘I know something is torturing you inside. You don’t think I know every word you’re reading right there. Romans Verse 6, Sentence 12 to 14, Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its lusts, and do not go on presenting the members of your body to sin as instruments of unrighteousness; but present yourselves to God as those alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness to God. For sin shall not be master over you, for you are not under law but under grace.’ Father Riordan recited with pride, passion and power like a great monologue that could only belong to a man of faith. ‘I know exactly what that verse means, there’s no point trying to hide it from me Joe.’

               Fury reaped Joe’s temperament as checkmate turned to a standoff. ‘Alright Father you answer this! If this is God’s green earth then tell my why there are so many evils that exist?’ Joe responded with subtle, restrained anger out of his respect for Father Riordan.

                ‘You’d have to ask God himself to find the true answer to your question.

                ‘So you won’t answer it or can’t answer it?’

                ‘My answer is that these evils we see around the world, on the news, the wars been waged, crimes committed allow God to bear witness to those of evil so judgement can be passed over them sooner, it shows that they haven’t obeyed God’s word perhaps, Don't repay evil for evil, or insult for insult, 1 Peter, Verse 3 Sentence 9. , It’s the case of Adam and Eve really, maybe the evils on this earth are to prove those who obey and those who disobey our lord When it comes to other perceived evils, disease, illness. I can’t give a full answer, perhaps it’s to shepherd people closer to God.’

                 All Joe could do is chuckle in harmony with a shaking of his head in dissatisfaction. ‘My father is really closer to God, can’t get enough of him.’

                 ‘I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you want to hear Joe.’

                 ‘The more I think about it the more the more I feel God wants us to sin. Why give us all these evils to tempt us away from his words.’

                  ‘God might not provide you with the answers himself or through the gospel but he may you on a path to find the answers you’re searching for.’

                  ‘What if that path is a dark one?’

                   ‘Then it’s more likely a path of temptation paved by the devil. What’s troubling you? I can understand your frustration and anger about your father’s health but that’s no excuse to do something you’ll regret.’

                  Joe shot up from the pew, the frustration that had retreated to the doldrums of is body rose with him, rampaging through his veins slammed the bible shut. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He muttered underneath his breath before turning his back to Father Riordan, leaving him to the company of the statues.

                  ‘Joe! Come back here!’ He bellowed in vain as Joe fled from the pews.

                  Every footstep echoed out to the four corners of the church that watched his exit. The cold kiss of the outside air smacked against Joe’s skin as he opened the heavy doors, approaching his car the storm of frustration raged again with the car door falling victim to it as Joe slammed it shut without mercy.  Deep breaths tried to subdue the boiling frustration as he rested his head against the steering wheel before a frenzied howl rang out but remained enclosed within the car. The second the howl had ran out of breath sanity reclaimed Joe as the engine ignited into life, Joe patted himself down in search of his phone which briefly eluded him, buried deep in a jacket pocket. Finally after a brief struggle he managed to reveal his phone, hurriedly typing a brief text ‘Meet tonight 8pm’ before throwing his phone over to the passenger seat with little care or regard as he pulled away, the car lumbering into the road like a great, heavy beast of burden.

 

 

 

                  The sunlight of Saturday slipped below the horizon while smearing the evening sky and staining the blood red, the moon looming from across the sky spying over the sun as it retreated westwards like a cowering creature. The coming evening did not attract Joe’s attention, slumped in an arm chair, completely detached, his mind avoid from his body and the world alike in relentless, obsessive deliberation. The television captivated his eyes, every other inch and sense of him was living in another realm, completely numb and void of presence in the room, not even the ghostly headlights darting across the front windows could draw Joe back. A few more seconds of silence drew Joe’s mother out from the kitchen as she peered around the doorway to witness the quiet, empty scene, the two men of her life had turned to two stone cold corpses before her.

                   ‘Joe?’ She called, lacklustre but to no reply. She began to slowly creep deeper into the room, ‘Joe?’ she repeated again, louder with more force in her voice but again with no avail. She stormed deeper into the room like a bull in a china shop desperately trying to revive Joe, standing to an angered attention in front of him. ‘Joe!’ She shouted simply dismayed her patience snapped with the sound of a heavy clap of her hands that jolted Joe back into life, a thunder bolt of blood rush making him jump his seat as his senses reanimated, dazedly looking around the room like a stranger to a new world until the ferocious glare of his mother’s stare checked him.

                     ‘What the hell is wrong with you? You ignoring me like I don’t even exist to you, I called your name three times.’ She berated.

                    ‘I’m sorry, was just thinking that’s all.’ He wearily responded rubbing his eyes.

                    ‘Well I’ve never known thinking can put someone in a trance like that. So what’s on your mind then? You going to tell me or are we going to keep having the same argument over and over again?’

                    ‘Mum it’s none of your business.’ He quickly rebutted, staring down to the worn carpet adorning the floor boards while rabidly running his fingers through his hair.

                    ‘I’m your mother, of course it’s my business. At least tell me something or write it down, can be good to put your thoughts on paper, get them out of your mind.’

                     Joe sat quietly, every instinct reined his tongue, laying siege to any words attempting to escape from his lips. ‘Maybe I’ll give it a try.’ He stuttered, having to summon almost all his strength to force the words out. He shifted gaze towards the front window, far away the clutches of his mother’s eyes. ‘Have. Have you ever had to do something that was wrong and you knew it wasn’t a right thing to do but you kinda felt it was your only choice, it felt justified?’ He coyly asked, frightened his mother would pick apart everything like a vulture devouring a carcass.

                      ‘I think everyone goes through a time like that, you find yourself forced into a position you don’t won’t to be in. Just stay patient and wait for the right solution to come along, just please don’t do something that you can’t escape from. I feel like I’m losing my husband already, losing my son as well would be too much for me to bear.’ She pleaded quietly yet screaming in desperation inside.

                       ‘I’ll be fine, don’t have to worry about me and before you say it, I know you’re my mother so you’ll never stop worrying about me.’

                       His Mother couldn’t help but snicker as she turned to her husband, laying inconspicuously across the couch, devoid of life, almost becoming a piece of the furniture himself. Joe appeared to follow suit before slowly pushing himself up from the armchair which had claimed him prisoner. A rush of blood to the head drew a dark curtain over his eyesight, as if the armchair was trying to claw him back. ‘Can you leave my dinner in the oven, I’m just going out for a few hours.’

                      ‘Ok Joe. Please be careful out there.’ She replied, fearful of the potential events that may find Joe outside the safe haven of her picket fence home.

                      Joe turned his head to look back at his mother as he reached the front door. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He said reassuringly as he opened the door. He glanced back at the shadow of the father he grew up with, stricken and shackled to the sofa, a sight day by day that ate away at him, igniting the burden of anger he held, hung around his neck before stepping out into the great dark kingdom of the cold night. He slowly climbed down the stairs to his car before placing his hand on the handle, the cold metallic touch against his skin stood his nerves to attention as he paused, his breath clouding the clear windows with condensation until he removed his hand from the handle and into the warm embrace of his jacket pocket as he chose to walk further into the night. Every breath let the chill of the evening tighten it’s grip on Joe but he felt a strange comfort while immersed the cold and darkness, the numbness from the bitter cold was a close acquaintance rather than a stranger only flickering streetlights and the patter of his boots against frozen concrete, so brittle every step could leave a gaping crevasse streaking through every slab.