The walk to the chapel felt longer than usual. Rain pelted Danielle’s arms. She shuffled her hands inside the pockets of her windbreaker and slowed her pace. Outside the chapel, the rain hit the ground like a drum roll. She tilted her head to look towards the roof, but the shower blinded her. Wiping her eyes, she clenched her hands and shoved them back into her pockets and neared the chapel entrance.
Pulling the door open, a rush of cold air swept by her. Danielle froze in the threshold, her body shaking with chills. She pressed forward, pushing the hood of her jacket from her head, listening to the soles of her boots squeak on linoleum. The hall was dimly lit, the pastel glow of stained glass windows reflecting on the walls. She paused before one of them, seeing past the glass. Outside the wind picked up and the branches of a tree clawed against the window. Behind her she heard the door open and a man entered. He removed his coat and shook it, water spraying all over the wall and on the floor.
“It’s really coming down out there, huh?”
Danielle nodded her head. “The beginning of spring.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was just passing and I really need to use the bathroom. Would you mind telling me where the men’s room is?”
Danielle directed him to a set of stairs and told him where to go.
“Thanks.” He bowed his head and disappeared up the stairs. That was odd, Danielle thought and continued towards the chapel.
Inside the atrium Danielle went to her usual spot. Third row, slightly to the left facing the stage. She was alone. The rain outside was muted by the silence filling the expanse of the chapel. It was on the stage, in the pews behind her, in front of her. The silence sat beside her on the red cushion of the pew. Danielle bit her lower lip as she read the engraved scripture on her bracelet. Her brother gave it to her before he died. The silver was cool against her skin and shimmered under what little light emanated through the small round window at the apex of the dome shaped roof. She twirled the bracelet around her wrist. The image of her dead brother lying in the kitchen surfaced to her mind. She twirled the bracelet around her wrist faster as she remembered that day two weeks prior. She knew she was torturing herself, allowing the memory to etch itself permanently in her mind. It was as if the memory possessed her, took over her. She tried not to blame herself, but someone needed to be responsible, right?
“Shit, shit, shit,” she stuttered, yanking on the bracelet so hard so hard that it snapped apart where it clasped. The metal fell between her feet.
“No, no,” she quickly lowered to her knees to collect the now scattered pieces. Looking at the now broken bracelet, she herself broke down. Two weeks of pent up anger and fear poured out of her. She shoved the bracelet remains into her pocket and punched the seat of the pew.
“Why would you do this to me?” She lowered her face into the seat and cried. She cried so loudly that she didn’t hear the footsteps stop near her row.
Suddenly she stopped crying and looked up. It was the man looking for the bathroom. Did he get lost? It’s not that hard to miss. It’s got a sign on the door. His coat was draped over his arm, an apple in his hand. He looked down to Danielle on the floor. Danielle didn’t know what to say. She figured he’d leave after doing his business in the bathroom. Was she that loud?
She grew embarrassed and more conscious of how she looked, on the floor, with snot running down her face. She wiped her face with her sleeve and pushed herself back up onto the pew. She smoothed her hands over her thighs and took a deep breath in.
“Did you find the bathroom alright?”
He didn’t respond. He laid his jacket across the back of the pew and continued to stare at Danielle. Danielle started to fidget and became more uncomfortable. There wasn’t anyone here, so she assumed. It was a Thursday afternoon. She slowly raised her eyes to him and charted the chapel in her head, preparing to run.
She watched his chest rise and lower, heard his breath stream through his nostrils and whistle through the slither of his mouth. But his eyes – they weren’t normal. One eye was hazel, the other a deep brown, almost black. She focused on the darker iris.
“Heterochromia.”
The sound of his voice, though low, was like a sonic boom to Danielle. Her heart raced and her palms began to sweat.
“I’m sorry?”
“Heterochromia,” he said slowly. “It’s a condition when people have two colored eyes. I thought you were staring because of it.”
“No, I mean, yes, but I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t.”
The silence created a pressure on the back of Danielle’s neck. Like a permanent weight, Danielle flinched as if to shove it off, but it stuck. She felt it when she first came into the chapel, even more when she first saw him but paid it no mind. Now, it was hurting.
He reached out the apple he was holding to her. “Would you like?”
Danielle shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He shrugged his shoulders and bit into the apple. The smashing of his molars grinding on chunks of apple synchronized to the ebbing pain that pulsed through her body. It was as if his presence created turmoil in her physical being.
He sat down beside her. She scooted over a bit, creating a protective amount of space between them.
“So you want to talk about it?”
Danielle didn’t respond.
“Or not,” he spoke for her.
He took another bite of his apple, Danielle watching the profile of his face, his cheek facing her, protruding as he again ground the apple to sugar and enzymes, as she again felt the wave of fire sear through her.
He swallowed loudly. He cleared his throat and looked straight forward before speaking.
“It’s not like your brother was a saint, Danielle.”
Again, her heart sped and sweat pooled in her hands.
“You can’t expect God to forgive him. After all, he did this to himself. Isn’t that what you predicted before he became a drug lord?”
He faced her. “If my memory serves me correctly, you said ‘He’s going to get hurt, if not killed. And you know what, he deserves it.’ Is that not what you said?”
Danielle remained still, frightened.
“Who are you?”
“Your brother stole life, Danielle. He sold life, Danielle. Your brother bargained with the wrong people and in selling life sold his own. How can you pity him?”
Danielle zipped her coat and stood up. “Sir, I don’t know you and I don’t know how you know me and about my brother, but you have no right to sit here and judge my brother, nor judge me.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “You’re absolutely right. I can’t. That’s the Big Guy’s job.” Under his breath he muttered, “Always has been.”
Danielle backed out of the pew and tried to walk out of the chapel, but his voice made it feel like the door was miles away.
“You can’t grieve self-destruction. It becomes your own, you know.” From where she stood, she heard him bite his apple, smelled its sweetness, felt its texture brush the inside of his mouth. As she neared the exit, Danielle spat into her hand. Pieces of apple came out of her mouth and onto the floor. The taste was sour and acidic. She jumped away from the pile of fruit fell into the last pew of the chapel. She looked back at him, sitting in the third pew, staring at the back of his head. He lowered his head a bit and stood up, walking the length of the aisle. A whole row of pews now separated them.
“I can’t explain to you how sad it is to see someone like you fall so easily into your own bear trap. For instance, you come to this chapel, you come to God, and seek some spiritual release for your pain. Don’t you know that God doesn’t hear the prayers of those who wish bad upon someone else?”
“I never wished evil upon anyone.”
“You said it yourself. And I quote, ‘He’s going to get hurt, if not killed. And you know what, he deserves it.’ Is that not what you said, Danielle?”
“No, I didn’t mean it.”
“But you said it. ‘Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“‘Keep your mouth from speaking deceit, your tongue from speaking evil.’”
“You can’t turn this against me.”
Danielle covered her ears and closed her eyes. Her back was pressed against the pew. She lowered her head into her lap. He sat beside her. Laying an arm across the back of the pew, he lowered his head above the back of her neck and whispered, “You brought this evil yourself. You released the power. My only job is to see it through. You wanted him to either quit selling, or die. Is that not correct?”
“STOP IT! Stop doing this. Stop it.” Danielle flayed her arms at him. “Stop it. Leave me be.”
“Danielle.”
“No, stop it, don’t touch me. Leave me alone.”
“Danielle, relax. It’s me.”
Danielle stopped swinging her arms and opened her eyes. It was Henry, the chapel’s janitor and a volunteer usher during Sunday services. “It’s me, Henry.”
Danielle settled, but her heart was pounding in her ears. She looked around the chapel for the man. “Where is he?”
Henry looked confused. “Where is who?”
“The man. The man who was just here. Where is he?”
Henry rubbed the side of Danielle’s arms. “Hun, there was nobody here. I came in and only saw you sitting here, screaming.”
Danielle jumped from her seat. “No, no, no. There was a guy sitting right here, right next to me.”
“There was no one…”
“He was sitting right here, Henry.”
Danielle searched Henry’s face, a sign of belief. There was none.
“Danielle, let me take you home, okay?”
“No, I can walk.”
“No,” Henry’s voice rose, “I will take you home.”
They walked towards the main corridor of the chapel. The pile of apple on the floor was gone. Henry left to grab his coat and car keys. Danielle leaned against the wall, staring out the stained glass window. One of the images was Calvary and a figure in the glass stared back at her, his eyes two different colored pieces of glass.
Henry returned and stood beside her, staring at the window. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe that He saved me from the life He did. I feel His presence all the time.”
Danielle didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know whose presence she felt the most.
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