Caleb looked at the drinking glasses – both his and Sina's. He had filled them halfway with alcohol as Sina had wanted. Though they looked the same, a little secret rested in Cal's. Balling his hand into a fist, he felt the sting of the cut. Inside the kitchen, the knife he had used to draw blood lay in the sink. This was something he hadn't done since he'd exiled himself and hid away in the trailer in the woods.
Years of feeding off small animals coupled with tremendous guilt had made him lose the plot. There were nights he would bleed himself just about dry in a carafe then wearily feast off the vermillion liquid to resurrect himself. But he was no Lazarus.
Caleb pulled himself out of his dark thoughts and hunched forward. "Can I ask you a question?" Resting his arms on his knees, he clasped both hands around his drink and noticed how warm it was.
Sina, who by now had sprawled on the sofa like he was trying to fuse with it, waved his gin-holding hand around. Caleb's glass was still untouched yet his was all gone. "Only if I can ask you one in return," he slurred.
"You may not like it." Caleb watched as Sina rolled onto his belly and placed the glass on the floor.
"Well, you may not like mine either." Sina looked up. Knitting his brows together, he scowled. "You're not going to ask me if I have a drinking problem, are you?" He flicked his fingers against the glass. "Because I'll tell you right now that I do. I drink because the world sucks and I hate it. Can I ask you my question now?'"
Frowning, Cal shook his head. "That's not what I was going to ask even though you drank half a glass of gin in under ten minutes which does cause me to worry. I'm going to ignore that for now."
"Puh-leeese. Tell me you never got drunk," Sina huffed.
"Look, I've been drunk more than a handful of times in my youth. I once got so drunk that I didn't remember my own name for two days. I woke up by a lake in a town I'd never ..." Caleb stopped mid-sentence and looked at his feet. He flinched when he thought he saw a turquoise bead on the floor but it was simply his imagination. Cal opened his mouth but words failed him and he sat there looking like a marooned guppy.
"Did you forget how to make words come out of your mouth?"
Caleb looked at Sina yet hesitated to speak.
"Go on," Sina urged by waving his hand. "I want to hear this."
Father Cal gave Sina an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I lost my train of thought for a moment." But a faraway look in his eyes spoke otherwise. The moment of hesitation was not about losing a train of anything. It was a recollection that came and bit him hard. "I...woke up in a town I'd never been in. My clothes were in a tree and I had a new tattoo." When Sina looked at him wide-eyed, Cal pursed his lips. "It was lifetimes ago. I'm not a saint nor do I pretend to be because I wear this." He gently touched his collar.
"So, tarnished, huh?"
"Aren't we all?"
"A tattoo though? You're some priest."
"I have more than one."
"No shit? Can I see?"
"I'm not drunk enough yet."
Sina waved a hand in the direction of Cal's glass. "Then drink."
"Can I ask you my question?"
Slumping down so that his face was buried in a cushion, Sina grunted, "Alright. So ask away."
"Why do you work at Purgatory? If you hadn't confessed, I would have never believed it."
In a snap, Sina lifted his head. A scowl decorated his face. "Are you implying I'm ugly?"
Cal drew in a breath. He took a large sip before answering. "No. Who said you're ugly?"
"You were thinking it."
Cal took another sip. He hated the fact Sina thought thατ. He wouldn't have hated this self-loathing so much had it come from anyone else he'd met in Heaven. But Sina was different. Cal felt a kinship. A pull – magnetic and desperate. "I don't think you're ugly. Not in the slightest."
"Really?"
"My question is why you chose that line of work. It has nothing to with what you look like." When Sina gave him the stink-eye, Caleb sighed. "I do not think you are ugly."
A thick silence covered the room as Sina dangled his hand over the glass. Father Cal watched his fingers spider-walk along the rim. "I don't know. It felt like all I could do." Cupping the glass, Sina held it up. "Fill'er up. And believe me. That's the only reason. I wasn't abused by anyone. I wasn't molested as a kid. I just believe this is all I am."
"Where's your family?"
Sina pointed to the ceiling and then to the floor before shaking his glass again.
Taking a slow inhale of breath, Caleb reached for the bottle to give him a refill. "I understand."
Seeing the gin sloshing in his glass, Sina gave out a faint yelp of delight and brought it close to himself. "My precious." Carefully sliding onto the floor, he leaned against the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Why did you become a priest?"
Caleb looked at Sina quizzing. "I thought I wasn't going to like the question."
Shrugging, Sina leaned into his gin and dipped his tongue in it before replying. "I lied. I didn't have a bad question. Or any at all." Lifting his gaze, he uttered, "So? What made you do it?"
"I sinned."
"I'm not sure that's why normal people become priests."
"I'm not normal."
"You look normal. I mean cool but normal. You're one of the few people I've ever met that I wanted to spend more than two minutes with."
"Thank you....I think."
"I mean you're nice." Sina spat out the words like they were coated in slime. He didn't want them in his mouth. He really wasn't sure he wanted them out in the open either, but there they were. "OK, so spill."
Cal took a much-needed sip. The alcohol trickled into him pleasantly. It was like slipping into a warm bath. "I felt like I needed to get closer to God to make up for things."
"Are you going to tell me what you did?"
"Let's just say I broke a commandment."
"Did you steal?"
"No."
"Did you bear false witness against your neighbor?"
"No."
"Did you fuck someone's wife?"
"No."
"Are you even allowed to?"
"To...?"
"Fuck."
"If you mean have sex, yes. I don't like thinking I fucked someone. It's vulgar."
Sina looked into his drink as if he were searching for something and then whispered, "Lucky you."
"You could stop doing that. No one is holding a gun to your head."
"You mean fucking strangers for money?" A faint shrug. "Maybe. Maybe one day someone will fall in love with me and make me feel like I don't need to do that."
"Sina." Caleb set his glass down. He knelt on the floor and touched the other man's arm.
When Cal said his name, Sina shivered. When he felt Cal's hand on his arm, he thought he'd combust – explode into a trillion little pieces and rain down like confetti.
"You're worthy of love. Everyone is."
"You sound like a fucking priest." Though Sina's words were a slurred grumble, he felt good near Caleb.
"I am a fucking priest."
It took a moment for Sina to move from the warmth he felt. When he pulled away from Caleb's hand, he felt sick.
Cal sat back up in his seat. Worry creased his face but he didn't comment on Sina putting that unpleasant distance between them. "Why were you outside Saint Luke's that first day I met you? In the rain?"
"I heard my friend singing."
"Who?"
"Cookie. Uh, Cook."
"Mr. Jackson? He's got a mighty voice. He's been blessed."
Sina nearly dropped his gin when he began to laugh. "Blessed? Blessed? Half of Heaven hates his guts because Delores whore-on-a-high-horse Cullen spread lies about him. She said Cookie drugged and seduced her son and turned him gay. But they were in love. Like sickening puppy-eyes love. They still are but they can't be together. Know what horrible shit Travis' daddy did?"
It was a moment before Cal found the courage to nod.
"He beat the living crap out of Trav. Have you seen how he walks?"
Caleb nodded slowly.
"Ever hear him speak with that slight slur? Or realize he does stupid things?" He pointed to Cal's cat calendar. "He used to skateboard. Did you know that? He was really good. This dude from some big-shot skate company wanted him to go pro." Sina scoffed. "That didn't happen. Instead, Travis' father put him in a coma because Delores told him to kick the fag out of him. Luckily that scum Abraham Cullen died shortly after. Struck down by a heart attack. He dropped dead right in the in Arby's while scoffing on his third sandwich. You say Cookie is blessed? Cookie's not blessed. He's cursed. Unfortunately so is Travis Cullen."
When Cal stared at Sina in silence, Sina reached out and poked his leg. "Caleb? Hey. This town is shit. Your congregation is shit. Everyone believed Bitch Queen Delores. Do any of the others in your church speak to Cookie?" When Caleb looked at Sina shocked, he added, "Ever? No. Of course, they don't. They truly believe Cookie hurt Travis by doing his sinful, inexcusable, lewd things. As far as they are all concerned, Travis is the only victim. The beating up shit?" Sina snorted. "You think Mommy Dearest admitted ol' Abraham did it? I wish you were facing good people every Sunday. They don't come to hear about..." Sina pointed Heavenward. "They come to remind each other that they are better than Cookie and everyone who isn't them. I'm sorry you're preaching to bastards."
Father Cal stared. Shocked. Appalled. "I can't... I don't..." he whispered pathetically before grabbing his drink. "For fuck's sake." Caleb brought the gin to his lips so quickly that it sloshed onto his fingers. "Bastards? Not the right word." Caleb faltered between words and sips. "These people are..." Around him, His Heaven manifested into hell. "I'm preaching to monsters." Then Caleb chugged until the world began to spin and spin and spin. Yet the feeling of wanting to choke Delores Cullen would not go away.
* Fun Fact: Since Sina doesn't do church, I found it necessary he confess in Cal's home.