Bigger than me, but not badder than me. I had never been in a fight. Had never thrown a punch, and the thought never crossed my mind. I never dreamed of laying out the man preventing me from rescuing my parents. A mistake, I swore after the fact, that would never happen again.
Echo’s expression the day I shoved that asshole into the building and the words I said to her later replay in my mind... No one fucks with you, Echo. I’m protecting her the only way I know how. In ways that I was too weak to do for my parents.
“And when I tried to run past, another guy stepped in, and I let them stop me. I let them keep me from going back in.”
“Your parents were already dead. They died of smoke inhalation. Not of burns. They probably drifted away in their sleep. The fire detectors weren’t working. There was no warning for any of them. You saved the only people who could be saved. It’s time for you to let this guilt go. It’s time for you to start moving forward. Just like your mother would have wanted.”
With my head in my hands, I rock in the seat, unable to keep the explosion of emotions from killing me. “I should have fought harder for her. I should have tried!”
“She would have wanted you to fight for yourself. To fight for your own life. You saved the parts of her soul that meant the world to her. You honored your mother and your father that night. You honored them with the devotion to your brothers. You honor them by sitting here, searching for people who you honestly shouldn’t be searching for.
“Your mother named you Noah because you had already done what you are so desperately worried you failed at...you saved her...you gave her a second chance.”
I blink, trying to understand.
“The story, son. I know your mother would have told you the Bible story.”
God told Noah a flood was coming to destroy the earth and He promised to save Noah, his family and all the other creatures of the earth if Noah obeyed and built an ark.
“God gave Noah and his family a second chance,” he continues. “Your father’s love rescued your mother, but you, you were her first glimpse at her new world.”
I lean back in the seat and let the wall handle my burden, handle my weight, because I’m too weak to shoulder it alone anymore. Echo and Beth and Isaiah. Each of us cursed with weight too heavy for anyone to carry. Troubles no one should have to face.
“If you allow me to be a priest instead of your uncle for a minute...”
When I say nothing, he goes on, “God sifts us like wheat. He refines us like flour. He works through the good in our lives and through the bad. He’s preparing us to become who He wants us to be. You can look at what’s happened in your young life as a burden, or you can see it for what it is—God refined you early. Made you a man before most. You have two options—you can deny it or you can embrace it. Your mother chose to embrace it. My prayer for you is that you do the same.”
Run, or stand my ground and be a man.
Last night, even though I thought my intentions were correct, I ran, and I hurt Echo. I’m done running. It’s time to be a man. “This doesn’t mean I believe in God.”
He chuckles. “Your mother was also stubborn. Stubborn as a damn mule.”
I laugh, and he laughs along with me. “Dad used to say the same thing, and Mom would wear this look that said that she knew he was right, but she was too stubborn to admit it.”
“I know that look,” he says. “I can see it now.”
The laughter fades, and I inhale deeply, strangely noticing that I sit straighter and that my insides are lighter. I guess confession is good for the soul.
“And Noah—don’t think I didn’t notice the cross tattooed on your arm. Deep inside, where it counts, you believe.”
“Did they know?” I ask, ignoring his statement. “Mom’s parents—your parents—did they know that I wasn’t adopted out?”
“They knew. I discovered a few days ago that they were attempting to contact you. Right before you showed. I was in the process of trying to warn everyone I could to help keep you from getting dragged into this, but you worked faster than me. My parents got it in their heads that you’d come into money when you turned eighteen.”
“There’s no money,” I say.
“I know, but my parents never were the type to think straight. If you want to meet them, they’ll be back next week, but as your uncle I’m advising against it. I can definitely say this isn’t something your mother would have wanted.”
“So Mom ran, and you became a priest?”
“We both chose the paths we were meant to be on.”
“Did you stay because they’re worth forgiving?”
There’s a long pause. “God shows all of us unmeasurable grace. As a priest, I should be able to somehow love like my God does. I tell people that I returned to my hometown and serve and live in the church across from my parents because I forgave them, but in truth, I came home to contain them. Evil like that needs to be boxed in and never let out. It’s my job to make sure they never hurt anyone like they hurt me and your mother again.”
In a short amount of time, my uncle gains a lot of respect.