Chapter 33
The warm smell of garlic and tomatoes drifted through the kitchen, wrapping Andreas in a familiar comfort he hadn’t realized he missed. His mother, moving with the ease of decades spent in that small, homey kitchen, stirred a pot of sauce as if nothing had changed. The old wooden table, scuffed and worn from years of family dinners, felt like the only place in the world where things stayed the same. Outside, the low hum of the city was distant, shut out by the embrace of this little home. Maria had been quietly preparing dinner while Andreas sat, mostly silent, waiting for the conversation he knew was coming.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Maria said, not looking back as she continued stirring. Her voice was soft, but firm, the kind of tone she used when she wasn’t really asking. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?”
Andreas shifted in his seat, his fingers idly tracing the familiar grooves in the table, carved out over years of family meals and quiet moments. He hadn’t been to church since Roberto’s funeral, and the thought of stepping through those doors again stirred something uneasy in his chest. He knew his mother meant well, always had, but sitting through a service wasn’t going to fix anything. “I don’t know, Ma,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. “I’ve got a lot going on. Work, stuff with Izumi...” The excuse felt hollow the moment he said it, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie outright.
Before Maria could respond, Izumi leaned back in her chair, tossing a playful smirk in Andreas’ direction. “I don’t have anything going on,” she offered casually, cutting into the thick tension with her usual ease. “I’ll go with you. Should be... fun.” There was a teasing edge to her voice, but it was clear she wasn’t about to let Andreas wriggle out of this one. Andreas shot her a look, but she only shrugged, as if to say, Why not? Maria, always quick to take advantage of a moment, turned to Izumi with a grateful smile, her eyes softening.
Maria beamed, wiping her hands on her apron and giving Izumi an approving nod. “See? Even Izumi’s going,” she said, as if that settled everything. “You both need this.” Her tone left no room for debate, the kind of gentle authority only a mother could wield. Andreas sighed, running a hand through his hair, knowing there was no escape now. Izumi, of course, looked entirely too pleased with herself, leaning back in her chair like she’d just solved a great mystery. He glared at her, but the edge of a smile tugged at his lips despite himself.
The next morning, Andreas found himself squished into the back of Carlos’ old 60s VW van, its once-vibrant green paint now faded and rusted at the edges. The air inside was thick with the familiar scent of leather, a hint of weed lingering from Carlos’ shop, and the faint aroma of Maria’s perfume. The van rattled down the street, the old stereo crackling as upbeat Hispanic music filled the cabin, Carlos humming along between swigs of his coffee. Maria sat up front, chatting away, looking as relaxed as ever. Andreas knew exactly why they were all packed into the van—so he and Izumi couldn’t sneak off. He shot a glance at Izumi, who was staring out the window, barely suppressing a grin. “No way out of this one,” she whispered with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “She’s got us locked down.”
As the van bumped along the uneven streets, Andreas found himself glancing sideways at Izumi, her face framed by the window as the morning light spilled across her features. She looked the same, casual and collected, cracking jokes like always, but he could feel the shift between them ever since she’d learned the truth a few nights ago. There was an edge to her humor now, a subtle layer of tension beneath her usual sarcasm. She wasn’t scared, not exactly, but there was a weight behind her eyes that hadn’t been there before. He knew she was trying to process it all—how could she not? He had seen it in her, the way she stayed quieter in those long silences, her questions more pointed, less playful. Everything between them had shifted the moment she realized that the man she’d known wasn’t just a man anymore.
As Carlos’ van rumbled into the church’s gravel lot, Izumi leaned forward, spotting a familiar sedan parked near the entrance. “That’s Sylvia’s car, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Andreas. He followed her gaze and nodded, already expecting her. Sylvia had been by the house often enough that Izumi recognized the car on sight, but seeing it parked here at the church felt different—more deliberate. Andreas hadn’t told her they were meeting up, but it was hardly a surprise. Since they started dating, Sylvia had a way of quietly working her way into the parts of his life he thought he had sectioned off. As they climbed out of the van, Sylvia was already walking over, her smile warm and familiar, the sight of her bringing a small but noticeable lift to the weight Andreas had been carrying. “Hey, you,” she greeted, her voice soft but full of affection. She leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek, her hand resting briefly on his arm. “Ready for lunch after? Maybe a movie?” The question hung lightly between them, but there was comfort in the routine of it—Sylvia, always offering him small pieces of normalcy, even when everything else felt off-kilter.
As Carlos’ van rumbled into the church’s gravel lot, Izumi leaned forward, spotting a familiar sedan parked near the entrance. “That’s Sylvia’s car, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Andreas. He followed her gaze and nodded, already expecting her. Sylvia had been by the house often enough that Izumi recognized the car on sight, but seeing it parked here at the church felt different—more deliberate. Andreas hadn’t told her they were meeting up, but it was hardly a surprise. Since they started dating, Sylvia had a way of quietly working her way into the parts of his life he thought he had sectioned off. As they climbed out of the van, Sylvia was already walking over, her smile warm and familiar, the sight of her bringing a small but noticeable lift to the weight Andreas had been carrying. “Hey, you,” she greeted, her voice soft but full of affection. She leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek, her hand resting briefly on his arm. “Ready for lunch after? Maybe a movie?” The question hung lightly between them, but there was comfort in the routine of it—Sylvia, always offering him small pieces of normalcy, even when everything else felt off-kilter.
As soon as they stepped out of the van, Maria and Carlos split off, making their way toward familiar faces near the entrance. Maria quickly found Brother Ryan, the scatterbrained but kind monk with his glasses slipping down his nose, and the two exchanged warm smiles as they began talking. Carlos, as usual, had found Brother Jacob, who, with his easy laughter and quick jokes, always made time to catch up with Carlos, likely swapping stories about their latest projects. Andreas, Sylvia, and Izumi trailed behind, moving at a slower pace. Sylvia’s hand lightly brushed Andreas’ arm, a quiet comfort in the midst of the crowd. Brother Herold, the towering monk with a soft smile, greeted them with a nod as they passed, his presence both calming and commanding. As they entered the church, the familiar scent of incense greeted them, mingling with the low hum of voices. The church was unchanged—its candles flickered against stained-glass windows, and the old wooden pews creaked as people settled in—but to Andreas, it felt different. The weight of his absence seemed to press on him, as though the time he had stayed away lingered in the air around him.
Inside, the church was nearly full, the soft shuffle of feet and hushed conversations filling the space as everyone found their seats. Father Patrick, standing near the front of the altar, lifted his hand in a gentle gesture for silence. His familiar voice, calm and steady, echoed through the room as the crowd settled. “Thank you all for being here this morning,” he began, his eyes sweeping over the congregation. “We are blessed today to have a guest with us, someone many of you may know.” He paused, his gaze landing on a figure at the side of the altar. “Please welcome Reverend Turner Shrader, though most of you will recognize him as Reverend Bones.” The room shifted as people turned to look at the man stepping forward—an impossibly thin figure with a red scraggly beard, mismatched eyes that seemed to sharpen as they scanned the crowd, and a presence that, despite his frail appearance, commanded attention.
Reverend Bones stood before the congregation, shifting slightly as he adjusted the collar of his worn clerical shirt, his movements sharp and deliberate. He cleared his throat, the sound loud in the quiet church. "Right, well," he started, his voice a little rough, his cadence uneven but confident. "Father Patrick's made this sound like something special, but I’m just here to do what I was told, like usual." He grumbled the last part under his breath, then blinked a few times, his mismatched eyes scanning the crowd with a focus that was a bit too intense. "Today’s lesson is simple. We’re talking about trials, about faith. Job. You’ve all heard it. But what you haven’t done is really listen. So, that’s what we’re going to do." His words came out quickly, clipped, as if he was moving from one thought to the next before he was quite finished with the last. He fidgeted slightly, his hand brushing over his Bible, almost compulsively, before continuing. "We’re not here to be comfortable."
Reverend Bones shifted on his feet again, his thin fingers tapping rhythmically against the worn Bible in his hand, the habit almost unconscious. "Now, Job," he began, his tone sharpening as he tried to mimic the deep, booming voice he’d clearly practiced somewhere other than the pulpit—probably around a table full of dice. "Job’s the guy who gets hit with everything, right? Takes it all, and still doesn’t break." The voice wobbled slightly, a little too dramatic for the quiet of the church, but he pressed on, clearly committed. "You know the story. Satan goes to God and says, 'He only follows You because his life is easy.' And God says, 'Fine, test him.' And then, bam." He smacked his hand lightly against the side of the pulpit for emphasis, though it felt more like he was narrating a campaign than delivering a sermon. There was a brief pause, a flicker of self-consciousness, but he covered it quickly, switching back to his usual voice. "And just like that, Job loses everything." He glanced up, scanning the room again, his mismatched eyes narrowing. "You still with me?"
The congregation stirred slightly, unsure whether to laugh or stay serious. Bones didn’t seem to notice, or more likely, didn’t care. His fingers drummed again on the Bible before he continued, slipping into another attempt at a deeper, gravelly voice. “So there’s Job, sitting in the ashes, right? Loses his family, his home, everything. And his friends show up—great guys, really supportive.” His tone turned sarcastic, and this time, a few people couldn’t help but chuckle. Bones paused, blinking as though trying to remember the next part. "They tell him it’s his fault—he must have done something wrong. 'Confess, repent,' they say. As if losing everything wasn’t enough, now he’s got his friends piling on." He shifted gears again, dropping the attempt at theatrics and speaking in his usual clipped, blunt manner. "The point is, Job didn’t deserve what happened to him. But it happened anyway. And he didn’t get answers right away either. Sometimes, you just suffer. Sometimes, that’s the test." His words hung in the air, the lightness from earlier gone, replaced by a quiet, heavy truth that seemed to settle over the room. Andreas shifted in his seat, the weight of those words pressing down on him in a way he hadn’t expected.
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As Bones' voice echoed through the church, Andreas felt the familiar knot in his chest tighten. The words about undeserved suffering, about enduring without answers, hit too close to home. He leaned back slightly in the pew, trying to shake off the growing discomfort, but it clung to him. Job’s story—the pain, the loss, the silence from above—it mirrored too much of what Andreas had been feeling lately. Roberto’s death, his growing distance from everything he once believed in, the strange pull inside him he couldn’t explain... all of it circled his thoughts like a storm that refused to pass. Sylvia, sitting beside him, brushed her hand lightly over his, a subtle gesture of support. He glanced at her, grateful for her presence, but the weight in his chest remained. It wasn’t something she could pull him out of. Not this time.
Reverend Bones paused, shifting again, the usual rhythm of his hand tapping against the Bible returning. He glanced down at it, almost as if addressing it more than the congregation. “You know what gets me?” he muttered, voice low but carrying through the silence. “I’m always fucking broke.” A ripple of shock ran through the room, heads turning, murmurs rising, but Bones didn’t even blink. He pressed on. “Seriously, every damn day I’m out here, doing my job, trying to serve—doing what He tells me. And yet, here I am, scraping by. So, what? Jesus must be fucking with me, right?” He shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle, his mismatched eyes locking onto the crowd. “But then I remember. The guy I’m working for? Yeah, He was tortured—really tortured. And hung on a cross. Nails driven into His hands and feet. Crown of thorns shoved onto His head like a joke. And you know what He said when they asked Him what to do?” Bones’ voice lowered, deepening with intensity. “He didn’t give some easy answer. He said, ‘Pick up your cross and follow me.’” Bones let the words hang, his gaze flicking through the rows of shocked faces. “Old Testament, New Testament—the lesson didn’t change, did it? Sometimes, God’s gonna ask you to suffer. Just like Abraham, told to take his son and kill him for the sake of faith. It’s not our place to doubt, not to ask why. Our place? It’s to take whatever He’s got planned for us and do our best—or die trying.”
The church fell into a stunned silence, a few uncomfortable coughs breaking the stillness, but no one dared to speak. Bones stood there, his gaunt frame rigid, his expression unfazed by the shock rippling through the room. He’d done this before—shattered the delicate veneer of polite faith and cut straight to the bone. Andreas stared straight ahead, the words hitting him harder than the crowd’s reaction. Suffer. Don’t ask why. Pick up your cross and follow. It all lined up with the storm that had been building inside him for months. The pain, the confusion, the feeling that no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough. He thought of Roberto, of the nights spent drowning in guilt, and of the weight he was carrying now—the one he couldn’t even explain. This wasn’t just a sermon. Bones wasn’t just talking to the room. He was talking to him. Andreas knew it, even if no one else did.
Beside him, Sylvia shifted, her fingers lightly brushing against Andreas’ hand, a soft attempt at grounding him in the moment. He could feel her discomfort, the way her body tensed at Bones' harsh words, but she didn’t pull away. Sylvia wasn’t religious—not in the way Maria was, not in the way Andreas had once been—but she understood faith in her own way. She respected it, even if she didn’t always agree. Still, Bones' words had clearly shaken her. She glanced sideways at Andreas, searching his face for any hint of what he was thinking, but his expression remained unreadable. “You okay?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the lingering quiet of the room. Andreas nodded, but the weight of the sermon pressed down on him like a physical thing. He could feel her concern, but this... this was something only he could carry. Sylvia’s presence was steady, but even she couldn’t pull him out of the space that Bones’ words had trapped him in.
Reverend Bones let the silence linger a moment longer, the weight of his words still heavy in the air. Then, with a sharp sigh and a muttered, “Guess we’re done here,” he reached down and clicked a button on the small projector resting on the pulpit. The screen behind him flickered to life, casting a faint blue glow across the room. The congregation, already reeling from the sermon, stared in disbelief as Thanos appeared on the screen, the infamous meme filling the space. “What did it cost?” The image hung for a moment before Bones, without missing a beat, answered, “Everything. Always everything.” He looked back at the crowd, his eyes narrowing as if daring anyone to challenge him. "That’s the point. The cost is everything." With that, he snapped the projector off, tossed his Bible onto the pulpit, and stepped down, grumbling something under his breath as he shuffled away.
Andreas blinked, still processing the abrupt shift from gut-wrenching sermon to a Thanos meme. It was such a strange juxtaposition—Bones’ brutal honesty, followed by something that shouldn’t have fit but somehow did. Sylvia let out a quiet, incredulous laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know whether to be offended or impressed,” she whispered, leaning slightly toward Andreas. Izumi, on the other hand, was grinning, clearly amused by the spectacle. “That was... something,” she muttered, her voice carrying the barest hint of admiration for the chaos Reverend Bones had unleashed. Andreas remained quiet, though, still feeling the weight of the sermon settling into him, heavier than before. The cost is everything. Bones hadn’t said it lightly. Andreas knew that feeling all too well.
As the congregation began to shuffle out, the usual murmurs of small talk filled the church, most of the crowd seemingly unfazed by the intensity of the sermon. To them, it was just another Sunday, another preacher with a bit of flair. Sylvia, ever practical, leaned closer to Andreas, a smile still on her face. “He’s good,” she whispered, nodding toward the pulpit where Reverend Bones had already started gathering his things. “A little... unconventional, but good.” Andreas didn’t reply. He glanced at Izumi, who had gone unusually quiet, her usual smirk replaced by a more thoughtful expression. She, like him, had been shaken. They didn’t even need to exchange words to know it—the weight of Bones’ message had landed squarely on both of them, even if it had missed everyone else.
Just as they were about to step outside, Sylvia’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced down, her brow furrowing. “I’ve gotta take this,” she said, stepping aside, her voice already fading as she answered the call. The second she moved away, Reverend Bones appeared at Andreas' side, moving with an uncanny quiet despite his thin, awkward frame. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, one hand resting on the Bible tucked under his arm, his mismatched eyes studying Andreas like he was piecing something together.
As Reverend Bones stood beside him, Andreas’ eyes were drawn to the subtle bulge under Bones’ shirt, just above his waistband. A .38 snubnose, tucked casually like it belonged there—another reminder that Bones wasn’t your average preacher. Andreas swallowed, trying to act like he hadn’t noticed, but it was impossible to ignore. And then, there was the earring—the small, faintly glowing jewel dangling from Bones’ left ear. It was barely perceptible, but Andreas could swear it pulsed with a soft, steady light. He glanced around quickly, but no one else seemed to notice, not even Izumi, who was usually sharp about things like this. The glow was subtle, almost hidden, but it was there, and Andreas couldn’t shake the feeling that Bones was more than he appeared.
Bones shifted slightly, his mismatched eyes flicking from Andreas to the ground and back again, as if he were mentally organizing his thoughts before speaking. When he finally did, it came out blunt, awkward, and far too direct. "So... weird night, huh?" he started, his voice rough but curious. "I mean, with all the... stuff going on in the city. People talking about that masked guy, right? What's his name—Zorro?" He paused, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, clearly struggling to rein in his thoughts. "Must be wild, being around that... scene." His gaze locked on Andreas, too intense for a casual question, as though he already knew far more than he should. "I mean, what do you think? About all that?" Bones’ tone was almost innocent, like a kid asking about a favorite comic book character, but there was something beneath it—an edge of knowing that made Andreas' skin prickle.
Izumi snorted, unable to keep quiet. "You mean the Zorro thing? That’s been happening for a while now. Nothing really new." Her words were light, but her eyes flicked toward Andreas, clearly catching the weird undercurrent in Bones’ questions. Without missing a beat, Bones turned his attention to Izumi, his brow furrowing slightly as if something had clicked. "Weren’t you dating that guy?" he asked, his tone blunt, without a trace of tact. "The one the tabloids said was found... you know..." He made a vague gesture, then dropped the bomb. "Dickless. Muttering about a giant fox through broken teeth, or something." His words hung in the air like a stone sinking in water, and for a moment, there was a stunned silence. Bones didn’t seem to realize the awkwardness, still staring at Izumi with an almost innocent curiosity, like he was just stating a fact he’d pieced together.
Bones turned his gaze back to Andreas, his expression as unreadable as ever. He blinked a couple of times, then said in a tone that sounded almost like an afterthought, “Good news—you're not going to hell.” He paused, scratching his chin, as if delivering a casual weather report. “And purgatory seems to be closed at the moment. Heaven... well, probably won’t take you.” Before either Izumi or Andreas could respond, their mouths half-open in shock, Bones gave a small shrug and turned on his heel, disappearing into the mingling crowd like he hadn’t just dropped a theological bomb in the middle of a casual conversation. Andreas stood frozen, trying to process the flood of confusion that Bones had left behind, when Sylvia reappeared, slipping her phone into her bag as she approached. “Sorry about that—work stuff,” she said, her voice breaking through the strange fog of the moment. She looked between Andreas and Izumi, oblivious to what had just happened. “Everything okay?”
As they made their way outside, the sound of bouncing basketballs filled the courtyard. Carlos, despite his age, was deep into a game with a mix of teenagers and another man around his own age, his laughter carrying across the court as he made a pass. Maria, meanwhile, stood a little further off, still chatting animatedly with some old friends from the parish, her smile as warm and effortless as ever. Andreas waved as they approached, catching her eye. “Ma, I’ll drop Sylvia off later. We’re going to grab lunch and maybe catch a movie,” he said, his voice casual, though the strange tension from Bones’ words still clung to him. Maria nodded, not missing a beat. “Okay, mijo. Just make sure you actually eat something,” she called back with a knowing smile, as if he hadn’t sat through one of the most bizarre church services of his life. Sylvia, standing beside him, gave a small laugh. “It’s a plan then,” she said, nudging Andreas gently. “Let’s make the most of the day.”
As they walked toward the parking lot, Sylvia turned to Izumi, her tone light. “What are you in the mood for, Izumi? Any cravings?” Izumi didn’t hesitate, flashing a grin. “Can we get some real Japanese food? I love Maria, and I appreciate her trying, but even Vo couldn’t make Japanese food that hits right. That’s why there are places run by Japanese people—called restaurants,” she added, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. Sylvia laughed, shaking her head. “Fair enough. Real Japanese food it is,” she agreed, glancing over at Andreas, who was clearly still lost in thought. “I know just the place.”