When I’m finally back in my home, the church, I collapse on my bed with a roaring headache. Ricardo’s unkempt apartment kept me busy all day, trying to help him out. I couldn’t walk away; not with that little girl stuck with him. She’s the victim in this story. She has no choice, and I wanted to give her the best I could, even if I barely know her. It’s the least anyone can do.

But the more time I spent with her, the more depressed I became. Every time I looked at her, I could feel my heart shrivel up and die a little more.

I curl up into a ball and pull the sheets up to my neck, cocooning myself in my own warmth as I try to forget about Sofia.

At one point while I was there, I even contemplated taking her away from him. But what would that accomplish? Another kid in the foster system. There’s no way they’ll allow a baby to be under the care of a preacher like me either. It makes no sense. It’s a bubble I had to quickly burst for myself.

I want every kid to have a good life, and only the parents can give them that. As long as Ricardo mans the fuck up and starts acting like a dad for her, it’ll be okay.

And I’m sure he will … Today was a wake-up call for him. I could see it in his eyes. All he needed was a firm hand and a push. My words did just that for him. He immediately threw away all his coke and started cleaning up, just like I told him. I hope he realizes he can’t go back to where he used to be … for her sake.

Enough thinking about someone else’s kid.

I twist and turn in bed until I slowly fall asleep. It’s a tough one, but I close my eyes and force myself to sleep.

Soft jazz fills the room with life. I blink a couple of times and open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I walk through my house, light bulbs lighting my way like fireflies. Warmth covers me as I watch her dance in the middle of the living room. She smiles at me and holds the baby close to her chest, waving its little hands around as she spots me.

I smile as I approach her, grabbing her shoulders to dance along with her. I press a kiss to her forehead and imprint this feeling onto my brain, so I can remember it forever.

Forever. And ever.

That’s what this is supposed to be.

Everything fades. The red wallpaper turns lime green. Wooden tables make place for larger ones. Chairs are added, and more plants suddenly appear. The room is light, but my body feels weighed down. The more I try to move, the less my body reacts.

It’s like I’m frozen in place.

Frozen … while everyone and everything around me continues to change.

It’s like time has sped up while I’m still me … forever.

And in the midst of it all, a boy runs around the house with his toys … but his image is so unclear. The more I try to look, the more he fades away. Until everything in this room has disappeared, and all that’s left is an empty house with moldy wood and spider webs in every corner.

I shoot up in bed and turn on the light.

Panting loudly, I feel my face. I’m so damn hot and sweaty … and tears are running down my cheeks.

I pull off the sheets and sit on the edge of the bed, burying my head in my hands. I rub my face, trying to shake the images from my mind, but nothing I do works.

It never works.

So I do the only thing I know.

I get up, put on my casual clothes, and go out.

* * *

Four hours later, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m drunk again.

Yep, like that’s so much of a surprise.

“Pour me another one, Chuck,” I say, sliding my glass to him.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He slides it right back.

“Oh, c’mon. I’m a paying customer.” Now it’s my turn to slide it again.

“I care more about you than your money. Sorry.” He picks it up and tucks it into the soapy water.

“Fucking hell …” I slam my hand on the bar. “What’s a man gotta do to get some liquor around here?”

“How about not being a drunk fuck?” Chuck retorts.

I laugh. “Like you know me any different.”

“I wish I did,” he says, washing the glasses.

“I’m not fun to be around when I’m sober; trust me.”

“I doubt it’s any worse than this.”

“Keep pushing me, Chuck, and I might start giving you a personal sermon.”

“Fuck no. I’d rather you drink yourself to death.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey and slams it down in front of me. “Have at it.”

“Aw … thank you, Chuck. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you like me.”

“I don’t. I just want you to shut up.”

I laugh again and put the bottle to my lips. “There’s the Chuck I know.”

“Yeah, well, the Frank I know took better care of his church.”

“Oh please, like you know.” I let out a burp. “You never show up.”

“You know I hate church.”

“Exactly.”

“But you and I both know you don’t,” he says. “You used to love your job.”

I laugh again because it’s really funny. Or ironic. I don’t know any more at this point. I’m too drunk to care.

“Yeah … I remember a Frank who actually cared about the church. Gave it all he had. And now he’s a sad slob getting drunk every night.”

I slam down the bottle. “You’re g-goddamn right.” I fish in my pocket and take out a few bills, slapping them on the counter too. “There you go.”

“Going already?”

“I’m d-done listening-g to your w-whining,” I reply with a half-assed tone. God, I’m so drunk, I can’t even talk straight.

“Want me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll w-walk,” I mumble.

He shrugs and takes the money off the counter, and I turn around. But before I go out the door, he still opens his mouth. “See you tomorrow.”

Goddamn motherfucker.

He knows me too well.

I don’t respond. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. If I think about it, all that comes out of my mind is a bunch of gibberish and mumbo-jumbo that I can’t even understand, let alone him.

So I walk out and stroll across the street, wandering aimlessly. Rain pours down from above, drenching my clothes, but I don’t give a crap. The chill makes me shiver, but I don’t seek shelter. Instead, I stumble along the sidewalk, almost hugging the wall while I try to find my way home.

Now that I think about it … I don’t even know where that is.

Or where I am.

Or what I’m doing.

And before I know it, one small pebble makes me tumble and fall face-first into the mud.

I don’t bother trying to get up. This sad slob has lost his will. It’s dripping down into the gutter along with my soul.

Guess today really did a number on me.

I can’t get up. My muscles won’t work, and the longer I lie here, the less they respond. My eyes slowly open and close, and I find myself drifting in and out of consciousness.

In the distance, I hear a voice.

It’s calling for me.

Beckoning me to get up and walk.

I blink and look up, and in front of me is an angel. Her silhouette illuminated by blinding light. Her voice so pure, I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven.

“Frank. Frank!” Someone slaps me, and the more it happens, the more I wake up out of my trance. “Frank!”

It’s the voice. But it wasn’t an angel. Or maybe it was.

“Laura,” I mutter, my voice hoarse.

“Oh, God …” She clutches my body and tries to lift me up, but I’m too heavy for her. “Get up, Frank. C’mon.”

With the power of her voice alone, I manage to crawl up from the ground. With her support, I can stay upright without falling down. I can’t think. I can’t talk. All I know is that warm hands wrap around my waist and lead the way.