Thirteen Crucifixions, 114

It was a quiet night.  Lazarus alone remained awake, in the consoling quiet solitude of the common room.  A soft rain was falling, gently and rhythmically drumming on the roof.  Tobias the cat lay curled in a white plush mound in an armchair.  With Sheila, the cat had survived the holocaust, and like Sheila, had already in a few weeks become a familiar and beloved presence here.  Michael had gone to sleep weeping, his first night back with the community.  He hadn’t been able to stay away long.  And Lazarus?  He could think of no other place to be.  Strange it was, that he would feel this safe here.  And safe he was.  Among friends.  Family.  The orphan had found himself a family.  He couldn’t conceive of leaving. Not yet. Not ever.  He had just passed his first three months.  Chris asked him how he felt.  He replied in a single word—“home”.  We need you here, was his reply.  But you know that you are always free to leave, whenever you choose.  And that you are always free to return.  Like Michael, who upon seeing his mother, fell into her arms weeping.  Glen had taken him aside after dinner, and they spent the evening walking together.

            Lazarus had brought a National Geographic that lay unread next to him.  There was no television in the room.  All he heard was the rain.  Adam no longer ignored him. They didn’t know what to make of each other.  Matthew had already declared them to be far too much alike.  Grudgingly, Lazarus could now see it.  But Adam was happy.  He had, unlike Lazarus, a gift of joy.  Lazarus was merely handsome but Adam was radiant and beautiful, who at twenty-two resembled a boy of fifteen.  Older and younger than Lazarus.

            “He heard footsteps sounding in counterpoint with the rain on the pavement outside.  The door opened and in walked Adam, even after midnight the sun shone in his face.

            “I’m sorry, do you want to be alone?”

            “Sit”, Lazarus said.

            “What a night.”  He slipped off his shoes and his jersey.

            “It’s raining pretty hard?

            “It’s starting to.”  He settled in the chair opposite.  “What did you do today?”

             “I had a couple of classes.  Then came here and helped with dinner.  You?”

            “Spent the day in Victoria.”

            “At the shelter?”

            “I was there this morning.  Then I was hanging out in the library.”

            “Research?”

            “Birds.”

            “Birds?”

            “Books with pictures of birds. I want to start painting them.”

            “Birds?”

            “Glen has offered to mentor me.”  The bitter little stab that Lazarus suddenly felt just in the back of his stomach confirmed to him that his real difficulty with Adam was jealousy.  He was jealous on Glen’s account.  Lazarus was being petulant and possessive.  He felt ashamed of himself.

            “You like birds?”

            “I love birds.”

            “Why?”  He couldn’t get over how his face shone, his golden green eyes glittering like those of a haunted lynx.  Lazarus feared that he might be falling in love with Adam, who was hard not to love.

            “I don’t know.  But they are so wonderful.”

            Lazarus felt his heart in his throat, aching at this presence of beauty he was sitting in.  This was why he had resisted Adam?  Had held aloof from him?  The fear of being engulfed in the flame of his presence, this beautiful boy, more angel than human.  He would have to discuss this with Chris, for things could not go on as they were, and such love as this could not be consummated by two bodies mingling together.  Almost, he asked Adam to come sit next to him on the couch, not to touch him, but to be near him.  He almost wanted to weep in frustrated ecstasy.

            “What?”

            “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare”, Lazarus said.

            “You often do.”

            “Do I?  I’ve never noticed.”

            “What do you seek in me?”

            “Beauty?”

            “But you are beautiful.”

            “Am I?”

            “You are so beautiful, Lazarus.  If you could only see this.  If you could only know it.  Lazarus, you are beautiful.”

            “Why are you telling me this?”

            “Because you need to hear this.”

            “Thank you.”

            “I want to be your friend.”

            “I want you to be my friend, Adam.”

            “Thank you.  Now, I’m tired, so I’m going to bed.  What are you going to do.  Stay here?"

            “Yes, for a little while.”

            “Yes.  It’s nice here, alone at night.  Isn’t it?”

            “Don’t go yet.”

            “I’ll stay a moment.  But I should get to bed.”

            “I hardly know you.  I don’t really know your story.”

            “Another day I’ll tell it.”

            “Tomorrow?  I have one class in the morning, then I’m free.”

            “Tomorrow then.” He put on his shoes.  “Good night, Lazarus.”  He smiled like an incarnation of the sun.  Lazarus remained seated, daring not to touch him, to not even draw near.

            “Let’s take off somewhere after lunch.”

            “Yes, let’s”, said Adam, smiling by the door as he slowly opened it to leave.