Page 16 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

Messiah scratched his forehead with his thumb as he blew out a breath. Every time he had to say the words aloud, it tore him up. “My daughter, she umm…” His face knotted in emotion as he nodded his head. Khadeen reached out to touch his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“She’s sick. She’s real sick.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Khadeen offered. “I swear something is going around.”

“It’s more than that. They think it’s cancer.” There was a devastation in his tone that crushed her ribcage like a pop can. Her breathing tensed as if she knew Yolly more intimately. There was something about a sick child that just affected adults.

“Oh my god, Messiah,” she whispered.

He lowered his head and nodded, fighting a war inside his heart. Messiah was a man raised by survival. It took effort for him to consider other people. He usually didn’t feel the pains of others, but he felt this. He felt this more potently than he had ever felt anything before.

“This the one that’s gon’ end me, KD,” he said. His chin quaked, and he clenched his teeth, turning away from her to grab something from the cooler. It was the only retreat he could find to hide his undoing.

Seeing him this way was hard. It put a dull ache in her chest.

“Come on, follow me,” she said, tugging at his elbow.

He didn’t ask questions. He was too exposed. Wherever she was taking him, he appreciated the escape plan. He simply followed.

“When I have to face a big thing, and it feels like I’m alone, I pray. I’m not like super churchy, but I do believe in God, and the power of prayer. My mom taught me that. The Bible says, ‘Where two or three are gathered, I am there among them.’ You won’t go to Him alone, so I’m here with you,” she said as she walked down the hallway. They approached two double wooden doors, and he looked up at the sign that said Chapel.

“You want to pray for me?” he asked.

“I want to pray for Yara. I want to pray with you,” Khadeen said.

The gesture made him feel like he had been punched in the stomach. A beat filled the moment with an awkward energy, and Khadeen began to backtrack. “Is that weird? I’m sorry; that’s inappropriate. I wasn’t trying to impose…”

Messiah felt like he was in a pool with cement blocks on his ankles, and someone was filling it with water. He was drowning, and nobody was coming to save him.

“You can pray,” Messiah finally said. “Somebody should be praying for her. It shouldn’t be me.”

“Of course, it should,” she replied in shock. “Why would you say that?”

You don’t know me, Messiah thought.

He held open the door for her, and then he followed her inside. They were alone in the darkened room. The glow from the hanging illuminated cross and an altar full of flickering candles cast over them.

Khadeen walked to the front of the chapel and picked up a new candle and a match. “You don’t believe in God?” she asked without glancing back to where he stood. He hadn’t moved. He just watched her.

“I never thought about it one way or the other, if I’m honest,” Messiah stated. “Every time I can remember praying, shit stayed the same. Or got worse.”

“You don’t think God healed you when you were sick?” Khadeen asked.

“If it was Him, He has a sick sense of humor. I came back to nothing. Everybody moved on without me,” he said.

“Maybe it’s time to see what’s waiting for you when you start looking forward, too,” Khadeen answered.

She turned to him and held out the candle. “We should light a candle for Yara.”

Messiah didn’t know how much good it would do, but he knew it couldn’t hurt, so he joined her. He held the candle in his hand, and they faced each other as she struck the match. Messiah studied her features as the fire cast a glow over her face.

“God, please heal the broken things. Remove pain and disease from Yara. Remove pain and disease from Messiah. Keep them. Protect them. Restore them. Love them. You are in control. Where science fails, may faith prevail. Please, God. Amen.”

It struck him that she didn’t close her eyes. She looked Messiah directly in his. Not many people could. Messiah was a force who intimidated most. He had even intimidated her in prior interactions. Today was different. Today, she didn’t glance away.

“Amen,” he joined.

“Sit with me.” She said it like she knew he would oblige. She took the pew in the back, and Messiah sat in the pew across from her. Two end seats, separated by a whole aisle. He wished he had picked a different seat. Closer to safety. Next to Khadeen, because somehow, proximity to her gave him clarity. She was so intellectual, so calm. Like a coach on game day, she surveyed shit without emotion, calling plays tactically until her goal was achieved. He was sure she would help him figure out what to do next. Even if not for Yara, for himself. He needed an emotional playbook because anger was growing inside of him with nowhere to go.