The Priest (19 page)

“Is he going to make it?” Rosie asked,
gently cushioning his head on her belly.

Mauricio thought he could hear a softer set
of heartbeats. A sentiment akin to pure joy invaded him. “Can you
feel that?” he asked, or he thought had asked.

“It’s worse than I thought; I can’t see
where the bullet is lodged,” the doctor answered.

“Is he going to make it?” Rosie repeated,
her voice louder.

“Only if he can make it back to Tarin.”

“We must go, then.” Rosie’s tears were
washing Mauricio’s face.

Don’t cry.
“It’s okay.” Everybody was
talking at the same time, and his voice wasn’t strong enough to cut
through the noise.

The doctor shook her head. “He needs blood,
now.”

“I’ll give him my blood,” Rosie announced,
and the President swore.

“Is anybody else a universal donor?” Darya’s
voice carried toward the rest of the group. The guards were waiting
for orders and had spontaneously moved to stand together. They
heard the questions, but shook their heads or answered with
murmured
no’s
. “Of course.”

Of course,
he thought at the same
time as the President.

“I won’t let him die. I can save him, and
you won’t stop me.” Rosie cradled Mauricio in her lap, while
directing the rifle against the rest of the women.

A collective gasp was followed by a long
moment of silence.

“Come here, now!” the President called her
daughter.

“You won’t change my mind, and I'm not a
minor. I will use all I know against you, if necessary,” Rosie
said, leaning over Mauricio’s body. “I’m not leaving him alone
again.”

You should think about that… I don’t think
I’ve got much longer.

Mauricio saw the look in the President’s
eyes and feared the worst for Rosie. He tried to talk, but couldn’t
move his lips.

After another long pause, the President
slowly walked toward her daughter and said, “I’m willing to
consider saving this slave’s life if you accept my proposition.”
The woman was now crouched beside Rosie, a few inches from his
face, and Mauricio saw the cruel light in her eyes. He shivered
again.

“I’m listening,” Rosie said.

Don’t. I won’t survive the night,
anyway.
Mauricio moaned.

“If you donate your blood, you could lose
your baby. It's too dangerous; I won’t permit it.” Darya let the
statement sink in.

I won’t permit that, either.
He found
it darkly amusing that he had agreed with the woman several times
already.

“This is your idea of a proposition?”

“Let’s go back to Tarin, where the doctor
can find some blood for this slave.”

“You’re wasting time he doesn’t have.” Rosie
moved the rifle in a circular motion, making several guards jump
away. “Doctor, what are you waiting for?”

“Bruna is a universal donor,” Guen said,
emerging from the shadows. “It says so on this medallion.” She
showed it to the President, who took it from her hands and stormed
away.

Mauricio saw Darya Layan and her wife talk
to the colonel, while Rosie kept caressing him. He was slipping in
and out of consciousness and couldn’t feel much anymore. His eyes
were too heavy, and he closed them for a moment.

He was startled by the sound of animated
conversation. There was something wrong; Rosie’s hands weren’t on
him, spreading her warmth over his frozen body.
Where are
you?
At some point she must have left. In the peaceful quiet of
the darkness, he heard her cry, but couldn’t see where she was.

“But I’m not coming back with you. I want to
live my life with him.” She was talking to someone.

Oh, Rosie… I would’ve loved that. You, me,
and our baby girl.

“I’m afraid that is not negotiable. It’s
either black or white. You decide,” Darya said.

“You can’t do this to me,” Rosie was
sobbing.

Don’t cry for me; it doesn’t matter. It’ so
peaceful now… I love you.

“
I can
. You’re pregnant, and since
you aren’t married, I have jurisdiction over your health in case
you are incapacitated. And as of this moment, you are.” This time
Rina spoke.

“Mom, please…”

“I told you; I’ll let the slave have a
transfusion from Bruna, only if you promise that this madness ends
now.”

What—
Mauricio wasn’t sure about
anything anymore, and the voices were fading into a barely coherent
mumble.

“One day, you’ll thank us.”

“We’re losing the slave,” the doctor
announced.

“You can save him, Rosie,” Darya pressed her
point.

“Any moment now.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Rosie capitulated.

Mauricio looked at the sun lowering toward
the horizon and then rearranged the new stone sculpture he had been
creating for the last six months. The structure had grown in height
more than in width and now resembled a willowy ghost of an idea
Mauricio once had. He added a grey pebble and removed two white
rocks. He looked at his creation and was satisfied by what he
saw.

“Is that all for today, Priest?” a young boy
named Lucas asked him.

“Yes, I guess so.” He had been working on
the stone sculptures for a while now and the landscape ahead of him
was dotted with dozens of them.

“They are pretty,” Lucas said. He had
started his own small masterpiece and was now comparing his work to
the Priest’s.

“Yours is beautiful, too.” Mauricio gazed at
the boy’s pile of pebbles.

“Does it have a soul, yet?” Lucas asked,
worried.

“When you thought of it, you put the soul
inside your sculpture.” Mauricio patted the boy’s head in
affection. “Let’s go to the Caves. Your mom and dad will be worried
by the time we get there.” Mauricio stood up and started walking.
Lucas trotted graciously behind him. The boy was curious about the
Priest’s life and normally asked lots of questions, but today he
was less chatty than usual.

“You are very pensive. Is there anything
bothering you?” Mauricio asked when he couldn’t stand the silence
anymore. He loved kids because they coaxed him to talk.

“I have been thinking about you,” Lucas
started and then paused, slightly embarrassed.

“Have you now?”

“Yes, you’re always alone, and I worry about
you,” Lucas finished all in one breath.

“I have lots of friends,” Mauricio
answered.

“Yes, it’s true, but you live alone. Nobody
keeps you company when you’re in your house,” Lucas countered.

“You know why I’m called the Priest?”
Mauricio had this conversation at least once a year. It never
failed to please him how kids could be so affectionate and
spontaneous. And they had the naïve impudence to ask the questions
adults whispered behind his back.

“You told me, but it doesn’t make any sense.
Why do you want to be alone?” Lucas was looking at him as if he had
sprouted another set of eyes. Lucas’ life was surrounded by people
who loved him and cared for him.

“I’m waiting for someone.” Mauricio smiled
at his own words. Ten years later and still he came out every
morning to gaze at the desert to see if Rosie was coming.

“Yeah, right,” Lucas snorted and then turned
an even redder shade than before. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend
you…”

“No offense taken. You’re a good boy.”
Mauricio put a hand on his shoulder and applied the slightest
pressure to reassure the boy he wasn’t mad at him.

“What if your companion never comes?” Lucas
didn’t want to let it go now that he’d had the courage to broach
the subject.

“Then I’ll have my memories to keep me
company.” Mauricio smiled again.

He could still see her, ten years later.
Rosie smiling at him and promising that she was going to reach for
him as soon as she had the baby. Their precious little girl. One of
the last things Rosie said to him was, “I will name our baby after
you.” As she reached through the bars to brush his fingers.

Rosie had managed to save his life, but
there were consequences to pay. As soon as his health improved, he
was transferred to the maximum-security wing. He spent his days
anchored to the wall with a short chain that got even shorter when
his guard caught Rosie holding his outstretched hands. Afterwards,
any time she came to visit him, the guard locked his collar to a
hook on the wall so that he couldn’t move at all. Brushing
fingertips became the only physical contact allowed them and the
strain on his muscles was unbearable after several minutes of
keeping the stance, yet he never uttered a word about it. He never
got to see Rosie’s belly grow, and he never discovered how she
managed to free him in the end. Ten years were long enough for him
to conjure a few theories, but he never knew for sure what
happened. Guen accompanied Rosie the time she shared her plans for
the baby’s name. He hadn’t seen the woman since that fateful night.
He was happy to see her and even more so when she entered his cell
and unlocked him.

“You have a whole hour. Make it count,” Guen
said with a wistful tone. Without another word, she deactivated his
collar and left.

Rosie was beautiful that day, but she was
also sad. Mauricio had looked at her in devotion from his cell,
uncertain of what he was allowed to do. She walked inside and said,
“Let’s go for a stroll. The night is beautiful outside.”

He followed Rosie, his fingers brushing
hers, looking at her profile as if it were the first time he had
laid eyes on her. She smiled every time their sideways glances met,
but kept walking in complete silence. He didn’t ask how this
opportunity was even possible. He didn’t want to waste the little
time they had been given. He was absolutely mesmerized by the fact
that they were walking together and that he could freely touch her
hand. Rosie led the way outside. They didn’t meet any guards and
the door to the fields was already open. The cold air chilled his
skin and made him shiver, but he was used to pain, and her presence
was the only salve he needed for his mangled body. He was skin and
bones, and his muscles weren’t working properly, so he staggered
several times on the uneven ground. But Rosie was there to help
him, and he didn’t fall. They walked past the cafeteria and stopped
at a bench he hadn’t noticed before.

“Sit beside me,” Rosie said, patting the
stone bench. Mauricio sat, and by the moonlight, he saw that she
was crying. He reached for her face and wiped her tears with a soft
caress. He had never been so close to her, fully awake, and his
heart was pounding and his ears ringing.

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

“I love you,” she said back, her voice
tinged with a heartbreaking sweetness, her bright eyes looking at
him with an intensity that made him shiver, her hands seeking his.
“I’ve never thought I could feel for someone the way I feel for
you. I want you to remember this. I’ll always love you.”

“Rosie, my Rosie…” It was difficult to look
at her and talk at the same time. He wanted to take her in his
arms, but he didn’t move; her mere presence had him frozen.
You’re my Goddess.

“You know what I’d like to do now?” she
asked, freeing him from the spell.

“No, what would you like to do?” Mauricio
smiled, remembering their previous conversations started with the
same question.

“I’d like for us to have a date.”

“A date?” He didn’t know what she was
talking about.

“Yes, like normal couples do.”

“What do you do in a date?”

“You go out—” She lowered her eyes for a
moment.

“We are out.” He smiled at her. “What
else?”

“People talk about their lives, what they
like to do, about their youth, their pets…”

“What did you like to do when you were a
kid?”

“Do you want to hear about that?” Rosie
asked with the softest voice.

“Yes, please.”

Mauricio still remembered every single word
she had spoken ten years earlier. He also remembered the way her
intonation sounded different from the way the other women talked.
She talked as if she was singing and pronounced every letter as if
it mattered. He also remembered how her hands waved through the air
while she was saying something about her childhood. He didn’t have
anything pleasant to tell her about him, so he simply listened,
enchanted by her grace. Mauricio had been happy, truly happy,
during that hour.

“Would you like to build a stone sculpture
with me?” she asked after having told him about her summers spent
with her grandmothers at a resort by the sea.

“I don’t know what it is,” he answered.

Rosie explained to him what a stone
sculpture was, while looking for rocks of different sizes.

“I like the smooth stones you can find on
the shore,” she said, giving him a pile of small rocks. “I have
been building stone sculptures as long as I can remember. Every
little rock is a memory.”

They worked balancing three stones, one on
top of the other, until she stopped his hand. “This is it. It’s
done. It’s perfect.”

Mauricio looked at the rocks piled in a
pyramid shape, and thought it was beautiful.

“This is you,” she said, touching the
biggest rock sitting on the bottom. “This is me, and the small one
on top is our Maurice.”

Rosie then told him about that one time
when, looking for the perfect stone, she had climbed a wet rock
wall and fell. “Guen is coming for you,” she said suddenly, after
showing him the healed wound on her right knee.

“She’ll go with you and you’ll both be safe,
far away from here.” Rosie’s tears were hurting him, but he
understood that she didn’t want him to ask anything. “You’ll be
free, and you’ll never have to come back here.” She continued
pressing his hand on her heart. Mauricio could still remember how
warm and alive she had felt under his fingers. Sometimes at night,
when he missed her the most, he liked to imagine the texture of her
skin on his.