Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 251
to bear it because the grief was not his—but he knew that
wasn’t true. He loved both Mikael and Toby, and they were
both gone. He marveled then at his own detachment, as if he
were watching himself from afar, from outside his body. And
in that moment, it was the lack of emotion he felt that was
grievous to him. He desperately needed to sob the way Kat
was doing now. He wanted to feel his feelings, to connect
with the sadness that was, now more than ever, the common
lot of humanity. He wanted, he realized, to feel connected to
others. At this realization, he hugged Kat even closer, and
buried his face in her hair. It was not enough, he knew. He
wanted more, and more intimate contact than Kat could
provide. The urgency of his need rose up in him with the
suddenness of a tide. It scared him.
Just then Susan appeared in the door leading to the
kitchen, a mug of what Richard guessed to be hot chocolate
in one fist, a yellow post-it note stuck to a finger on her other
hand. She hesitated upon seeing them, huddled in the dark,
rocking back and forth slowly. Richard met her eyes and
smiled at her encouragingly.
He patted the back of the chair on the other side of Kat,
and hesitantly Susan took it, leaning into Kat and nuzzling
her as she let out a deep and sympathetic breath.
After a few minutes like that, Susan straightened up and
passed the post-it to Richard. In the sanctuary lamp he could
just make it out: “Spiritual Direction tomorrow, 10 am.
Mother Maggie says, ‘Be there or you’re a Cathar.’” Richard
smiled an annoyed smile. Damn Susan and Dylan, making
good on their threat to get him an appointment ASAP. But he
wasn’t angry. It was probably, he realized, a good thing. His
mind wandered back to the note. The Cathar leaders were
called “perfects,” weren’t they? About as far removed from
how he felt about himself as he could possibly imagine.
They sat in the dark, huddled together in a pile for a long