Work Text:
Three days. It had been three days since Bartholomew left and took some of the light in Orel’s eyes with him.
Orel sat alone on his bed. A bible was splayed out in front of him, opened to his favorite gospel, Mark. He wasn’t quite reading, though, just taking in the sentences.
He thought about how Jesus had to stay there on that cross for so long as his friends and family watched. They didn’t just want to kill the son of God; they wanted to humiliate him. At least Bartholomew felt nothing when he went away. Virtually painless.
God forgive him. How could he still be thinking about that dog? Jesus’s pain was nothing to sneeze at; it shouldn’t be compared to anything at all! Orel should’ve been repenting. This is exactly why they took Bartholomew away in the first place—loving him more than Jesus. Goosebumps rolled down his spine at the thought.
His mom sang his name from downstairs, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Orel! It’s time for dinner!”
“Coming, Mom!” He carefully shut the book and slotted it into his bookshelf before bouncing down the stairs. Shapey was screaming and reaching for the knife their mom was using to chop up a carrot. Their mom swatted him away in mild irritation.
Orel’s dad was already seated at the dinner table, gulping down a glass of liquor. “There you are, kiderino! I was starting to think you’d leave me all alone here with your mother,” he chuckled. Orel laughed and apologized, watching as Shapey screeched for a drink.
Orel’s mom brought over four platters of chicken, along with mashed potatoes and cups of water. She asked him, “Would you like to say grace tonight?”
A rush of excitement surged through him. “Would I?” he grinned and cleared his throat.
“Heavenly Father, thank you for blessing us with this meal. Gosh, thanks, God, for everything you do! We should really appreciate it more—but not too much more—because it’s really nice of you. Thank you for my family, a-and friends, and…” Mist filled his eyes. A good sign! He must’ve been brimming with the Holy Spirit to the point of tears. “And thanks for helping us so much and, uhm, and thank you for all the joy you bring us.” Orel’s dad let out a faint, noncommittal huff.
His family joined in for the Lord's Prayer.
“Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from the evil one.
For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,
Forever and ever.
Amen.”
The potatoes were warm and homely. “Boy Mom, you sure can cook!” Orel said.
His dad scoffed at that. “Now, come on, Orel, the chicken did all of the work! I’d give anything to be able to stay home like a little lady and cook and clean all day and not have to work my stinking dead-end—”
“Why, thank you, Orel,” she said pointedly, glaring at her husband. He grumbled something indiscernible and took a slow, drawn-out sip of his drink.
Orel shifted around silently. Ever since Christmas, he noticed his parents fighting more often. He opened his mouth to say something, but Shapey interrupted, yelling for milk. Their mom sighed and gave in.
Orel got the feeling that everyone at the dinner table wanted to say something, but no one would. He knew he definitely wanted to, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. The words caught in his throat like they were stuck in flytraps. Maybe he would ask something about heaven, or the Lord, or why this chicken was so juicy…so…
“Animals have no souls whatsoever. That’s what makes it so tasty when we eat and drink them.”
Suddenly, Orel wanted to put his fork down and confess his sins to God. He imagined it was really someone’s dog he was eating. He shouldn’t be eating something that used to be alive, right? But, he reasoned, if animals really didn’t have souls, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, right? Right.
He still wanted to pray for forgiveness, though. Which was a step in the right direction—he must finally be loving God more than Bartholomew again!
~•✯•~
Orel wandered through the graveyard, a bouquet in one hand and a lantern in the other. It lit the winding paths, cutting through the night.
He could not find Bartholomew’s gravestone. No matter how much he prayed for God to show him the way, the cemetery seemed to stretch on infinitely. Every time he thought he searched it all, another grave seemed to sprout up like a mushroom. How could this happen?
Was Bartholomew even buried?
Footsteps. There were padded footsteps following Orel. He turned back and—
The dog barked happily and leaped into his arms. “Bartholomew?” he gasped. Warm love leaked out of every pore in Orel’s body. It was so comfortable to have something breathing back in his arms. Bartholomew licked his face, and they both fell to the ground. Orel hugged him tighter.
“Bartholomew?” he asked again. Bartholomew barked in affirmation, and Orel scratched him behind the ear.
“But—but I thought they killed you! Are you real?”
Bartholomew barked again, curling up on Orel’s chest this time. Orel laughed, running his hands through his fur. They lay there, in the grass behind the church, until the morning. Bartholomew slept, but Orel didn’t. He didn’t want to wake up and be all alone again.
At the crack of dawn, Bartholomew abruptly rose and headed towards the church.
“Wait!” Orel called. Bartholomew turned back and tilted his head. Orel followed him into the church. Only—it wasn’t his church. In fact, he had never seen it before. The walls were stone, the stained glass windows were in the wrong places, and, come to think of it, Orel could not remember how he got there the night before. There were no pews either, only space.
“This isn’t church…” he remarked disappointedly as Bartholomew led him to the middle of the empty floor. “And—” he swallowed, “And you aren’t back. How could you be? I-I’m dreaming. Right, Bartholomew?” Tears welled up in his eyes as he held the dog.
Bartholomew whined in apology. He wandered over to a window on the left, which depicted Jesus on the cross. He cocked his head at it with a bark.
Orel was lost for a second, but then realized. “Of course! I need to tell Jesus how much I love him!”
Bartholomew barked ambiguously.
Orel fell to his knees and whispered a prayer into his clasped hands.
“Dear Jesus, and God also, I’m really sorry I loved Bartholomew more than you. I promise I will never ever love him as much again. I love you so so so so so so so so so so much, and, uhm,” he glanced around at the floor beneath him, hoping the right words would come to him. “I know dogs can’t have souls, but could you make it so that when he doesn’t go to heaven, but also doesn’t go to hell, it’s not too bad for him? He won’t feel anything, but, uhm, can you make it so that he doesn’t feel sad?” His voice began to crack. “Please?”
Bartholomew whimpered and nuzzled the boy’s leg. His heart burned.
“Amen.”
He picked Bartholomew up and clutched him close to his chest. Orel wiped the tears away as they came, and now and then Bartholomew would lick the salt off his cheeks. His heart was beating against Orel’s arms; he was breathing. It was a lie, he knew, but it was a pretty one, and it wouldn’t be so bad to keep living it.
But that’s not how living works.
At some point, his eyes stopped leaking. He looked Bartholomew in the eye and gave him a sad smile.
“Thanks, Bartholomew, for being my friend…for being in my life.” Bartholomew licked his nose, earning a giggle out of him. “But I-I have to say goodbye, right?”
That dog looked at him with galaxies in his eyes, full of stars and beautiful planets. The roof of the church parted, revealing a strikingly blue sky, populated with cotton clouds. The weight in Orel’s arms was getting lighter.
“Please don’t be too sad when you’re gone. E-even though you won’t feel anything at all…” Somehow Orel wanted to believe that wasn’t true, that Bartholomew was going up to meet God in heaven. He began to rise out of Orel’s arms, floating up into the clouds. Orel stretched out an arm to touch him, but he was already out of reach.
“I’ll miss you,” he called.
Bartholomew barked at him. He watched as the dog disappeared into a spark in the clouds.
Orel waved goodbye.