Aika - Cornered Cat

Avoiding him was exhausting.

There. I said it.

I tried so hard. Really, I did my utmost best. But after weeks of strategically dodging Caleb Thatcher like he was a paparazzi wanting under the skirt panty photographs, I realized something vital. I live in a village the size of a shoebox.

There were only so many corners to hide in. Only so many alleys. Only so many excuses Miho-san would accept before she started praying over me.

Eventually, I just gave up. If Caleb was destined to pop up wherever I went, then so be it. He could be like a neighborhood stray. Large, gentle, overly affectionate to the elderly.

A human-shaped cat. That was safer than calling him anything else.

So I settled into the library on my day off. Books were safe. Stories didn’t judge. Pages didn’t Google you. Ink didn’t call you names. I was halfway through flattening the pages of a water-damaged fairy tale when a shadow fell across the table.

I gasped from being startled. Then relax after knowing it was just Caleb again.

Of course.

He stood there with two mugs of tea, hair slightly mussed, wearing a knitted cardigan that made him look like a young professor who taught a class called How to Be Emotionally Safe 101. He threw an apologetic look at me, realizing he had interrupted.

‘Oh! Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted company.’

No. Go away.

He said it so gently that saying no felt like kicking a puppy.

‘It’s fine,’ I murmured.

He brightened like I’d offered him the moon. He sat across from me, placing one cup near my hand with quiet ceremony.

‘I, uh, didn’t know if you liked tea with honey,’ he said. ‘But you look like someone who needs something sweet.’

‘Are you calling me bitter?’ I muttered without thinking.

His eyes widened. ‘Oh no! No, no, that’s not—, I meant you look tired, not bitter… Not that tired people are bitter, or that you’re—‘

I lifted a hand.

‘It’s okay. I was teasing.’

His relief was so comical I almost laughed.

‘Don’t scare me like that.’ He pouted. ‘It’s not good for my heart.’

Cute… No no no. Rethink Aika. Stop.

He took out a stack of thin books. Children’s Bibles, story collections, simplified theology texts.

‘Studying?’ I asked.

He shook his head.

‘Actually… hiding.’

I almost spat my tea.

‘What?’

He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed. But he explained himself anyway.

‘Some kids from the city where I was assigned recently came looking for me in the café this morning. They wanted pictures. And, um… selfies with me holding a latte.’

I stared at him, wondering if he was making this up. The distress on his face looked genuine.

‘You know popularity is a double—edged sword, right?’ I said carefully.

He groaned into his palms.

‘I don’t want to be popular. I want to teach. Help. Preach in peace.’ He pouted again. ‘Not be a traveling photo booth.’

‘You’re kind of cute when you complain.’

Regret was apparent the second the words left my mouth. I wanted to crawl under the table and die. His head snapped up like I just broke all the 10 commandments in one go. His cheeks turned slightly pink. He looked more like just a normal boy, reacting to normal things.

How old is he even?

‘C…Cute?’ he echoed softly.

I slapped a book over my face.

‘Forget I said anything.’

He laughed. It was a laugh that did not annoy me. He wasn’t amused at what I said, no teasing either. More like, he was relieved I was friendly with him, finally.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I won’t’

My stomach did something I refused to name.

Am I really out here flirting with a priest?

I avoided eye contact from him after that. He didn’t mind. We worked in silence for a while. Repairing books, sorting shelves, sipping tea, existing in the same comfortable bubble. It was peaceful. I liked it. No, I loved it. I felt safe and warm.

‘You like philosophy books?’ He said.

‘How did you…?’

He lifted a slim paperback from the corner of my pile. “The Myth of Suffering”.

‘You were reading this the other day at the café.’

He slowly backed off after seeing my concerned reaction.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just…noticed.’

‘It’s nothing,’ I whispered.

‘It’s not nothing,’ he said softly. ‘People read philosophy when they’re searching for something.’

I swallowed. These are some talks I am not ready to delve into. I am not even sure what I want myself.

‘And you? What are you searching for?’ I asked. Yeah. You answer that then.

He tapped his finger lightly on his cup.

‘Meaning,’ he said after a beat. ‘Purpose. Direction. The same things everyone wants, I guess.’

‘But you’re already set,’ I said. ‘You have a calling.’

He smiled faintly.

‘Calling doesn’t mean clarity. Even priests get confused.’

‘Have you ever struggled?’ I asked.

He shook his head gently.

‘Not really. I grew up loved. Safe. Middle class. My family prayed together every morning. We fought sometimes, but nothing cruel. I never wanted for anything important.’

Lucky…

He continued. ‘My faith came easily. Everything came easily. I’m grateful. Though sometimes I wonder if I understand people enough. People who really suffer.’

His eyes lifted to mine. “People like you” is what it said.

He didn’t look at me with pity. Not even a single shade of judgment or assumptions. I couldn’t sustain the eye contact. I looked down at my hands as I think of the words to say.

‘I don’t talk about those things,’ I barely said.

‘You don’t have to,’ he answered immediately. ‘I don’t need to know anything you don’t want to say.’

He said it with such sincerity that my conscience hurt. I must tell him… Why being friendly with me will harm him.

‘Then why bring it up?’ I whispered.

He smiled. ‘Because I want you to know I see you. Not just the parts you show.’

I stared at the floor next, still avoiding his gaze. We sat there, full of things unspoken. Full of light I wasn’t ready for. Caleb set aside the book he’d been repairing.

‘Would you like to pray together?’ he asked softly.

I tensed at the thought of holding his hands. Don’t people do that when praying? He noticed right away.

‘No pressure,’ he added quickly. ‘We can talk instead. Or sit. Or do nothing.’

I hesitated. I didn’t want to pray. I didn’t not want to pray. I do not know. I just wanted a moment where being alive didn’t feel like a punishment.

‘Can you pray?’ I asked. ‘And I’ll just listen?’

His smile warmed like sunlight. ‘Of course.’

He folded his hands. I didn’t. He closed his eyes. I kept mine open. His voice dropped soft and low.

‘Father… thank You for quiet places. For the comfort of words and pages. For people who try their best even when life hasn’t been gentle with them.’

My breath hitched.

‘For the ones who seek meaning,’ he murmured, ‘even when they don’t know what they’re hoping to find. Please show them the way.’

His eyes opened slightly, glancing toward me.

‘And for Aika… whoever she is beneath her silence, please let her feel seen.’

With just a few set of words, I felt hurt and healed at the same time.

He finished softly. ‘In Jesus’ name. Amen.’

I exhaled shakily. He didn’t say anything more. He just smiled. A cat-like warm and patient smile. Before I could stop myself, I laughed. A tiny, unexpected, helpless laugh.

‘Did I say something funny?’

‘No,’ I said. But I couldn’t stop smiling.

‘Then why are you laughing?’ he asked.

‘Because no matter what I do,’ I whispered, ‘it’s like God keeps dropping you wherever I go.’

He grinned, then shrugged. ‘Maybe He is.’

Now you’re just smug. Smug that you got me to praYywith you huh? I nearly flipped the table towards his side. Let’s see your God stop you from toppling over.