Aika - A Good Girl

I didn’t plan to pray.

But life in Izu kept tossing Caleb Thatcher at me like God was playing some cosmic carnival game.

Drop the priest in front of the traumatized girl and see if her soul wakes up.

And annoyingly enough, it was working. Our library conversations grew easier. Our repairs grew faster. Our silences grew more comfortable.

He treated me like I was a normal person. He didn’t look at me like I was a fragile person. Not someone hiding a hundred rotten secrets. Just, Aika. A girl going through it.

Well, not that he knows my whole story anyways.

One evening, after my shift, I headed to the usual (new) feeding spot behind the church. The cats were always there. Their new hangout spot, apparently.

Every time I arrive, they’d be waiting. Complaining. Judging. Offering their furry loyalty in exchange for food.

‘Guys?’ I called softly.

No answer. Not a rustle. Not a paw. Not a single demanding meow. I was concerned. But not yet scared. I walked further behind the shed. Nothing.

My breathing hitched. ‘What happened? Where are you?’

A cold fear slithered down my spine, the same fear I used to get when producers banged on my dressing room door.

Something was wrong.

My hands shook as I called again, louder. ‘Bingo? Mikan? Snow? Anyone?’

Still nothing. My heart pounded against my ribs. The village occasionally set traps when stray numbers got too high. And Bingo, greedy, reckless, stupid Bingo, always ate anything first.

‘No, no, no… please—‘

Footsteps crunched behind me.

‘Aika?’

Caleb stood there, lantern in hand, hair slightly mussed from evening wind, concern written across his whole face.

‘What’s wrong?’

He stepped closer, lantern casting a soft golden halo around us.

‘The cats,’ I sobbed. ‘They’re gone.’

I imagined he’d laugh it off or dismiss me. Saying something like “They’re just animals”.

‘Let’s find them.’

I was wrong.

We searched every corner of the church property. Every shed. Every alley between old houses. My chest hurt with every unanswered call. After we’ve seen most of the village, I started to cry.

‘These are my only friends here.’ I managed to say in between the tears.

Caleb looked distraught. He looked like he wanted to offer a hug but thought that would be inappropriate. Humiliation rose hot in my chest. 

Why was I reacting like this? Why couldn’t I just be calm? Why did everything feel like life or death? We don’t know anything yet.

Caleb’s eyes softened. ‘Let’s pray first.’

‘I don’t know how.’

‘You don’t need to,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll do the words. You just stand with me.’

I nodded. He bowed his head beside me.

‘Father,’ he whispered, ‘please keep this little creature safe. And please bring peace to the heart that loves him.’

I hiccuped a sob. He continued.

‘Guide our paths. Calm our fears. And remind us You care about even the smallest lives.’

‘Meow.’

‘And the people who care for them too.’

A thin, weak mewl floated through the night.

I spun.

‘That’s Bingo!’

We followed the sound behind the tool shed, and there he was. Bingo, the idiot king of cats, stuck inside a wire trap meant for raccoons. Caleb knelt beside it immediately.

‘Oh no, buddy,’ he murmured. ‘What mischief were you up to?’

I was shaking. Seeing him trapped, helpless, sent an old, violent panic through my chest.

‘Lethimgolethimgolethimgolethimgo.’

‘Aika. It’s okay. We’ll get him out.’ 

Caleb’s steady voice grounded me. He worked the latch gently so he doesn’t accidentally trigger any harmful part of the trap. I just kept sobbing behind him.

‘Hurry,’ I begged. ‘Please, hurry.’

He paused. ‘Aika,’ he said softly, ‘he’s not hurt. Just scared. We’ll get him out.’

The latch clicked open. Bingo scrambled out, crying dramatically into my arms. I sobbed with relief. Caleb looked on with smile and disbelief.

‘See? He’s okay.’

I hugged Bingo tight while trembling.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

He shook his head.

‘Thank God, not me.’

*****

Later that week, I found myself standing outside the church.

Not because I wanted to see Caleb. Not because I wanted to look holy, definitely not that. I’m never going to achieve that in this lifetime. But because something inside me wanted to try praying for something not furry and four-legged. Maybe I could sit in a place where my soul could breathe.

After bracing myself, I stepped inside quietly. The chapel was almost empty except for 1 or 2 people knelt down that front. Soft candlelight illuminated the place and a faint scent of wood polish matched the atmosphere. So as not to be a nuisance, I sat in the last pew.

It felt strange sitting inside a church like that. Like wearing someone else’s shoes. But surprisingly, it also felt safe. I lowered my head, not sure what to do.

Um… Hi?… Now what…

 Nothing came out. No words. No thoughts. Just quiet.

What’s my life suppose to amount to now?

I don’t know how long I sat there, deep in my thoughts, waiting for an answer, before footsteps sounded in the hallway. For a horrifying second, I thought I was being asked to vacate.

‘Aika?’ Caleb stood frozen in the doorway, baffled but pleasantly surprised to see me.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

‘You didn’t,’ I murmured. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing anyways.

He stepped inside slowly and respectfully, like approaching a wild animal he didn’t want to scare.

‘Are you okay?’

I nodded at first. I mean, yeah. But I don’t know how to pray. Then I shook my head. I gave up trying to answer at all.

He sat one pew in front of me, facing sideways so he could see me but not trap me.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he said.

His words were simple, but it scared me, quite frankly.

‘It’s not for you,’ I whispered.

A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘I know.’

‘And it’s not because of you,’ I added, clearly flustered and stumbling on my words. ‘I’m just… trying.’

‘Aika,’ he said gently, ‘you don’t owe me a reason.’

We sat in stillness. Two people. Two breaths. Two separate lives quietly inching toward each other.

‘Would you like company?’ he asked. ‘Not guidance. Not a lesson. Just company.’

I hesitated. I don’t want to owe him much more than I already did. But I really could use a friend.  

He waited patiently for my response. I nodded. He also nodded. So we just sat there. Not praying. Not talking. Just sitting.

*****

Over the next days, something shifted.

We talked more. Not constantly, but comfortably. About books. About purpose. About why people suffer. About why and how people heal.

He admitted things freely. Some of his words remained in my head for days.

‘I don’t know everything.’

‘I’m still learning how to help people the right way.’

‘My faith is strong, but my understanding is small.’

‘I’m grateful every day for how easy my life has been.’

Oh, how humble he was. Sometimes he asked questions. Sometimes I answered. Sometimes I didn’t. And he never pushed.

Finally, I confessed to him. ‘You’re like a… giant, gentle cat.’

He looked horrified. ‘A cat?’

‘A well-fed, oversized, polite cat.’

‘I don’t… I’m not— cats aren’t even that polite!’

I laughed. He lost the argument instantly.

One evening, as we parted ways outside the cafe, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re trying… this.’ He gestured lightly around us. ‘Faith. Meaning. Seeking.’

‘Caleb, I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘You don’t need to.’

‘And I’m not good. I’m not pure.’ I finally was close to opening up to him. ‘I don’t deserve good things in life.’

He shook his head gently. ‘God never asked for pure,’ he said. ‘Just willing.’

I closed my eyes to savor that feeling of not being judged. He smiled at my reaction. All I saw in front of me was a warm, patient annd impossibly kind man.

‘See you tomorrow, Aika.’

I watched him walk away.

For the first time since my old life burned down, tomorrow didn’t feel scary.