Caleb - The Faithful

My assignment in Shizuoka Prefecture was supposed to last 10 days.

Some paperwork’s to be signed. Outreach with the homeless. A few home visits for the sick. Then back to Izu.

But due to internal issues, lack of spiritual support system around the area, the seminary extended my stay by three more weeks. Though I assumed it had to do with my popularity online.

‘Divine timing,’ the other seminary trainees said. ‘Now you can see your “friend” in silence, away from the head priest, and us.’

I didn’t argue. Because they were right. Every day, I found myself returning to the hospital, even if only for an hour. A few minutes of solace, making sure she’s alright. One brief prayer for her father.

At first, I told myself it was pastoral duty. Can’t a man of God take his responsibility to heart now? Compassion is free. But, truth be told, it wasn’t just that. The truth was simpler, as it was more dangerous. I wanted to come see Aika.

I wanted to be near the person whose voice broke in prayer, whose bravery was stitched together with fear, whose every step forward left me silently thanking God for letting me witness it. 

*****

The following week, her aunt spotted me in the hallway.

‘Oh! Thatcher-san! You came again?’ Her eyes crinkled warmly.

‘You’re such a blessing. Aika-chan seems calmer when you’re here.’

I bowed, then smiled. 

‘She’s…’ I hesitated on which words to use, ‘easy to care for.’

Her expression changed into something heavy and knowing.

‘Did she tell you anything?’ she asked gently.

‘About what?’

She hesitated. Then sighed.

‘I shouldn’t say this. It’s her story to share. But that girl…’ She looked toward the closed door of her brother’s room. ‘She’s been through enough for ten lives.’

For reasons I didn’t know yet, I felt sick. I felt protective of Aika and at the same time, I felt that I let her down by not being there for her earlier.

‘She suffered something terrible,’ her aunt whispered. ‘Something that still makes her wake up shaking. She hides it so well it’s painful to watch.’

I couldn’t breathe after hearing her further detailed description of Aika’s suffering, without telling me the actual cause.

She continued with a trembling voice, ‘She smiles for her father. Helps everyone. Never causes trouble. But she hasn’t let a man touch her in years. Not even a handshake. Except…’ she paused. ‘Except you.’

‘I…’

‘In the past few days, I’ve seen her inch closer to you, slowly reach out to you, before pulling back completely. Sometimes while you are looking and welcoming her, sometimes when you’re looking away and praying. It’s not you. She’s just scared. Very scared.’

‘I would never want to cause her fear.’

I wonder if it had something to do with that fact that some kids were able to tell me where Aika was when I looked for her in the hospital, as if they knew her. Was she popular at some point? I have just assumed that she was naturally friendly to kids wherever she went…

‘I know.’ Her aunt gave me a sad, grateful smile.

‘Could you pray for her healing? Not just her father’s. Hers too.’

‘Yes,’ I said instantly. ‘Without a doubt.’ As if that wasn’t the first thing in my mind everytime I open my eyes.

She nodded gratefully and walked away. But I stayed frozen for a long time. I was fighting a feeling that was boiling to the surface. One that shouldn’t exist.

I would give anything to keep her safe. I would break myself in half to mend her.

*****

After going to the hospital chapel to pray and have a quiet time with the Lord, asking Him to show me the way, I found the determination to finally show myself.

‘Aika?’

She looked up, startled. Her hair was tied loosely, strands falling around her tired eyes. She hadn’t slept enough. She hadn’t eaten enough. But when she saw me, her whole demeanour relaxed.

‘You came again,’ she cheered softly.

‘Just for a little while,’ I murmured. ‘If that’s okay.’

She nodded as she looked away quickly. I knew it wasn’t her usual avoidance. That time, it was shyness. She was conscious of my presence. Not as a nuisance, for a change, but as a man.

I felt something warm swirl through me, something that frightened me far more than calling. That night, I prayed harder than I ever did my whole life.

*****

I began visiting every afternoon. Never too long that I’d tire her out, just an hour or so of shared time and space. Sometimes we prayed. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we just sat. Her father stayed unconscious unfortunately, but he was positively steady in vital signs.

Aika always held his hand. I always sat across from her, careful not to crowd. We eventually became comfortable and familiar with each other.

She even started making little comments.

‘You walk loudly, Thatcher-san.’

‘Your cardigan looks soft enough to nap on.’

‘You smell like old hymnals.’

‘You drink too much coffee.’

‘You hum when you read.’

‘You accent never improved.’

Yeah that one stung. I started making comments back too, respectfully.

‘You fix books like a kindergarten girl making a collage.’

‘You talk to cats like they’re coworkers.’

‘You hide snacks under your baggy clothes.’

‘You pretend to dislike church music but you mouth all the lyrics.’

We smiled more often. Laughed quietly and secretly between us. Her family noticed, but they didn’t interfere.

*****

It was forecast to rain when I arrived that night. The kind of rain that does not come gently, but announces itself.

Outside, thunderclouds were gathering low and heavy, pressing against the sky as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.

The hospital room was almost completely dark.

No overhead lights. No television glow. Only the faint hum of machines and the slow, steady beep of a heart still choosing to remain.

A thunderclap split the sky, and for one brief moment, the room was washed in white. Aika sat by the window, knees pulled tightly to her chest, her silhouette fragile against the glass. Her father lay unchanged in the bed behind her, chest rising and falling in shallow, borrowed rhythm. She did not look up when I entered.

I crossed the room quietly and lowered myself to the floor beside her. We sat in silence while the darkness knit us together as the storm inched closer.

After a long while, she whispered, ‘I’m scared.’

The word sounded too small for the fear it carried.

‘Of what?’ I asked, keeping my voice low, careful not to fracture the quiet.

‘That he won’t wake up.’ She swallowed.  ‘And that if he does, he’ll see I’m not the daughter he wanted.’

The next thunderclap came softer, farther away, like the sky reconsidering.

I inhaled sharply. ‘Aika—’

‘No.’ She shook her head before I could finish. ‘Please.’

Her voice trembled but did not break. ‘He raised me to be bright. Kind. Hopeful.’ 

A bitter smile ghosted her lips. ‘I was supposed to make the world better.’

‘You already do,’ I said without thinking.

She let out a hollow laugh.

‘I became a burden. A scandal. A mistake.’ Her fingers curled tighter around her legs. ‘Just an embarrassment my family has to endure.’

Something twisted hard in my chest. I turned my face toward the window, even though the darkness would hide me.

‘You’re none of those,’ I said, each word deliberate. ‘Not even close.’ I’m very proud of you. As a matter of the fact.

She didn’t argue, but she didn’t believe me either. Silence pressed in again between us once more.

What are you still doing here, Caleb? What am I hoping to achieve here? Show it to me, Lord. Please show me why You brought me here.

Softly, and out of nowhere, almost like she was afraid the words would shatter if spoken too loudly, she said, ‘You bring me calm, Caleb.’

I went completely still. She had never used my name before. She’d use different honorifics and polite ways to address me, but never just my first name.

‘You make things feel less heavy,’ she continued. ‘Even if nothing changes.’

The air shifted. I knew, with terrifying clarity, that I was standing on the edge of something I could never step back from.

‘Aika—’ I began.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Thunder cracked again, louder this time, lightning spilling through the clouds and flooding the room in sudden brilliance.

For a heartbeat, I saw her fully. Utterly beautiful. Utterly exhausted. Heartbroken and still standing. Before the light vanished, I reached out and rested my hand over hers where it clutched her knees.

I didn’t pull her closer. I didn’t lean in. I just stayed.

The darkness returned yet our hands remained together. The storm outside raged while something irreversible settled quietly between us.