Caleb - The Distance I Want to Cross

Aika started coming to Mass.

She would sneak in quietly and carefully. Always sitting in the back pew like she was prepared to sprint out if someone so much as sneezed in her direction. She was even more quicker in escaping when someone whipped up their phones, or worst, a whole camera, to take photographs of the church.

Well, I say “photos of the church”, in an attempt at humility, but truth be told, people came to take photos and video of me. I still didn’t like it. Much more so  after observing that this was Aika’s enemy #1.

I didn’t stare, but I looked occasionally, so I eventually learned what kept her around, and what pushed her away. Just a quick glance to check if she was still there, did she need anything, does she want my company.

Well ok then, maybe I looked more times than I should have.

She wasn’t obvious about it, but she paid close attention to almost everything. Her eyes followed every passage I recited. She mouthed along to the hymns sometimes, though barely audible.

And at least once, I heard her clearly. Just a breath of melody slipping through her lips before she caught herself and went silent again. I swear my heart nearly tripped over itself. In a respectful way.

*****

After a few discreet church attendance, she eventually joined the choir. Well, sort of.

One afternoon during practice, she slipped into the chapel and sat in the far corner. The choir director welcomed her with a smile. Aika bowed politely. But then, she didn’t sing. Didn’t speak. Didn’t approach anyone. She just watched.

And when the sopranos worked through a difficult run, I caught her quietly humming the correct pitch under her breath, three pews away.

Of course she had a beautiful ear. Of course she blended perfectly. Of course she was effortlessly gifted.

Whenever I tried to go near her, to ask if she wanted to learn the arrangement together, she vanished like she had teleportation powers.

In public, she kept a wall between us.

But, in private, the library, the cats, the quiet mornings at the back altar, she smiled. She laughed. She teased me about my accent. She let her walls down. It felt like she was two people. Aika-the-public-shadow, and Aika-the-soft-cat-who’d-let-me-pet-her-if-I-approached-slowly.

And I, unfortunately, was shamefully delighted by both versions. 

We even shared a laugh at the new viral video, featuring Bingo and me. I’ve upgraded from a raccoon climbing me, to a fat cat sitting at the scripture in front of me. He even tried to partake of the holy bread and wine…

We had to lock Bingo up for a while in case someone tried to capture him. Sometimes in her apartment, sometimes in the library. The rest of the strays had been rehomed, thankfully. Then again, even more replaced them.

*****

‘She’s avoiding you,’ Tomas said. 

‘Again,’ he added with a snort. 

We were arranging hymnbooks for the afternoon service, and for some reason, this became the topic.

‘She’s not avoiding me,’ I said, probably too defensively.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Because every time you walk in, she acts like the floor suddenly became very interesting.’

‘She’s just private.’

‘And you’re just in denial.’

I glared at him.

He smirked, patting my shoulder. ‘Relax. Women do that sometimes. They hide the people they like so no one gets ideas.’

My heart did a gymnastics routine. Respectfully.

‘I didn’t say she liked me,’ I muttered. ‘I was just meaning to say she wasn’t angry at me!’

‘Didn’t have to. Your face is loud enough.’

I grabbed a stack of books and walked away before he could see me blushing.

I want to be openly her friend. I didn’t want secrecy. I didn’t want to scurry around like a guilty teenager. I wanted to talk to her in the café like any other friend. Share jokes without her flinching. Stand beside her after Mass without her slipping away like smoke. Most friendships grow outward. 

Ours grew sideways. In hidden corners. Behind bookshelves. With cats as chaperones.

Wholesome, yes. But also lonely. I wanted the world to know she was someone precious to me. Not romantically. Not possessively. Just, important.

But she didn’t want eyes on her. Didn’t want whispers. Didn’t want the weight of anyone noticing her existence. And for reasons I still didn’t fully understand. I respected that. Even if it quietly broke my heart that she thought this lowly of herself.

It is shameful to admit but I am slowly getting interested on her past. Why was it so important for her to keep my public standing clean? Why does she act like she’s a dirt that shouldn’t stain me?

*****

I was greeting parishioners after the closing hymn when I saw her down the aisle. Her face was paler than usual. She was talking to someone on the phone.

A middle-aged woman rushed inside the chapel doors, scanning the pews frantically.

‘Aika-chan!’

Aika froze in her seat. She looked like she was about to burst in tears then and there. I couldn’t help but approach her. The woman hurried to her, grabbing her hands tightly.

‘It’s your father,’ she said breathlessly. ‘He collapsed this morning. Your mother called you, and the cafe office. She couldn’t reach you.’

Aika’s breathing doubled. Watching her heart slowly break, broke my heart as well. 

I stopped halfway. I didn’t move any more closer. Didn’t call her name. Didn’t want to overwhelm her. I didn’t think her family affair was my business.

When tears rolled down her face, it’s like gravity tugged at me. My entire body moved forward involuntarily. I excused myself from the crowd surrounding and following me.

‘What hospital?’ Aika whispered.

‘Shizuoka General.’

That was nearly an hour away.

The woman squeezed her hands.

‘I drove to fetch you. Come.’

Aika nodded stiffly, eyes glossy with fear she was trying desperately to hide. She turned to search for me. Her gaze collided with mine. She was trying so hard not to fall apart.

My chest clenched. I nodded once, to acknowledge that I was aware. I’m here. You’re not alone.

Her lips parted, maybe to say something, but the woman tugged her arm gently, urging her toward the exit. Aika let herself be pulled.

As I watched her leave the church, her hands shaking, eyes pleading for help, I felt something cold and heavy drop into my stomach. Fear.

Not for her avoidance. Not for the awkwardness between us. But fear of losing her. Fear that she was hurting alone. Fear that her world, already fragile, was about to shatter.

I whispered a prayer under my breath.

‘For her father’s health, and for Aika’s heart. Please, Lord… give her strength.’

I looked at the empty doorway long after she was gone.

‘And, if You can, please show me how to help her.’