Zoe didn’t know how it got that bad. It wasn’t something she could see coming or predict. It just seemed to grow, like a storm coming off the lake and then suddenly the little drops of rain turned into a huge down pour accompanied by the crashing thunder of broken dishes and screamed curses. She lay there, chin tucked into her chest, nuzzling her nose into the fuzzy head of Roger. She could hear her mother screaming again. This time it was because Zoe’s father was unable to make the six hour trip for a visit he scheduled months ago. It had to do with work or something, Zoe found herself numb to the ever growing spew of reasons. She didn’t care anymore. She had spoken to her father on the phone three times in the past eighteen months and seen him two times less than that. She didn’t expect him to come. Her mother was a different story. You never realize how much a woman can change when she loses the man she loves and her heart shatters. Sandra Parker always seemed to be more upset. ”Quickly finishing my food, then helping mum clean up the table before we left.We entered St. Mary’s church, both of us lighted a candle, made the sign of a cross then kissed the icons. Mum went and sat down on one of the stalls then put her head down to pray.That is when I felt a hand on my shoulder. The voice was familiar. “Your mother would come every day when you was gone, she would sit in that same spot to pray for your safe return.” It was Father Petrou.Turning towards him, we both opened our arms to embrace each other. We stayed like that for a while like two friends who had not seen each other for years.Father Petrou was about five years older than me. He was different from other priests. When you had a conversation with him about religion, he would never force you to go to church or pray, but still, you felt closer to God.On releasing him, I said. “It’s good to see you, Father Petrou. My mother told me you wanted to see me about something.”“Let us walk George.” We walked out.
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