Fic: Hagiolatry (Epilogue)

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“I don’t get why you have to leave,” Donna said.

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, though her tone had changed over the past two weeks. First it had been confused, then incredulous, and finally a wearied acceptance, because she knew by this point that she wasn’t dissuading Frankie from doing it. It didn’t stop her from asking, though.

“Told you,” Frankie said. She was perched on the stool behind the salon’s counter- she’d already packed up what few belongings she’d left in her locker, and now she was just waiting for Andrew to pick her up. “Super secret spy stuff,”

Patty rolled her eyes. “Okay, for real this time.”

“Really for real.” Frankie said. “It is secret. I pissed the fuck out of a bunch of Church officials and now they’re probably after me, so you’re both better off not knowing exactly where I’m going next.”

Donna snorted. “Like the Church isn’t pissed the fuck off at us anyway.”

Frankie just smiled. “God isn’t.”

Neither of them questioned her about that. She’d taken to making mysterious little proclamations like that over the past two weeks- not smugly, just inscrutably. It was all over her, sometimes, that feeling of- otherness. Like she’d been baptized in fire and come back not quite the same.

Patty held up the day’s paper. “Hey, did you read this?”

Frankie shook her head and took it from her, though she already knew what it would say. Across the top, there was a banner headline reading “MIRACLE IN PITTSBURGH?” crowning a picture of the church. The caption beneath read “Sources report that writing has miraculously appeared on the ceiling of the Church of Our Lady of Christ.”

“It says the Church won’t comment,” Patty said, flicking a droplet of hairspray at Frankie. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Who, me?” She glanced at her watch and slid off the stool. “I’d better get going, guys. Andrew’s going to be here soon.”

Donna hugged her tightly before she made for the door, whispering “call me, okay?” in her ear before letting go. Patty’s approach was a punch to the shoulder, but her voice was a but gruffer than usual as she said “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

The week-long thunderstorm had let up, so when she stepped outside, it was to sunlight so bright it almost hurt her eyes. There was a bench out front, and she settled down on it to wait, dropping her bag between her feet and tilting her head back to enjoy the April sun.

“Frankie?”

She cracked an eye open. Standing in front of her was Rebecca Stanley, dressed in a bright pink raincoat and smiling at her. Frankie let her head roll forward. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you doing out on your own?”

“I live down the street,” Rebecca said, pointing to where the industrial area gave over to a cluster of apartment buildings. “And Father Kiernan said you worked here, and I wanted to say hi, so Mom let me walk down. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure thing.” Frankie patted the bench next to her, and Rebecca plopped herself down, regarding Frankie curiously. “Father Derning’s gone.”

“I know,” Frankie said with a small sigh. He’d left after the showdown with Cardinal Houseman. She didn’t know if he’d been taken to Rome as some kind of reward for reporting her, or if he’d taken off on his own. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t feel all that bitter about the whole thing. The confrontation with Houseman- well that had been bound to happen whether he turned her in or not. Who knew? It might have been what saved her life. And anyway, wherever he was, she was pretty sure he was sorry about the whole thing. He’d lost his parish, after all.

“Uh-huh,” Rebecca went on. “So I asked Father Kiernan if he’d be our priest now, and he said no, because he’s not a priest anymore ‘cause the Pope’s mad at him. How come the Pope’s mad at him?”

“They had a fight,” Frankie said wryly. She’d been there for the phone call between him and the Vatican, which had included a lot of shouting and some thinly-veiled comparisons between her and a prostitute. She’d told him to point out that one of Jesus’s buddies was a prostitute, but on second thought, that might have been what sealed the deal. That, or the refusal to back down from the fight with Houseman, or the living in sin with a heretic. It was hard to tell.

Rebecca frowned. “Well can you be our next priest, then?”

Frankie started to laugh, then covered it with a cough to keep from hurting Rebecca’s feelings. “I can’t be a priest, kiddo. The Church wouldn’t let me.”

“Why?”

Why not? “Because I’m not a Catholic,” she said. She could try to explain the Church’s doctrine on women priests (or sexually active priests, or heretical priests, or . . .) but she didn’t think Rebecca’s mother would appreciate it very much. They still went to church, after all.

“Oh,” Rebecca said, still frowning. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, Rebecca digging her toe into a crack in the sidewalk.

“I didn’t fall off my bike,” she said quietly.

Frankie looked over at her. She was chewing her lip pensively, but the scared-rabbit look she’d had earlier was gone. “Yeah, I figured.” Rebecca withdrew her lip from between her teeth. “You want to talk about that?”

“Uh-uh.” Rebecca shook her head. “My mom’s making me go see the new priest about it, ‘cause he’s a counselor, but I don’t know why. He talks about how much God wants me to forgive people a lot.”

Frankie made a huffing noise. “Well, I guess that’s what he thinks. For my money, though, you don't have to forgive anyone you don't want to.”

“Well I don't want to,” Rebecca said, pulling a face. Then she brightened. “Is it true there was a miracle at that other church?”

“What do you mean?” Frankie asked. Surely Marian apparitions weren’t big news withs even-year-olds, even churchgoing ones

“Well,” Rebecca said, “the priest who’s filling in for Father Derning said the Virgin Mary’s face showed up on the side of a building. There are pictures and everything.”

Frankie did laugh this time. “Sorry,” she said. “I think someone just spray-painted that.” A car rolled up to the sidewalk, and she patted Rebecca’s head and stood up. “That’s my ride. I gotta go.”

“Bye.” Rebecca waves at her as she climbed into the passenger seat, and kept waving  until they’d pulled away from the curb. She leaved over as she buckled her seatbelt and kissed Andrew’s cheek. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He looked over at her and smiled, eyes crinkling. “Your suitcase is in the trunk. We can stop back at the apartment if you’d like.”

“Don’t need to.” Frankie tossed her knapsack into the back seat. “Everything’s in storage, anyway, and the airline tickets are in the bag.” She glanced out the window as the city sped past. She’d miss a lot of things about Pittsburgh- her job, her friends, her apartment- but she thought she might miss the city most of all, the sense of belonging. “Will there be a pay phone at the airport? I need to call someone before we leave.”

“No need.” With one hand, he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. She squeezed his fingers as he passed it to her. “Wow, a cell? You’re moving into the digital age.”

“Freed from the chains of self-imposed asceticism,” he said with a smile. She laughed a bit and leaned back in her seat, punching in the number. She wasn’t sure she’d get through, but she wanted to give it a shot.

Three rings, and a beep. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Frankie said, letting a smile spread over her face. “Mom, it’s me.”

“Frankie?” There was a rustling on the other end of the line, like she’d just stood up. “Oh my god, I haven’t talked to you in weeks! What’s going on?”

“Um,” Frankie said, glancing sideways at Andrew. “Well, that’s- a lot of stuff’s going on. I have a lot to tell you.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But I can tell you most of it in person. I’m going to be in Brazil by tomorrow. Are you still in Sao Paulo?”

“Yes- but-” Her mother sounded confused. “Why are you coming to Brazil?”

Frankie smiled. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”

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THE END