Continuity

It was the dead of night, but St. Seraphim Mission was clearly alive. Calvin Kim could see light coming from the stained-glass windows as he pulled up in his car, with the sound of chanting and music wafting over the half-filled parking lot.

He stormed up to the front doors and then hesitated for just a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Then he opened the heavy front door and slipped into the church.

Only a few of the worshipers turned as he entered, and their interest lasted for only a moment. Calvin shut the door behind him and edged along the back wall, his anger quickly replaced by awkwardness. All of the congregants were singing, mostly in a language that Calvin didn’t understand. The priest (minister? reverend? Calvin was pretty sure it was a priest) was in front of the altar; he wore black robes and a white hat that had a sort of veil going down his back. He was too absorbed in the hymn to notice Calvin’s entry.

Calvin took another deep breath and tried to ignore the service, glancing around the nave. This church was very ornate, but not very large, and one side of the chamber was taken up by tables laden with food. There were maybe fifty people in the crowded pews. Damien stood out pretty easily: the teenage boy was standing at the end of a row of adults, wearing casual clothes as if he had just wandered in from the street.

Part of Calvin wanted to march right up to Damien and drag him out of the church by his ear. Instead he decided to stand back and wait.

The song ended, and the congregation sat down. Somebody came forward with a loaf of bread for the priest. The congregants bowed their heads as he said a prayer, sprinkling it with what Calvin assumed was holy water before placing it reverently on a small table to the side of the church. Then baskets of more bread and other foods were brought out and given a similar treatment.

Calvin had no idea what any of this meant. He was checking his watch impatiently.

The baskets were taken away and put with the other food as the priest finally looked up. He smiled through his thick beard. “Christ is risen! Let us celebrate with the feast!”

A few people called “Amen!” while everybody rose and made their way to the food. Calvin immediately stepped forward, taking long strides through the crowd. Damien was about halfway to the food when he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately spun around.

“What are you doing here this late?!”

Calvin’s voice was low and quivering with suppressed anger. Damien’s mouth twitched into the tiniest scowl as he locked eyes with Calvin.

“Well, I was about to eat.”

“About to---do you have any idea what time it is?!”

“3:30?”

“Yeah! 3:30 A.M.! What on Earth makes you think you can sneak out of the house this late at night?!”

“Would you have let me come if I’d asked?”

“Not this late!”

“Then I guess I had to sneak out, didn’t I?”

“Damien—!”

Now it was Calvin’s turn to jump as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me,” the priest said, his tone clipped. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Calvin gave the man a harsh look, but the priest didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. “Damien, do you know this man?”

Damien’s defiance seemed to vanish; his eyes fell to the floor. “It’s alright, Father. This is my legal guardian du jour.”

“Oh!” The priest let out a nervous laugh as he removed his hand from Calvin’s shoulder and extended it instead. “Excuse me, then—I don’t believe the two of us have met. I’m Father Michael.”

His tone had immediately become more friendly. Calvin forced a smile as he shook his hand. “Calvin Kim. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine. Damien, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest to our Pascha feast this year.”

“Didn’t I?” Damien’s tone was just deadpan enough for Father Michael to miss the sarcasm.

“Actually, Damien and I can’t stay. Er—a sudden change of plans.”

Damien opened his mouth to object, but Father Michael spoke first. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No, no—we just really need to get home.” He spoke rather pointedly, giving his foster-son a look. Damien glared back.

“I’ll get my coat,” he muttered, heading back to the pew where he had been sitting.

Father Michael was still smiling pleasantly, and Calvin forced himself to follow suit. “Awfully late, having a service that doesn’t even start until midnight,” he observed, a slight edge to his voice.

The priest chuckled. “Don’t I know it. But it’s an old Easter tradition.” He seemed to sense Calvin’s discomfort. “It’s very kind of you to bring Damien down this year, Mr. Kim. He usually comes here alone, since his poor grandmother passed.”

“Hmm. Well...he does seem to want to spend a lot of time here, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, It’s a pleasure to meet such a devoted young man.”

Damien reappeared in his heavy beige trench coat. Calvin took hold of his shoulder again, trying to keep his grip gentle but firm. He felt Damien’s muscles tighten beneath his hand.

“It was very nice to meet you, Mister—Father Michael.”

“My pleasure. Will you and Damien be back for our afternoon service?” he asked as the two headed to the door.

“I will,” Damien said before Calvin had a chance to answer. Calvin gave him a sharp look, unconsciously tightening his grip.

A moment later both of them settled into the car, slamming their respective doors in anger. Calvin had already pulled out of the parking lot before he had calmed himself enough to speak.

“It was 2 A.M. Your foster-brother wakes us up to say that your bed is empty. For all we knew you could have been dead in a ditch—”

“I told you months ago—if you don’t know where I am, I’m at the church.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to sneak out in the middle of the night, Damien!” Calvin took another deep breath. “Mandy and I have no problem with you going there in your free time, but—”

“So I can go to the service tomorrow afternoon.”

Calvin’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You could have, except as of this moment, you’re grounded.”

“I go every year.” Calvin didn’t answer. Damien’s voice was flat and low. “You can’t stop me.”

Calvin felt another surge of anger. “Damien, you will not talk to me—or Mandy—in that tone, do you understand me? As long as you are living in our house—”

“Oh, for another month, then?”

Calvin’s eyes darted to the mirror, trying to make out Damien’s face in the darkness. “What is that supposed to mean?’

Damien’s eyes were narrow, glaring out the window. It was a moment before he answered. “Look, Calvin, I like you and Mandy enough. But we both know this is a flash in the pan. In a few months they’ll decide to send me to a new home, or my mom will get out of rehab again, and I’ll be gone. But I’ve gone to St. Seraphim my entire life, so it rates a little higher on my list of priorities, alright?” He crossed his arms and settled into the backseat moodily. “I’ve been to twenty different homes in the last four years. Excuse me if I want some damn continuity in my life.”

Calvin’s response was calmer, but still low. “That doesn’t give you the right to sneak out in the middle of the night.”

Damien gave no response, spoken or otherwise. Calvin glared back at the road. A few vague thoughts occurred to him. For one, how unusual this topic was compared to most cases of teenage rebellion. Secondly, the fact that there probably wasn’t anything that he or his wife could do to keep Damien from going back to that church the next day. They could lock him in his room and he would just break through a window. (According to his social worker, he had broken a lot of windows in those nineteen other foster homes.)

Ultimately, Calvin had two choices: admit that Damien was too much for them to handle and give him to another family, or surrender some ground to make a more defensible position.

“You’re grounded for the next week. And either Mandy or I are coming with you to your service tomorrow.” He tried his best to sound as though this was a legitimate punishment.

Calvin saw Damien quirk an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. His mouth turned in a small, indecipherable frown.

A long silence passed before Calvin spoke again. “You must care about that church a lot, don’t you?”

“Obviously,” Damien mumbled; Calvin suspected he had been starting to doze. And then, in a very small voice, “They’re my family.”

Calvin frowned slightly as his eyes wandered back to the road.