The Awakening Read Free

was suffering from.  He nodded but said nothing as he slipped them into his pocket.
    It was pouring rain as he stepped outside, but he barely felt it.  His car seemed an eternity away as he crossed the parking lot, paying no mind to the water rushing into his shoes from the puddles forming on the pavement.  His car door opened with a loud creak and he slid inside.  It smelled like work, like coffee and stale pastries, and printer ink from the files he carried around everywhere.
    He wondered how he could possibly give up; possibly lose his job, his life, because of some brain tumor.  He’d never been really sick a day in his life, and now this?  Sure, he drank and smoked a little, but he worked out and ate healthy and never in a million years thought he’d be taken out this way.
    “Jesus,” he whispered as he flipped down his visor and opened the mirror.  He looked like a ghost, his skin white as a sheet except under his eyes where it was nearly black.  His eyes, themselves, were bloodshot, and his hair hung in little curls against his forehead, dripping with the rain.  He let out a laugh, the sound of it nearly startling him and then he said aloud, “I think I’m going to die.”

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
                  Mark sat behind his desk, his fingers pressed to his eyes.  In the room, he heard the scribbles of pencils across paper, and in the back, a faint clicking of a student sending texts on their cell phone.  Mark sighed and dropped his hands.  He’d never been a teacher before, he’d been talked into it by Sacred Heart administration, and he had quickly discovered instructing children was as irritating and trying as he had imagined it would be.
    Rising, Mark opened his eyes, revealing the milky-white stare of a blind man.  He grabbed his cane and with gentle swishing, made his way up the aisle to the sound of the student on their phone.  He held out his hand and cleared his throat.
    “Father Roman? ” came a timid female voice.
    “I’m blind, but I’m not stupid.  I said no mobile phones.  Hand it over, or fail,” he said , his words rich with a heavy Russian accent.  A moment of silence passed before the small, heavy object was placed into his palm.  He slipped it into the pocket of his teaching jacket and walked back to his desk.
    He heard faint whispers of surprise, though he wondered how these students could possibly be surprised every time he caught them misbehaving, as they’d been doing this for several months now.  It was the generation, Mark supposed, and the western belief in being absolutely impervious to consequence.
    Mark had come over from Russia, his accent poignant and syntax devoid of most modern slang, but he was well educated and deeply in love with literature.  It was why he was pressured into taking the job as a teacher, though he’d simply come over for some respite from the cold and pressure to move to a Russian Orthodox Church instead of Catholic.
    Mark didn’t do well socially, most of the time, feeling a sort of distance between himself and the other professors.  The only person who insisted on making herself a friend was a woman named Abby.  She was hysterical more often than not, obsessed with religious miracles, and absolutely in love with Mark, though Mark refused to acknowledge that fact.
    He didn’t know a great deal about her appearance, but she smelled nice and her voice was soft.  She also knew he was well versed in the area of religious miracles and mythology, and was constantly bringing him articles, old and new, of instances where statues bled, people were raised from the dead, and images of the holy mother appeared in toast.
    Despite being educated in the area, Mark had always found those things rather silly, but he liked Abby’s company and humored her.  She was the only one who didn’t pressure him to talk about his past during polite conversation, and Mark’s past was something he wanted to avoid.  Mark was the kind