181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 45: God Is Not a Wishing Well

But of course, it didn't end with that. Fate wanted to make life harder for me.

"You know," Iola said with obvious disgust as her grip on her bag strap tightened, "just simply tell us you're in a relationship, and I'm backing off. You're flirting with her and with someone else? C'mon. You can do better than that."

Mickey straightened up. She looked insulted, and it was noticeable by how she raised her brows and moved her neck, like that of a snake preparing to attack. She smirked and looked at Iola, accepting a challenge only the two of them seemed to understand. "Oh, you would?"

My classmates, wide-eyed at Iola's tactless remark and Mickey's fearless comment, whispered at one another. Even Steph tucked her lips in, not because she was scared but because she was excited about what was happening. I rolled my eyes when I saw my only ally trying so hard not to smile.

"Okay, this is enough," I said as I faced them both. "I'm going to the chapel. Steph, come with me."

"Ch-chapel?! Why are we going to—"

"Let's go."

I pulled Steph as we exited the classroom's door, leaving Mickey and Iola behind. I didn't know what they'd do after. I just wanted to be out of the scene and be in a place no one would expect me to go, hence the trip to the chapel.

"Seriously, Madeline Jesty Jacobs?" I laughed when Steph spoke my full name. "Two ladies fighting for your love and you decide to go to the chapel?"

"Oh, you're enjoying this, do you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'd love to have your problem."

Oh no, you don't, I thought, wondering if Steph would love to trade places with me—a woman desperate to feel her worth and make a mark in her remaining days.

"Gosh, Maddie!" Steph continued to daydream. "Even the girls want to have a piece of you now. How many times do you pray to God for this to happen?"

I rolled my eyes. "God is not a wishing well."

"Okay, Sister Maddie," she joked, ending our conversation as we got to the chapel. Only a maintenance staff, a woman in her fifties, swiping the floor and cleaning the pews was there when we arrived.

Ironic how our institution is one of the largest Catholic schools in the country but we only had one common venue for prayer, which was almost empty every day. It could accommodate one whole year level at most, but monthly school-wide masses would need to happen in the multipurpose building and then special religious ceremonies in the auditorium.

Honestly, I didn't mind. It was nicer this way, especially at this much needed time for peace and calm. Although cathedrals were majestic, they intimidated me. Chapels were nicer and felt more intimate. Good thing that the stained-glass bifold doors were pushed to the side, implying the venue was open at any time of the day.

We sat on one of the back pews and stayed silent for a few seconds. Steph looked at me with her questioning eyes. "We're really doing this?"

"No,I'm doing this. I only dragged you here so I have a reason to leave that situation."

"You could've mentioned any place, but you chose the chapel."

I'm not sure why too, I wanted to say, but I only sighed in response. "Not in a mood for an after-party. I'm not feeling too well."

"Oh . . ." She used the back of her palm to feel my neck and forehead. "Are you sick?"

"I feel like I'm about to."

"I get that," she replied. "You should contact your driver."

"I'll message Troy. I just need a moment."

Steph noticed the change in my demeanor and tone and realized I was serious about staying in the chapel for a while. This wasn't in my plan today. I was actually about to say yes to Steph and Iola a while ago, but circumstances changed, and my mind seemed to order me to go find somewhere I could be alone.

"All right." Steph stood and sighed. "Remember to message me when you get home, 'kay?" After I nodded, she walked away, leaving me alone in the chapel.

I took a deep breath. It was only then that I heard birds chirping and leaves being swayed by the breeze, which reminded me of the countryside. We hadn't visited there after what happened to Dad, but I could still remember the solemnity of watching the fields. This made me think that both the countryside and our "home" gave me time to be alone—but one gave me peace; the other, loneliness.

"I miss you, Dad," I whispered. "Mom's alive, but I miss her too. Her spirit left with you, you know? Seven . . . seven's a young age. Why'd you go missing like that?"

A tear fell on my cheek, which I quickly wiped. The least I wanted to deal with right now was a friendly maintenance staff chatting with me, asking me if I was fine. I might be rude to Jane and company, but I could be conversational and polite with strangers.

"I always think about what could have been if you're alive," I continued. "Will Mom and I be like sisters? She still looks young, by the way. I remember that time she told me to fuck off because I broke her watch, and ever since, I thought she was childish. I kind of hated that side of her before . . . but now, I long for it. I wish she could . . . she could tell me to fuck off when I break something at home. But . . . she wouldn't even talk to me."

A whimper nearly escaped my mouth, but I was able to hold it in. I smiled and looked up at the huge crucifix hanging on the wall. "We'll be reunited soon, I guess . . . I hope. But for now, let me enjoy this stay for a while—"

The maintenance staff tripped on one of the front pews, so I paused my thoughts to ask her if she was okay. She nodded and went back to her duties.

I sat once again, trying to remain unbothered by her presence, but she didn't seem she'd finish anytime soon. God says it's not the time reminisce, I joked to myself and prepared to leave.

As I was about to exit the chapel, I saw Mickey already by the door. I thought she was merely passing by, but her hands on the door and her eyes looking around the chapel as if she was looking for someone told me otherwise.

"Mickey? How'd you find me?" I asked, shocked that she was able to follow me to the chapel, and walked toward her.

"Y-your Majesty, w-why are you here?"

Her question sounded troubled than relieved. A "you're not supposed to be here" statement rather than a "thank goodness, I found you." It made me think that she wasn't there to find me but to look for something—or someone—else.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, of all places to find you . . . why the chapel?"

Oh, I guess I was wrong then.

Mickey looked at the woman in her fifties who continued her duties, and then she looked left and right to find nobody else. "It's just odd to see you here."

"Do I seem too unreligious that I am not allowed entry here?"

"No, no," Mickey said defensively. "It's just that . . ." She sighed before continuing. "Maybe God really brought me here."

I gave her a puzzled look. "Why, did you wish that you'd find me here?"

With a smile, Mickey replied as she grabbed my hand, "Your Majesty, God is not a wishing well."

My mouth dropped as she pulled me to walk forward and casually waved to the maintenance staff. I wanted to ask if she heard my monologue, but I was just too stunned and astonished how our brains worked similarly. These thoughts, however, were quickly pushed away by another question from her.

"Would you mind coming with me later?"

"I thought you need to leave early on Fridays."

"Yeah, but this time, I want you to be around."

I agreed without question. Maybe she was so jealous of the time I spent with Iola, or maybe she just wanted to make up for lost time. Whatever it was, I willingly went with it, fascinated by how my days with Mickey felt longer and shorter at the same time.