Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

27. Rossini

It's a true tragedy when you witness such a sweet soul at their lowest. Loss is the toughest reality of life. Followed by the toughest lesson: acceptance of God's plan.

It's 5 PM. Marcel has been locked away in his room. To not have heard his laugh or witnessed his big smile today made it feel as if we weren't sharing the same continent.

I'm an editor, but I've never hated silence so much until now. I am powerless. The only thing I can do is turn to the highest.

My session with God is ruined by my phone. I don't even look at the screen as I set it to silent. Bringing my hands back together and lowering my head, I start from the beginning.

"Dear God,

I know I may not come to you as often as I should, but I'm here for a friend. A friend." A scoff pulls me from my emotional and mental investment. "Yes. A really good guy and soul. I mean... you would know, you took your time with him. Marcel is hurting in ways that I don't know how to comfort because I'm still dealing with my own unresolved trauma. Please bring him relief by pouring your grace on to him. Knowing he's hurt is one thing, but having him completely drop his pride and defense shows he's questing for freedom. Freedom from pain, wonder and maybe his life. Is that why he travels so much?" I pause my thoughts to reflect. "I turn to you, because this is the most powerful and significant gesture I can make. His pain literally brought me to my knees. God, please shed your light on him. Amen."

Just as I finish, I set my chin on the bed, eyes darting to my vibrating phone. I want to throw it out of the window. Lifting from my knees, I snatch up the device. Ella's face may be smiling on the lock screen, but I'm positive she's not smiling from 902 miles away.

Throwing my head back, I release an annoyed groan, "Uuggghhh."

"Your annoying friends?"

"Hey. What's up?" I greet Marcel with a warm smile, tossing my phone over my shoulder. He smiles at the quick discard.

"What's up?" He comes into my room to sit on the bed. "What were you praying about? It's not like a wish. If you tell me, God will still guide you."

"You were spying on me?"

"I came to check on you and the door was parted." He looks back over.

"Better days for a sweet friend of mine," I reveal my prayer. 

Marcel looks into his lap – upon his heavily ringed fingers – then back to me. "They're lucky to have you."

"Or maybe I'm lucky to have them." I tuck my hair behind my ear after pulling a leg on to the bed. I earn another closed-mouthed grin from him. Please just show me your pearly whites.

"Did you want to do anything today?"

"Eat pizza." I keep it simple, not wanting him to think we lost the day. Honestly, I didn't want to do anything, but eat.

"All we do is eat." He grants my wish by giving me a soft beam.

"But we have to. It's kind of necessary." I hold my bent knee against my chest. "Plus, something tells me they have the best in the world. I want to eat my weight in it."

"I'll have to carry you back."

"Roll me. It'll be easier on your back." I reciprocate the joke. 

Marcel's eyes soften as his eyes begin their occasional Angel Voyage. "Thank you for earlier." 

I witness the trouble in the praise as he swallows. "Thank you for telling me." I keep my voice soft, wanting nothing more than to cause ease within him. I can tell he had cast more tears since this morning. His green eyes hold a light-pink smog. As disheartening as it may be, it's so pretty.