Free Ceremony of Flies by Kate Jonez Page B

kind to Rex. He isn’t bad. Not at all. I’d hook up with him under normal circumstances, but circumstances aren’t all that normal.
    “Yeah, I can see that.” I smile at him. I don’t think I’ve smiled once through this whole thing. It feels good.
    “I’m going to look into that once we get to Mexico.” Rex scratches his leg with his thumbnail. Then he scratches his neck. That fly bite looks like it’s getting infected. It’s swelling up.
    That’s pretty awesome that Rex is planning what to do in Mexico. It’s like we’re together in this for real.
    Cool.
    It feels like we’re at a motel, like we’re on some family vacation. The stuff that happened—Vegas, Barstow—seems like a long time ago. Like it happened to somebody else. I get this feeling like we’re in Mexico already.
    Safe.
    The outline of The Padre, as Rex insists on calling him, materializes at the distant edge of the mission compound. He’s got Harvey sitting up on his shoulders, which is seriously weird considering how hard Harvey fought when the father first suggested he show Harvey the well. I like the idea that someone else would be in charge of the kid for a minute so I pulled him off me and handed him over. That kid can really scream. I’m not sure why he would need to see a well, but whatever. Maybe the father secretly baptized him. Couldn’t hurt, I guess. The kid seems like he’s going to grow up to be a troublemaker.
    Baldy lopes along beside the boy and the priest. Their shapes are silhouettes that gradually take on dimension. At least he’s bringing Harvey back. All priests can’t be bad, right?
    I’m not sure what this feeling is I have. It’s kind of like having a two-beer buzz when a band is playing a really great song. I wish we could all stay frozen in this old-postcard moment forever.
    The padre, Harvey and the dog get close enough for the twilight to light up their features. The jowly good-natured face of the priest looks kind and peaceful…or whatever that look is that religious people wear on their face. He looks like an ideal priest. A statue.
    Harvey does not look happy. He’s wearing a scowl that would put my old boss Mort to shame. His fingers are knotted in the father’s hair. That’s got to hurt. Baldy is watchful and wary, as tense as a cat.
    The father swings the boy down from his shoulders and plants him on the ground. Harvey runs full out toward me and Rex. He holds out his arms and leaps into my arms. “Kitty. Don’t ever make me go with him again.”
    His voice is different. It doesn’t sound so grown-up anymore. It sounds like he’s been auto-tuned up into the kid register. Kitty! What the fuck? I open my mouth to correct him but I don’t. What the hell is he supposed to call me? I think through the obvious possibilities, my name for example. Do I really want a kid yelling out my name at all the wrong times? Kitty’s the best of the bunch. It will have to do.
    “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
    I’m thinking of every story I’ve ever heard about priests and kids. Shit. I hope I didn’t fuck up already.
    The weird naked dog jumps up on Rex and licks his face. I will never get used to that dog. Rex doesn’t seem to mind. He tousles its rubbery head and chuckles.
    “Nothing happened. No one was injured. Isn’t that right, son.” The father is breathing kind of heavy, loud enough to hear, and he’s sagging like he’s worn out. He is a pretty old guy.
    Harvey grins. It’s a malevolent twisted thing that doesn’t belong on the face of a child. “That is correct. The priest could do nothing to me.”
    Rex gets up and gives the father his seat. This saves me from having to do it. I’m glad I’m not a dude.
    The father drops into Rex’s chair with an old-man grunt. “Run along and play fetch with your dog.” The father throws a baseball across the courtyard to where Sister Azzie is piling up bundles of sticks in a heap like she’s planning to make a gigantic bonfire. “Let the