Free The Sorrow King by Andersen Prunty Page B

bothers me a lot and I guess I wouldn’t be human if it didn’t bother me but I don’t think it could have come at a worse time and I’m just now starting to get used to her being dead and do you know how that makes me feel?”
    “ Guilty as hell?”
    “ That’s exactly right. Guilty as hell. I feel like there is always this part of me that has to carry around some melancholy and if I feel happy for even a second then I feel guilty.”
    “ You know she would have wanted you to be happy. Above all things, I think that was what she cared about the most. She probably wouldn’t mind seeing me crucified and, I don’t know, tarred and feathered or something, but I think she would want you to be happy.”
    “ And, deep down, I know that. But then there are all these other sad things. Like the kids killing themselves. Why does that have to happen? And it makes me feel like I’m being . . . hunted or something. If all of these kids can just pick up and kill themselves then what’s to say I’m not going to do that one day? After all, that’s why we’re having this talk, isn’t it? Because I’m a walking textbook example of a potential suicide. I’m depressed out of my skull. I sleep all the time. I don’t have any friends. I don’t have anybody to talk to and the one friend that I was able to make in that whole school had to be dragged away by his parents because his dad found some stupid job somewhere else.”
    “ I have enough faith in you to know you are not going to kill yourself.”
    “ Then why are we having this conversation. Are you as guilty about Mom dying as I am?”
    “ We’re having this conversation because I thought it would be a good thing for us to sit down and talk because we haven’t really done much of that over the past couple of years.”
    “ Well, we’re really talking now.” He didn’t know if Steven was more upset or angry to be opening up.
    “ There’s another reason we’re having this conversation, though.”
    “ What’s that?”
    “ I’ll get to it. I went to the park and saw Ken yesterday.”
    “ Ken?”
    “ Yeah, Ken Blanchard. I’m sure you’ve heard me mention him before. He’s that old guy who comes through town about once a year.”
    “ Yeah . . . Drifter Ken. I think I remember you mentioning him once or twice.”
    “ Well, he always has some pretty interesting things to say but it’s all usually pretty down-to-earth. You know, hillbilly wisdom or something. But yesterday he said something I found a little odd.”
    “ What’s that?”
    “ He said he thought Gethsemane was poisoned.”
    There was silence again. Connor could tell Steven was thinking about this, much like he had just yesterday.
    “ Did he elaborate at all?”
    “ As a matter of fact, he did. He said he was sitting in the park and swore he saw ghosts going into the water tower. What do you make of that?”
    “ Yeah, I’d believe that.”
    “ So, without even really thinking about it too much, you immediately believe some old guy who may or may not be crazy saw ghosts going into the water tower?”
    “ Yes. You didn’t tell me he was crazy. Did you think he was crazy before he told you this or after?”
    “ After.”
    “ If he hadn’t said crazy things before then I’d believe him. That makes a big difference. A preacher tells you he sees God and that’s just an occupational hazard. An atheist tells you he sees God and your belief muscles flex a little.”
    “ What the hell have you been reading?” Connor waved the question away. “So why would you believe him?”
    “ Because believing in things like that makes the world a more interesting place. Besides, it’s not like he was saying it to get attention or anything. He wasn’t talking to a reporter. He was telling you what he saw. There’s nothing wrong with that. People see things in different ways. Some people see war as a way of obtaining peace. Others see war as murder. Some people see clouds in the sky. Other