Free Nothing but Smoke (Fire and Rain) by Daisy Harris

mind, despite all the evidence. Maybe it had been Michael’s dick in Nicky’s mouth that did it, but Nicky didn’t think so. The night before last, he’d felt powerful and desirable, like he was gaining this whole side of himself that had been locked away.
    Next to the mirror hung a picture of fields stretched out and leading to a lake—a cheap knockoff of some famous painting Nicky didn’t know the name of. He could see why his mom liked it enough to keep it somewhere they’d both see it every day. The painting was about hope.
    “Nicky?” Father MacKenzie called down the hall.
    “Yeah?”
    “Your mother needs to talk to you about some things.” That sounded ominous enough to set Nicky on edge and make him forget about the shower he’d been about to take.
    He grabbed a shirt out of the hamper and pulled it over his head. “I’ll be right there.”
    For once, the TV was off. Father MacKenzie sat in a hard-backed chair, his hands folded between his knees.
    “Good morning, Nicky.” Father MacKenzie stood. He’d known their family forever, married his parents and baptized Nicky. Though Nicky hadn’t been to weekly mass since he was in high school, he still went to church for Christmas and Easter.
    “G’morning, Father.” Nicky ducked his head in respect.
    Father MacKenzie held his hand a little longer than Nicky would have expected. His fingers were bony and cool, but the warmth in his face was undeniable. “How are you holding up?”
    “Oh, fine.” Nicky pulled his hand away. Those searching eyes saw way more than Nicky wanted. Sure, his buddies at the station knew about his mom’s condition. The home healthcare aides and the nurses and doctors at the hospital knew as well. But Father MacKenzie was the only person he considered like a friend who saw Nicky’s day-to-day life.
    “Well, you’re doing a great job around here.” Father MacKenzie nodded at the house. Nicky guessed he meant that the place wasn’t a complete disaster and Nicky and his mother weren’t living in squalor.
    Nicky had seen a couple of his friends’ bachelor pads. Dirty dishes and old pizza boxes sat on their coffee tables, and their carpets hadn’t been vacuumed in weeks. Nicky couldn’t imagine his mom living somewhere like that. She’d exhaust herself trying to clean.
    “Thanks.” Nicky grabbed a chair from its spot against the wall and pulled it to the opposite side of the couch from where Father MacKenzie was sitting. “So what’s up?” He forced his tone to be light and conversational, even though he could feel tension churning in the room.
    “Your mother…” Father MacKenzie started, but his mom reached from her spot on the couch like she’d take his hand.
    Father MacKenzie met her halfway so she didn’t have to lean so far.
    With her hand linked with the priest’s, his mother turned to him. “Nicky, I think it’s time we talked about my living somewhere else.”
    Something clicked in Nicky’s chest, pumping adrenaline through him as hard as if the alarm had just gone off at the station. Trying to keep his voice even, he answered, “You want us to move?” Maybe she wanted them closer to the hospital. They could sell the place and move into an apartment, though Nicky wondered if the stress of seeing all her belongings packed in boxes might be too much for her.
    “Nicky.” Her eyes sparkled as she teased him. She must have taken a pain pill pretty recently, because her smile was more relaxed than he’d seen from her since she came back from the hospital. “You know what I’m talking about. It’s time we started talking about residential care.”
    So fast he got a crick in his neck, Nicky twisted his gaze away. A statue sat on top of the television—Virgin Mary nested in a couple of doors that opened on hinges. Most of his mom’s artwork was tasteful, but the background on this statue was gold and the folds of Mary’s robe hung in bright shades of pink and blue that Nicky was fairly certain