The grogginess surrounding his head made the sound of the voice hovering over him seem far away and muffled, like he had just awaken under water. With a groan, he started to sit up, but a cramping pain in his gut forced him back down. He gripped fruitlessly at the lengths of hair on his head, trying to distract himself from the intense pain radiating from his abdomen. With a wave of nausea washing over him, he forced himself onto his side and threw up into the floor next to where he was laying. A hand on his shoulder made him tremble, something was missing, he could feel it in his shoulder blades, a comforting weight that belonged there was gone.
"Sonny, you don't look so good, can you tell me how you got in here at eleven am on a Monday night?" A male voice asked and he managed to open his eyes enough to peer up at the man in night robes holding a flashlight that had been turned off when the lights in the sanctuary were turned on. He had a clean-shaven face, stormy blue eyes and dark, untamed, wavy hair.
"Wait, I m in a church?" The man on the floor questioned, looking around with a baffled expression on his face.
"Yes, at the St. Gabriel Catholic church in San Gabriel California, just about ten miles out side of Los Angeles, I am Father Charles. Do you mind telling me your name?" Father Charles asked patiently and the man tilted his head.
"Free man, free will." He mumbled, some how knowing what the man's name meant and Father Charles blinked slowly.
"Excuse me, did you say something?" Father Charles asked, concerned at the spacey look to the other man s eyes.
"It was nothing, my name is.. I don't seem to know my name, Father Charles." He trailed off, unsure how to answer the priest, the strain of trying to remember made a foreign feeling of tiredness came over him and he wasn t sure why he suddenly felt so drained. I don t feel right something is missing Father. I can t remember how I came to be here either, my gut hurts like I ve been stabbed, but I don t feel any wound He said lifting up his shirt just to make sure; there was an angry looking round scar, but no wound.
"How about we work on cleaning this mess up and then we will worry about your laps in memory after. If your memory does not return by then, you might need to see a doctor." Father Charles said calmly with an understanding smile, striding off toward a hall after the other man was on his feet.
"You know I get the funniest feeling I know you for some reason." He said as he followed Father Charles out of the sanctuary, to a supply closet in the hallway. They set to work getting out paper towels and other cleaning supplies they would need to clean the spot on the floor.
"Anything is possible, but the possibility that we have met in this life time is very unlikely." Father Charles said enigmatically, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"I am sure you will remember who you are in due time, no need to worry about it at the moment. In the mean time, how about we take care of the task at hand, shall we?" Father Charles asked, gently guiding him back toward the sanctuary to clean up the vomit from his earlier mishap.
It took no time at all to clean the carpet of the contents of his stomach, they only indication that there had been any mess at all was the now drying wet spot. Father Charles led him out side into the warm, night air, down a stone pathway to a house behind the church. Father Charles guided him into a seat in the small kitchen, before setting a teapot on the stove to boil, followed by opening the cupboards to retrieve cups and a zip-lock bag of chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. An elderly lady bakes them for me once a week; they are simply the best cookie I have ever had. Father Charles boasted, he took one and devoured it in three bites.
"These are amazing! They are sweet, yummy goodness. I like sweet I think." He said, pausing to think about it, but nothing in his short memory could tell him why he knew he liked sweets so much, just that he did.
"I'm rather partial to them myself." Father Charles said with a smile, and ate one himself, offering the bag back to him as he removed the now steaming teapot of water. He measured out a couple spoonfuls of tealeaves in the tea ball and placed it in the teapot to set, eating another cookie to try to fill the awkward silence that had settled in the room. They drank their tea, the occasional clink of porcelain against metal or counter top the only sound permeating through the silence.
"Um, look, thank you for the cookies and tea; but, I still don't remember anything, so I ll get out of your hair now." He said, not sure what to do, other then try to find a hospital. He stood, turning to leave and Father Charles made a noise of protest, halting him.
"Wait son, why don't you stay the night and I will drive you to the hospital in the morning?" Father Charles offered causing a sudden feeling of uplifting familiarity washed over him and tears to spring up in the corners of his eyes.
"Thank you Father this means a lot to me." He said, sniffing and trying to push back the tears that threatened to fall.
"All are welcome in the House of God, son, especially those who are lost." Father Charles said softly with a warm, understanding smile and he lost it, the floodgates bursting allowing his tears to flow without further restraint.
"Ha ha, look at that, some mushy words and I burst into tears, not very manly of me." He said jokingly, trying to make light of his feelings, it was almost like coming home after a long time and he couldn t figure out why, he didn t know Father Charles.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, I don't think I would be doing as well as you if I had lost my memories. Father Charles said and he nodded, drying his eyes some. "Would you like anything else before bed, I have a fully stocked kitchen; you're welcome to anything in it." Father Charles offered.
"No thank you, I would just like to get some sleep if that's alright?" He asked Father Charles, who set the cups in the sink and rinses out the teapot.
"That is perfectly fine; you will unfortunately have to sleep on the couch, as there is only one bedroom in the house." Father Charles explained.
"That's perfect." He said, though it was not really an option, he didn't really care where he slept, just as long as he did it soon. The thought of that s why people are always cranky when tired, made him wonder why sleeping would not be a normal thing for him, he knew for a fact that all people needed to sleep. Shrugging to himself as he followed Father Charles into the sitting room, he glanced around the Victorian decorated room, wondering when the house was built. He took a seat on the couch when Father Charles asked him to wait while he fetched some sheets and a blanket. When Father Charles returned he stood and Father Charles covered the couch in one sheet, tucking it and then set the pillow and blanket on one end for him to use.
"If you need anything my room is just up stairs, last door in the hall, the bathroom is also upstairs to the left and the study is on the right. You are welcome to the books in the study, but I ask that you return anything you get out, back to where you removed it from once you are done." Father Charles said tiredly, it was obvious he was not used to staying up late at night.
"I can't repay you for what you're doing for me, I don't think I have any money, but I can't thank you enough, I get the feeling it's been a very long time since someone was this nice to me." He said and Father Charles smiled kindly.
"I'm not rich, especially with the recent trouble I've had with someone stealing my credit card number, but I can hold out until you re back up on your feet, so don't worry about it. I am sure it is the Lord's will, in bringing you here for me to look after. So get some rest and we will discuss what needs to be done in the morning." Father Charles said and left it at that, going to bed after what was probably a rather long night for him.