Chapter 43: Normandy Bound
"When I chose to baptize you, I promised God and myself that I would look out for you. This is part of that promise."
Kurt stood beside Father Dietrich at the dock. Behind them the Portsmouth to Caen, France ferry's engines idled. Cars will still making a slow procession onto its decks. The circus too was packed and ready to move on, it's trucks parked in the distance.
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Wolfgang asked.
Kurt nodded.
"I'll miss you." Brin said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Try not to push it. I sprained my ankle once and all I wanted to do was dance. I kept re-injuring it and then it took even longer to heal. I know how hard this must be for you."
Kurt nodded in understanding, but not empathy. He knew that he should be feeling the way Brin described, but oddly enough he didn't.
"I won't be gone long." Kurt said. He traded hugs and hand shakes with Lars, James, and Sven. It was strange saying goodbye to so many people at once, almost overwhelming. He had been so excited at the prospect of staying with Father Dietrich that he hadn't realized the sacrifice it required. He'd never spent more than a few hours apart from any of these people and now it would be weeks. Kurt looked out towards the trucks, trying to catch a glimpse of Margali or Amanda, both of them were conspicuously absent from the group who had come to see them off at the dock.
"Your bags are all set." Christian said, jogging up from the opposite direction. "You can collect them when you get to France."
"Thanks Christian." Father Dietrich said.
"I've decided to stay." Wolfgang announced, "with the circus."
Kurt looked confused. Father Dietrich raised his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement of his choice, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. He could hardly congratulate Wolfgang for reversing a decision he never should have made in the first place.
Christian looked at the two of them appraisingly and started laughing.
"Yes?" Father Dietrich asked.
Still laughing Christian said, "This is so great. You guys have to play some practical jokes on people. Like, stand on either side of someone and argue about whether they should sleep with their neighbor's wife or something. Or, Father you could spill your holy water on Kurt and he could pretend he was melting." He did a quick imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West's famous exit from Wizard of Oz.
Christian's performance was met with stunned silence. "Oh come on," he said. "Tell me you weren't all thinking the same thing."
After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Father Dietrich cleared his throat. "I'm sure we were all thinking along the same lines Christian. It's just that you were the only one with enough bad taste to say it aloud." He said.
Christian made a face. "Well, that's what I'm for I guess. Sorry Father. I was trying to lighten the mood."
"It's quite alright." Father Dietrich turned to Kurt. "Ready?" He asked.
Kurt nodded, pulling up his hood.
He followed Father Dietrich down the gangplank and as he stepped on board gave a last look out at the brightly painted trucks of Circus Gehlhaar. It was a lot harder to watch them leave than he was expecting. After so many years spent traveling in those trucks he never thought he'd see them pull away without him.
They had only been traveling for a few hours when Father Dietrich found himself alone, the seat beside him against the window of the ferry's passenger compartment empty. Though most of the passengers arrived by car, he and Kurt were some of the few to walk on. Six hours at sea was too long to spend sitting in the below in the cramped car park, so the ferry's top deck was equipped with a large lounge and a separate compartment with seats for ticketed walk on passengers. It was mainly empty and they found a pair of seats by the window.
Kurt took the window seat and for a few moments busied himself with a blanket, curling up on the seat to face the window and wrapping it around himself with a practiced nonchalance. When he was done, Father Dietrich could only see Kurt's silhouette and it appeared that Kurt was simply an average passenger taking a nap. He sat down beside him and it wasn't long before the hum of the engines had lulled him to sleep as well and so Father Dietrich was surprised when he woke up to see Kurt's blanket lying empty on his seat.
A quick inventory of the boat decks found Kurt towards the ferry's bow, standing at the railing. It wasn't hard to recognize him since he was the only one wearing a long winter coat on such a bright summer day and the fact that he had given up fighting with the wind to keep his hood from blowing off made it even easier.
"How are you feeling?" Father Dietrich asked as he leaned against the railing.
"Terrible" said Kurt. "It's not fair. I was so excited; I'd never been on a boat and I love all those old movies of Wolfgang's. You know, Captain Blood, The Sea Hawks, Scaramouche; adventure on the high seas. I thought only people with poor balance got sea sick."
Father Dietrich shrugged. "So did I."
"Last time, on the way to Britain, everybody kept saying I would feel better if I went above decks" Kurt said. "So this time I came out here."
"And do you feel better?"
Kurt shook his head. "Not really." He put his elbows on the railing and rested his chin in his hands. "It just feels like the whole world keeps sliding away. I can't explain it. How much longer do we have?"
Father Dietrich looked at his watch. "About four more hours. I didn't mean to fall asleep; that's what happens to me on boats." He laughed. "When I was in the military we spent a month on an American aircraft carrier and I got nicknamed 'the sleeping priest'. It was a little embarrassing."
"That doesn't sound as bad as 'the vomiting blue acrobat'," Kurt said dolefully.
Father Dietrich laughed. "No, you're right. I think I got off light considering."
Kurt started to laugh as well, but then stopped suddenly. "Oh no, not again." He mumbled and moved a few feet away to quietly retch over the side. When he was finished he turned around and sat down on the deck with his back against the railing.
"I think I officially hate this." Kurt said.
Father Dietrich sat down next to him. "I still have those pills that Dr. Mallory gave you," he said.
Kurt sighed. "The ones that will make me 'drowsy as hell, but I won't be sick'? No thanks. That man lives to put me to sleep."
"How bad could it be? It's not like I'll be awake to keep you company." Father Dietrich said. "I appear to be reprising my role as 'the sleeping priest' quite faithfully so far."
The boat lurched almost imperceptibly, but Kurt shut his eyes anyway as though contemplating whether to take up Father Dietrich's offer or just throw himself over the railing and get it over with. "Okay." Kurt said at last, "how much worse can it get?"
Father Dietrich stood up and then helped Kurt to his feet. There really was something about boats that screwed up Kurt's normally infallible sense of balance. It made Father Dietrich wonder if Kurt's perception of the world went beyond what was considered normal; like the way they said dogs could sense the magnetic poles of the earth, and that maybe somehow being on water disconnected him from it. It certainly helped explain why someone who could dance on a wire only a little thicker than a pencil and turn quadruple somersaults without getting dizzy could barely master the act of walking while on board a ferry.
The cutting of the engine was what made Father Dietrich open his eyes. Outside the window, he could see the last of the cars streaming from the ferry ramp onto the dock and away, a mixed batch of British and European license plates crowding onto the streets of Caen, France. From here they would catch a cab a short distance to the train station and then travel nearly 700 miles to Hamburg. It was a long journey and the nature of it gave it the feel of a pilgrimage even though Father Dietrich was going home.
As promised by Dr. Mallory's prescription, Kurt was curled up on the seat beside him fast asleep. Father Dietrich hated to wake him, but he shook him by the shoulder. "Time to go." He said quietly.
"Mmm? No. I'm staying right here." Kurt said with his eyes still shut.
"Okay, but that means we'll be sailing back to Portsmouth in about an hour." Father Dietrich said.
"Huh?" Kurt sat up quickly, nearly sliding off his seat. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" He asked thickly, blinking quickly and trying to wake up. "Is this France?"
"That's right. We're almost there. We'll be in Hamburg by tonight."
Kurt stood up and looked around. The passenger compartment of the ferry was empty now, which was fine considering that Kurt's hood had fallen down and his coat was hanging off one shoulder so that it dragged on the ground. Father Dietrich had to stifle a laugh. Kurt really did cut quite a forlorn figure, he stood sleepily rubbing his eyes with his good hand, his other in a cast that had since been scribbled with everyone's well wishes.
"Not a very fun week." Father Dietrich said straightening out Kurt's coat and flipping the hood back over his head. He remembered Margali doing the same thing when Kurt was eight, trying cover him up and smuggle him out of the church before he could catch a glimpse of Kurt's appearance. He had been angry at her for doing it at the time, for not trusting him to see through Kurt's demonic façade and look at the person within. He was a man of God, wasn't that his job? Unfortunately she had been right and now he couldn't help but see the irony as he did the same thing. Then again, Kurt wasn't the only one who traveled in disguise. As he had for the trip out, Father Dietrich had shed his priest's collar in favor of more casual clothes.
"Ready?" Father Dietrich asked.
Kurt nodded.
"Then let's go get our things. We have an hour to catch our train." He said. They left the compartment empty and made their way through the tangle of decks and ramps until they were at last standing on French soil.
Kurt shut his eyes and exhaled. "Everything is normal again." He said.
Father Dietrich looked between Kurt and the boat. He was less than a foot away from the gangplank. "Really? That's amazing," said Father Dietrich.
"Something about being on a boat screws up my perception of up and down." Said Kurt. As if to test this theory, Kurt ignored all pretense of traveling incognito and did a backward handspring, stalling a moment to balance on his good hand he then gave a push and popped himself back onto his feet. "See, all better," he said.
Father Dietrich laughed. Though it would have given Margali or Wolfgang a heart attack, he didn't mind the stares from the milling passengers. It was the first time he'd seen Kurt actually act like Kurt since that horrible day when he arrived. He took it as a sign that they truly were putting Brighton behind them.
"Come on Nightcrawler, let's go before I start having to sell tickets." Father Dietrich said. He put his arm around Kurt's shoulder and led him away from the ferry.
"It's a much better act than my vomiting over the railing routine." Kurt commented as they walked.
"I suppose this prevents us from ever running away and offering our services on a cruise ship. In nómine Patris zzzzzzzzzz…." Father Dietrich laughed at his own joke
"Father!"
Father Dietrich shrugged. "Well, that's what it would be like, every Sunday." He said with a grin. "Confession would certainly be much improved though."
Kurt pretended to cover his ears. "I'm not hearing this." He said.
"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud. I take my work very seriously. I don't think it's a sin to make a few jokes. It's hard work, a little laughter makes it easier."
"I can't wait to see what it's like to live at the rectory." Kurt said, changing the subject. As naïve as it sounded and despite having seen the inside of the rectory, Kurt had spent three years thinking that Father Dietrich actually lived inside the church. He'd been very disappointed when he found out the truth, mainly because he thought the church was the most amazing house ever. Even so, he was looking forward to seeing more of what Father Dietrich's life was like for as much as he loved performing, he secretly wished that there were away for him to go to seminary like Father Dietrich had, to serve God in the same way. He knew it was ridiculous, but it was his favorite dream.
"You look happier than I've seen you look in days." Father Dietrich said. He had collected a trolley and the two of them wandered amidst the rows of luggage looking for theirs.
"I am." Kurt said. "Things were so horrible; everyone was acting so strange. Even so, I miss everyone terribly, but I'm excited about living with you. I'm glad they let me go. And that you're letting me stay." Kurt paused and smiled. "Thank you" he said, bowing his head slightly.
Father Dietrich spotted Kurt's battered leather suitcase which would have been a dull brown had it not been covered with so many decals, a record of his lifelong travels through Europe. He dropped it onto the trolley.
"It is my pleasure Kurt" Father Dietrich said, putting his finger under Kurt's chin and gently raising his head so their eyes met. "When I chose to baptize you, I promised God and myself that I would look out for you. This is part of that promise."
Kurt smiled. "I wish everyone could be like you," he said. "You're the only one who still acts like you're my friend."
"That's because I am your friend," Father Dietrich said.
It was quite a long walk to the road where they could catch a taxi to the train station. Even with trolley to carry their luggage it was still slow going. The sun had reached its apex in a cloudless sky and they were both sweating as they walked. Kurt's recovery had been nothing short of miraculous, but the trip had taken a lot out of him and he was clearly exhausted. Father Dietrich slowed his pace, but that didn't make a difference. Kurt was an athlete, and therefore didn't seem to understand toning his physical activity down a notch or two. Father Dietrich pushed the trolley over to a bench.
"What are we doing?" Kurt asked.
"Taking a little break. You look like you could use it."
Kurt shook his head. "I'm fine," he protested.
"No. You're not. I've been watching you slowly fade since we got off the boat. So, sit." Father Dietrich gestured at a bench and with a look of defeat mixed with relief Kurt slowly sat down, secretly grateful for the break.
"I can't wait to introduce you to everyone." Father Dietrich said while they sat. "It's a small parish so I'm the only priest, but there are two deacons and a grounds keeper. Plus we have a very active bible study group who meets twice a week in the church basement. I'm only providing them with the space to meet, but I often join them. They're a very bright group."
Kurt looked stricken. "I have to meet people?" He asked.
"Of course. What did you expect? There's quite a lot that goes on at the church, the place is packed during the day," said Father Dietrich. "It's something you never saw because you always joined us during the holidays. People where home with their families."
Kurt frowned. He didn't like meeting new people; he hated getting through that initial first impression, trying to gage whether or not they were afraid, horrified, or simply unbelieving, sure that he was a man in a costume. He'd taken Wolfgang's advice to heart and could usually defuse the situation if needed. Once he had made enough jokes and done enough tricks to put them at ease he was fine; it appeared that very few people were immune to the charms of the incredible Nightcrawler. He was thankful for it, but at the same time he hated it. No one else had to jump through such hoops to ensure people didn't run screaming from his presence. He felt a little better since Father Dietrich had insisted on this rest stop, but the old weariness, the one that came from being so radically different in appearance from everyone else, was back.
Yes, everything was normal again. Both the good things and the bad.
