Cainan felt himself taking a shuddering exhale as he stepped through the door to the billiard hall. He didn't know why, but he always got so nervous when crossing the black and white checkered floor. The hall was vacant as it usually was when Cainan arrived, the tables left clean and ready for the next day. All the equipment used to play hung on racks on the left wall as he passed.
Turning up here had become somewhat of a regular occurrence for Cainan – and he was even showing up early at that, as he so often did. There were better speakeasies in town, of course, bigger, grander ones that were far more popular, and yet Cainan loved coming here. For one, he hadn't the faintest idea how to get into the big ones, but he also liked how small and… intimate Gracie Grombach's speakeasy felt.
Cainan knew his way there by now; down by the hallway and through the secret sliding door. Technically Cainan wasn't supposed to just let himself inside the way he did, but being on a first name basis with the owner did mean he could get away with it. However, Cainan wasn't at all prepared for the sight he saw on the other side of the door, as soon as he stepped onto the checkered floor of the well-lit speakeasy.
Seated in one of the large armchairs by the equally large gramophone was Gracie Grombach, the immense speakeasy owner. The brownish gray cat made the large armchair that Cainan could practically sink into look too small, but as he sat there, this hardly went noticed by Cainan. "Gracie…?"
The bigger cat had had his face buried in his hands, but he gave a start when he heard Cainan's voice, looking up at him in a panic. In a somewhat choked voice, he said, "Oh, it's you, kid. You're here early…"
Gracie scratched his left cheek before he wiped the corner of his eye. Despite the way he now glared at Cainan, Cainan could tell he was upset. Despite how unusual it was to see the immense, muscular man like this, there was also something awfully familiar about that sight, however… "Sorry, I didn't mean to… Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, kid. No need to worry about me," the big man insisted as Cainan stepped closer to his chair. He was still glaring and given that Gracie looked to be big enough to snap most men in half, if he so desired, Cainan approached him slowly. The look on Gracie's face softened as he gazed upon Cainan's worried expression. Or did it? Was Cainan just imagining it? It seemed to be real, but… somehow it seemed… wrong. Was this really how he remembered this man? "I was just- I was thinking."
"About what?" Cainan asked in a gentle tone as he stopped in front of Gracie, looking at the big man. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state was new to him. He was so used to seeing Gracie lumbering around, looking intimidating as ever, scowling and throwing his metaphorical and literal weight around. But here he was, seated in an armchair, having clearly been crying.
Gracie let out a short derisive laughter as he rubbed his face again. "Christ… Just look at me, a grown man crying. I must seem so pathetic to you…"
"No, not at all…" Cainan moved to stand by Gracie's right side. Carefully he put a hand on the big cat's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, trying to comfort him. He could feel the hard muscle underneath his white dress shirt. "Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need to talk about it?"
The big cat's yellow eyes glanced at Cainan's hand for a moment, his expression hard to read before he turned his gaze upon the younger cat's face. "I don't-… I was just thinking about my uncle."
When nothing followed this statement, Cainan remained silent, waiting, but he didn't urge Gracie on. He could tell the older cat wouldn't say a word until he was ready. Remaining by the bigger man's side, Cainan just stroked his shoulder and upper arm gently. Seeing as he didn't stop him, he Cainan assumed the bigger cat didn't mind. He did shoot him the occasional look, however.
"He was a good man. Looked after me, took care of me when no one else would, kid." Cainan couldn't help but envy that, the idea of having relatives that would care for you that way, but he simply nodded and waited for Gracie to continue. The big man shook his head. "I just couldn't help it. I was just thinking of him…"
"He passed away?" Cainan asked gently. Gracie looked away, but when he nodded Cainan gave his big shoulder another squeeze. "Oh, Gracie… I'm sorry. If I'm overstepping, I can-"
"No, kid… No, I appreciate it. Just don't go telling no one, alright?" Gracie's surprisingly warm tone had a bit of edge to it, but when their eyes met again, the big cat smiled as Cainan nodded. "Good. Feel free to help yourself to a drink. Joey's going to be here soon. I'll be back in a minute. I can always count on you. And you can always count on me, Cainan. You can come to me anytime you want."
"I can?" He felt his heart skip a beat when he heard those words. Gracie's deep voice always had a way to make Cainan feel… a lot of things. Cainan's eager smile faded slightly as Gracie stood up. Why did the room seem like it was flickering? Not just the light; the paint on the walls, the checkered floor, the furniture, everything… Cainan's vision seemed like it was blurring in and out of focus. That was when Cainan really thought about what Gracie said. He frowned and looked around before turning his green-eyed gaze back upon him as he made for the door. "No… No, you don't really mean that, do you?"
"Yes, really, I'll be fine, don't worry. Just need to handle something, kid."
"No, you're lying… You're just-" But Cainan trailed off when he realized that the speakeasy all around him was dissolving, turning into a swirling mess of colors, like watercolors being smeared all around him, mixing together before his eyes. He shook his head.
Cainan remembered that conversation with Gracie, but… this wasn't really happening, was it? It happened years ago… And Gracie had simply carried on with the conversation like nothing had happened. Before Cainan could even start really thinking about it, the swirls of colors around him seemed to unfurl into a difference scene.
"Ah, there you are, boys. How'd it go?" Cainan was completely silent as he looked around in confusion. He was in the speakeasy hallway, a crate in his arms. He looked down at it, as if it were a dangerous animal in his arms that could bite at any time. Cainan looked back up at Gracie. Even without Cainan responding, the big man continued, "Good, good. Alright, just put it all in storage. We're opening soon."
Cainan remembered; he and the bartender had had to drive out to retrieve liquor. It wasn't the first time, but Cainan had never really thought about how much this put him in trouble, breaking the law like that. He remained where he was, smiling up at Gracie despite himself. Even now, seeing the immense man made his heart skip a beat. As Joey made his way past Cainan, he hung back, however. Here it came, he knew it… and he couldn't move to prevent it.
A massive, firm, warm hand patted his cheek. At the time Cainan remembered how it made his heart flutter to the point that he almost dropped the crate. Seeing the fake smile on Gracie's face had left him breathless. Now… now it only made Cainan feel sick, knowing the truth.
"Don't get greedy now, kid. Go get the stuff unloaded, I'll let you place the first bet tonight," the speakeasy owner grunted down at him – just friendly enough to be pleasant, just pleasant enough to seem genuine. But present day Cainan knew it was a lie, a facade. Despite this, he found himself moving along the hallway, following Joey to the secret cabinet where the extra alcohol was stored. Cainan closed his eyes and shook his head before opening his eyes yet again and saw that he was outside in the dark.
Turning and locking the front door behind him, Cainan clutched the Bible tightly in his right hand. It was the very same one he'd been given as a young child by his parents, its hard cover solid black with golden text on the front. It wasn't like it had been when he received it; pages had torn out and some remaining pages vandalized with a pen. Cainan had done a number on this book the night before – he remembered it – the way he'd torn pages out, crumpled them up, tossed them against the wall, torn them to shreds and let them fall to the floor like snow. It wasn't the first Bible he'd done this to, but it was arguably the most important one he could have chosen.
Stopping on the path leading up to the house's front door, Cainan turned to look back at the Wirth homestead. A two-story house with a basement, it wasn't too dissimilar to the Arbogast Funeral Home with its plain exterior of wooden planks and its many windows, though it had no ornate turret. Cainan could see his bedroom from here, his windows overlooking the front of the house.
Clutching the mangled remains of his Bible, Cainan took aim and threw it at the doorstep where it landed with a thud after hitting the door. As he left the house behind, Cainan remembered this exact night, the last time he'd seen the Wirth house. In the blue glow of the full moon, Cainan found his way quite easily. He could see the river reflecting the moon's light nearby, but just barely. It was especially shallow this night.
Though Cainan let his dream play out, he knew where it was all going. He remembered how cold the night was; he'd only left wearing a jacket over his casual clothes. He hadn't thought to bring any belongings; nothing he owned in that house was something he wanted with him. Cainan knew that in a handful of hours, he'd be one town over wherever the train came to a stop and his parents would wake up to find him missing and find the defaced Bible on their doorstep. Cainan closed his eyes and let out a soft, shuddering sob to himself.
Opening his eyes, a seven-year-old Cainan glanced around, up and down the pew he sat on. Seated between his parents, Cainan felt so small again. Looking down at himself, he remembered these days – Sundays – when he was made to wear something nice for church. The church looked just as he remembered it with its white walls, rounded, blue ceiling and big windows. The people all around him were singing a song together and the organ was playing, but everything still sounded muffled, distorted. He wouldn't even recognize the song, if he could hear the words, most likely.
Even when Cainan looked upon the open pages of the songbook in his lap, he couldn't read the words, the text in the book looking like an incoherent mess to him. When the song came to a halt and the priest began to preach from his podium, Cainan had to stretch his neck to see him. Not Father Arbogast… Cainan frowned. It was his father up there.
Harold Wirth was a tall man with pure white fur, just like Cainan, though he was considerably fluffier all over. He had icy blue eyes that carried no warmth when Cainan looked up into them now. They used to belong to a man Cainan thought knew everything about the world, a man he used to look up to.
When the congregation rose and began reciting the Lord's Prayer, Cainan's eyes were locked with his, those cold eyes staring into his very soul. He could understand the words, hear them all, though they felt like echoes bouncing around the inside of his head. As his father up there spoke, it felt as though every word spoken was aimed at him. Cainan turned his head away, glancing up at his father by his right side. He was still there, seemingly completely unbothered by his duplicate up there by the alter.
Cainan remained silent throughout the prayer, he likewise remained silent until the service came to an end and people began filing out of the church. He, too, held his songbook and followed along.
"Cainan, use your proper hand." Cainan flinched and immediately shifted the songbook to his right hand, as though it had burned his left. He looked up at his mother, who seemed to approve. Gabriela Wirth also looked a lot like him. She had similarly white fur, but she had green eyes, just as he did. He'd inherited those from her, along with some of her facial features. Her eyes likewise carried no warmth, she looked as though she was silently judging him – her own son. But back then, Cainan hadn't ever realized.
Sitting all alone in his room, Cainan saw himself sitting on his bed, hugging his legs against his chest while sobbing. Cainan didn't remember this, but he could guess why he was crying. Seeing as his younger self had to be around seven still, he knew what he was going through. Telling a seven-year-old that not only was one never truly alone with the Lord watching, but also telling him of all the punishments that would come following the smallest of offense, was what had led him here.
Cainan looked down at his own hand, his dominant one – his left one. Had he been reprimanded for using his evil hand again? Or was it something else this time? Cainan couldn't begin to count the number of times his parents had told him not to do something, because it was wrong in accordance to the Bible.
His childhood bedroom was small, and not so unlike Father Arbogast's. It had the bed with a nightstand, a large wardrobe that Cainan used to hide in when he wanted to be alone, a toy chest and a desk. Above the desk was a small shelf that held a few books. Two windows overlooked the front yard as well. Cainan remembered glancing out his window whenever they had visitors, watching them from above.
There was a knock on Cainan's bedroom door and just moments later it slid open. Stepping away, he turned to see his father entering, moving to stand before Cainan's younger self on the bed. The little white-furred boy looked up and wiped his eyes.
"Why are you crying, Cainan?" Harold asked, his voice one Cainan had come to recognize as a false sense of comfort. Did children really cling that hard to the slightest hint of affection and not realize that it was basically an act?
The young cat sniffled as he wiped his face again, looking so incredibly pitiful. Cainan reached a hand out to nudge his father's shoulder, but found his hand passing through as though Harold was made of mist. "Father… Ben Schneider said… that I have a bad name."
"A bad name?" Cainan felt his heart sinking when he remembered what was coming. He swung a hand at his father again, once more passing through. And again. Though he made no contact with the older Turkish Angora before him, Cainan hoped it would just shut him up. "How so?"
"He says you named me after an evil man," the young Cainan squeaked up at his father, his eyes looking so shiny and full of tears. "Is that true?"
"No, shut up, shut up, shut up…" Cainan cried as he tried to prevent his father from speaking, but it didn't matter what he did.
"We did name you after Cain from the bible, son." Harold moved out of the way towards Cainan's nightstand. Pulling the drawer open, his father pulled out Cainan's bible in its pristine, untouched state. He began to flip through pages, until he found what he was looking for. He pointed at the pages. Younger Cainan sniffled and moved to sit beside him. "He did some very bad things… you remember the story, don't you?"
The tearful child nodded, before wiping his eyes again. "But why did you name me after him? I don't want to be like him…"
Cainan clenched his fists as he watched Harold put a hand on his son's shoulder, before handing him the bible. As a single tear hit the page telling the tale of Abel and Cain, Cainan's father continued, "And that's precisely why we chose that name. To make sure you had a powerful name."
Cainan closed his eyes and covered his ears, turning away, but as Harold continued, he still heard him as though he was speaking right next to him.
"Never forget what happened to Cain, son. Remember that every evil act will be punished. We want you to be as good as you can be. To be better than Cain. Cainan, remember what your name means every time you feel the pull of temptation and for every wicked thought-"
"Shut up!" Even with his ears covered, Cainan still heard himself shouting, but when he opened his eyes, all he could see was a dark ceiling.
Cainan sat up and rubbed his face. What time was it? The bedroom was completely dark and as Cainan swung his legs over the edge and tried to stand, he almost fell over, stumbling in his groggy state. He continued stumbling his way to the window, throwing it open. A gust of cold wind hit him in the face like a train, properly waking him up.
Despite everything his parents had put him through, Cainan could at least live with the name he'd been given. In some ways, the fact that he hadn't been named for a saint of some kind, but rather a sinner felt strangely liberating, especially in hindsight. It added a lot less pressure, and if anything felt like a strange roundabout bit of encouragement to commit sin. And that he most certainly had once he was in St. Louis.
"Ugh… I hate him… I hate them…" Cainan grunted under his breath, relaxing as the wind washed over his face. It helped, but… it wasn't enough. Hesitating only for the briefest moment, Cainan climbed through the window out onto the balcony. It wasn't a smooth transition from the bedroom to the balcony as he stumbled out, falling onto his side on the cold, hard wood.
Clad in pajamas pants and a white undershirt, Cainan laid on the wood for a moment, before rising to his feet, pulling himself up by the railing of the balcony. After checking his leg, Cainan put his elbows on the railing and buried his face in his hands again. "Jesus Christ that was…"
He glanced up and looked out at the cornfields nearby. He gazed up at the stars above next. In the dark, quiet night, they appeared so bright and clear. Cainan sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment. He began to pace back and forth along the balcony in front of his and Father Arbogast's windows, the wood creaking beneath his feet. The young cat's mind was full of images, phrases, and moments he hadn't thought about in years.
Cainan had made it to Father Arbogast's window when lights turned on inside the older cat's bedroom. Cainan froze. How much noise had he been making? He turned and looked towards the bend that would take him around to the other side of the balcony, out of sight, but before he could even think of hurrying off, the reverend opened his window.
"Excuse me, can I help you?" he asked, his tone clearly annoyed and quite groggy. The older cat rubbed his eyes as he gazed upon Cainan. The older cat was quite a sight to behold, his facial fur – actually all the fur on his head – was looking very messy, jutting out at odd angles from sleeping. It would've been a comical sight, if Cainan didn't have other things on his mind.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Father Arbogast…" Cainan saw the older cat look him up and down in his half-dressed state for a moment, before he put up that scowl that Cainan had grown so used to. "Uhm… I just needed some air. Bad dreams…"
The older cat frowned, but nodded slowly as he remained by the window. Feeling himself calming down, Cainan sighed, turning sideways to glance out at the fields. The area was bathed in moonlight, dim as it was, coming from the crescent moon. Compared to the rest of the balcony, Cainan did stand out with that pure white fur he'd inherited from both his parents. He sighed again.
"You appear quite distressed… Do you need to talk about it?" Father Arbogast asked, though he didn't sound very eager to talk, it despite asking. Cainan turned his head to the left and looked at the older reverend.
"It's nothing major. Just some bad memories. Let's say… Let's just say when I lived in St. Louis I met someone named Gracie…" He was hesitant to speak about this. He didn't know the older cat's views on what he would be telling him, if he were truly open about it. Cainan knew most people frowned upon it at best and found it disgusting and morally apprehensive at worst. He blushed and averted his gaze again.
"And… Did you take an interest in her?" When Father Arbogast spoke, Cainan looked over in surprise. He hadn't ever really thought about how Gracie was a feminine-sounding name. Of course, he knew it was simply a nickname, but it was how Cainan had been introduced to the big cat.
"I did, yeah… but it didn't end well," he told the reverend, turning back to look at him, trying his very best to read the older man's face. "Turns out nothing Gracie said meant anything. I was just being used…"
"My condolences…" It was such a strange statement owing to how formal it sounded that Cainan couldn't help but look over at him in confusion. "I hope you hadn't made plans with her for the future when you found out."
"No… No, nothing like that." Of course, how was Cainan going to explain his feelings on the matter to the reverend without giving himself away? He didn't feel like putting that part of himself out there. "Just… unrequited love."
"Ah… I see…"
Cainan just shook his head. He stifled a yawn. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine now. It was years ago. I just haven't had a lot of luck with people before I came here. Met a lot of users and… uh, unsavory types."
"When you lived off gambling, I take it?" the golden-brown cat asked, framed in by the yellow glow of the light from his nightstand. Cainan nodded silently. "Hmmm… Perhaps when you're ready, we can do a proper confession, Cainan. Let the Lord forgive your past sins."
Feeling his fur stand on end when he heard this, Cainan didn't reply with more than a noncommittal grunt. Cainan rubbed his face again. "Alright, well… I think I'll try to sleep again. I'm sorry for waking you…"
"It's quite alright. Get some sleep, we'll need to get up early," the older cat said, his expression considerably less stern than normal. When their eyes met, he seemed to regard Cainan with worry, which was… a first. It certainly wasn't unappreciated, however. He offered the reverend a smile, before he moved to climb through the window. "Might I suggest you use the door?"
"The door…?" Cainan stopped as he had been about to pull himself up onto the windowsill when he'd been stopped.
"Yes. By the study," Father Arbogast said, gesturing to his right. "I'll go and unlock the door for you."
"Oh, right…" Cainan did suppose it was a bit easier than climbing back into his bedroom. And so, he made his way around the outside of his room, following the railing all the way around. The wind felt sharper now, though perhaps Cainan was just starting to notice it. His bare feet and arms certainly felt it, as did his face.
When Cainan made it around the turret that made up the outermost part of the study, he came to find the door tucked away, facing the wall of the master bedroom. Cainan heard a click from the other side and watched as Father Arbogast opened the door for him. The older man was clad in a dark robe that covered his tall, lean frame and the white pajamas set he wore under it. Cainan had seen him in his undershirt through the window and thought the robe a bit unnecessary… but he supposed it was for modesty.
"Thanks," he said in a low voice, not wanting to accidentally wake Bobby or Elsa. He waited for the older cat to close and lock the balcony door, before they walked out of the study together. Cainan stopped by the door to his room and watched the taller cat as he moved towards his own. He shot him the smallest of smiles in the dark, light from Father Arbogast's bedroom shining from the open door. "Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."
"And you as well, Cainan. May you rest easy." They each retreated to their respective bedrooms, Cainan first closing the window, before he climbed into bed, shivering and shuddering slightly. Leaving the window open for so long had left his bed quite cold.
Pulling the duvet over himself, Cainan sighed, slowly feeling his body start to warm it up along with the sheets. He closed his eyes, hoping no more memories would plague his dreams. If there was one thing he didn't need, it was that. It was already bad enough to have to live through it once – the last thing he needed was to relive those moments. None of it was his fault and yet it felt like he had done something wrong. Cainan knew he hadn't, he kept telling himself that. But the way he had been raised to feel guilty about everything, to never dare think anything bad, raised with a name associated with terrible, terrible things… It was all so hard to let go of, even now.