The Priest

Formerly known as Bob (part 8)

The New Normal
I had promised myself I would never use that phrase but here I was standing in the middle of the street, dressed like a priest, with someone whose head I had just bashed into a bloody pulp lying dead on the ground, and a little boy, maybe ten years old standing there staring at me and I just couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

What happens now?

Am I a father?

Am I a big brother?

Am I a disinterested third party?

Since I saved the kid, am I responsible for him now?

I look over, and he’s still staring at me.

I’ve never been a brilliant conversationalist and I had no idea how to talk to a kid.

I wondered if you could talk to them like they were just small adults, or was there a special vocabulary that you had to use.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Which one?” He said.
“What’ve you got more than one?”

“There is more than one.”

“How many then?”

He looked up and appeared to be thinking. He then began to mouth words and count on his fingers.

Then he said. “Hey kid. Hey, you little bastard. Hey, you little shit. Hey, you little fucker, I think that’s all, and I kind of remember another one from a long time ago, but…