The Chair Next To Me

“My call still stands.”

His gaze struck me like an arrow. I clench my fists, holding on to the chair I’m frozen on.

“I wanted to come today”, I answer, “Or next time.”

The words I told my mom ring in my ears: “I am scared.”

“I can welcome you at the front of the church”, he smiled, “Just send me the message.”

The blood sprints through my veins. My stomach rumbles at his call, and trembles.

***

The sun has risen seven times since his last message and the new one pops up.

“So, no obligations. But you are welcome”, it says.

Holding the mobile phone in my shaking hands, I see the image. Blue and red lights appear before my sight, flowing from the heart touched by the palm of the hand. A bright light appears around the man’s head. The Hall of Merciful Jesus is erected in front of me, and His image stands at the door.

“Jesus, I trust in you”, the written words on the image say and repeat in my mind.

As I open the door, only shadows rise in the Hall. When two girls approach me, I see only several people in the distance.

“Hey”, one of them greets me, “How are you?”

“I’m nervous”, I say. My heart races.

“There’s no need for it”, she says, “How did you find out about YouFra?”

“My mom told me about it”, I answer, “And also Michael.”

“Every person finds out about it through Michael”, another girl whispers.

As I notice his brown habit tied with the white rope, Michael wraps his arms around me. My racing heart slows down.

“Renee”, a girl that came with Michael, mentions her name.

We sit together, chairs side by side. Days before, when I sat on the wooden school chair, it had been cold. Stolen laughs filled the classroom. Talks I never shared filled the room. And once again, the chair right next to me was empty. Empty and forgotten. My classmates sang happy birthday to the girl sitting on the different side of the classroom. My stomach rumbled as the candles on the cake were lit. The chair next to me was still empty. They have not forgotten about her birthday, but they have forgotten about the chair I always leave empty. For a reason. So that someone can finally sit on it.

And now, I find myself trapped sitting on a chair next to Renee. As I put my hand on her chair after she gets up, I feel something I have never felt before. A chair that’s not forgotten, a chair that’s not empty, but full of warmth.

***

“Are you a member of another YouFra?” asks a girl I hadn’t met last time. I touch my necklace stunned.

“No”, I answer, bewildered, “I’m not.”

“I thought you were”, she adds, “You wear Franciscan cross around your neck, I see.”

I touch my necklace again.

“We receive that cross on our Franciscan Youth Promises”, she explains, and I sink. I hid the cross behind my shirt as I leave the Hall.

“I just needed someone to tell me I should not carry it”, I think to myself sarcastically while small dots of light hang from the sky. Colder air holds my shoulders, and the wind carries torn leaves.

“Do I even belong somewhere, God?” I look up. My eyes glazed with tears. I take a long sigh before tucking into my bed.

“Just show me the truth”, I pray and fold my hands.

***

A small iron mold closes in white wax, placed on my hand. A candle stands on my hand upright. Only brief rays of light enter through mosaics, brightening the altar before us. It has been a week. New faces emerge from the dark to my right. My eyebrows rise.

“Here are the members of YouFra Borovo”, Michael explains, “I was with them for a year until, to their regret and your happiness, they moved me here.”

I slightly nod my head. Small pages of the Gospel open in his hand. Michael slowly reads it sitting on a bench near Jenny who sings.

“If someone wasn’t touched by this reading, then they haven’t opened their heart enough to God”, he continues the reflection and repeats the Gospel: “Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit?”

He pauses.

“Maybe these blind people are your friends, or unfortunately, maybe even your parents”, he lowers his voice.

My vision blurs as the tears show up.

“The truth cannot be known,’ my dad’s words roar in my memory while the Truth can be known. Here the Truth stands — on the altar, in the Eucharist — watching the deepest ends of our souls and prayers.

I light my candle. My knees bend before the altar as I put the candle. The flame dances together among the others in the darkness, and nothing can overcome it.

“This candle I give for my parents”, I pray, “YouFra was Your answer.”

*

The calmness of the chapel shifts into wildness of the Hall, and I stand next to Luca whom I met with Jenny.

“Maybe you are an introvert now, but that does not mean you will be that in the future”, he says sitting next to me, wearing a jacket, “You may be wondering what to do with yourself now, but YouFra works wonders, and I believe in it.”

He looks at me with a smile. I give him back the nervous one.

“Well, then, … ”, I say, “…thank you for your comfort.”

***

A month later, a large white figure of Mary waves her hand in front of me in the church yard. Yellow walls rise behind me. The wet stone blocks take a stand below me, and gray clouds hide the sun's rays.

“Pauline”, I ask my roommate from Medjugorje and touch her shoulder, “Do you know where Jenny and the girls are?”

“No”, she answers, “I did not see them.”

My feet rush through puddles of the rain.

“Do you know where Jenny is?” I ask another girl from YouFra beside souvenir shop.

“I don’t”, she shakes her head.

My feet rush toward our rooms. Stars shine in the dark sky and small drops of rain pinch my shoulders. As I turn right, I hear a voice: “It’s not here. It’s there.”

The dark streets deceived me. The familiar face of the boy from YouFra I do not know stands in front of me, pointing at the street ahead of us as I thank him.

My heart begins to race together with my memory. The same stars followed me in Bratislava. The same cold air filled the streets. My classmates’ steps moving away from me still resonate in my mind as tears start biting my cheeks as I fall into my bed.

A wooden floor creaks as someone’s feet step forward. Someone's hand presses the handle of the room's front door. Paulina’s face appears in front of me.

“What happened?” she runs towards me. She embraces me wiping my tears away: “Does it have to do with YouFra?”

“No”, I whisper through my tears and shake my head.

“You know you can tell Mislav and me anything that bothers you”, she tells in low voice with sweet smile on her face.

“You’re so kind", I say.

Then I think: “At least I hope so.”

***

Michael’s hands moved my ponytail aside as he placed the small Franciscan cross around my neck. In the blink of an eye, small Franciscan crosses hung from our necks. Our mouths stretched into smiles and our YouFra hoodies stood out. A camera captured the photos I gaze at with the smile fading as I read the news. Scrolling through the names, I find none of them is mine.

I sigh before entering the Hall.

“I did not make this list myself and neither did our council”, Michael says while we are all sitting, “We did it together. If someone’s name is not on the list, it might be that the person is less than a year in YouFra or she often does not attend meetings, or she does not act in Franciscan spirit.”

I take a long breath.

“The Promises are not a requirement for coming to YouFra, but they are a requirement for being a member of YouFra”, he says.

My lips begin to shake.

“And I recommend you to not attend our meetings if you came here because of a boyfriend, a girlfriend or friends. You come here because you want to give yourself to others.”

My eyes close as my heart is pierced by the thorns of words.

*

A moonlight lies hidden among the clouds in the sky as I walk through the shadows of grass. Michael’s words echo in my memory: “We want to be a brotherhood, not a society of poets. You have friends out there.”

“No. I don’t have friends”, I argue inside.

The same stars from Bratislava swim through the dark sky while I hold my breath. The lake of tears stays hidden inside of me.

“Be with Michael, God. Be with YouFra, too”, I close my eyes as I slide into my bed.

*

As I tuck into my bed again next evening, the mobile phone lights up in front of me.

“After praying these days and after your emotions, I have decided as follows: Let everyone decide for themselves whether they want to make promises in this YouFra or not. You have seen what the text of the promise says…”, caring words are written on my screen, “…- decide for yourself.”

And my thoughts now wander the green pasture of this decision. The tender tips of the grass caress

me. I hold in my mind a daisy with white petals and a yellow pistil. Tearing off one petal, I say: “Yes.”

Tearing off another, I say:

“No.” A figure slowly appears walking through the high green grass on the pasture. He walks toward me wearing his brown robe tied with the white rope.

“Maybe Michael sent me something”, a thought comes into my mind.

And a green circle glows on messages I've exchanged with him.

“Eve, you can do it too. I would give it to you right away”, he sent me a message. I exhaled.

“I want to give the promise”, I label my answer. And the chair right next to me is not cold anymore.