Holding Hands: A Short Fiction

{ "Have fun tonight sweetie, make some friends!", his mother said as he stepped out of the car. With a bland smirk he glanced at her and said, "I'll try, mom". He gently closed the door and made his way over the side entrance of the church. The other kids were doing the same, but they were running. When he got to the door, he looked back and waved as his mother drove away. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the last place he'd prefer to be on a beautiful Sunday evening.

Through the first door way with his hands in his pockets, he strolled over to the meeting room where everyone was. Amongst the chatter, he squeezed through the crowd and sat down on one of the benches. After about five minutes, one of the grown ups in charge walked to the center of the room and starting calling out names by age, and sorted the children into groups of ten or so with an appointed instructor. Hearing his name, he quickly popped off the bench and shuffled over to his group. Two boys in front of him where whispering to each other. A moment later one of them sneaked up behind a girl in front of the group, knelt down and peaked up her skirt. Not wanting to be caught, he moved fast and got back to his friend as soon as he could. Having slightly too much momentum, he could not stop himself soon enough before bumping into the boy who caught him in the act. "Hey man, sorry about that. What's your name? I'm Mark". Red in the face, he gulped hard and replied hesitantly."My name is Alex, nice to meet you".

All the groups were sorted by now, so each instructor lead each of them into the nearest hallway, further into the building to their designated classrooms. Holding his right hand out, he felt the studded paneling as he walked and noticed the many photographs equally spaced out on the wall. Each one was of an elderly man dressed up in white Alex assumed were past Priests and Bishops of the church. Less than half of them were smiling.

Walking in the back of the group, he had the last choice of a seat when they entered the room. Luckily there was a seat open to the right of Mark. The room was very small, white, and confining with a circular table in the middle. There was one window, but the blinds were closed. Up on the walls there were pictures of nature with passages from the bible written on them as well as a calender of various church-related events.

After taking attendance and introducing herself, the instructor stood up and said, "Let us begin with a prayer". She held out her arms and instructed everyone to hold hands. Alex took hers in right hand and Mark's in his left. "Since this is our first day, it's OK if you don't know the words; but I expect all of you learn them for next week". Alex knew the words, but pretended he didn't. The prayer started and everyone stared down at the table as they spoke in a monotone. Alex did the same but he kept glancing up around the room in a counter-clockwise motion to see if anyone else remained silent. To his surprise, everyone was speaking. He turned his head slightly to the left at Mark and his eyes slowly traveled from his eyes, shoulder, arm, and finally to his side where their hands were clasped together.

He felt completely at ease. All his nervousness and tension leading up to this point had suddenly disappeared. He was in another world. The walls of the room floated away revealing the beautiful autumn sky. The table was no longer there and all was serene. There were trees around them and grass at their feet. Hands together, the two of them floated there together as if nothing else mattered in the world. His vision not budging from the connection they made, he expressed a melancholic smile and his tear ducts began to swell.

"Let go of my hand fag!". The whole class burst out in laughter. Coming to, Alex quickly released his grip from Mark's hand. Eyes wide, breathing fast, he sat down with a thump, moved his chair over the right a little, stared down at the white table and let out a weak, "I'm sorry". The instructor looked at Alex oddly for a few seconds, and then as if nothing had happened, continued the class. Alex spent the next forty minutes pretending he didn't exist.

On the way home, he tried his best to look as cheerful as possible. Alex loved his mother very much and he knew she had high hopes for him. "How was your first day honey?" "Oh, it was OK" "Did you meet any new friends?" "Yeah, a few" "You know, I still remember my first day. I was very shy like you are; I was a nervous wreck. It might sound silly, but as soon as we all held hands for our first prayer, I felt like I fit in. After that, I was fine. Do they still do that?" "Yes, they do."

Alone in is bed later that night, he was finally able to let go. Soaking his pillow with a steady and silent flow of tears, he was able to drift away to a place where he felt most comfortable. } - A short story by the Blog creator