Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

Angel was sitting quietly, holding hands with her new husband, Len. He seemed like a nice guy, and seemed very fond of Angel. I was wondering if he were wishing he’d put off the wedding for another week or so. This was no way to spend your honeymoon! But he just whispered to Angel that Sully was going to be fine, and he occasionally got up to get her a cup of coffee or walk with her to the door of the ladies’ room. It was kind of strange to see Angel in plain street clothes, with her hair combed out and pulled back. Her eyes were a little bloodshot still, but it was pretty clear she’d been crying. I was wondering, too, if she wished she had put off giving up crack until this crisis were over ... if anything was going to test your resolve about kicking the habit, I would think it would be having your child kidnapped.

We were sitting in a conference room or something like it, where we could all be together while our statements had been taken. It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but none of us felt like leaving.

“Does anybody know how to pray?” Angel said suddenly.

“I know some prayers,” I offered. “You know, Catholic prayers.”

“I know the Serenity Prayer,” Vic said. He’d been in AA even before we met him.

“No, pray to Jesus,” she said. I forgot she’d found Jesus in rehab.

“I can pray, you know that,” Len said. “Here, everybody, let’s join hands around this table, and I’ll pray.”

We drew in close — Jack, Jazz, me, Angel and Len — and we joined hands. “Do you want me to pray just for Sully and Van, or for Torstein too?” Len asked.

“Torstein, too,” Angel said. She was actually quite a nice person when not high on crack. I would have snapped at Len that of course I wanted him to pray for Torstein, what did he think, that Torstein wasn’t worth the trouble?! But Angel just said that, and bowed her head. So we all did.

I know all the parts of the Rosary, from growing up Catholic — the “Our Father,” “Hail Mary,” the “Glory Be.” I guess I never thought about them as being prayers, to People, you know ... they were just ... what you said when you prayed the Rosary. Len just let loose with this long, rambling prayer to Jesus, as if Jesus were standing there in the room with us, asking him to bring the boys and Torstein back to us, safe and sound. It was pretty weird, but it was nice, too, and it seemed to make Angel feel better.

When he said Amen, Angel asked me to do a Catholic prayer. I didn’t think Hail Mary or Our Father was very apropos, but my patron saint is Michael, and I had memorized his prayer for my confirmation. I prayed could remember it now. “This is a prayer to St. Michael, the archangel,” I said. Thankfully the prayer came back to me as I recited:

St. Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle.
Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou,
O Prince of the heavenly hosts,
by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan,
and all the evil spirits,
who prowl about the world
seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

I had only just finished when the lieutenant came back into the conference room, and cleared his throat. I guess he probably thought we were nuts. Good thing he didn’t come in during Len’s prayer if he thought mine was weird.

“Why don’t you all go home?” he said. “I’m sure we’ll have Sully back very soon...”

As if we’d go home.

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