Chapter LXII: Domina Dolorum
Adrian sits at a corner booth in McRonald's, his fingers curled around a steaming cup of coffee. He watches the wisps of heat rise from the surface, contemplating the weight of everything that has happened. Bennett's disappearance lingers in his mind, gnawing at his thoughts like an unsolved mystery. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a slow sip, the warmth spreading through his chest, though it does little to ease the tightness in his heart.
As he sets the cup down, his eyes catch sight of a familiar figure stepping out of a tricycle just outside. His breath stills. Bennett's mother. She stands there for a moment, adjusting the strap of her purse before making her way toward the Cathedral across the street. Adrian watches her with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, his fingers tightening around the ceramic handle. Then, almost instinctively, he rises from his seat, leaving his coffee behind, and follows her.
The Cathedral's main doors remain locked at this hour, but Bennett's mother does not falter. She walks to the northern side door and gently pushes it open, slipping inside. Adrian lingers at the entrance, his heartbeat steady yet firm. He steps in quietly, the vast silence of the Cathedral pressing around him.
Bennett's mother moves with quiet reverence, walking past the pews until she reaches the center of the nave. There, she stops, bows deeply, and crosses herself. The air inside is cool, carrying the scent of burning candles and aged wood. Sparse figures sit scattered throughout the pews, heads bowed in silent devotion. There is no Mass today—it is a Saturday, a quiet day of prayer—but Bennett's mother has come nonetheless, her purpose resolute.
She kneels, her hands clasped tightly together, and tilts her head down. Adrian watches as her lips part, whispering words that, though unheard, carry a weight heavier than stone. Then, a sob escapes her, her shoulders trembling. Adrian feels his throat tighten.
She prays.
"Lord, my God, I come before You with a mother's heart, broken and longing. My son, my precious Bennett, has served You with unwavering faith. From the moment he could walk, he has looked up to You. In the quiet corners of the chapel, he whispered his prayers. In the presence of the Holy Sacrament, he found his strength. He was Your servant, Your disciple, and now… now he is lost.
"Father in Heaven, I beg of You, hear my plea. Watch over him, wherever he may be. If he is suffering, if he is afraid, hold him close and remind him that he is never alone. If he is wandering in the darkness, be his guiding light. If he is held captive by forces beyond his control, then, Lord, I pray, send Your angels to protect him. Let not evil claim him. Let not despair consume him.
"Every night, I have cried out his name, hoping that the wind will carry my love to him. Every dawn, I wake with the pain of not knowing where he is. But I do not lose faith. For You, oh Lord, are a God of miracles. And I ask of You, with all the strength left in my weary heart—bring my son back to me. Let me hold him again. Let me see his smile, hear his voice. Even just once more, I ask… Let him know that his mother never stopped praying for him, never stopped believing in him.
"I entrust him to You, my Lord. Keep him safe, keep him strong. And if it is within Your divine will, lead him home. In the name of Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, I pray. Amen."
Tears stream freely down her face, her voice shaking with the weight of her emotions. Adrian, still standing near the entrance, feels his own eyes sting. He had never seen such raw, unyielding faith. It is as if every word she speaks carries the force of a thousand prayers, whispered night after night, never losing hope.
Slowly, she rises to her feet, wiping her cheeks with trembling fingers. She walks toward the altar of the Black Nazarene, reaching for the cloth resting beside it. With great tenderness, she wipes the sacred image, her hands steady despite the sorrow that lingers in her gaze. Then, pressing the cloth to her chest, she closes her eyes, whispering something only the heavens can hear.
Adrian takes a slow step backward, feeling as though he has intruded on something sacred. He turns to leave, intending to slip out before she notices him. But just as he reaches the door, he hears a voice behind him.
"Adrian."
He stops in his tracks, his breath catching for a moment. He turns around to find Bennett's mother standing there, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. There is no anger in her expression, only a quiet knowing.
"You've been watching," she says gently.
Adrian nods, unsure of what to say.
She exhales, shaking her head. "Bennett always spoke about you. He always said you had a good heart."
Adrian looks away, guilt gnawing at him. "I… I don't know if that's true."
She steps closer, placing a hand on his arm. "It is. And I believe you're looking for him too."
He meets her gaze, his resolve hardening. "I am."
She nods, a faint smile breaking through her sadness. "Then, let's not give up."
For a moment, they stand there in silence. Then, with a deep breath, Adrian bows his head slightly before stepping out of the Cathedral, his mind swirling with determination.
As Adrian and Bennett's mother step outside the grand Cathedral, they make their way toward the candle station in front of the colossal Grotto. Before entering, they stop by a small vendor selling devotional candles. Adrian watches as Bennett's mother carefully selects five candles—three white, one red, and one blue. He hands over the payment, and together they walk in silence to the candle station.
The scent of melting wax and burning wicks lingers in the air as they place the candles in the holder. With gentle precision, Bennett's mother lights each one, her hands trembling slightly. Adrian mirrors her actions, carefully lighting his candle, the small flame flickering as if whispering prayers to the heavens.
"You know," Bennett's mother begins, her voice carrying both nostalgia and sorrow, "Bennett always did this every time we came to Ciudad Fernandina. Before we even bought groceries, he would light candles here and say a prayer. He always believed that these small gestures meant something."
Adrian listens intently, nodding. He presses his hands together, closing his eyes as he prays in thought.
Bennett, don't worry. We're looking for you. Wherever you are, we'll find you. Just hold on a little longer.
When they finish praying, they step out of the candle station, but a heavy sadness lingers in Bennett's mother's eyes. Adrian notices how lost she looks, and something stirs in his memory.
A moment from the past resurfaces in his mind. He often saw Bennett buying small snacks for his mother whenever they went out together. One particular day, when it was just the two of them, Bennett had turned to him with a rare, serious expression.
"If a time comes when my mother feels alone and sad, please cheer her up for me. I don't want her to be sad."
The memory tugs at his heart. As the scene fades, Adrian makes a decision.
"Tia Maria," he says, offering her a soft smile, "let's go to McRonald's."
She looks at him, puzzled. "What for?"
"I'm treating you to a snack," he replies simply.
A flicker of surprise crosses her face. "Are you sure?"
Adrian nods, smiling. "Yeah. Let's go."
At McRonald's, they find a quiet booth by the window. The warm aroma of food fills the air as they settle in with their snacks. Bennett's mother holds her cup of coffee but doesn't drink immediately. Instead, she stares at it for a long moment before finally speaking.
"When Bennett went missing, I didn't know what to do," she admits, her voice laced with anguish. "I searched everywhere. I called everyone I could think of. Months passed, and there was nothing. No sign of him. I feel so helpless."
Adrian stays silent, letting her vent her pain. He knows there are no words that can truly ease the agony of a mother missing her child.
After a pause, he asks carefully, "Do you have any idea who might have been involved?"
Bennett's mother hesitates. "I... I did suspect someone," she says, staring at her coffee. "But it's just a far-fetched idea. Bennett and that person haven't talked in a long time."
Adrian knows exactly who she's referring to—Liz.
"Tia Maria," he says gently, "don't worry. That person isn't who you thought she was back then. And everything isn't as it seems."
She scoffs lightly, shaking her head. "That's hard to believe. But... I'll believe it when I see it."
"You will see it, Tia," Adrian assures her. "Soon."
As they finish their snacks, Bennett's mother suddenly looks at Adrian with teary eyes. "Can I... can I hug you?"
Understanding the weight of the moment, Adrian nods. She leans forward and wraps her arms around him. He feels the warmth of a mother longing for her lost son, the silent plea for comfort in a world that feels unbearably empty.
"Thank you, Adrian," she whispers as she pulls away, wiping her tears. "For this. For listening."
He simply nods. "Anytime, Tia."
As they step outside, they part ways. Bennett's mother offers him a grateful smile before boarding a tricycle to return home. Adrian watches as she leaves, his heart heavy yet determined.
With a deep breath, he turns and makes his way to his friend's house, where he hopes to get some rest before the long night ahead.