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If there was one thing in this world that Samuel Lawrence would never understand, it was their resident janitor, Wally Franks.
He’d never tell him to his face, but there were plenty of areas that Wally was not only competent in, but excellent. Ideas? The man was full of them! He just needed someone to share them with. Usually, that person ended up being Henry—Sammy caught the pair more than once quietly sharing stories in the breakroom, revealing dreams. Wally wanted to build, or write, or learn how to draw, or, or—he had a new dream for every day of the week. A perfect fit for Mr. Drew himself.
Wally could also compute like no other. That was more of a silent talent—but as much as Norman liked to talk about how he had his eye on everything, so did Sammy. More than once, he watched Grant quietly pull the janitor to his office and saw neither leave until several hours later. That alone may not have been enough to explain anything, but his little pocket notebook full of math he’d forget in the breakroom—That did.
Yet there were also so many other times Sammy wanted to pull his hair out in frustration at the man. He refused to be doused with ink again because Wally ‘forgot’ the proper way to lower the ink pressure in the pipes or get locked out of his office again because he ‘lost’ his keys. At this point, the music director could quit and become a locksmith if he wanted to! Every day he put up with THAT side of Wally, he strongly considered it.
He sat at his piano as the janitor approached him, wringing his hat in his hands. “Heeeey, Mr. Lawrence?” he greeted, avoiding looking him in the eyes. Sammy sighed, already feeling a headache coming on.
“What’s broken.”
Wally bristled defensively. “Nothing! Why’s it always gotta be something?” After a moment though, he sighed and turned to leave. “Although I guess that does answer my question. So, uh, thanks for that, I guess.”
The man’s brow furrowed a bit. “Hold on, Franks. What did you want to ask?”
“If you think I’m stupid.” His eyes widened a bit, before he could speak, Wally continued, looking irritated and hurt. “Because I ain’t! Okay, I’m not...”
“I didn’t say you were stupid…” Sammy said softly.
He shook his head, “Yeah, but any time I come up to you, you act like I broke the studio and it’s your job to fix it! Look, I’m sorry I break things and I’m sorry I forget, but I’m tryin’ my best. It’s hard! I don’t know why it’s hard, but… it is. I don’t think that makes me stupid.”
“We don’t think you’re stupid, Wally,” he said again, more forcefully.
“Tom does.”
“No, he doesn’t. He gets frustrated. I-“ he grimaced, “I get frustrated. When you make the same mistake, over and over again, it feels careless.” Carefully, he got up from the piano. Wally stepped back, only to be pulled into a tight hug. “I didn’t know. I should have asked.”
He felt Wally begin to shake in his arms, and slowly, the smaller man returned the hug. They stayed there in silence, until finally, Sammy had to separate. Wally rubbed at his eyes.
“This stays between us, okay? I’ll talk to Tom.”
“…Thanks, Mr. Lawrence.”
He smiled a bit, “Sammy’s fine.”
---
The prophet laid a gentle hand on the lost one’s shoulder, guiding him away from the wall where he stood. Even as they walked away, he moved his head only slightly in that back-and-forth motion. The prophet rubbed little soothing circles into his form.
“Come with me, my little sheep. You are so smart, and so good. Our lord has a place for us all, and yours is not here.”