Chapter Fifteen
Daphne
Monday morning, I got a call from the restaurant. It was my boss Ken. “Hey, Daphne, I’m sorry to do this to you, but there was a mix up on the schedule and we’re a little overstaffed. Do you mind having the day off since you’re scheduled for the rest of the week?”
“No, of course not,” I told him. I was a little disappointed because I did need the money — and I was already dressed and ready to go — but I could readily think of at least one thing I needed to do. “Thanks for letting me know before I got there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Daphne.” I liked Ken. I was learning a lot from him, and although I hoped someday to go back to school and become a nurse, it’s all good life experience.
After I hung up, I changed out of my work clothes and slipped on a floor-length skirt and a white blouse. I left my hair in the braid I’d put it in for work and headed down to the church. I had to get it over with or it would ruin the relationship I had with God. Being a good Catholic was what got me through so many bad times in my life. I was in no way ready to lose that.
Confession was in full swing when I got there. I waited on my knees in front of the altar until everyone else had gone before me. When there was no one else left, I slipped into the confession box and said, “Bless me, Father, but I’m not here to confess any sins. I’m here to speak to you about what we did…the sin we committed together. I’m the woman you had sex with. My name is Daphne and now, I know that yours is Jace. Father Jace.”
It was deathly quiet for what seemed like a long time. At first, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything to me, at all. Then when he did, I found myself wishing that he hadn’t. “I slept with you? Are you crazy? I’m a priest.” He sounded righteously indignant, and it really pissed me off.
“How dare you? You broke your vows, and I have agonized over this for nearly two weeks. You sat in there last week and let me confess to you, and you didn’t have the courage to admit your part in it. You were only concerned with whether or not I told anyone. Now you call me crazy? What kind of a priest are you, anyways?”
I could hear him breathing heavily, but he still wasn’t saying anything so I said, “Maybe you were too drunk to remember clearly. You were slurring your speech a lot in that seedy little bar where we met. I must say that meeting a priest in a bar was not something I would have ever expected.
“I was pretty drunk, too, but I remember that night vividly. I remember going back to your apartment and making love to you in your bed. I remember waking up the next morning and feeling horrified that I’d done something so horrible as to have sex outside of wedlock. I’d never done that before, you know.
“Now, I not only have to live with that, but thanks to you, I have to live with the fact that I had sex with a priest. If you don’t think we need to talk about that, that’s okay. I’ll find someone in the church who is willing to talk to me.”
I stood up to go and heard him say, “Wait! I’m sorry. You’re right. You shouldn’t have to go to someone else. If you’re still willing to talk to me, just slip me an address or something where I can meet you before you go.”
I didn't know if the “I’m sorry” was for sleeping with me, lying to me, or being angry with me — or if he believed it would encompass it all. I wasn’t accepting his apologies at that point, but I would give him the chance to talk. Mostly because I was so curious as to why he did what he did.
I had already written down my address and phone number in the hopes that he would agree to talk privately. I slipped it through the slot on his side and left without saying anything further.