“FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I have sinned.”
“How long has it been since your last confession?” Father Hawk asked.
“I think you know.”
There was silence, and then he shifted, bowing his head forward. “How are you?”
He never addressed me by name because I’d never given it to him, and he had never asked. I liked the anonymity of it at first, but I didn’t anymore.
“What’s your first name, Father Hawk?”
I wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer, so I was surprised when he did.
“Cristian.”
I toyed with the rubber band between my fingers, snapping it against my skin to ease my nerves. “My name’s Gypsy, just so you know.”
I figured it didn’t matter at this point if I revealed at least that much. Lucian already knew my secrets anyway, so there was no running anymore. Not really.
Cristian didn’t answer, and I wondered what he was thinking. He was young for a priest. Maybe about thirty, if I had to guess. He was handsome too, and I could have pictured him living an entirely different life from the one he’d chosen. If I saw him in street clothes, I would have never known he was a religious figure. But maybe that’s what I liked about him. He was a modern representation of an ancient religion, and he didn’t judge me for the things I told him. I had a notion that was why Lucian liked him too.
“How long have you known Lucian?” I ventured.
“You know I can’t answer that.”
I shrugged. It was worth a try. “You must know him pretty well for him to call you when he’s sick. At first, I thought there was no way it could be a coincidence.”
“What?” Cristian asked.
“Both of us coming to this church. It seemed like there was some sort of connection, and you were the only link.”
“I would never betray your trust,” Cristian answered solemnly.
“I know. I’m just telling you the thought crossed my mind at first.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind today,” he suggested. “What brought you here?”
“I’m not sure.” I snapped the band again. “I’ve been with Lucian for two weeks now, and he thinks he’s going to send me back to school.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I leaned back against the wood panel and blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I always wanted my sister to go so she could make something of herself, but I never really thought about doing it myself.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” My voice grew quiet. “I wasn’t sure that I could make anything of myself. I’m still not.”
“It’s scary for you to step outside your boundaries,” Cristian observed.
I nodded, forgoing a verbal response. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I was telling him any of this. I knew the whole point of coming here was to confess my sins, but it always ended up being more like a counseling session somehow. And today, after signing up for class, I felt like I needed to come here.
“What makes you so uncertain about your future?” he prompted.
“I don’t know. I’m only good at one thing, and it isn’t a good thing.”
He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Conning people?”
“Yes.”
“I believe there is much more to you than that.”
“Not really.” I sank into myself the way I usually did when someone tried to give me a compliment. “After my mom left, Ricky only kept us in school when it suited him. I can’t even remember the last grade I made it through.”
He was quiet for a while, but I knew he would ask about her. Maybe that’s why I brought it up. Sometimes, I thought of her. Sometimes I missed her, and other times I hated her. Mostly, I didn’t even know if she was ever real because it had been so long since I’d seen her face.
“When did your mom leave?” he asked.
My foot edged toward the door, an old habit that eased some of the anxiety during difficult conversations. “I’m not sure. I was six, I think.”
“Where did she go?”
“Ricky always said she went back to her clan. She was a gypsy, but she’d been shunned, and that’s how she ended up with him in the first place. So, I don’t think she really went back.”
“What do you think really happened?” Cristian asked.
“I think Ricky killed her, probably.”
Cristian’s posture changed, and I could practically feel the tension taking up space between his bones. I’d never admitted it out loud to anyone before, not even Birdie. I told her that Mom had to go back to her clan, and we weren’t allowed because we were only half gypsy. She hadn’t ever questioned it.
“And Ricky was not your real father?” Cristian’s voice was delicate as though he thought his questions might break me.
“No, he was her pimp. We don’t know who our fathers were. I don’t even know if my mom knew.”
Another silence. It hurt to admit my truth, and I didn’t know why. It shouldn’t hurt so much anymore. I was an adult now. I’d made it through the worst of my life. It was stupid that I came here and confessed these things. They weren’t important, but Cristian seemed to disagree.
“Sometimes it helps just to say things out loud,” he acknowledged gently.
“Yeah, I guess.” I nodded. “But that’s why. My schooling wasn’t a priority when I had to take care of my sister. I never resented it, but now I don’t know what else to be. I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“It’s never too late to change,” he said. “You are still young. You have your life ahead of you. Perhaps you should set your fears aside and just take it one day at a time instead of looking at the big picture.”
It was good advice, but I still didn’t know how I was going to handle it. The whole idea was terrifying. “Do you ever wish you could change something, Cristian?”
He cleared his throat, and when he answered, his voice was filled with torment.
“Yes, I do.”