Caine
I was full of shit.
Only this time, I was lying to myself, too. The department chair had emailed to ask that I do a write up of my observations on Rachel’s thesis project to pass around to the other professors to help solicit a new advisor. I’d been dragging my feet to give her a chance to reconsider, and now I was using it as a reason to see her—pretending I needed to turn it in fast when I had no intention of doing any such thing.
It was the mid-semester break, and six days of not seeing Rachel was about all I could take. If anyone got a hold of what I’d resorted to, they’d think I’d lost my mind—and they might be right, but I didn’t give a fuck after six days.
This month’s Rolling Stone magazine had one of those quizzes Rachel was obsessed with. I’d noticed it while thumbing through two weeks ago and put it aside so she could take it. Missing her this morning, I might have taken it myself.
What Your Music Says About Your Love Life asked a series of questions based on which songs you related to most. When I tallied up my score, the prediction it assigned to me about my future was, of course, completely inaccurate. Curious, I read the other predictions anyway. One hit home, only I hadn’t scored between a 52 and 68. That particular answer couldn’t have been any more perfect for Rachel to read today if I had made the shit up myself. It read:
You’ve already met your destiny! Although you may not know it. You’re an old soul who connects with people on a cosmic level. Trust can be an issue with you, and you often avoid relationships because you follow your head instead of your intuition, sometimes blindly. In love, sometimes you need to throw caution to the wind and jump in with both feet. You’ve known your soulmate for a long time, but only recently have realized it was meant to be. Stop fighting it and feed your soul.
The quiz was a series of fifteen questions. I retook it, only this time I answered as Rachel would. Drinking a scotch on the rocks, I rattled the ice around in the glass as I tallied up her answers. Her score would be somewhere between 40 and 43. You’ve yet to meet your destiny!
“Yeah. Not happening,” I grumbled.
Sucking back the rest of the scotch, I figured she needed a boost of eighteen to twenty points in order to be safely ensconced where she was supposed to be. I picked the four questions where I was most certain of her answers and manually changed the point rating to increase it by five each.
“Much better. “
Jesus Christ, I’ve been thoroughly pussified.
I tossed the magazine on the table and scrubbed my hands over my face. What the fuck was I doing? I’d resorted to editing love quizzes and taking them as Rachel. I needed to not have a second drink, sober up, shower, put some clean clothes on, and go down to O’Leary’s before I resorted to calling and hanging up on her just to hear her voice.
Growing some balls, that’s exactly what I finally did.
I’d decided not to text her before showing up so she didn’t have the opportunity to tell me to email over the unimportant stuff I was pretending was important for her to take a look at. I drove to O’Leary’s at almost the end of her shift. The thought of seeing her soon had me in a better mood than I’d been in for two weeks. I whistled along with the music on the car ride over.
Ava was behind the bar when I walked in. I remembered Rachel had said her friend’s bartending abilities were limited to covering quick breaks and trips to the bathroom, so I figured she must be in the restroom or doing something in back.
I took a seat at the bar to wait, opting for the emptier side, opposite where Ava stood with her back to me while she talked to a patron. Still in my good mood, I tapped my fingers on the bar to the sound of Jack Johnson’s “Better Together” playing overhead.
Unfortunately, my good mood came to a screeching halt when I glanced around the restaurant. Rachel was at a table, only she wasn’t delivering food. My hands clenched into fists as I watched her sitting in a booth off in the corner with some guy. Their hands were intertwined in the middle of the table as they sat in what appeared to be deep conversation. I stared until the guy moved his head and I could get a clear look at his face. Davis.
What the fuck?
My first instinct was to walk over and find out what the hell was going on. I even stood and took a few steps. But then I saw something that made me freeze in place. Rachel bent her head back, laughing. Instantly I went from angry to an odd mix of feeling crushed and guilty. She was smiling again instead of looking like she was sad. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along?
Conflicted, I watched from a distance until I was unable to take it any more. Then I turned around and quietly walked back out of the bar. I was angry, though I knew I had absolutely no right to be. And my anger was mixed heavily with regret.
It was my fault she was holding hands with another man. I’d walked away because I didn’t deserve to have her, yet no one else was worthy of her either. There was no logic to my thoughts. Somehow, though, I was aware that no one would understand the decisions I’d made. So, I kept to myself, even though I needed to work out what I was going through out loud.
The entire break, I’d been cooped up in my apartment. My only daily activity, other than hitting the gym, was listening to music. If I didn’t keep myself out for at least a few hours now, there was a good chance Rachel would be getting a mix tape. I was that pussified.
Left with nothing to do with myself, I decided to go for a drive. I’d let the road and my little car take me where they would. I didn’t have to be at work until Monday. Getting out of the city for a night or two might be just what I needed. Pulling a U-turn, I headed for the bridge instead of the parkway that took me back to my apartment. I honestly had no particular destination in mind. So, I just drove. For hours. And when I arrived, I realized I was exactly where I needed to be.
The stairs had been replaced. Worn red brick was now white marble. Some of the bushes were new, and the little fence that surrounded the statue of the Virgin Mary hadn’t been there before. But otherwise, St. Killian’s looked exactly like the last time I’d walked through its doors fifteen years ago. I still remembered that visit. I’d snuck out of the house—having been punished after the shit that went down with Benny the week before. I knew she was gone. My parents had told me that much since I’d refused to even talk about anything that’d happened until I heard she was safe. But I didn’t care. I needed to be here that Saturday in case somehow she came back to talk to me. I wanted to explain why I’d done what I’d done.
That afternoon, I sat in that dark booth for six straight hours. Of course she never did show up—she was long gone. I realized I’d have to live with the guilt of betraying her trust and hope she moved on.
The irony didn’t escape me that I was here once again after seeing her move on today.
Inside, the church was empty. I had no idea why I’d come or what I was going to do when I got here. My eyes went right to the confessional, which was still there, but I wasn’t about to go sit inside. Instead, I took a seat in the back pew and just looked around. It was peaceful tonight. The smell of musty incense warmed my senses. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, spread my arms along the top of the pew, and bowed my head.
I stayed that way for an indeterminate amount of time, until the sounds of footsteps close by caused me to lift my head. An older priest came toward me. I hadn’t even heard him until he was only a few pews away.
“Ha-ware-ya, son?”
It took me a minute to realize he had an Irish brogue and had just asked how are you?
I smiled. “I’m good. I hope it’s okay to be in here.”
“No locks on these doors. We’re very lucky. Very few churches can say that anymore. Great community here. You can come whenever you want.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there something you’d like to talk about?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You sure? I’m known as a pretty good listener.”
“No offense, Father, but it’s a woman—not sure that’s your area of expertise.”
The priest smiled warmly and took a seat in the row in front of me. Turning to the side, he lifted a knee onto the seat and slung one arm over the back of the pew to face me.
“I might be married to the Lord, but I got a mother and four sisters.” He held up four fingers. “Four sisters. None of the bunch ever shut the hell up, so I know a lot about women.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a priest say hell unless he was referring to eternal damnation.”
He smiled. “It’s the new millennium, son. I have to keep up with the times. Even watch some of those Real Housewives shows when I go over to my sister Mary’s place. She’s addicted to that stuff.’”
“That sounds like a penance.”
“Yeah, well, the Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“That I can wholeheartedly agree with.”
“So what brings you out this fine evening? Don’t think I’ve seen you around at any of the masses. Are you new to the area?”
“No, actually I grew up here. St. Killian’s was my church when I was a kid.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “You back in town visiting family, then?”
“No. Dad passed away years ago. Mom doesn’t live here anymore. I just…I was…” No use lying to a priest. “Thought I’d go for a drive to clear my head, and somehow I found myself here.”
“Sometimes the path is created for us, and we can only follow.”
“I suppose…”
“So tell me about your girl. What’s her name?”
“Rachel.”
He nodded. “From the book of Genesis.”
“If you say so.”
“What’s been going on with Rachel that has you lost?”
“It’s a long story, Father.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.”
“You won’t like it very much. I haven’t honored the church too well. Or priests for that matter.”
His smile was inviting and nonjudgmental, even after I’d warned him off. “We all make mistakes, son. Sometimes getting it off your chest helps.”
There was nothing to lose, except his respect. I already had none for myself. Maybe a real confession was a long time coming.
So, I took a deep breath. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The priest took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Well, that was a doozy indeed, son.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Let’s start at the beginning. What you did all those years ago…while it might’ve begun for the wrong reasons—you skipping out on working, hiding in the confessional—you came back even after you didn’t have to be here anymore.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me, why did you keep coming back each week?”
“I knew something was off. The little girl…Rachel, I mean. She was scared. She seemed like she really needed someone to talk to about whatever was going on.”
“So you wanted to help her?”
“Yeah.” That was the truth. I had wanted to help. “But I didn’t go about it the right way. I should have told someone on day one, involved the police when I had my suspicions. Instead I played detective and got her hurt.”
The priest contemplated for a moment. “Why didn’t you go to an adult? There must have been a reason.”
“She was scared, skittish almost. I wasn’t sure what I suspected was right. I was afraid I’d scare her off and she’d trust no one after that.”
“Perhaps if you’d run off and informed the police after the first time you spoke to her, Rachel and her sister would’ve been too scared to admit the truth and denied anything was going on.”
I shook my head. “Maybe they would have told the truth and been taken out of that hell sooner.”
“Sometimes in life, pain is unavoidable, son. We do the best we can. It seems to me that you brought the situation to an end. Had you not come back that next week, it could have gone on for years. Many teenage boys wouldn’t have given up their Saturday afternoons to befriend a young girl.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know.”
“Do you believe in God, son?”
It had been a long time since I walked into church, but that didn’t change my faith. As miserable as I was, and as screwed up as my connection to the church was, I still believed in a higher power.
“I do.”
“That’s good. You need to heed the destiny He has chosen for you. And the only way to honor that is to accept it and embrace it with truth.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“There is no such thing as coincidence. Coincidence appears to be a remarkable concurrence of events that have no plausible connection. But there is always a connection. God is always the connection.”
I was skeptical. “So you think God put us both in that confessional at the same time?”
“I do.” He was steadfast in his answer. “And even more importantly, I believe God brought you back together again for a reason.”
“And what’s that reason?”
“That.” He pointed a finger at me. “Is for you to figure out. It appears He’s giving you a second chance. What you do with it is up to you.”
I shook my head. Maybe he was right. Maybe we were back together for me to come clean with Rachel, or maybe this second chance was about something more. But doing the right thing by her was fifteen years in the making.
“Thanks, Father.”
He reached over and extended a hand to me. “I’ll give you some space so you can do what you came here to do—think.”
We shook. “Thank you.”
He stepped out of the pew, took a few steps toward the altar, and then turned back to me. “Four Hail Marys, two Our Fathers, and an act of faith.” Seeing the look on my face, he explained. “Your penance. I don’t believe in just saying prayers to atone for your sins. Sometimes I give an act of virtue of some sort as part of your contrition—an act of charity, an act of hope... I’m going easy on the prayers for you, but I want the act of faith to be significant.”
I sat alone in the back of the church for almost another hour, thinking. Eventually I decided it was time to go. But as I headed out, I couldn’t resist taking a look, returning to the scene of the crime.
I smiled when the door to the old confessional creaked open just like it used to. The inside looked almost exactly the same, maybe a little more time-worn. Taking a seat in that chair where everything had started, I took a look around. The decor hadn’t changed much either. Only a simple gold cross hung on the wall. I stared at it for a while, then my head fell into my hands and my eyes closed.
So many questions swirled around. Could there be some truth in that Rachel and her sister might have denied anything going on if I’d told someone right away? Could she forgive what I’d done and all the lies then and now? Even if she could, had Rachel already moved on? Is it better that she did? Seeing her earlier with Davis—the happy look on her face as she laughed—hurt like hell. I wanted to be the one to make her smile. Maybe that was my act of faith, part of my penance of sacrifice.
I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do. It was possible I was more confused now than when I’d wandered in. I know I’ve been a crap parishioner, but a sign might be nice.
Feeling defeated, I opened my eyes and looked down at the worn carpet. A shiny penny stared at me, heads facing up. I laughed and reached down to pick it up. Even after all these years, I could still hear her little voice.
“Find a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck.”
God, she was still with me. Even after all these years and everything we’d been through. How could I let her go?
And then it hit me.
I could let her go physically. But she’d be taking my heart with her. I needed to at least give her the truth and let her decide what to do with it.
Just like I’d done before when I sat in this seat, I flipped the copper penny over and over between my thumb and pointer. Closing it into my palm after a minute, I looked up at the cross.
“Thanks. I’m gonna need it.”