“FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I have sinned.”
“Hello,” the voice from the other side of the booth spoke softly.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
There was a small thread of silence between these spaces that he always took the initiative to break. “Tell me what brings you here this evening.”
My fingers beat a nervous rhythm against the worn wood bench. “I’ve been thinking about some things.”
“Such as?”
I closed my eyes. “Mostly, my sister.”
“It seems she’s in your thoughts often. You must worry about her.”
“Yes, I do. But also… there is some guilt.”
“Tell me,” he encouraged. “What do you have to be guilty for?”
I recalled Birdie’s face, smeared with chocolate. Happy and innocent, the way she used to be before I fucked everything up. Tears burned my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them spill.
“There were so many times when I was younger that I harbored bitterness because I loved her so much. When those men would come to visit me… all I wanted to do was run away. But that’s how Ricky kept me. He used her as leverage because he knew I’d never leave her. It didn’t matter if I lived or died, but it mattered if she did. I loved her too much, and sometimes, I think I hated her for that.”
The urge to retch clawed at my throat as the words spilled from my lips. It was the first time I’d ever spoken them aloud. It was the first time I’d ever truly admitted what a horrible person I was. Part of me hoped the priest would agree, giving me the confirmation of what I always believed was true.
“You did the best you could in an impossible situation,” he said. “You chose to stay and suffer so that she might have a brighter future. I can assure you that whatever feelings you experienced do not make you flawed. They make you human.”
His words did nothing to ease the pain in my chest. I felt like he didn’t understand, and I needed to prove he was wrong. That I was bad after all. Everything was my fault.
“I could have done better. I could have made someone listen.”
“You told me that you tried.”
“That wasn’t…” I shifted my weight in frustration and crossed my arms. “It didn’t matter.”
“Why?”
“Because they had no birth record of my sister, or any evidence that she even existed. When the social workers went to Ricky’s house, they couldn’t find her. He made her hide in a trunk and told them I was delusional. He said I had problems from the start, and he didn’t know what to do with me anymore.”
“And they believed him,” the priest murmured disapprovingly.
“This was in a state that still thought it was appropriate to arrest child prostitutes and lock them in jail. So, yes, they believed him. Ricky came to visit me and told me if I stopped blabbing, he wouldn’t hurt Birdie.”
“You did what you thought was best,” the priest assured me again. “It was an impossible situation. The people you thought you could trust failed you.”
I looked at the floor, my silver stilettos gleaming in the darkness like a beacon of sin. “And I failed her because, in the end, none of it mattered.” Moisture tainted my cheeks, and I didn’t move so I could pretend it wasn’t there.
“He touched her anyway.”