A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [96]
Of course: saving and taking a woman’s life. I shouldn’t have answered the door. Such terrible aimlessness, the priest was saying. Need, such great need. The need for youth activities. The parish was renting a gym for basketball and volleyball games. With enough donations they hoped to buy weights and a Nautilus machine. So it’s money he’s after. The smell of unwashed supper dishes hung in the air. All he wanted was to clean up the kitchen and watch television. And to be alone. He glanced toward the window and saw Jada Fossum crossing the street. His face flushed with shame. He had made her leave as soon as the sun came up this morning. No, don’t come here. Not now.
Father Hensile checked his watch. “I should be going. I don’t want to be taking up your whole night here,” he was saying when the bell rang.
“Can I come in? Just for a minute?” she asked through the half-open door.
“No. Someone’s here. I’ve got company,” he said in a low voice.
“I just want to explain, that’s all.”
“No, that’s all right. You don’t have to.” He stepped outside and closed the door.
“But I want to. I was scared, that’s all. I thought I heard a—”
“No! Go away! Just leave, will you?”
“But that’s why. You’re mad at me. . . .”
“No, I’m not mad.”
“Then what are you? You sure look mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m not anything, but I have to go back inside. So will you leave? Please?”
Her eyes moved in shrewd assessment between him and the closed door. “You got a couple bucks I can borrow?”
He only had six dollars, a five and a one.
“Five’s okay. I’ll pay you back. I promise.” She ran off down the street.
“That was my neighbor,” he explained, coming back in. “She lives across the street. She’s only thirteen.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” the priest said.
“What do you mean?” His voice trembled.
“The new youth center. I was hoping you could maybe give us a hand now and then. No set schedule or anything, I don’t mean that. That’s the beauty of this, it’s all kind of free-form. Random. Just come by when you feel like it.”
“No, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t be very good at it,” he added because the priest continued to look at him.
“But there’s nothing to be good at. All you’d have to do is be there.”
“No. No, I can’t.”
“I could really use your help. I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself in pretty deep,” the priest said with a wan smile.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Can I ask why?” The hounding eyes held his.
“I’m sorry, Father. I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t. I have a lot to do here. I’m very busy. I don’t have a whole lot of free time. I’m usually pretty tired after work. And I . . . To tell you the truth, I prefer being alone. I need that now.”
“Forgive me, then. I’ve overstayed my welcome.” The priest started to get up.
“No. I meant generally. In everyday life. I mean, after . . . after all that time.”
“Yes, of course.” The priest hunched closer. “And you were so young. All those years, what a terrible price to pay for an accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
“It wasn’t?” The priest didn’t move. “But you didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“A terrible price all the same,” the priest said with all the dismissal of absolution.
He was stunned. The only terrible price is that I’m here and she’s not.
“Well, after all this time I hope you’ve come to some sense of acceptance, Gordon,” the priest said, obviously reading his shock. “I mean, how else do you live with something like that?”
You don’t, he thought, looking straight into his eyes.
“It all has to be put into perspective. You have to understand that some things happen for which there is no earthly explanation. And that what you did or didn’t do in a particular moment doesn’t condemn you—forever,” he added uneasily. “Not in the eyes of God, anyway.”
Gordon sighed and looked away. This was the mission, to rescue the sinner from his sin. He could feel himself clinging to a crumbling window ledge while this priest tried to