Chapter 5
Aweek goes by before the mystery man full of sin and brash language shows back up. I thought maybe he’d given up for good, but once again, right before my confessional hours are over, he sits in the booth across from me.
He’s quiet, forcing me to speak first.
“How long has it been since your last confession?”
“I’ve never confessed to anything in my life.”
“Then I imagine you have a lot to repent for.”
“Yep,” he says without regret. “This will likely be the last time I’m here, Padre.”
“And why is that?” I ask, curious and somewhat disappointed.
“Coming here doesn’t help me. You were right before. I have no reason to show up if I’m not going to confess. And,” He hesitates. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”
“Are you just looking for someone to talk to?”
“In my profession, I’m not paid to talk. In fact, it would be the opposite, if anything.”
“So you come here to talk to someone who can’t repeat anything. It seems to me like you want to confide in someone without the threat of consequence.”
He chuckles. “Oh, is that what you think?”
“If that’s not the case, tell me what is.”
“You’re not ready for my confessions, Father.”
“Try me.”
He snickers again, like he’s amused by me. “What’s the worst thing someone has confessed to you?” he questions.
“In here?”
“Yeah.”
“Those are private and personal confessions.”
“I’m not telling you to give me their full names and addresses. What do I give a fuck what people do? I’m not one to judge.”
I sigh. “Common confessions are lying, stealing, lusting, having affairs. Harboring thoughts of revenge.”
“Lusting? You mean to tell me people aren’t allowed to lust after anyone?”
I ignore his question. “So, what are your sins?”
“Well, Father,” he says with a small laugh, “I can tell you I’ve lied, I’ve stolen, I’ve lusted, and I’m currently harboring thoughts of revenge.”
“Are those all your mortal sins?”
“No.”
“You must confess all of your mortal sins. Get on your knees and confess them all so I can absolve you.”
“On my knees, huh?” he questions. “That’s what this little cushioned bench is for?”
“Yes.”
A few seconds go by and I’m sure he’s about to leave, but then I see his face at the lattice as I sit back in my seat.
He looks at me through the small holes, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
I can’t make out any discerning features—the lattice doing its job to obscure faces in the dim lighting of the confessional booth.
“We’ll be here all night, Father.”
“That’s fine.”
“You want me on my knees all night?”
Something in his tone sets me on edge.
“Go ahead and start.”
“If I tell you everything right now, you’ll never see me again. I won’t come back.”
“Will you continue to sin?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll need to come back.”
“Sounds like you want me to be a sinner, Father.”
I hesitate. “Are you ready?”
“I’m not going to bore you with the sins of my life. We don’t have that sort of time, but I’ll confess some recent ones.”
I sit up a little straighter. “Go on.”
“There’s blood on my hands, Father.” He pauses, waiting for my response, but my tongue is dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Lots of it.”
When I finally come down from the shock of this particular confession, I speak. “Was it self-defense?”
“I’d say so. Self-defense is to protect yourself or family from harm, right?”
“Were you in immediate danger? Could this have been avoided?”
“Immediate? Maybe not. Could I have avoided it? No.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“You have to be able to say you are sorry for all of your sins.”
“That would be a lie.”
“Then I cannot absolve you.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need to be absolved of something I plan on continuing to do.” He stands up. “Goodbye, Father.”
“Be safe out there. Be conscious of the lives you affect with the decisions you make,” I say before he’s gone.
“I’m well aware.”
I can’t help but feel like I didn’t do a good enough job with him, but it’s clear he’s not sorry for what he’s done, and has no plans to change who he is.
I’ll pray on it. Maybe he’ll come back and I can do more for him.