18. Father Alexander
Father Alexander
My knee has been bouncing uncontrollably under my desk for the past twenty minutes. It was about five in the morning when I arrived here. A lot earlier than I am used to being up, but I couldn’t sleep.
And it worked out because I avoided seeing anybody. There’s no way I could be around others right now because I’d be afraid I’d slip up about what I had learned. I know that I wouldn’t, but there is that small part of me that feels like it might randomly come out.
The last three nights, I didn’t sleep much.
After I showered and changed to go to bed, the night that I began harboring a new secret, I kept tossing and turning in my bed.
I’d close my eyes, but sleep barely came.
If it did, it was only for a few minutes.
Last night, I couldn’t take the feeling of being restless anymore, so I got out of bed and found my way to my office.
It’s been a few hours since I’ve been sitting here, and I’m surprised that I haven’t dozed off. Just knowing what I did and what Father Keaton is doing is keeping me from sleeping. How in the world is he getting any rest while holding in his secret?
I push my laptop away and rest my elbows on the desk. My head falls into my hands, and I let out an exhausted sigh. There is a lot to get done today, but maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt.
Twenty minutes.
That’s all I would need to keep functioning.
With my eyes shut, I control my breathing and begin to drift off. The peaceful moment doesn’t last long before there is a knock at my door. My eyes snap open, and I pray that it is not Father Keaton.
Lifting my head, relief floods me when I see Celine standing there. Her hair is up in a messy bun, her eyes matching mine with fatigue. I lower my eyes to her white dress and realize I can see her hardened nipples through the fabric.
I divert my eyes from her breast and greet her. “Good morning, Celine.”
“Morning,” she says, leaning against the door frame. “You don’t look so good.”
An airy laugh escapes me. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Me neither.”
I set my chin on my hands, which are clasped together, and ask, “What kept you up last night?”
Deep down, I want her to admit that it was because of me.
I want her to say that she couldn’t sleep because she kept thinking about how I almost kissed her in the library the other night.
Maybe what kept her up the past few days was that she touched herself, and she felt guilty because I told her not to.
All these things I want her to admit, she finally tells me why she couldn’t sleep, and my heart deflates.
“My parents are visiting this morning.”
“You don’t want to see them?”
“Seeing as they tricked me into coming here, no.” Her head relaxes against the frame. “I can’t say I am excited to see them.”
They tricked her into coming here?
I know she mentioned that she wasn’t thrilled to be here, but I would have never thought that the only reason she’s here would be because she was forced to come against her will. Then the memory of her running down the hall on her first day here, looking scared, makes more sense.
“It will probably only be my mother who shows up since my father is too busy, but she’ll spend the entire time judging me.”
“What time is she supposed to be here?”
Celine lifts her head, peeking at the clock on my wall. “Any minute now.”
“Well, you are more than welcome to sit here while you wait,” I offer.
She smiles, entering the office and taking a seat in the chair opposite me. Celine drops her hands into her lap and begins rolling the fabric of her dress between her fingers as she looks around my office.
To the right of my desk is a bookshelf. Along with the books that line the shelves, there are photos of my parents and me.
Celine squints her eyes to see better without having to get up. “Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”
I glance at the photos and feel a pang in my chest. “I do. My mom is my best friend.”
She nods slowly, peeling her eyes from the pictures. “And your dad?”
“We were close.” With my hands still clasped together, my finger taps against the top of my hand. “He died when I was twenty-six.”
Not only was my mom my best friend, but my dad was too. Six years without him, and the pain is still there. It was so long ago, but the event still feels fresh in my mind.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding genuine with her apology. “What happened?” Her question seems to come as a shock because she shakes her head and quickly adds, “Never mind. You do not have to answer that.”
I don’t talk about what happened to my dad with anyone besides my mom, but I find myself wanting to tell Celine.
“We had this tradition. Once a month, we would go to the movie theater and ask the ticket seller to surprise us with whatever movie was playing at the time. It started when I was thirteen and became something we both looked forward to every month. Not knowing what movie we were going to see until we bought the tickets was a thrill.”
I smile at the memory when Celine says, “Sounds like fun.”
“It was.” I swallow and sit back in my seat.
“The last time we went to see a movie, I told him I wasn’t able to go until a later showing because of work.
By the time we got to the theater, it was ten at night.
He didn’t mind at all. He was just excited that we could go.
By the time we left, it was well past midnight.
There weren’t many cars on the road, which made for a peaceful drive. ”
My throat feels tight, and my eyes are beginning to sting, but I continue with a strained voice. “The car came out of nowhere and hit the driver’s side. The guy who was driving was drunk beyond the limit.”
I drum my fingers on my knee to the music lightly coming from the speaker. It’s a warm June night, and we have the windows down. The air feels good against my skin, and I can’t help but smile. Life is good right now. I have a job that I love, friends who are always there for me, and my parents.
As happiness floods through me, I glance at my dad, who is driving with a grin on his face.
His finger taps the steering wheel just like mine are on my knee.
The smile on my face fades quickly as we go through an intersection.
A car coming from the left speeds through the stop sign with its headlights off.
“Dad!” I scream.
He immediately jerks his head to the left to see the incoming car. He tries to speed up, but with how fast the other vehicle is going, it’s too late. The impact is rough, sending our car flipping.
I don’t know how many times it flips, but when we finally stop, we are upright. I cough hard, trying to draw air into my lungs. My head is throbbing with intense pain, and my hands have blood on them from the glass of the windshield that shattered.
Lifting my hand to my head where pain is radiating, I look at my dad, who is leaning forward. His head rests against the steering wheel.
“Dad.” Reaching my hand out, I tap his shoulder. “Dad, are you alright?”
My eyes leave him to see the driver who hit us stumbling out of his car, holding his head and groaning. Lights in the surrounding houses are on now, and people are emerging from their homes to see what has happened.
Turning my attention back to my dad, I gently shake his shoulder again. “Dad.”
There is no response.
Carefully, I pull him off the steering wheel, and when his back hits the seat, his head lolls to the side, giving me a perfect view of the blood seeping from somewhere on his head.
My teeth clench together at the sight, and I look over the rest of his body.
Panic sets in when I notice he isn’t breathing.
“Are you okay?” A woman’s voice sounds from behind me, but I don’t respond because I can’t bear to take my eyes off the man who raised me.
“Dad.” I shake him again, tears falling down my face. The amount accumulating in my eyes is blurring my vision.
“The ambulance is on its way.” The woman informs me in a sad tone.
“Did you hear that, Dad? An ambulance is on the way.” I choke on my words. “Everything is going to be okay.”
He doesn’t hear me.
I know he doesn’t because he’s gone.
In the blink of an eye, my dad was taken from me. A guttural sob leaves me, knowing that he is dead.
My best friend.
Gone.
Sirens blare in the distance, coming for us, but all I can think about is my dad. And my mom. Oh god. She is going to lose it when she finds out. The doctors can’t be the ones to deliver this news to her. It has to be me.
I stay in the car the whole time, not wanting to leave my dad’s side. The paramedics are careful when they remove his body from the car and put him on the stretcher.
When he is finally out, I let them help me. Due to the way the car rolled, the passenger-side car door was stuck and wouldn’t open. I guess it’s a good thing we had the windows down, because I ended up climbing out through the opening.
The paramedics assess my injuries as my dad lies in the back of the ambulance.
They try asking me questions, and I think I answer them.
My mouth moves, saying something, but there is a loud roar in my ears as the shock takes over my body.
I stare straight ahead as they tell me that, besides the cuts on my hands, I have a nasty cut on my head and probably a few bruised ribs.
I nod blindly at their words that I barely hear.
As I sit in the back of the ambulance with my father’s lifeless body, I dig my phone out of my pocket. The screen is cracked a little, but it still works, so I call my mom.
“Hi, honey. How was the movie?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
“Mom,” I fight back the tears. “There’s been an accident.”
“What?” The panic in her voice is immediate, wiping away any exhaustion. “Are you and your father okay?”
I can’t tell her over the phone. “We are on the way to city hospital.”
“I’m on my way.”
Moments after we arrive, they take my dad away from me, and my mom runs into the hospital. She looks around frantically, and her eyes meet my red ones.
Her tears immediately start, and she rushes toward me, and I shake my head. She drops her purse to the floor, and her hands cover her mouth as she cries out. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight as we both sink to the floor in the waiting room and fall apart.
I lift my hand, wiping away a tear that escaped, and swallow past the lump in my throat.
“They said that when the other car hit us, he had a heart attack. There was nothing they could do to save him.”
“I am so sorry, Alex.” She uses my name, just my name, and it feels nice to hear in this vulnerable moment. “Losing a parent is never easy.”
“It is not.” I sit forward again, dragging my laptop toward me.
I have to look away from Celine’s gaze. Her eyes are full of pity, and I can’t handle the sensation that she cares about me. Thankfully, there is a soft knock at the door, and when I lift my eyes, Sister Alice is standing there with a smile.
Celine looks over her shoulder, and Sister Alice tells her that her mother is here. She turns back around in her chair with an annoyed expression and lets out a long sigh.
Her eyes meet mine again, and she asks, “Is it bad that I was hoping she wouldn’t show?”
“Not at all.” That makes her smile a bit.
Her hands meet the arms of the chair, and she pushes herself up. Celine heads for the door but stops and turns to me. “I’ll see you for our prayer tonight.”
“I’ll see you,” I reassure her before she leaves.
Once I am alone again, I sit with the memory of my dad. After his passing, I lashed out. I ignored those friends who had always been there for me and fell into another group of friends who were bad for me—drugs, partying, and stealing. I even stopped showing up to work.
For too long, I acted like a piece of shit. And worst of all, I was an ass to my mom. She lost her husband. She was grieving, too, and I wasn’t there for her. The guilt eats me alive to this day.
It wasn’t until the two-year anniversary of my dad’s death that I realized I couldn’t keep living my life the way I was. I wasn’t only hurting myself, I was hurting the people I love. I’m not sure why that year was especially tough for me, but I couldn’t stop crying; I was mentally lost
I walked the streets at night and stumbled upon a church. I wasn’t sure if I could go in, but I did anyway. It was empty, no one in sight. I went into the chapel, up to the altar, and dropped to my knees.
My hands met the floor, and I sobbed. Sounds from deep within my chest flew out of me as I let it all out, asking God why he took my best friend from me. I was so in my head that I didn’t hear someone join me.
That was the day I met Father Hobbs. He knelt with me, placing a hand on my shoulder, and began to pray.
His words resonated with me. They seeped into my skin and wrapped their warmth around me, providing me a sort of safety that I haven’t felt in a while.
He offered to help me overcome my grief and guilt.
Guilt over being mean to my mother, as well as the guilt I felt over my father’s death.
Back then, I felt it was my fault since we had to see a movie later because of my work schedule. If we had been able to see it earlier, then the drunk driver wouldn’t have hit us.
Now, I know there was nothing I could have done to save him. Maybe if the shock of being struck by another car hadn’t given him a heart attack, I could have done something, but the way it happened was out of my control.
After that day in the church, I continued to visit Father Hobbs, and he eventually suggested that I consider joining the priesthood. I jumped on the opportunity because I believed that it would help turn my life around.
And it did.
I got my life back on track after being stuck at rock bottom for two years. My mother and I rekindled our relationship, and I have led a peaceful life for the past four years. Now that peaceful life is anything but with Celine here. She’s a temptation, a sin waiting to be committed.
Now it’s just a waiting game to see when I cave and sin with her.