Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved Read online

  Douglass’ eyes gleamed with humor.

  “We are all unique. Never lose yourself, you don’t have to. That is what it is all about. Like I said, and remember this, because it’s important.”

  Douglass nodded, showing his understanding.

  “We all bring different things to the table, and you will, too. We are made differently, all of us, and we all have something to contribute, something new, a gift to bring to the people.”

  “Yes.” Douglass looked to be deep in thought, mulling over Dane’s words for a while. “That’s what I like about you, Fr. Caruso, I mean, Dane. It’s like...talking to my big brother instead of another priest. Like, when I was a kid, I looked up to the priests, but sometimes, they seemed untouchable and that is why I wanted to do this, too.”

  Douglass straightened his posture, fired up with excitement as he turned to face Dane, his hands on his knees.

  “I wanted to be approachable, and really get in the trenches. So many people have left the Church, left God, when it isn’t the Lord they’re running from. They are running from the dogma. Like...we’re just...”

  “Regular people.” Dane grinned, finishing his sentence.

  “That’s right! And that is why, when I first met you, the way you joked with me and a couple of the other guys, I just couldn’t believe how cool and laid back you were. Man,” Douglass shook his head, “you are exactly the kind of priest I want to be.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure your own personality will shine just fine.” Dane bent down to tie his shoe, trying to remain impassive although feeling pleasure at Douglass’ appreciation. He liked making people feel better, but for selfish reasons. When the new guys smiled, the guys he helped train and teach, he got something from it—it put him on a high because they’d have reached a new plateau of understanding. God used him to restore their confidence, and being the instrument that helped them achieve that gave him a great sense of satisfaction. This conversation was part of Douglass’ preparation for Fr. Brier to take the young man under his wing. Dane had a special way with young people; he made them want to listen. None of the other priests in the parish seemed to be able to elicit the same response, perhaps because he was so down to earth—not being past the occasional profane word leaving his lips...or a slightly sexually construed joke used more times than not to lighten the mood during heavy discussions. It wasn’t the first time he’d been the recipient of shocked looks from teens and young adults for this reason.

  “Fr. Dane, I want to first, thank you for speaking to me. I know you have things to do, but you sat here and took time out of your schedule to talk to me anyway. Because of all of this, I want to let you in on something. Everyone thinks really highly of you. I should tell you what we say about you, when you’re not around just so you know how important you are to all of us.”

  “There’s no need, Douglass,” Dane waved him off, “I’m just doing what...”

  “No, I want you to hear what we say — what we talk about when it comes to you. I really don’t think you realize the full magnitude you have on our lives.”

  “Okay, shoot.” Dane resolved as he prepared to listen.

  “Not just me, all of us, every single one of us, talks about you. We know what your aim is, and you’ve been successful. You want to keep the humanity in the faith—let all of us be reminded that we are men in a modern world. Men of God, yes, but our hearts pumped blood just like everyone else’s.” he said with passion. “You never got on a high horse and you help us, all of us the new guys over our hurdles.”

  “Well, thank you, Douglass.” he could feel the heat, the warmth taking over his face. He undoubtedly was blushing.

  “No, it’s true. I know you don’t want to be on anyone’s pedestal.”

  “You are right about that. I don’t. If Jesus could hang with delinquents, thieves and prostitutes, then neither I nor anyone else is too good to get eye level with a so-called outcast or derelict.”

  “We know some of the other priests tease you, call you Rambo.”

  Dane studied Douglass, a bit of confusion became him as he tried to figure out what he meant.

  “You haven’t heard?” Douglass said full of surprise.

  “No,” Dane earnestly grinned, “What does that mean?”

  “Well, it’s a compliment—at least we think so. It means you aren’t afraid to do your job, like go to some places that others won’t.”

  “Oh,” Dane nodded in understanding and smiled. “You mean like the bad parts of town. I’ve been accused of throwing caution to the wind. Yeah, some say I’m crazy.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re there to do the Lord’s work, you shouldn’t stop dropping off meals, offering prayer to the lost.”

  Dane thought about what Douglass was saying. He never gave any of it a second thought. It just came naturally. All the late nights he’d spent in the bristling wind, clutching heavy boxes with canned goods, school supplies and sanitary materials. These were the moments he lived for—moments that made his vocation worthwhile. For every person that shunned him, another welcomed him with open arms. The cracked spirits poured open like the alcohol going down the throats of those who needed his help the most. He didn’t hate the sinner, he hated the sin, and that was how he conducted his business.

  “Thank you for the talk, Dane.”

  Dane nodded, stood and grabbed his dusty gray Nike duffle bag, tossing it leisurely over his shoulder.

  “No problem, Douglass. Just remember, keep asking God to speak to your spirit, to keep giving you strength. Don’t give into the fears; you know the path you are on. You can do this and you’ve got a support system.”

  “Thank you, thanks so much, Fr. Dane.”

  Don’t let them change you.

  “You’re more than welcome and I’ll see you at the dinner tomorrow night, Douglass. We’ll have a great time and if you want to get in good with Fr. Kirkpatrick, he is the toughest and—”

  “Tell me about it! He scares me to death!” Douglass laughed nervously as he clutched his bag.

  “Right, well, here is something to help you...tell him you want to serve at Juniper Turns, the nursing home, and make sure you follow through. It holds a special place in his heart. I’ll let him tell you why after you say it.”

  He winked at the man who now had renewed faith and headed outside into the sunlight...

  ~***~

  Rhapsody caressed the black and white keys of the piano, as if they were the smooth flesh of a brand new lover. Oh, how she adored the grand instrument that stood alone in the vast, majestic room, the stage still aglow with warm yellow overhead lights. The mahogany and blue velvet theater chairs were now empty, but the energy inside the grand space remained.

  Like a nomad, she drifted from place to place to play to sing, and teach musical wisdom. Now, she was all alone with her paramour—coveting the seconds, savoring the stolen moments. This particular piano was exquisite, an Italian handmade Fazioli, one she’d never be able to afford on her derisory income. She relished her time at the Michigan Music Palace due to the eclectic, vibrant audiences it attracted and the seasoned, learned and fun musicians she met here. Also, she treasured this exquisite instrument she’d come to know so well, so much it had become a beloved friend.

  When she was invited to play here, she knew that, be it before or after the performance, she’d have her special time with the wide-backed man dressed in black and white. His four short legs were small but sturdy...and his voice—my oh my, he created stirrings in her that were damn near orgasmic. She stood for a moment and looked around, ensuring she was all alone before beginning another phase of the lurid harmonious affair. Adjusting her flowing midnight blue dress, she took her seat at the bench. She smiled and ran her fingers along the keys once more, reminding the wooden man that she was ready...and then, she opened her mouth and began to sing, Alicia Keys’ rendition of ‘New York.’

  “...Noise is always loud, there are sirens all around and the streets are meeeaaan...”r />
  She closed her eyes, disappearing inside of herself as she performed one of her most favorite melodies. Each note grew a thumping heartbeat from her being, coming alive as the song picked up speed and her fingers flew across the smooth keys. In her mind, she imagined other instruments accompanying her, and it sounded oh, so sweet. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling, and in the near distance out her peripheral vision, she saw a figure, then another and another...

  Her deep, soulful voice boomed, testing the acoustics in the auditorium. While she sang and let the emotions flow, she caught movement beyond the stage and realized people were pooling in the theatre and coming up the steps toward her. She’d thought the orchestra was gone for the evening, but they were still there, surrounding her as she performed. Their faces showed awe and before long, several picked up their instruments they’d carefully packed away earlier and joined her. They jumped right into the song and its strong, rhythmically addictive rifts, hitting their notes just right and letting her voice rise above the harmony with little to no effort.

  When it was all said and done, Rhapsody gave a husky laugh and clapped her hands as she looked around the stage and thanked them for participating. The troop of performers acknowledged her with bright smiles. Nori, a lanky man with a purple Mohawk adorned with bright green tips, who played the violin like his life was on the line, observed her from behind dark, gold rimmed sunglasses.

  “You’ve got serious skills, Rhapsody...we love it when you perform with us. Your voice, the way you play,” he said, shaking his head in wonder, “you make all of us your bitch, and we love every minute of it!”

  This caused laughter throughout the stage.

  Rhapsody grinned and winked at him as she prepared to leave. She looked wistfully at the piano, her secret lover. Until next time...

  She blew a kiss at the small crowd then made her way down the stage steps, through the side aisle past the darkened rows of ghostly auditorium seats, away from her beloved instrument, her timber sweetheart always dressed to impress. The troop waved goodbye, and she responded in like, only, her final wave was also for the beloved piano...

  ~***~

  Dane stared at the coiling, gray incense out of the corner of his eye. He stayed in his stooped position, his knees partially numb. The quiet had become his best friend as the multitude of pirouetting hot flames flickered in the red candle holders surrounding him. He closed his eyes, swallowing deeply as a slight breeze brought in the scent of jasmine through the stingy, cracked high rafter window. The window also invited the hushed sounds of roving cars and the familiar, muted tunes of Detroit nightlife, alive and breathing with urban mystery as soon as the sun set. It was two in the morning, but in his mind, it felt more like eight o’clock. Feeling alert, he enjoyed his favorite time to pray, especially when sleep evaded him.

  He’d had trouble slumbering as of late, and early morning prayer proved to be a welcomed reprieve. He ran his hands over the fabric of his tan pants until the palms warmed up, then pressed his hands together to pray before the crucified Christ carved in gold above the altar. He looked up at the crown of thorns, and the blood around the nailed hands and feet, and felt his heart swell.

  “God, our Father, You divulge your omnipotence in the abundance of your compassion, transferred into the world through the wounds of your Son, and our Savior. I pray that your sacred ministers may be a clear reflection of your mercy. May they, with every expression and endeavor of their life, illuminate humankind taken over by sin, and bring it back to You, Lord, for You are love. I ask this, Father, through your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who subsists and governs with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.”

  On a deep breath, Dane gripped his rosary and stood to his feet just as a knock sounded at the door in the back of the chapel. He had his suspicions as to who it could be—possibly a wayward person in need of a place to sleep, or the criminal element could have drifted close. They were no longer open late at night. Crime had migrated even toward their semi-safe corner of the city and vandals paraded the streets and fairways looking for an easy hit. No place was safe, not even local churches, mosques and synagogues.

  Nevertheless, he made his way toward the entrance, opened the lens on the peephole and peered out, seeing a man that most would deem was up to nothing good. Regardless, Dane trusted his gut. He opened the hefty double doors for the man, who stood shrouded in shadows as light rain fell on him. A car with muffled music pouring out of a partially cracked passenger window drove slowly past, casting brief light on the tall, rugged form before him. Dane kept his watchful eye on him, waiting patiently as the man slowly stepped closer. The rainfall had increased, and his light hooded sweater seemed to offer little to no protection under the now torrential conditions.

  Dane stood straighter, trying to get a read on the fellow. The man’s dark clothing hung loosely on his frame, his lips were drawn tight, and his movements erratic and spasmodic. The man drew close with unbalanced steps and bumped Dane’s shoulder as he attempted to push past him onto the red-carpeted aisle. But Dane gripped him firmly, telling him with an open expression that the man was welcome in this house of peace—yet, should there be an ulterior motive for his presence, the situation may end differently than he’d planned. The man paused as Dane dug his fingers a bit deeper into his slumped, wet shoulder.

  Has he been drinking? Is he high? Does he need a place to stay tonight?

  “Son, may I assist you in some way?”

  The man hesitated, then lifted his face, allowing Dane to clearly see all of his features. The dark eyes did little to hide the troubled heart of their owner.

  “Is... is the church open tonight?” The man fiddled with his coat sleeve, lifting it up to expose an old, brown leather strapped watch. He looked down at the shiny face. “I know it’s late...but somethin’ happened and this was the only place...I could think of...to come to.” The man’s voice cracked and the desperation came through rich and sharp.

  “We aren’t open, but is there something I can help you with?” Dane stepped back and closed the door, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his guard up.

  “Are you a priest? You dress like one... You look young though. I need to speak to a priest.”

  “I’m a priest.” Dane smiled, offering comfort in his expression, trying to put the stranger’s mind at ease.

  “Are you doin’ confessions? It’s been so long. I haven’t been to church in years.” The man removed the hood from his head, exposing dirty blond chin length hair.

  “Well,” Dane put his hands on his waist, “if I have you come back during our normal hours, I have a funny feeling I won’t see you again. So...follow me.” He stood shoulder to shoulder with the man, their steps in sync as they walked over to the confessional booth. Dane made the sign of the cross and sat down, pulling the thick red curtain closed behind him. He heard the stranger clear his throat and could see his silhouette clearly from the other side.

  Father, I trust you. Please ensure my safety as I try to help this man. He is professing to needing assistance, and possibly needs more than that. Once again, I’ve taken a gamble, so I’d appreciate a hedge of protection during this interaction.

  He knew that welcoming this man wasn’t the safest choice, and once again, he played the role of rebel without a cause...but he did have a cause. This man was a child of God, no different from him, and sometimes chances had to be taken, just like now.

  The stranger morphed into the penitent, and he choked out the familiar words that Dane had heard thousands of times.

  “Fuh...forgive me father, for I have sinned. It’s been years since I last confessed. I don’t even remember how long or how...”

  He heard the man sigh. Strong emotions carried on the air between them, like invisible fingers grasping at their throats and hearts. A muffled cry from the stranger told Dane just how much that stray heart was bleeding.

  “I don’t even know where to start...”

&nbs
p; “Start at the beginning.”

  “Okay. Uh, I have an anger problem.”

  “Mmm hmmm...tell me about how this anger problem has interrupted the productivity of your life.”

  Dane listened intently.

  “I’ve been having trouble at work, at my job. The boss has been giving me trouble, wrote me up for being late. I am usually on time, most of the time early! I know I’m going to lose my job and I need this job, man!—sorry, I mean, Father. No one else will hire me...I’m a felon. He hired me, I thought to help me out, but he doesn’t pay me overtime, makes me work long hours and I was only two minutes late, and he docked me anyway. He knows I need this job, and he is takin’ advantage. I...waited for him outside of the building tonight. I had...a knife.”

  Dane remained calm. He’d heard worse, much worse, and a sense of peace had come over him, despite the realization that the man more than likely still had the sharp, serrated weapon on him. He did as he always did, careful to not show shock in his intonation.

  “I see. And you were planning to attack him? Scare him? What was your plan?”

  “I don’t even know, Father, but I know that it wouldn’t have ended too good. I thought he was alone. I saw everyone leave and just as I was gettin’ ready to confront him, the back door to the warehouse swung open and the foreman, Henry, came walking out, talking about paint or something. I could hear him speaking, and it shook me. I was in a state of shock, knocked me back into what was really happenin’. My hands were shaking. I looked at myself in the car mirror, and couldn’t believe it, what I was aiming to do. What’s worse, I’m still mad...all knotted up inside, but I know I did wrong. I don’t have it in me to take another man’s life, or so I thought, until today...and it scares me...and I drank a bit too much tonight, to try to make it not feel as bad as it did. I wanna hurt him; I wanna hurt him real bad. I know that’s wrong, but it’s how I feel and now it is all trapped inside of me. I still feel rotten, and I’m mad about that, too.”