Page 70 of For I Have Sinned

My mother has a smug grin that screams, “I told you so.”

“So it’s working? Are you feeling closer to God?”

With another smile, I nod. “I am.”

She sighs in relief, and my father says, “That is good to hear. I am glad the convent is helping you get your relationship with God back.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes because I never had a relationship with God to begin with.

“Me too,” I lie and swallow the bile that wants to rise because of the next words I’m going to say. “I’m sorry I gave you guys such a hard time. I guess I didn’t understand where you were coming from. So, thank you.”

“I’m happy you are finally coming to your senses,” my mother says, and then checks her watch. “We need to get going. I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

Hope deflates in my chest. Did I think that if they saw a change in me today, they would have taken me away from this place? Maybe. But I don’t want to start a fight and set myself back, so I keep quiet about it.

I stand from my seat, arms behind my back, as they begin to leave. “I’ll see you next week, and Dad, it was good to see you.”

“It was good to see you, too, Celine. I hope your mother brings back a good report next week.”

“She will.” I make the promise and mean it. I’ll act my ass off next week, too.

Once they are in the hall and out of my sight, I drop my smile and let out a long breath. I fall back into the chair and shut my eyes. Only a second passes when I hear someone lightly knock on the door. When I open my eyes, I find Alex standing there, leaning against the door frame.

“Can I see you in my office?” He asks, nudging his head to the room over.

“Sure,” I agree and stand.

He allows me to exit the room I’m in and then lets me enter his office first. The door shuts with a soft click, but I don’t take a seat. Instead, I go to the bookshelf that has his family photos.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He questions in a caring tone.

“About my parents or what happened in the confessional booth?” I didn’t mean to be so blunt about it, but I want to talk about it.

I need to talk about it.

“Your parents.”

Bummer.

“Not really,” I tell him as I inspect one of the photos on the shelf.

His dad’s arm is slung around his shoulders, and they both are wearing the widest smiles.

“What was your dad like? You said that he was your best friend, but what was he like as a person?”

As I continue staring at the happiness on his dad’s face, Alex approaches me. He stands behind me, an inch of space keeping us from touching.

“He was loyal, hardworking, and funny. I think he was the funniest person I’ve ever met. His family always came first. Whenever my mom or I needed something, he would drop whatever it was he was doing to help us.”

“He sounds like the world’s best father,” I mutter.

“To me, he was,” he says sadly. “Over time, I realized how lucky I was to have him as my father because other people didn’t get so lucky.”

“Like me,” I whisper. “I didn’t get lucky with my parents.”

“They can’t be that bad.”

The tears well up, and I sniffle, trying to hold them back. “I guess I was lucky in the sense that I had food on the table for every meal. I had a warm bed to sleep in, and I attended the best school in my town, where I received an excellent education. However, my parents… I don’t know. I don’t think I got lucky with them.”