AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Carmine shrugged. “Not really my scene.”
Father Alberto stared at him peculiarly. “Do you believe in God?”
A question Carmine dreaded, especially coming from a priest. He briefly considered lying to placate the man but thought better of it, considering he was sitting in the middle of a church. He had evaded death twice that week. Something told him he wouldn’t be so lucky the third time if lightning struck. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe? But I’ve seen some bad shi—uh, stuff, in my life that makes me doubt anyone gives a fu—uh, damn, about us.” Carmine’s eyes widened when he realized, despite his best effort, he still cursed. “Shit. Sorry, Father. It’s been a bad night.”
Carmine was half expecting to be kicked out, but Father Alberto merely smiled. “You aren’t the first to utter those words within these walls, and I’m certain you won’t be the last. I’m more concerned by your negativity than your profanity.”
“Well, you have a better chance of getting me to stop cursing than you do of changing the way I see things. It’s hard to believe there’s someone watching over us when so many good people get fucked over every day.”
“Ah, that’s an argument I hear often,” Father Alberto said. “How can a God exist when it seems so many have been forsaken? But you fail to realize, son, without the bad we can’t truly appreciate the good. Suffering teaches us to be better people. What we do in bad times measures how good of a person we really are.”
Carmine let out a bitter laugh, slouching in the chair as he thought about how he had adapted. “I must not be a very good man, then.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that.”
“That’s because you don’t know me. You don’t know the things I’ve done.”
“Then tell me,” the priest challenged. “Change my mind.”
Carmine scoffed. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Are you ashamed?”
“No.” Carmine hesitated. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point.”
“That is the point,” the priest said. “This is a safe place. Anything you say within these walls stays within these walls. The only thing keeping you from confessing your sins is your own reluctance to admit them.”
“Because I’m screwed up. Who would want to admit that?”
“Someone without morals,” he said, “which brings me back to you being a good man. The truly bad don’t have a conscience, son.”
Carmine pondered those words. The old man had somehow twisted things to his liking.
“If you don’t want to discuss your past, why don’t we talk about the future?” the priest suggested. “Maybe we can figure out why God brought you here tonight.”
“God didn’t bring me here,” Carmine said.
“No?”
“No, the devil dropped me off.”
Surprisingly, the priest smiled at that. “Is there a reason he did that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m starting to think he might actually have a sense of humor.”
Time passed as the two of them sat in the cramped office, going round in conversation about religion and life. Neither wavered, Carmine refusing to budge from his line of thinking, but he found himself feeling better the more the priest spoke. Something about the man’s voice, the compassion in his words, put Carmine at ease. He started making small concessions, offering tidbits of truth as he skimmed the surface of his reality and shared the tiny shavings that came off the top.
The sun had already started to rise when Carmine tried his calls again, each one just as unsuccessful as before. He hung up the phone with a frown, realizing nobody would be coming to his aide.
“No answer again?” the priest asked.
“No,” he replied. “I should get going. I have a long walk ahead of me.”
“Walk?” The priest shook his head. “Nonsense. I’ll give you a ride.”
Carmine blinked a few times, surprised. “You have a car?”
“Of course,” the priest said. “A telephone, a car . . . I even have a microwave, if you ever need to borrow one. What’s mine is yours.”
