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I understand a sparing amount of the language to recognize she let him know I’m here.
“Gracias.” Seconds later, he exits the office with a smile that withers as he approaches me. “You’re the new priest?” Like the secretary’s, his accent is also strong.
“Yes. Damon Russo.” I hold out my hand, and he frowns as he returns the handshake.
“Javier.” He tips his head, studying me. “Are you bilingual, Damon?”
“No. I understand some Spanish, having lived in LA, but I don’t speak it fluently.”
“I see. The diocese typically sends Spanish-speaking priests, based on the demographics here.”
“I’m assuming many of your parishioners understand English?”
“Of course, but they prefer a priest who is familiar with their ways. The church has become a very strong presence in this community. I’m not sure you’d be a good fit for our congregation.”
There’s something odd about this priest, a strangeness to his personality that already has me on alert, but it’s also the first time any man of the cloth has ever attempted to turn me away. His mannerisms are a red flag.
“I worked in the same parish as Fernando Ruiz. He told me about your church. How you needed some help.”
The mention of Ruiz seems to spark some small measure of curiosity, at least, when his brows wing up. “Ah, yes. I’ve been trying to get Ruiz himself down here.” His eyes sweep over me, and he clasps his hands behind his back. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll try a few days, and if it works out, you stay. If it doesn’t, well, you wouldn’t be the first.”
“There’ve been many who left?”
He glances back toward the secretary, who has her head buried in paperwork, and returns his gaze to me, giving a nod. “Let me show you the rectory.”
I follow him out the door of the offices, and both of us come to a stop beside my car, whereVete al carajohas been spraypainted in black on the side of it.Go fuck yourself.I know that one, too.
“My apologies, Damon.” With a sigh, he shakes his head. “I’m trying my best to reach out to these kids, but it’s not been easy. My comments earlier have little to do with you, and more to do with the experiences I’ve had with other priests.”
“Were they non-hispanic, as well?”
“No, we had one … Father Vasquez. They found him to be quite strict.” He blows out an exasperated breath and waves his hand for me to follow after him. “They drew obscenities on his alb and tied an obscene sex toy to his window, using his cincture.”
Rounding the church brings a fairly modern, two-story house into view. Flowers planted in the front gardens, and the nicely trimmed lawn, make me wonder if Javier manages it himself.”
“The church must be very sacred to these kids?”
“I wish I could say that’s true, but none of them tend to show for mass, or reconciliation. And believe me, they have much to atone for.”
“Then, why are they so protective of this particular church? And why haven’t they run you out of town?”
Brows raised, he shrugs, and a smile stretches across his face. “It makes no sense to me, either. I didn’t request you. I haven’t requested help in quite some time. We’ve managed just fine here.”
I know he didn’t request me. I requested myself, and by the looks of things, that request wasn’t welcome. “I see that. But perhaps I can take some of the pressure off of you.”
He leads me inside the house, which is far more modern and well-kempt than the rectory back in LA. “You pretty much have full run of this place.”
“You don’t live at the rectory?”
“No. I like having my own space, so I rent a home across town.”
There’s no way our church would’ve supported an unused home like this and paid rent for a second home across town. “How does the church afford it?”
“Generous donations from the congregation.”
Taking the lead up the staircase, he points out the two bedrooms of the upper level, which make my old, small room look like a closet. What looks to be a king-sized bed doesn’t even take up half the room’s size. A dresser made of polished cherry wood and a walk in closet fill some of the space, too. The bathroom at the opposite side of the room looks like something out of a magazine, with beautiful ornate tiles, and a glass shower stall with shiny brass hardware. Excessive.
“This is quite opulent,” I say.
