“What does it mean?”
“They do not know what to do, they do not know how to react, they even do not if their reaction is right or wrong. But you have no doubts, give them an explanation.”
“I don’t…”
“I heard you, I told you. I can hear all you say.”
Embarrassment grew in him and Father Anselm began to be upset on the bench. It was being uncomfortable. “What does it mean to hear the confessions? They are secrets and nobody has to listen them. They are turned to God, I am just a means.”
“You absolve. You release from the sin.”
“Which sin?”
“I don’t know, I’m looking a cause, a reason.”
“How can I help you? I don’t know who are you, I don’t know what you did. Maybe You don’t know, too. I need to know more!”
“And it will resolve everything?”
It was a delicate moment, essential. Father Anselm could not take that liberty. And what he can resolve? His only instrument was the confidence in God and he was sure the Lord would stay with him. God would have enlightened his way, it would help him.
“Yes, I will do it.”
There was a sound, a creaking, as if the penitent was quiet and comforted.
“Will I go back?”
What a Dilemma! The only safe thing was that it was not Italian. He had come from a far country, maybe he was a slave of men without scruples. Anselm could imagine his journey on a barge, amass with his friends, like animals.
However, something jarring with this story: his perfect Italian language, while strange.
“I will do it”, said Father Anselm. He was sure he could help the strange man, in some way. The priest wanted to protect him, organize his return to home.
A long silence, more then other times. Unexpected after that promise.
“Can you really bring things back as before?”
Father Anselm was sure. “Yes, we can.”
“I did not succeed.”
The voice of Father Anselm was placating. “You are not alone, son. You are here, now, you are in the hands of God.”
“How can you do it?”
“Tell me about you. Everything. We will found a way to return to you the peace.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Where are you from?”
“I don’t know father.”
“Where were you first?” said the priest. “How was your home?”
“It was a forest, Father. A wonderful forest, a green land. This place is grizzly, it’s horrible. Where is the green?”
Father Anselm sigh. “There is scant color, I know it. You have to get away from the city to find it.”
“So does it still exist?”
“Sure, son. Don’t worry. Somewhat, how did you come here?”
“They were men, Father.”
“Did you know them?”
“No, Father.”
“And then…Did they bring you here against your will?”
“Yes, Father.”
Father Anselm considered the possibility of calling the police. The priest personally knew the commissar who could have helped. He did not deal with clandestines, but he could have called somebody.
“How did they bring you here?” The priest continued: “With a ship?”
“Yes, with a ship on the water.”
“How are you here?” The priest continued: “Have they hurt you?”
“Yes, they hurt me, more. They hurt me again.” A long silence. “They separated me.”
Father Anselm furrowed the front. “Are you saying you were not alone? Have you a family? Did they separate you from your family?”
“Yes, separate.”
“And did they take them away? Did you know where are they?”
“I don’t know, Father.”
“It’s terrible”, said Father Anselm. “And you…Are you a prisoner? Can you run away?”
“You must make me free, Father. I’m here for this.”
Father Anselm felt upset himself, in front of a similar faith. “I will do it, I promise you.” But then, appear a doubt. “But if they control you… How did you get here, you ran away?”
“I can’t move me. I can’t run away.”
That answer was without a logic. The embarrassment turned, more then before. “Who are you? Let me see you. You can do it.”
Something moved again, in the dark side of the confessional. In a moment, the curtain was pulled. Father Anselm place himself near the grate trying to see him. A mantle covered his figure, but, just for a moment, the priest managed to see the face of a beautiful girl. A vanishing image, too short to remember it. A familiar impression who fade immediately.
Father Anselm pull the curtain and run away from the confessional, but the church was like a desert. He is looking around himself, looking for the slightest movement, so he decide to run to the secondary outputs. Then he could not to continue the pursuit, because many loyals come in the church to listen the mass.
“Did you hear that too?”
The plumber furrowed the front. “Are you sure there is no heating system?”
Father Anselm snorted. “This is a church! On colder days, we use two little stoves on the sides of the altar, but it’s spring. They are off by months!”
“The humidity is high”, said the plumber.
“I know and every day is worse! Loyals began to report me how I sweat! Do you think it’s fault of a loss?”
“I do not know what it can be, if there is no one heating system!”
“Maybe… Humidity come from another place. There is inevitably a loss!”
“What will be the temperature? Because I can’t breathe.”
Father Anselm make a strange face. “Thirty-three degrees.”
“There are only twenty-one degrees outside!”
“I know it!”, said Father Anselm, screaming nearly. “For this reason, I am calling you!”
“It is not normal a difference of twelve degrees.”
Father Anselm move his head. “The church was recently build. This is the first year who we pray here inside. Maybe there is an error during the construction.”
The plumber turned around for the church. He was watching the stoup, then he walked to the votive candles, next to the statue of Saint Clare. Father Anselm was ready to explode for the rage: that man can not believe that the hot was caused by a few candles! However, he thought to buy the electronic offertory.
He approached the plumber. “Look! Look the statue! The paint is ruining! I bought it recently!”
The plumber fixed the statue, then he put his hand on the painted dress staining himself. “And is it all anywhere?”
“Yes, throughout the church.”
The plumber walked turned around the benches.
“It is all new!”, said Father Anselm. “We bought them just now!”
The plumber touch lightly the surface of a bench, afterwards he went toward the altar. He stopped before the wooden statue of Jesus because, despite the moment, that place embarrassed him.
“Then, what should I do?”
The plumber shaked the head. “I can not help you. You must talk with the architect of the church. I do not know what is the problem. I have no idea.”
Father Anselm almost growled.
“Quickly”, said the plumber. “The temperature raise up, in a little while the degrees will become too high.” The plumber smiled. “However, we can put air-conditioning. They will resolve the problem.”
Father Anselm blanched, thinking about all the money he would spend.
“Is it wonderful, Father?”
Yes, it is perfect. The statue of Saint Joseph looked be alive. Workers had just finished to assemble it and they were near to finish the adornments.
The vendor showed his smile. “Touch it, please! You will touch a real wood, wood of high quality. We import it from the Amazon’s forests!”
Vanity. Father Anselm resist to touch lightly the statue. He can not do w
hat the seller wanted.
“You are looking for a statue of a Madonna, or not? It would make a nice impression to the loyals.”
In facts, that was the project of the priest and the vendor understood it. “What do you suggest me?”
The vendor smiled more than before. “We have fantastic Madonnas, Father. You will not regret it.”
When he started to open the catalogue, Father Anselm remembered the torrid temperature.
The vendor, however, dried his front with a hanky, removing the sweat, without complaints.
“How much is it?”
Father Anselm turned on two big ventilators who had replaced the two little stoves around the altar. The priest remains in front of one of them enjoy the chilly.
They did not understand anything, neither the plumber nor the architect. The priest also spoke with the construction company, but without success, while the heat grew up. There were thirty-five degrees, but the humidity was the worst thing.
Celebrate the mass had become impossible, so Father Anselm take advantage any moment to go in the sacristy.
Just one, then that liturgical day would be finally finished.
When he turned away towards the confessional, watching the lamp on, he could not hide the grimace. Father Anselm did not want to enter in that wooden cube, specially with the heat temperature, but men could do without sins, until he could find a solution?
First of all, Father Anselm stopped in front of the confessional, looking on the empty central nave. He felt a presentiment, an idea, he would see the girl again. In a way he was happy, he had so many questions.
The darkness further the grave was absolute and Father Anselm was sure that she was there. Although he cannot watch her face, because the priest had difficult to imagine her. Maybe Father Anselm was wrong, maybe she came from the East Europe, maybe those men forced her to prostitute herself, for this she do not speak clearly.
No prayer, this time. “It’s always you?”
“Yes, Father.”
No hesitation.
“Who are you?”, said the priest. “How I can help you?”
“Let me get away from here.”
“Where would you go?”
“I want to go far from to this place. I hate it.”
“Are you looking… the green? Are you looking to stay in the forest between the trees?”
“Yes, Father. I’m looking it.”
“Are you free there?”
“There was no need, because I had everything.”
What strange answers! Every time! “What happened to you? Tell me!”
“They were coming.”
“Those men?”
“Yes, those men. They were coming in the forest, cutting trees, destroying the land and then capturing me.”
“And…?”
“They hurt me.”
Father Anselm overcome the embarrassment. “They raped you?”
A long silence. “They take me away.”
Father Anselm, in that moment, noticed an incongruity. The girl talk about himself like a man, maybe the priest was wrong. Father Anselm evaluated the possibility that he was wrong and for a second moment, he could imagine that face.
“Where was your home? Tell me about it.”
“There was a river on the right, mountains around it and many trees, so many trees with so many animals.”
Too vague. “Are you sure that you have never seen those men before?”
“I met many men before, but not those men. Men I have met before were always kind with me, they loved me.”
Father Anselm felt the embarrassment again. But this time wanted to understand the situation, he did not want to let the chance run away another time. “So you… Have you met men?”
“They came to me.”
“And what they did?”
“What the men do every time, everywhere.”
“You have to be more precise”, said Father Anselm.
“They ask me something. They are looking for answers. They are looking my friendship and my pardon, too. They needed to be reassured.”
“I do not understand.”
“They had desires and sometimes I satisfied them. If I wanted, if they were worthy.”
The embarrassment raise up. “How can you satisfy them?”
“That was my capacity.”
“Give me an example.”
A long silence. “Giving them a son. They would not daughters.”
Father Anselm remained silent, this time, to not to say wrong words. That dialogue was becoming too absurd. “Are different the men who took you away?”
“Yes.”
“What did they have different?”
“They were not part of me. At first I did not notice it, I was convinced that everything was part of me, but not them.”
“They did not was a part of you?”
“Yes, Father, everything is a part of me.”
“But you said that…”
“I do not know it, Father. I am here for this problem. You have to explain it to me. Why were they not part of me?”
Father Anselm’s embarrassment grew up, again. Despite good intentions, he repeat the question: “Who are you. In the name of God, who are you?”
No answers, but nothing moves behind the grate.
Father Anselm repeated the question: “Who are you?” He added afterwards: “Do you believe to be God?”
“It is everything. Everything is it.”
“I am not part of you.”
“No.”
He had not called him Father, this time. That could be a bad signal. “I am not a part of you, just like men who took you away?”
“No.”
“Are you here for this reason? Are you looking answer, just like men who you have never met?”
“Yes, Father.”
Another question buzzed in Father Anselm’s mind, obsessive, but that question was no longer Who are you? Or What are you?
“How it can be possible, Father, that you are not a part of me? What am I wrong? Where is the error?”
Father Anselm’s heart beat constantly.
“What should I do, Father, to make you a part of me?”
The priest did not dare answer.
“I am everything. Nothing exist outside of me. I have always believed that. What am I wrong?”
That thing behind the grate thought he was God. A God, at least. A kind of God. Father Anselm stuttered: “You…”
How could he call it? Was it really a girl? Was the priest wrong, looking at just he wanted? Why did it speak that way?
One thousand question, but one first: “Where are you?”
“I’m here, Father.”
“I know it!” The voice of the priest had become hysterical. “Where are you when…you are not here?”
“Always I am here, Father. I can not run away. I do not know how to do.”
“Here…In this church?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And…why?”
“You took me here.”
“Why you cannot get away from here?”
“Because…I never do it before. I never moved.”
The voice of the priest shaking. “There is the entire world, outside. There are forests, green lands. There is everything.”
“Is that the answer, Father? I must get away?”
The heart of Father Anselm shake so intense that only the infarction was missing. Neither for a moment he considered the possibility who it could be just a joke. That thing who appeared strange to him to the first time.
“Yes, get away…Leave the church. That’s the answer, what I suggest you!”, said the priest.
A long silence, almost infinite.
Then the voice, always the same, without emotions.
“Thank you, Father.”
This time Father Anselm not moved, neither to look it while exit from the confessional. And after he still sat, deciding to not chase that thing.
What was it? What the priest had
met? Which creature? The Evil? A God…another God? It is not possible, because God is one, he created everything. He created men in his own image, in his likeness.
Or not?
When the noises external and the whispers became too many until to reach the priest’s hiding place, Father Anselm decided to exit from the confessional.
The church was full of people and the mass should have begun for so long. Everyone was watching him, but Father Anselm was pale, devoid of energy.
Was the thing gone? That thing listen the advice of the priest, disappearing forever? Father Anselm look around himself, terrified. If that thing was left here? Where was it?
The priest went up on the altar, picking all the courage to spoke to the loyals. But he stood still with his mouth open, without words.
He thought about the mysterious creature and that strange words. All his thoughts were directed at those scenes, repeating the usual questions to himself: Why it came in that church? Who had brought it in the church? Why did he listen to the confessions of loyals? What did that mean?
The priest checked all the people in that central nave.
Perhaps that creature was hidden among the people?
Amazed, perplexed, noted and accustomed faces to see every day. But the priest knew that boy (or girl, or thing), he was sure about it.
“Are you fine, Father?” said a woman on the first line.
He could not catch something, something very important. The research became obsessive and his eyes went beyond when he investigated every face in that room, searching in the background.
Where it was? Where it came from? What it was? It was truly a girl? It was that her appearance?
Then he saw her and he froze.
She has always been in front of his eyes. Her face was pale, her lips were red and her smile was very sweet. She widened her arms to receive him, while her long dress fell softly to the ground: Saint Claire.
The statue was static, on its altar. In front of her there were the votive candles. The priest went towards her without realized it, while the bustle of the loyals increased.
It was that the face he imagined. He had no doubt. It was the statue that entered in the confessional. He stopped in front of her, with his empty mind. He had no idea what to do. The paint covered the statue was more ruined then before, in some lacerations you could see the wood.
He bows down, without realizing it again, towards her. What did he do? What did he promise her? Did she curse his soul?
The Prison Page 50
