The Paper Shepherd

by Olivia Landis

  Staring at him now in her small drafty kitchen, his blue eyes like crystals, clean and impermeable, she wanted to hurt him, to rip his heart in two as the world had done to her in his absence. She wanted him to run from the building broken and weeping. She couldn’t let herself be saved. She couldn’t let him think he was right. But, he was stronger than her, and always had been. She would need supernatural strength to defeat him. She thought of the climax in The Exorcist and wished she could use her hideous stage make up and avant-garde hair style to inspire fear. Her ghoulish appearance had to be good for something. She wished she could make her tongue forked. She wanted to say foul, hateful, seductive things to him like the little girl in the movie. Yes, Gabine. Seductive. What was more powerful then the seven deadly sins? She could make him feel lust. Then he would feel shame and he would have no power.

  “You can’t save me, Priest,” she said, her voice full of contempt. She tossed her keys onto the kitchen table and unzipped her sweat jacket. Under it she was wearing only a sport’s bra. She watched with some satisfaction Max had to struggle to avoid looking at her cleavage. She inched toward him, backing him up against the wall. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy seeing me dance tonight,” she said, accusing him of what she knew was not true. She pulled off her jacket and threw it in his face. The overpowering stench of sweat and beer and smoke briefly smothered him. But, then the jacket landed harmlessly on the floor between them. “Did you come here for your own private show, Priest? Were you hoping to get a closer look at these?” she asked, grabbing her breasts in her hands and pushing them together so they nearly popped out of the neck line of her bra. “Did you want to see if my nipples would still stand up for you like they used to? Won’t those whores in Ohio let you fuck them rough till they’re bruised and let you slink away in the night like the snake you are? You want to see if you can still get your dick inside me? I may still have a few holes you forgot to get your cock into before you left. Maybe you’d prefer one of those.” Renee spoke ferociously, nearly spitting out every word. Then suddenly her face and voice softened.

  “No, that’s not your style anymore,” she said almost sweetly. “You were hoping I would be your own private Mary Magdalene… wash your feet with my hair and beg you for forgiveness.” She took a deep breath and started shouting again. “And then while you had me on my knees you could fuck my penitent mouth! Well, I won’t do it.” Somehow, she had grown large and intimidating, a solid wall of anger. “I will be damned if I will let you exercise moral superiority over me, you child fucking hypocrite.” Max could feel the blood rushing through his temples as he flushed with the guilt he still felt about having had sex with her.

  They stood there, motionless for a moment, nothing but the pitter-patter of rodents breaking the silence. Renee gathered up her strength for one last harangue. She could see Max’s conviction waning. She was calculating the most hurtful way to phrase her final comment. I am Salome, queen of the dance, she told herself. I am Herodias, slayer of John the Baptist. Slayer of holy men. You cannot withstand me!

  “I have news for you, priest,” she shouted. “Your objection to me dancing is just your own jealousy. There is nothing in that precious bible of yours condemning me for doing this.” Renee saw Max flinch when she mentioned “his bible.” It was exactly the effect she had hoped for. He was seeing the divide between them growing, understanding he no longer had a grip on her. Renee was now less than two feet in front of him. Max wanted more than anything else to grab her; whether to embrace her or strike her, he was not sure. If I could just hold her still and make her listen, he thought. If I could just sing into her ear how painful it is to see her this way, maybe she could understand. But he dared not touch her. She physically repulsed him. He had no doubt her skin would burn him like brimstone. Instead, he made his voice small and calm.

  “You’re creating a near temptation of sin,” he said. “You are asking all these men to look at you lustfully, leading them into sin. It’s in the gospel.” Damn, Renee chastised her self. She had walked right into that one. “But, that’s not why I’m here,” he continued calmly. “I know you think this is just a harmless job, sweetheart, but pretty nasty guys go into places like that.” Afraid at this point any moral argument was lost on her, Max decided instead to appeal to practicality. “I’m worried about your safety. They could cause you bodily harm.”

  Renee took in a deep breath, the momentum of her anger temporarily stayed. Am I wrong? she wondered. Does he actually care about my safety? She wanted to believe it. It would mean he still knew she was a real person, flesh and blood. Maybe she had judged him incorrectly. Maybe he had come back to defend her from another group of bad men, like the school yard bullies he stood up to years ago. She wanted to feel the safety of his arms around her again. But, when she looked into his eyes, she knew that was not what he was offering. It was a trick, a very persuasive one. And I almost feel for it, she thought.

  “My body,” she said, using all her remaining nerve to steady her voice. “is no longer your concern.” Max looked deflated. He stood up from where he was leaning against the kitchen wall and walked to her front door. Pausing for a moment with his hand on the knob, he spoke softly, unable to face her.

  “Good bye, Little Bird. I hope you can find peace somewhere.” He walked down the dark hallway and down the stairs. Renee waited with her head against the door listening to his foot steps grow softer and more distant. Finally, she heard the door slam closed behind him. He was gone. She collapsed against her front door, curling into a ball on the floor. Her body was racked with sobs. For the second time, she had been too efficient at chasing him away. For the second time, she had succeeded in her goal when what she really wanted was for him to hold her, to go back in time to a life that could still walk in the light. Would you give up on me that easily? she had wondered when they were dating. Now she knew the answer. It wasn’t the one she had counted on.

  Driving through the middle of the night through rural New York, Max reran the whole dreadful scene in his mind. He wanted to stay and argue with this woman for the rest of the night, or to throw her in the car and drive her back to Hectortown where his mother would make her tea and cookies and talk sense into her. But, he started classes Monday morning, 30 hours and 700 miles away. If it were just a class, he would skip it; but, it was a spiritual formation session. It would be just him and his seminary advisor. How could he blow that off? I was trying to talk sense into a prostitute I used to date, he thought. It just wouldn’t go over well. He had neither the time to save her nor the power with which to protect her.

  Max drove through the deceptively peaceful autumn landscape. When he had driven to Brighton, he had convinced himself he was doing it to help Tiar. But, did he honestly think he could convince her to give up this job? She was far too stubborn and self reliant for that. Logically, it didn’t fit. In the back of his mind, Max had feared that this woman was right, that some part of him still wanted his horrible library dreams to become a reality. If that had been the case, it was no longer. Seeing her tonight had cured him of that. What he wanted was the ideal of her, the beautiful little bird who used to sleep next to him in a tent by the rapids. That little bird didn’t exist any more, and neither did the boy who loved and sheltered her. The woman now using the name Tiar Renee was repugnant to him. She was like a nasty abused stray cat, stinking of dumpsters. The last thing he wanted was to touch her.

  And yet, he didn’t want anyone else touching her either. He didn’t want anyone else looking at her. He surely didn’t want any of those men making love... he couldn’t bear to finish the thought. Max shifted his car into fifth gear and sped through the night along highway 17.

  40

  Back at Brighton, Renee walked through the whole next day in a daze. She had woken up that morning on the floor of her apartment, her eyes so swollen from crying she could barely open them. Ten thirty. Too late for church. She got dressed and packed up her books to go to the library. Everywhere she went, she
felt stained. It was as though everyone who saw her on the quadrangle or in the cafeteria could see her soul and were disgusted by what they saw. Renee called in sick at the Fox Tail that night. When Wednesday rolled around, the first of the month, she had only $30 in her checking account after paying the rent. She would never be able to eat, let alone buy all her books, on that. She wished she could use the skills she gained working for a veterinarian’s office in Hectortown to make money. But, in a town with one of only two veterinary schools in the state, cheap or free labor of this type was plentiful. The money she had taken out of her academic trust to help Micha with medical bills had wiped out a whole semester of tuition. Renee refused to dip into it again for anything but a severe emergency. From now on, what she lived on, she would have to earn. And, she couldn’t earn it fast enough with any other legal job she was qualified to perform.

  Renee walked through the rest of the week on autopilot, going to classes, taking notes, but not really registering anything. On Friday, she went back to the Fox Tail. It was immediately obvious to her coworkers that she was having more than her usual reluctance to dancing that night.

  “It’s just jitters, hon,” Tiffany, a tall blond pre-law student said, sitting next to her in the dressing room. “Stage fright. We all get it sometimes.”

  Renee looked at Tiffany silently. Her eyes were filled with desperation. Tiffany put an arm around Renee.

  “All you need is one good night and you’ll be back to your old self.” Renee knew immediately what Tiffany was suggesting. Before he figured out how Renee’s shy manor on the runway was an asset to his business, Chuck was always pressuring his other dancers to convince Renee to take drugs to get in “the mood.” She knew some of the dancers occasionally took cocaine, among other illicit drugs, before performing. She was always welcome to partake of the bounty. Renee consistently refused.

  “No,” she protested now, her resolve waning. “No coke.”

  “Honey, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tiffany assured her. With her free hand, Tiffany handed Renee a pill. It looked familiar. Renee had seen pills like this before. Come on, she thought. Jen did it all the time and nothing bad happened to her. Jen took these that night… the night she was playing Cairo Dance Fever and everyone seemed far happier than usual. In retrospect, it seemed to Renee that that was when her first fights with Max had begun. That was the first chip in their perfect facade that had led to the catastrophic cracks in their relationship. What a little pill to do so much. But, Renee reflected, she hadn’t taken the pills that night. And Max was no longer around to disapprove. Renee popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed it without hesitation.

  Hundreds of miles away, Tony found Max on his knees, muttering rhythmically to himself.

  “What are doing?” Tony asked, collapsing into a desk chair. Max shot him a backward glance over his shoulder.

  “Rosary,” he said, and then continued to mutter under his breath.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Twelve.”

  “And this is for?”

  “Penance.”

  “Penance for what?” Max gave up praying and sat cross legged on the floor.

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I did something wrong. I must have. Everything is screwed up. I’m sure it must be my fault. And it hurts. And I need to fix it.”

  “Theology 101, Max,” Tony chastised him. “To sin, you must have knowledge that what you did was wrong. If you don’t even know what it is you did, how can it be a sin?” Max dropped his head into his hands, his fingers intertwining with his curls, tugging compulsively. He explained to Tony everything that had happened on his odyssey to Brighton. Tony listened to it all sadly. As sorry as he was that Tiar’s situation continued to decline, he could see no link between that and Max.

  “Explain what your sin was exactly,” Tony demanded.

  “I had sex with her and then broke up with her,” Max began.

  “Which you did penance for… a year ago,” Tony pointed out. “What new sin have you committed?”

  “But, then she got this job,” Max protested.

  “Which was her decision and has nothing to do with you,” Tony said firmly. “She took this job because she needed the money. Did you take her money? Did you have money you could have used to help her and refuse to give it to her? Did you tell her this job was a good idea?” Max shook his head.

  “I defiled her. So, I normalized this kind of behavior. I broke down her resistance to it. I made her think it was okay,” Max rationalized, grasping at straws.

  “I don’t buy it,” Tony said. “There are literally millions of people in the world who have sex outside the covenant of marriage and do not end up as strippers. Look, Max… I know guilt hurts. But I think you’re looking for a way to blame yourself for this to avoid admitting something that is even worse to you.”

  “And what is that?” Max asked curiously.

  “The idea that you didn’t cause this. Because, if you’re not guilty of doing this, you can’t stop doing this. You can’t control it. You can’t keep it from happening again.” Tony put his hand on Max’s shoulder affectionately. “This is out of your control, which is more terrifying to you than facing that you are a monster who made it happen.” Max listened to all of this, tugging at his hair in frustration.

  “So, what do I do?” Max beseeched his friend. “If there’s no penance I can do to fix this, then what?”

  “Pray for her to come into money or get a scholarship so she can stop working at the strip club. Pray for her to be safe if she keeps working there. Pray for her to have some peace in her life. But don’t abuse the system of penance to make up for your own sense of loss,” Tony said.

  “I was doing so well,” Max said, hanging his head. “Over the summer. I almost forgot her. But, now I’m back to square one all over again. I don’t want to do it all again. How can I make it stop hurting?” Max asked.

  “You can’t, Max. You just have to let time pass.” Tony stared in pity at his friend. His full beard and indominable intellect could not hide that he was still a 21-year-old far from ready to face some truths about the world. “Some mere mortals might go to see a therapist at this point,” Tony said with a sigh. Max made a sour expression of disbelief. Tony could practically hear Max’s Father’s voice emanating from Max’s head. Sissy hippies. “Some mere mortals like myself have gone to a therapist in similar situations.”

  “I’m sorry,” Max said. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” Tony defused the situation. “It was after my mother died. It was years before we met. The point is, Max, it could really help you.” Max made the sour face again.

  “I’m sure therapy is great for other people,” Max said, trying to sound diplomatic. “It just wouldn’t work for me.”

  “The singing thing worked, didn’t it?” Tony challenged knowingly. Max nodded. “Where do you think I got that idea? It’s just methods like that, to retrain your brain.” Max looked up, suddenly seeming more hopeful.

  “Well, you can just tell me the brain tricks!” he implored. Tony shook his head.

  “They aren’t ‘brain tricks,’” he protested. “They are therapy techniques. And, I am not a therapist. I don’t know them all and I can’t decide what is right for you.”

  “Well, just tell me the ones you know,” Max begged. “I just don’t think… I’m not sure I could… I can’t explain this to a stranger.” Tony shook his head again.

  “I’m not a therapist,” Tony resisted. “What if I explain something wrong and you get worse.”

  “I can’t get worse,” Max insisted. “Just tell me one more now. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go see someone at the student counseling center.” Tony rubbed his eyes vigorously and sighed again. He knew his friend’s habit of overdoing things and wondered if this presented a danger. Can a person overdo therapy?

  “Okay,” he relented. “I’ll teach you one exercise I remember. But, after that I think you should go to the student counseling
center and find your own counselor.”

  “I definitely promise to consider it,” Max said. “If this doesn’t work. But, what’s the trick?”

  “Okay,” Tony began. “Guided meditation.”

  “Meditation?” Max asked dubiously.

  “By trying not to think of Tiar, you just think of her more, right?” Tony asked. Max nodded. “So, you have to think about her as much as you possibly can. You have to make it an obligation. Make a schedule, like exercise or something.”

  “But, it’s torture,” Max objected. “If I think about her the way she used to be when we were together, I miss her. If I think about her now, it’s even worse.”

  “But, here’s the trick,” Tony said brightly. “Don’t think about her in the past or in the present. Think about her in the future. Think about her at peace in the future. And think about her in a way where she is unavailable to you so you aren’t longing for her. But, she’s in a good situation, so you’re happy for her.” Max shook his head in confusion. “Let me walk you through an example. First, think of a man you cannot possibly hate... someone you respect and care about and could never think ill of or be jealous of. Then, imagine Tiar married to that man. You have to create a separate reality for yourself where she is with that person and the idea becomes so neutral to you, that you don’t feel anything anymore. You’re just at peace with that future happening.”

  “I don’t feel anything?” Max repeated.

  “You don’t feel anything,” Tony echoed. Max nodded.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll give it a try.”

  41

  Patrick McLeod hesitated momentarily, his hand on the doorknob, before entering his supervisor’s office. Dr. Rogers sat behind the desk looking even more peevish than usual. It was early September and Pat had survived three months of his fourth year of medical school. He had met some cruel supervisors in the past fifteen months, but none quite so diabolical as Dr. Rogers. He did not yell or use insults, as many angry, sleep deprived residents did. He was more insidious then that. He was quiet and stealthy, like an infiltrating tumor, gradually replacing a student’s own thought processes with his own seemingly reasonable ones. He did not raise his head when the medical student entered the room.