Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved

by Laveen, Tiana

  “It appears to me that God gave you a second chance. That foreman came out of the door, interrupting your intentions. That is a saving grace.”

  “...Yeah, I think so, too. A lot of stuff has happened over the years, and I just want to ask for forgiveness. Let me see if I remember this right...”

  Dane clasped his hands together and waited patiently.

  “For these, and all of the sins of my life, I ask for forgiveness...I’m finished, Father.”

  Dane briefly deliberated.

  I am not going to give him two or three ‘Hail Mary’s.’ He needs to pull his strength, to face what has been tormenting him all of these years.

  “I want you to think about how you thought the warehouse was empty, and God sent out that foreman to save your life. God doesn’t want you in prison, but you’re still in prison, inside here…” Dane tapped his temple. “Inside of your mind. You’re a slave to your impulses. You are not the first person to want to hurt someone, because they hurt you but the true test of character, is how we respond to things like this. It is normal to get angry, especially when there has been an injustice, but there is a lesson here that I don’t want you to overlook.”

  “Okay, I understand, I’m listening, Father.” the man responded quietly, taking it all in.

  “I want you to think about the fact that your past hasn’t always been a testament of your true potential, and how, despite that, you landed a job, albeit with a difficult employer who may have underhanded motivations. Never mind him—leave it to God to sort that out. You are here, in his house, after all of these years. He led you right here, Son. You are exactly where you are supposed to be—spared, saved and ready to embark on a new day, thanks to our Savior’s love, mercy and grace. You are special, you are important. He made concessions for you this evening.

  “Your life is more significant than anything your boss could do or say to you that will anger you to the point that you’d consider physically harming him, or worse, taking his life. That man may be your overseer at that warehouse, but he is not your boss in heaven—God is, and that is who you clock in with every morning and owe your life to. This is a brand new beginning, and your real Superior is asking you to not throw it away... Take this second chance, don’t squander it.”

  “Yes...yes...you are right. It’s true!”

  Dane heard the man softly weeping, but he didn’t dare move the partition. He had a good idea of what was happening on the other side of the panel. The flesh had lost a battle, and now the restrained spirit was exposed, shining under that dark clothing and broken heart. The man suffered and ran from the fears that dwelled inside of his mind, trying to stop him from being the very best he could be.

  “So, here is what I want you to do.” Dane clasped his hands together. “I want you to start attending church again. At first, just get acclimated, then get involved. It doesn’t have to be this church, but you are more than welcome to attend here. I want you to go to your job knowing that you are in charge of your own life—that no man will cause you to do things that will cost you the very reason you were created. I want you to forgive yourself for all of your past sins, and not allow anyone to hold them over your head. Walk the path laid out for you, and the Lord will never lead you astray. Your penance is to pray for your Supervisor, every morning, while you are under his management. Do you agree to this?”

  He heard the man sniff. “Yes. This confession stuff is coming back to me now.”

  Dane grinned as he heard the smile in the man’s voice.

  “I firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace, to avoid sin. Amen,” the man added in a clearer, firmer tone.

  “God, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  Seconds later, the man stood and exited the booth. Dane sighed and leaned back in the chair for several moments before walking out, blowing out the candles and locking the church front door. After a while, he made his way back to his comfortable apartment inside of the church rectory, with a smile on his face and peace in his heart...

  ~***~

  Throw all his shit out... Lousy ass!

  Rhapsody lifted a large black trash bag bursting with all of her ex-boyfriend’s old clothing, and hurled it as hard as she could into the smelly dumpster behind the grocery store down the street from her home. She grunted upon hearing the loud thud as it hit the trash heap, causing corrugated boxes and plastic wrap to crush under its weight. It had been months since they’d been together, so she did a bit of pre-emptive spring cleaning, deciding once and for all that Raul’s artifacts were no longer welcome in her home. She’d sent a courtesy text, letting him know his time was up, and she was only met with, “Awww baby, you know we’ll get back together,” via voicemail...Voicemail, for heaven’s sake!

  He called immediately, per her warning, but she didn’t dare answer. She’d had enough of him and his Latin bravado; he had stung her for the final damn time. She’d met the man while in San Diego, two summers before when she’d been invited to sing at the San Diego State University, at the graduation ceremony. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she’d graciously accepted. Raul had been on stage playing the piano—a walking piece of eye candy, dreamy in every sense of the word. Dark, alluring eyes, jet black smooth hair and dimples...Goodness, dimples so deep they could practically be seen from miles away as he cracked that crooked, sneaky grin he was known for.

  After the graduation ceremony was over, they’d struck up a conversation and before long, the handsome, charismatic devil moved in with her...but that’s all he did. The rest of the time, he was playing here and there at local bars, doing penny ante gigs around Detroit, and garnishing the attention of resident women—some of whom he had no qualms cheating on her with. Nevertheless, Rhapsody had been in love with the fool, until she found the text messages he’d received from three other women, all of whom seemed to believe he was their ‘man’. That was the final straw. Proof of infidelity was not something she’d been willing to ignore. She’d had it. She’d been taking care of the sloth, believing his sugar-coated lies that he was a changed man, faithful, promising her he’d change his wicked ways, but Rhapsody was done living in denial, no matter how comfortable of a bed it was to pretend the truth hadn’t been revealed from under the sheets.

  This was the bad thing about being in her brown, smooth skin. Rhapsody was many things—not the least of which, a dedicated musician. She could hear a tune twice, and play it exactly chord for chord. She also had the voice that afforded her work for commercials and independent films. Some of her efforts included love songs she’d written and recorded herself for a soap opera or two. Landing a record contract was her dream, but she wouldn’t sell out to get it. She’d been told to show a bit more skin, do something about her long, crazy, coiled natural hair, and wear a push-up bra. She refused. This was who she was. Take it or leave it. She had intelligence, quirkiness and ethics...but bad taste in men. It seemed the more inaccessible they were, the more guarded, secretive and mysterious, the more she wanted them and it had cost her dearly. Now, at the age of twenty-seven, she’d fully seen the error of her ways, and wanted a fresh start.

  In this new chapter in her life was a testament, she’d swear off men. No dates, no flirting, nothing of the sort, unless she was with someone she felt comfortable with—which meant an old friend. All she wanted was to focus on her career and though it still stung a bit when she reminisced of happier times with Raul, she had to let him go. Him, and all the crap he’d left at her house, thinking she’d take him back.

  But it was time for something new, and she deserved some peace.

  A few hours had passed since she stood behind the grocery store tossing away memories of what once was and she decided to paint the living room wall. She stood tall with a brush, roller and an open tin of gray-blue triple gloss paint. Oh, it was on..
.she would capture serenity back, make it all hers, all on her own. She thought about her recent self-improvement, and it did not only her body, but her soul good. She’d also started exercising again, though she was already in great shape with a naturally high metabolism. She attended yoga classes and decided she’d return to her favorite Detroit park—Mies. Such a grand place, big enough to get lost in should she desire alone time among nature and people.

  Yes, it was time to start anew, to listen to her heart. So she brushed on the paint, stroke by stroke, grinning a mile wide as she hummed, “Goodbye Raul! And good riddance!”

  ~***~

  Dane worked the dry, tough roast beef around in his mouth, wishing on a prayer that the mashed potatoes would soften the leathery meat, make it fit for consumption.

  This is worse than expired beef jerky.

  Forcing a smile, he glanced at his two brothers and sister who sat around the table with their spouses and children. The room bustled with noise and conversation.

  “I can’t eat this!” his six year old nephew called out as he pivoted around in his chair, his cheeks stuffed full of food and a look of disgust on his small, peach shaped face. “It’s as hard as a rock!”

  Ahhhh, the honesty of innocence of babes.

  A brief silence ensued when a whisper would have sounded like a scream, then, as if a light switch were turned on, the bustling laughter resumed, filling the dining room. Meanwhile, his mother stood silent in the dining room doorway, looking both embarrassed and amused.

  “Jacob, Grandma did the best she could! I overcooked the roast tonight,” she offered as people kept eating and passing plates filled with rolls and peas. The laughter soon died down, replaced by new conversations regarding sports and local gossip.

  “Everything is delicious, Mom,” Dane offered, causing her to point a knobby finger at him and roll her heavily hooded blue eyes. He burst out laughing, causing an avalanche of laughter once again.

  “You can’t lie with a straight face, you never could,” she chastised as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  “So,” his father began from his seat next to Dane. He shot his son a glance out the corner of his hazel eye as he carefully scooped up a spoonful of chopped baby carrots and popped them in his mouth. “How has everything been going? Haven’t spoken to you in a couple of days,” he said around a mouth full of food.

  “Great, things are going really well. One of the guys in seminary class just got ordained by Bishop Lourdes. Really great fella, I know he’ll do well. I’m heading up the youth ministries this month, and we painted a mural on Jackson Street, near the YMCA. We are doing another one next week, and a fund raiser for the new recreational center.”

  His father smiled and nodded as he smeared a pat of warm butter on his roll.

  “Keepin’ the kids out of trouble, proactive. I like it.”

  He glanced up at the large oil painting of his grandfather, hanging smack dab in the middle of the wall. The elaborate gold frame caught the reflection of the low hanging chandelier, the one he’d hung for his parents a few years earlier. He quickly turned away from the sight.

  “Oh, guess who is in town? Josh.” Dane couldn’t curb his enthusiasm as he grabbed his gold linen napkin off of his lap and used it to pat the side of his mouth clean. “We’re going to have dinner together before he heads out again to Sacramento. He is back home on business.”

  “Well, you tell him to stop by here before he leaves, if he has time. Hell, he better make time! Time flies.” His father stabbed a dollop of mashed potatoes with his spoon and the extra dark brown beef gravy trickled down the sides of the lumpy mound. “It seems like just yesterday, you two were out in the backyard, horsin’ around with your brothers and those other guys. Now, he is some fancy medical sales director and you’re a priest! Making me feel old!” He laughed.

  Dane looked into the older man’s face, the chewing mouth, the red cheeks, as the lovely sounds of merriment boomed through the room. Then he took another survey of the table, watching everyone talk, eat and drink. Meanwhile, Heidi, the senior Golden Retriever, made her begging rounds as she shamelessly solicited everyone who dared to cast her a glance for a morsel. Few could resist her soulful eyes.

  “You’re only as old as you feel, Dad, and to me,” Dane raised a brow, “you look great.”

  His father grinned and coughed into his napkin, then glared at his son with obvious suspicion. “You are actually not being a smart ass! It must be the apocalypse!”

  Dane burst out laughing and lightly tapped the table with his fingertips as he caught a glimpse of his sister wiping crumbs away from her daughter’s mouth.

  “No, seriously, I hope I look good as you when I turn one hundred.”

  They shared a brief pause then both burst out laughing. His father shook his finger at him.

  “I knew it. I knew there was a punch line coming, Mr. Funny Guy.”

  After a few hours filled with catching up with the old man, playing portable video games with his nephew, more kisses to his forehead and several bags of unwanted leftovers shoved into his arms from his mother, Dane hugged everyone goodbye and left the house. It felt good to visit home. Moments like this helped his soul; his spirit fed off of his family’s closeness, not only the family meal. He made his way to his car, which he’d parked in front of the suburban Cape Cod style house with white shingles and windows covered in thick cream curtains. As he started the car, he said a silent ‘Thank You’ for having such a warm, loving family...especially since he knew that so many people didn’t have such a blessing, and nowhere to call their very own. Even if, deep down, some wires were loose, and some pain remained unresolved, he still felt grateful and positive, for he’d seen much worse in his vocational travels.

  But as soon as he left the warmth of his family home, the truth inside him would come to light, and tempt him with temporary solutions. He fought the darkness, the negativity—the truth in its sinister, cold, nasty natural form. Dark secrets lived inside him, stuffed away in dank recesses of a vivid remembrance. Nothing he couldn’t handle...he had to handle it because it wasn’t a choice. Too many people were depending on him to be strong, to be the rock, the backbone—and he was, regardless of the emotional weight that threatened to break him in two...

  ~***~

  A few days later...

  Dane couldn’t part with his grin. The expression had completely taken over his face, broad-siding him and making his cheeks ache as they arched upward— freezing his happiness in place, for all patrons to see. He watched closely out the frosted restaurant window, gripping the table as he sat at the two-seater bar –style table right at the front of the restaurant. He observed as his best friend, Josh Perkins, made his way across the street toward him, a newspaper covering his head as he dodged the raindrops and oncoming traffic. Josh pushed through the front doors, his light brown eyes darting around the place, searching for Dane.

  “Josh!” Dane called out, waving to him. With a smile, Josh walked to the table and took a seat. Dane gave his friend the once over.

  What in the world? He doesn’t look right...

  Dane looked the man directly in the eye and hugged him tightly, hardly able to hide his concern. The rain seeped through Josh’s dark brown leather jacket down to his striped blue and white Polo shirt. But the man was entirely too frail, as if he’d evaporated, leaving only a shell and a memory of what he once was. He stood back and again scanned the man from head to toe. Josh’s face appeared distended, the muscle tone lost. When Dane had first spotted him crossing the street, he’d hoped somehow that the downpour was distorting his friend’s image through the window, that the man had simply lost a few pounds, nothing too severe. No, this was something more than the results of a low-carb diet.

  The once attractive, six foot two fellow high school football star was a mere shadow of his former self. His straight, sandy brown hair clung to his forehead, and the glimmer that once shone in his mischievous golden eyes was gone. Cracked, dry lips—near bl
eeding—stood out in a pale face, tinged with blue. Dane braced himself for a story he didn’t want to hear for this was his friend, his brother, the man who knew everything in the world about him...

  Both men took their seats. Dane sat down slowly, his eyes still focused on the man before him.

  “Nice to see you, Dane. So good to see you, bro.”

  Dane coughed into his fist and looked around—anywhere but at his friend. His heart sank. He considered himself a bit of an intuitive—it helped with the job, and he realized that this dinner with a long-time friend was going to hurt him to his core.

  “Yes,” Dane said quietly as he sat back in his seat, resigned. “Good to see you too, Josh. Uh, you’ve lost some weight.” He decided to take the bull by the horns and not dilly-dally any longer. Besides, it wasn’t his style. There was no need to drag it out, to have drinks first, the house salad, and cut into juicy steaks with blue cheese crumbles, while laughing about old times, and ignore the skinny, emaciated elephant in the room.

  “Yeah, uh,” Josh looked down, rubbing long, thin fingers across the maroon leather-bound menu, “I’ve wanted to speak to you about that...”

  “We talk every week on the phone...every week,” Dane said in almost a whisper. He attempted to dismiss the bubble of anger growing inside the pit of his stomach, seeping into his tone, the one that clawed at his throat—the one that threatened to scream, Why in the hell didn’t you tell me anything a long time ago?!

  He hadn’t laid eyes on Josh in over six months, and at that time, the man was still strapping—a perfect, walking and talking bill of health. Typically, they’d see each other every three to four months, one of them would fly to meet the other, but Josh’s schedule had been hectic as of late, or Dane would have a conflict in the timetable as well. Now, he looked at him and simply wondered where the truth began and the cover-up ended. He felt deceived. Turning away from that dismal sight, he tried not to judge the man before he even had a chance to talk.