“Hmmmph,” Melody took a sip from her cup, turned her back toward Rhapsody and joined her mother at the table. “Do you need something, Mama?” she asked in an overly sweet voice, cutting her eyes at Rhapsody who now looked at her damned sister, and shook her head in disbelief at the ridiculously fake display.
“Peace and quiet, girls...that’s what I need,” their mother answered wearily.
The two sisters shot each other menacing looks.
“Mama, the pasta is almost ready,” Rhapsody offered as she bent to retrieve a large ceramic white bowl from a cabinet.
She placed it on the counter and looked back over at her sister. They favored quite a bit—same toasty brown complexion, same open, dark eyes that curved exotically upward at the ends and the same supple lips, shaped like hearts. Their noses were a bit different, Melody’s was more like their father’s, rounded and somewhat turned up. Rhapsody’s bridge was longer, her nostrils slightly flared, like their mother’s. Her jawline was stronger, giving her a slightly athletic appearance that blended smoothly with her otherwise distinct African American features. They both were a decent height—Rhapsody stood five-eight while her sister stood five-nine—as well as long legs and small waists. And they could share a C-cup bra. Rhapsody loved her body, liked how it felt under clothing, but most of all, she cherished her voice and talking to people from all walks of life. A woman in love with life, period. And when she looked at her sister, she saw her polar opposite—a burning pit, a black hole, a wretched soul with an axe to grind. But she loved the woman. Where had they gone wrong?
~***~
Several weeks later...
He told her.
She caught him at a weak moment, came upon him on that bench, and now that he was feeling his pain to the utmost capacity, no longer courting the liquid lady, he was a bundle of raw nerves. She’d walked past casually, gave a slight wave at first, then double backed. Without a word or explanation, she took a seat by him...and then it just poured out. From the moment he was told about the cancer, to right then and there, he let loose. When he’d finished, he could see the sympathy in her dark, glossy eyes...eyes that he wanted to swim in. He was sitting so close to her, he could see the slight sheen on her bottom lip was more lustrous than the upper one, and her eyeliner drew his attention, swinging up into a slight black cat-eye. A medium brown, her skin was perfect, smooth and taut. Oh yes, he studied her—the whites of her eyes gleamed bright like freshly fallen snow and she reminded him of the illustrations of Nefertiti, especially with the head wrap she customarily wore. No, it wasn’t a golden crown with rubies, but still, definitely a sight to behold, giving her the look of royalty.
Her voice—airy, cool and smooth. He loved that sound, the low pitch, a voice that haunted the soul and left a pleasant aftertaste in his thoughts. But, still, trouble brewed and bubbled inside him. He was thinking about her frequently—too frequently. She enveloped his mind as he stayed locked away in his quarters just to spend time with her in his imagination. She caused smiles to appear on his face out of nowhere, and before he’d have to explain it, he’d tuck the grin away before anyone saw and asked for the source of such an expression. He’d find himself distracted, in the middle of a kind word, and his thoughts would drift. This alluring woman featured so clearly in his mind, and what had been initially pleasant became uncomfortable. He tried to stick to the facts, to concentrate on things that didn’t dance around her eccentric beauty.
Over the past few days, he’d tried to put pieces of the puzzle together, trying to recall images of her from years gone past. In small doses, his wish was granted. His sober nights were now filled with colorful memories of a girl who’d once walked past him each and every day. He’d see her come through the school’s front door, meander down the hall, sometimes with friends and sometimes alone, then disappear inside the music room by his locker...
The music room. She was in there for choir practice...the room with a dog-eared green flyer for the orchestra going to Paris...Yes, Paris...I love France.
She was skinnier then, less filled out, and a beautiful face, but even more so now. She never paid me any mind, but I noticed her, with her baggy jeans and tight, colorful tops. Straight hair, yes, jet black and pulled tight into a pony tail. Real cool, quiet—until she entered that classroom. Then, the magic would unfold.
He remembered one day being late for class, standing there peeking into the tiny window of the vast room with cellos, drums in the corner and cathedral seats, listening to the songbird do her thing while the teacher’s fingers ran across the piano keys. The teacher had been the crotchety Mrs. Tucker, the music instructor with the high, flat behind, who always wore a charcoal gray skirt with lint balls along the hem and thick stockings. She had a quivering bottom lip when irritated, and embarrassed him one day when she angrily stormed over to the door and swung it open before he’d had a chance to break from his hypnotic trance and beat it down the hall.
“Can I help you, Mr. Caruso?! You slept in class all week, why would you want to loiter around now?! This isn’t the pep rally!”
Her performance caused the entire room to rock with laughter. He’d looked over at Rhapsody, who’d smirked, but didn’t make eye contact with him. But he wanted her to, he wanted her to notice him, like all the other girls did, but she paid him no mind, no mind at all…
She broke the trance of his memories, bringing him back to present day as they sat together on his favorite bench.
“Fr. Caruso, I am so sorry about your loss.”
“...Dane.”
She smiled ever so slightly. “Dane, now that you’ve explained your relationship in more depth, I completely understand. It clarifies so much. So, that is what brought you back here, huh?”
“Well, I’d been coming to this park for years, to think and just have personal time. I love this park, but, I started coming more after he got sick and passed because,” he shrugged, “he and I had a lot of great conversations here...some of the best.”
This is where I told him what was in my heart...and all the crap I did...and he supported me anyway.
“Sorry for dumping this in your lap. You’re practically a stranger and here I am—”
“No,” she put her hand up and shook her head, “I’m glad you told me. You obviously needed to get it out, it’s fine,” she assured. They paused for a while.
“Well, thanks. I didn’t expect for me to blurt it out like that. Some days are easier than others.”
“Of course they are.”
“So...that’s what happened. I come here to think.” He looked away from her, out toward the lake. “It just feels right, you know? I really don’t know how I thought I was going to react when it was all said and done—when he passed…but my imagination didn’t fathom this sort of emptiness. He has lived in California for years now, so we had distance between us and didn’t talk every day anymore. But at least, I always knew he was there.” He briefly looked down into his lap,” And now he isn’t. I feel guilty for not calling more...flying out to see him more. I should’ve known better...” He looked away, up into the sky.
“You can’t do that to yourself. Just because you don’t speak to someone every day doesn’t mean you don’t love them. Bill collectors can talk to you every day...doesn’t mean they give a damn about you or care!” She covered her mouth, as if to take back the curse word and muffle her laughter.
“You’re fine,” he reassured and, without thinking, patted her hand. Just a simple pat, a gesture he’d offered many times, but the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the smoothness, the slightly raised vein he’d swept past with his fingernail—he’d enjoyed it a bit too much.
He was not telling her the complete truth, and he simply couldn’t...
Let me just enjoy this time, the ability to talk to a stranger and purge...someone that doesn’t know me...that can’t judge me. I’ll say it in my mind, confess it, and then, it’ll be done. Here it goes: I also started coming more, Rhapsody, after I first saw you
here...I wanted to run into you again. You are like a haven, and your smile, well; I needed to see it again. For when you smiled at me, I thought you could possibly be my new friend. I need new friends, Rhapsody...someone I can trust. Is that you?
But he kept the thoughts to himself, where they were safe and sound.
~***~
The thin orange pamphlets for the teen Sunday school had arrived. Dane gathered the bundled heap; the odor of the freshly printed dark blue ink on the pages wafted passed his nostrils as he toted them to a small room. The space was filled with shiny wooden desks, a large window and a guitar leaning against the side of the doorway. He sighed and put his hand on his hip as he looked around, trying to find a place to put them so that Fr. Daniel would see them. The man had a habit of becoming spastic, hunting Dane down in customary fashion, asking frantically where they were right before he was to teach class.
I’ll set them right here.
Dane glanced at the cluttered front desk and decided against it, but beside it was an empty chair. Surely Fr. Daniel wouldn’t miss them right there. As he set them down, he took notice of the cover. Right there on the front was an illustration of a young woman holding hands with a boy. He chuckled at the 1960s’ type illustration.
Why don’t they draw these in a more modern style so the kids can relate a bit better?
He removed one from the rubber banded pile, and flipped casually through it. On page five, he found the illustration again, this one laid out as a timeline. It featured the same couple, then another drawing of them leaving a church with big smiles on their faces and people throwing rice. The next illustration had them in front of a house holding a baby and in the next, they looked older with teenage children. The final picture was of them as an older couple, holding hands on a church pew. What was meant to encourage family unity, and God’s plan for husband and wife, had placed a bitter seed inside of him. Suddenly, he felt hot with resentment. It began as a slow build-up as he perused each drawing, taking his time at the continuum. Something so innocent was driving him to madness. A wave of jealous rage crashed through him at that very instant, tearing a hole in his being. Throwing the darn thing down, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him...
CHAPTER THREE
Rhapsody couldn’t help but laugh. The man was hilarious, and what was a priest doing saying such things? She couldn’t believe she’d thought he’d been flirting with her the first time they spoke, when he was just being friendly. All these days, all these weeks of interactions, of wonderful, intricately constructed morsels of conversations, usually lasting no more than twenty minutes—she cherished them. They were always way too short...
And she did remember him from school now.
Their discussions sometimes went back there, and they recalled certain instances, old gossip, and what ever happened to so and so? She’d kept some parts to herself however, like...
Why does that boy keep looking at me? And... I like the way he looks at me when I go into class...
She started wearing shirts that would push her breasts together, make them pop, to gather his attention with her little sneaky, woven basket of feminine tricks, but the star athlete never said a word, he only stared...
Ho hum, and damn, he was so sexy back then...and he still is.
This is wrong for you to be thinking about how sexy this priest is, she chastised herself.
That didn’t stop her from thinking about the previous evening when she got home and it didn’t stop the song lyrics that continued to dance inside of her head about him, maybe even for him. Now, he’d shared heartbreaking words regarding the death of his friend, and her mind drew back to the bottle of alcohol—it all made sense now. She could see how one could be driven to drink after such a trauma. Catching his laughter, she turned her attention back toward the conversation.
“It’s true!” he laughed as he crossed his ankles and leaned back. She caught a whiff of him; he smelled like chamomile tea and pine trees.
“I kid you not; I do listen to it all!” He counted off his fingers—“Country, rap, rock...I like...uh, what’s her name? The full figured pretty poetic lady with the beautiful smile. She’s an actress, too...Jill Scott, yes, that’s her name!”
Rhapsody looked at him closer. Such an endearing man. They’d been ‘running into each other’ and the delightful conversations and sweet pleasantries were becoming addictive. Over the past few days, he came to the park more and more, or maybe, it was her that was coming more and more, and he’d been just there all along—with or without her.
‘Easy going’ described him well. His laugh, soothing and relaxing; she couldn’t help being drawn to him. She found it astounding that he never discussed his religion with her, nor did he ever wear a collar. Had he not made the admission, she wouldn’t even know he was a man of the cloth. She’d catch herself before cursing or saying something crude, and he’d smile at her, as if knowing what she was going to say.
But today, the man with the calm exterior was sinking low. He’d been in a happy mood, and she blamed herself a bit for bringing him down, but she wanted him to get everything off his chest, just in case he had no one else to talk to. Rhapsody never took herself as much of a counselor, but there was just something about him. Clearly, he needed her listening ear, and he was a great conversationalist. She’d dragged him down the rabbit hole, bringing up his friend, not to hurt him, but she knew how it felt to lose someone, and others did not quite understand the pain endured...the emptiness it left.
He drew quiet as she uttered Josh’s name. Though she never saw a tear, his voice shook a time or two as he recalled memory after memory of his best friend. This purging would help him heal and it was no coincidence that they ended up on this bench, sharing these words. The right place, the right time—this man deserved some peace and in this moment, she could give it to him.
She caught him several times looking at her head wrap. Today, she’d worn the white one and large silver hoop earrings.
Why did I dress up for this man? Like he is checking for me. Rhapsody, you are so ridiculous, girl...
She didn’t understand her continued attraction to him...and she didn’t understand why in the hell she didn’t resist it.
Sometimes, I tell myself, ‘Just act like you don’t see him.’ ...but I do, and he knows it, and he walks over with that easy going smile and stance, and he says something amusing, or kind...or just, ordinary. But the tone, the way he says it, is just as wonderful as the actual words.
Well, I suppose I will be able to tell my future kids one day that I had a crush on a priest—it can go in my memories. She grinned and shook her head.
“What?” he asked gently. “What are you thinking about?”
His voice sounded like velvet...smooth and silky. She hated that about him. Not only was he like a relaxation tape, but his damn voice was actually sexy, too...not just comforting. The man conducted mass, spoke over people who were dying...yet, he was so alluring.
You need to stop it, Rhapsody, this is just silly.
So glad he can’t read my thoughts.
“Oh nothing, just thinking about what you said is all...Yeah, I love neo-soul, too. It is my favorite music, actually.”
He nodded. “Hey, I wanted to know...and I hope this isn’t too presumptuous, but maybe I could hear you play one day? You said you sometimes perform in public, outside of the classroom. You know, when we spoke the other day, I was thinking about that. I love listening to piano; it is like the most perfect instrument. Wait, I take that back! The drums, electric guitar, then the piano.” He laughed, that friendly smile that warmed her throughout. The wind rustled his hair, exposing part of his scalp and darker roots.
“Of course you can hear me play. Matter of fact, at the end of the month, the last Friday night, I’ll be helping a buddy out. I am filling in at a jazz club, Envy’s, over on Kercheval. Their regular pianist will be out of town.”
“I think I know where that is. Either way, I’ll find it, I
’ll be there.” He narrowed his eyes, flexed his fingers and rested his arms along the top of the bench, while speaking so matter-of-factly, so effortlessly. Her heart skipped a beat; such beautiful eyes…
“Do you dye your hair? It’s like three different colors...gorgeous, actually.” Rhapsody asked before reaching out to touch the windblown tresses. Just then, she caught herself.
Can’t believe I did that.
His smile softened, then slowly faded. Yet, he didn’t look angry. Maybe perplexed?
“No.” His smile returned and he tapped on the bench. “It’s always been this way. I used to get asked that a lot...”
They shared silence as the sounds of birds became their music. Rhapsody felt her heart flip again, and she didn’t understand why. He kept staring at her...those damn blue eyes looking deep inside of her. Preacher men, priests and rabbis; their presence was sometimes hair-raising. They had a way of looking at people, and you’d swear they knew your entire life story. What if he could really see inside of her? What would he find? Would she try to hide old hurts and secrets, or lay them all out for him to see, take him on a hand-held tour of her bad choices, failed relationships and free-living outlook on life? She was just fine with her mistakes; they made her who she was. Rhapsody liked herself, no, she loved herself and rules were not something she followed, especially in matters of the heart, although she did practice the golden rule—that one she kept near and dear...
“May I ask why you wear that hair wrap?” He pointed to her head. “Since we are speaking about hair. I like it actually...”She watched him study the fabric, as if mesmerized. “How in the world did you even get it like that? That is just amazing and more so, you work out in it and it doesn’t fall!” He crossed his arms over his chest, as if pulling an invisible armor over himself. His gold wedding band gleamed under the afternoon sunlight.
Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved Page 8
