Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved

by Laveen, Tiana

  “Let me help you.” Dane stood, removing the dishes from her unstable grip, set them back on the table and helped her back into her seat. Then, he took the cups in the kitchen and returned, sitting close to her. He placed his hand over hers.

  “When you told me there were some things Josh had for me here, I hesitated, I’ll be honest about that, Margie. I have had a hard time with his death, but I’m making it through. I’m getting better and I want the same for you, though I know it will take time. More importantly, I am glad that you and the children are taking it day by day. That is the most that can be expected.”

  She nodded, lowering her pale face toward the mahogany table, the ivory, lace liner bunching under her small, grasping palm.

  “He said you were the strong one.” She looked up at Dane and smiled—a sad smile, one that more than likely took all the strength she had in her to muster. “And he said you were an inspiration to him, and so many other people.”

  Dane swallowed, grappling with his emotions. He wished he could have said so much more to Josh.

  “He really saw you like a brother, Dane. That is why he waited so long to tell you. He was...he was afraid you wouldn’t treat him the same. He knew you’d dote on him; he wanted to enjoy what you two were, you know? Have a little more fun with you.”

  Dane nodded and looked away.

  “So,” she sat up a little straighter and pointed to the cardboard box at the end of the table, “those are the items he wanted you to have. I have no idea what’s in there. I could’ve just mailed them but...”

  “It’s fine,” he offered, patting her hand. “I’m glad to be here. And, thank you for cooking dinner. That was very sweet of you.”

  “I am surprised you came all this way, but I understand it. Sometimes a trip like this can help with closure.”

  Dane nodded. That in fact was part of the plan. He’d opened himself further up to healing and moving forward with his life. He needed to allow the emotions to come, as well as to seek an exit during his grieving process, but one filled with peace. When Margie called him and said Josh had some things for him, he immediately booked a flight. He wanted to be inside the man’s home, go where he’d gone during happier times. He was ready to forgive. Rhapsody was right. He couldn’t have gotten to this point without allowing himself permission to feel the pain. He did just that, and though it was debilitating at times, it sped up the process, and now, he could finally move about without the heaviness on his shoulders from heartache.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay here in the guest room.” She pointed up the stairway. He looked toward it, remembering all too well that, just ten months ago, they were having renovations done to their home. Josh had told him all about it. His promotion afforded them the ability and he’d re-painted the stairwell himself. Dane gulped as he looked at the nearly-fresh paint on the wall.

  Josh did that...ran around to three hardware stores, trying to find light mustard with a touch of cream. He smiled as he recalled the conversation.

  Margie slowly slid her hand away from his and stood. She ran her fingers over her burnt orange dress and tilted her head, smiling faintly at first, then more with heart.

  “You know, Josh was supportive of you when you became a priest, but...”

  She hesitated.

  “But what?”

  “No.” She laughed nervously and turned away. “I probably shouldn’t say it. It’s not like he is here to defend himself.” She began to walk toward the kitchen.

  Dane called out to her, needing to hear the words. Anything that Josh had said, he was hanging onto by a thread. Somehow, the thought gave him another free second with his best friend. “No, Margie...what? It will be okay. What did he say?”

  She stopped and turned around, looking uncertainly. Her dark brown eyes glowed as she stood directly by a corner lamp.

  “He said...Dane, please just forget I even said anything. I don’t feel comfortable about it. It was no big deal, but I don’t feel I have the right.” She twisted in discomfort.

  “Margie, okay,” Dane conceded. “I suppose that it can just stay with him. Don’t worry about it.” He let it go, seeing how terribly uncomfortable she’d become with whatever it was she was now hiding on her deceased husband’s behalf.

  “Thank you, I’m sorry. Uh, is there anything else I can get you?” She smiled nervously. “There’s plenty of food left...I’m sorry, Dane. I started speaking and... I should have just kept my mouth shut. I’m not thinking clearly.”

  “No, no it’s fine, Margie. Everything is okay, really,” Dane offered sincerely. His gut churned, although a part of him desperately wanted to beg her to reveal the revelation. He’d had no idea that Josh was keeping a secret from him and he was now curious as to why. It didn’t make sense. What could it be? This made no sense, and he felt unnerved by the mystery but was determined to not show it. They shared everything, why would he not tell him such a thing? He’d kept his true feelings under lock and key. More secrets...

  After a while, he prepared to leave and gave Margie a big hug. In the living room, he kissed the twin girls and his new godson goodbye, then he left with the sealed cardboard box, back to his hotel room to sleep off the strange conversation that only gave birth to discomfort and questions left unanswered. In the morning, he packed and made his way to the airport, in anticipation of seeing his new muse, once again...

  ~***~

  Rhapsody’s brown hands were covered in warm, frothy white suds. She sung high up into the heavens as she washed up her mother’s piled up dishes from the evening before.

  “Birds, flying hiiiiigh! You know, how I feel! Sun, in the skkkkky! You know, how I feel!” she sang.

  “Breeze drifting on byyyy! You know how I feel!” her mother crooned, joining her daughter in the tune as she entered the kitchen with a taupe jogging suit on and her short, salt and pepper wavy hair combed to perfection.

  Rhapsody spun around toward her mother, her smile wide as they continued to duet together.

  “It’s a neeew dawn! It’s a new daaay! It’s a new life, for meee! And I’m feel-liiing, good!”

  “Whew!” Her mother clasped her hands together and sat down at the small table. “Nina Simone, honey! No one can do a Nina Simone song like you, Rhapsody.” She nodded approvingly as she crossed her small ankles.

  Rhapsody tilted her head and smiled at her mother, a woman she revered and owed her natural born gift to.

  “Come here and sit down, talk to me.” Her mother patted the table, her dark eyes smiling right along with her plush lips, covered in neutral matte lipstick.

  “Let me just finish these dishes and then...”

  “No, no, now.” The older woman shook her head and looked down at the table, “You come on over here right this instant. I don’t need maid service, honey. I’ll get to ’em, but thank you, just the same.”

  Rhapsody quickly dried off her hands and made her way to the table, sitting directly across from the woman she adored.

  “Rhapsody, I want to tell you how proud I am of you,” she said, crossing her hands.

  “You tell me that all the time, Mama.” Rhapsody blushed. “But thank you.”

  “But,” her mother shook her finger at her, “it is never too much. A mother can never compliment her children enough. I know it has not always been easy for you and Melody...with your father dying while you two were so young.” She paused and looked down, as if filled with deep regret. “Many times, I wasn’t home and you were left with my mother. I was...”

  “On the road, working. We were proud of you, Mama. I didn’t want for anything! And you always came home and—”

  “But there is no excuse. I think—if I had put my dream off, deferred it, you and Melody would get along better and things, in general, would be better.”

  “Mama.” Rhapsody sighed. “You can’t accept responsibility for Melody’s mess! The woman has it in for me!” She laughed angrily. “It has nothing to do with you, she’s just crazy. It isn’t your f
ault.”

  “No.” her mother shook her head. “Rhapsody, that’s where you’re wrong. Melody told me that I treated you differently after I had to retire from singing. She told me that I tried to live my dreams through you, pushing you out for rehearsals and left her in the wind. If I did, it wasn’t intentional, but I can’t argue with the girl. She is entitled to feel how she feels.” The woman shrugged sadly, her shoulders slumped. “I saw you had a gift, everyone did. I wanted you to have your chance, you know? Melody is gifted, too. She’s great at planning events, she is great at her job, she just can’t sing.” She laughed heartily as she tapped the table with her fingertips.

  Rhapsody offered a sympathetic smile. She knew better than to toot her own horn or overdose on her mother’s compliments. Mama was coming for her; she could just feel it...

  They shared a brief silence.

  “So, how are you doing, Rhapsody? We haven’t had any girl chat for a while...”

  ...And she was right.

  “I am doing good, Mama.”

  “You smile a lot more lately...you’ve got your pep in your step back. I like that.” Her mother grinned as she ran her hand along the dog-eared plastic placemat. “You been keeping any new company?” she asked, eyebrow lifting.

  A chill went up and down Rhapsody’s spine.

  Do I make up something or tell the truth? Shit. I know the answer...

  The dreaded conversation had reared its ugly head. She hadn’t shared the information with anyone but Tyra, and even in that conversation, she kept the details under lock and key. She surely wasn’t going to confide in Melody, but she’d been wrestling the last few days with the realization that she was developing stronger feelings for the man... Surely, Mama would not approve and Melody would have a field day with the information if she ever got wind of it.

  “It’s nothing romantic, just a friend. He is really nice.”

  “I see...” Her mother paused, licked her upper lip, an all-knowing smile forcing Rhapsody to suddenly turn away, as if the clandestine key to reveal her shrouded contemplations had been presented.

  “You can’t fool me, girl.” Her mother cackled. “If it isn’t romantic, then you want it to be.” She sighed. “I’m just glad what’s his name is gone,” she said, shaking her head, her lips twisting in disgust.

  Raul. Mr. Lovah Man... Scumbag.

  “Yes, we don’t need to say his name.” Rhapsody looked absently out the window. “But believe you me, that is loooong over with.”

  They shared another brief silence.

  “What is it? Is he married?” her mother didn’t look directly at her, but Rhapsody’s throat caught a lump. She ran her fingers up and down her neck, alarmed, not sure how to answer. To say ‘Yes’ wasn’t exactly true, and to say ‘No’ wasn’t either. But Rhapsody would never date an actually married man...she found the notion repugnant and it was against her beliefs. After all, when she initially thought he did have a wife, she was seething, and immediately removed her wayward thoughts only to realize his ‘wife’ was a building with people inside milling about taking communion...

  “Why’d you ask me that?” Rhapsody’s said as a mixture of defensiveness and alarm swarmed within her...as well as a need to buy an additional second or two.

  “Because you are being secretive. I’m just grasping at straws here, but it would have to be something like that for you to keep this from me. You always tell me about your love life...always.” Her mother smiled at her and winked. “You’re grown, Rhapsody. I can’t tell you what to do. Now, if you ask for my advice, then,” she shrugged, “that is a different matter altogether.” She continued to stare at her, as if waiting for Rhapsody to take the bait.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Rhapsody offered finally, trying to buy even more time but to also help her mom.

  “There is some sweet tea in there.” Her mother pointed to the refrigerator.

  “Sounds good, I’ll pour us both a glass.” Rhapsody opened one of the tall white kitchen cabinets and removed two red cups, wishing her mother had something strong she could mix in it. Rarely a drinker, she thought however she may need the extra edge to confide completely to the woman. In all honestly, her mother was her best friend, and she only kept things from her, if she felt somehow her actions wouldn’t be understood. She tried to make good choices, and typically she did, but when it came to men, Rhapsody was the first to admit sometimes her judgment was lacking. One thing was clear, however—she would never again accept the likes of someone like Raul and she remained optimistic about finding ‘the one’ someday, although that expectation no longer ruled her. She never chased love or a boyfriend; it would simply happen and she’d welcome it, sometimes not checking out the merchandise deep within before making her final purchase.

  “Tell me about him.” Her mother cut through her wayward thoughts as they sat together, their cool glasses in hand.

  “He’s a priest.” Rhapsody tried to wipe the smile off her face, but couldn’t. It sounded so funny coming out, so ridiculous, she couldn’t help it and before long, she was cracking up. Her eyes squinted and tears welled in them. She cast her sight back toward her mother who was slowly shaking her head and tapping the table with her French manicured gel tips.

  “Rhapsody,” her mother laughed, “I don’t know about you sometimes, girl...”

  “Mama, I told you it wasn’t romantic, see?” She continued to laugh, so much she had to set her glass down as the contents threatened to spill.

  “How’d you meet a priest, Rhapsody? Are you Catholic now?” she joked, knowing full well Rhapsody was somewhat against organized religion.

  “Guess what? I actually went to high school with him. I’ll admit it. I thought he was attractive back then, but we never spoke, not even once. I never even knew his name.” Rhapsody filled in the story, bit by bit, telling her how she’d came across Dane in the park. “And he lost his best friend...we struck up a conversation and have been talking almost daily now. It really was just that simple.”

  “You saw a priest sitting on a bench drinking a pint of liquor?” her mother back tracked, her finger pointed directly at her daughter’s face.

  Rhapsody lowered her head and chuckled. “Yup, and I haven’t seen him drink since...said he was depressed. His friend had died, Mom. I understand it. He was open with me once we talked about it more.”

  She looked at her mother. The older woman seemed to be rolling the information around, weaving thoughts beneath her furrowed brows, sizing it up, stretching it out and dissecting it like a biology guinea pig. She looked toward the kitchen window, a smile on her face as she obviously deliberated. A part of Rhapsody wanted to hear what dear ol’ Mom had to say about the whole situation. It was so gray, nebulous, so unclear, but another part didn’t want to hear one word at all. Her mother never really showed disappointment in her, and she feared, she just may this time. She’d made it clear nothing had happened with the man, but she wasn’t going to lie to the woman and say her heart didn’t skip a beat or two when her eyes met his...

  “Well,” her mother looked back at her casually, “you two seem to need each other.” She watched her mother slowly stand to her feet, and swallow the last bit of her sweet tea. “That’s what it looks like to me.”

  “Oh, but I’m fine,” Rhapsody offered. “I mean, he was helpful to talk to, you know. I did speak to him about Melody and me but—”

  “You’re not fine, Rhapsody.” Her mother smiled and nodded at her, a smile filled with wisdom and understanding. “You pretend to be fine, and from what you’ve shared, he did the same. You hide your truest concerns, hate feeling as if you don’t have control over a situation. It is the one aspect of your life that contradicts your personality, and you struggle with it.”

  Rhapsody felt a chill in the room. She wasn’t sure if it was real or self-imposed. For one of the first times in her life, she felt uncomfortable in her mother’s home. The woman was too close, hitting a nerve, a place that Rhapsody hadn’t travel
ed yet. She did have some resentment and pain, the loss of her father at such a young age, the emotional turmoil she endured with Raul, and now...now she had romantic feelings for a priest, for God’s sake. Melody was just one of many wrinkles in her life fabric, and she decided to place the tightly rolled material atop her head, open her mouth, and let it all burst forth in the form of a song...

  So many songs she’d written, standing at the sidelines of her own life, giving herself therapy from a distance with a chorus and funky drum solo...but once the music stopped, all that was left was her raw voice—out there in the air, lingering, shining, golden expressions begging to be heard.

  But when was she going to sit down and actually listen to it?

  ~***~

  He coiled the phone chord in between his fingers as he leaned back on the headrest. While his cellphone charged, he’d resorted to his landline, enjoying the rustic feel of the experience. This conversation helped bring back moments from his childhood, and his cheeks were already sore from all the laughter, so much so, he’d shoot a look at his apartment door, reminding himself to ‘tone it down.’

  “So what happened next?” he asked.

  “He told her she must have a lot of her mind, because her head was super big so it must’ve just rolled on out.”

  He burst out laughing again, rolling to his side and facing his bedroom window. Oh, it felt so good. The silly conversation was just what the doctor ordered. Boy did he miss her. He was so happy to be back home.

  “Hey, can I ask you a religion question?” she asked, after his laughter subsided.

  “Of course.” he immediately sat up, prepared to listen to every word.

  “Why aren’t priests allowed to marry? I never understood that. I mean, it isn’t in the Bible, is it? I don’t think it is.”

  “Well, you’re right, it isn’t in the Bible. The reason for that Rhapsody is because our attention needs to be focused on the Church and the work of God. That is our mission. Married men are divided. Marriage is good, but we believe that priests should not enter marriage, because then our attention would be focused on our wives and subsequent children from that union.”