Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved (46 page)

BOOK: Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved
2.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

She held him tight in front of the flashing Eiffel tower that turned shades of turquoise, cerulean and yellow. With that magnificent structure as witness, they lavished one another with the passion spilling fourth from their hearts, the kind that
Paris was known for eliciting. He felt at home...at peace, content, loved, beloved, adored, respected, admired, cared for, lusted after, and wanted so desperately...

He felt it in her kiss, in her song—their hearts sung a duet, time and time again. He could feel it in her words, the way the woman made love to him, the tears she occasionally fought when he’d surprise her by doing something zany, romantic and unexpected. He showed her he was the ‘real deal’, crossed the long bridge to her heart. She’d thought him
safe
at first, that he couldn’t break her heart because he’d promised it to the Catholic Church; in that, she felt security, but deep down, he knew she’d wondered, daydreamed of something
different
, something
more
, before their lives had changed completely.

He was okay being the first to admit it—he had to see if she was God’s answer to his dilemma, he had to take a chance, and no doubt, it had been the best decision of his entire life. Their attraction for one another surpassed the physical. Their deep, entrenched soul connection had been barb wired together, super glued, tattooed, and cemented. His feelings for Rhapsody were a true testament of God’s creation of love between two people who were solely designed to share their lives together and, should they miss that first opportunity, as they proved, they would be allowed to revisit the occasion.

And this time,
this time
, they reached for it with both fists, daring anyone to try and tear them apart...

 

 

CHAPTER
TWELVE

 

 

Two weeks later...

 

“Baby, I gotta run around the corner back to the hardware store.”

“For what?” Dane asked as he pushed the much detested red couch she coveted off center in their house. “I can go, just stay here and—”

“No, I want to go because the last time I trusted you to run an errand for me, you returned with what I wanted, but fifteen extra things!” She laughed as she grabbed her bag and softly closed the door behind her.

After a few minutes, Dane fell into exhaustion. He walked sluggishly into their new kitchen, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and opened the refrigerator, praying that the iced teas he’d purchased from the store were finally cold. He ran his thumb against one of the cans, tore it from the plastic six-cylinder divider, cracked it open, and downed it.

“Where in the world are the heating and air-conditioning people?”

It is the dead of winter, yet it is so hot in here!

There had been problems with the new thermostat, and he was eager for the repair company to arrive. He looked around the home from his vantage point as he leaned against the black granite counter. The house was big, spacious, clean and beautiful... perfect to raise a large family in. Their dream home—five bedrooms, four full and two half baths, a master-suite, picture-perfect, seemingly right out of a magazine and a kitchen fit for the finickiest of chefs. He wanted her to have it, she deserved it. She never asked, and at the end, she still couldn’t decide between that house and another. At the final hour, she kissed him and told him to choose...so he did.

He picked the one that had enough bedrooms to accommodate all the children he wanted to have with her, big family gatherings and holiday parties. He chose the house that had a larger plot of land, the one that had its own private pond, filled with small fish and ducks. It reminded him of Mies park, their courtship, and having a piece of that in their own backyard was too irresistible to pass up. There was yet another reason for the large plot of land. She didn’t know why, and she wouldn’t, until her birthday. Dane had laid out plans to have a music studio built on the grounds for her, and in their haste to pack and move about, he had to tell her the great news while they were in the moving truck—she’d landed a record deal. They’d be heading back out to Paris in the next couple of weeks to go over the details but she’d be recording from the United States. So much had to be done in a short time; it was a stressful, but exciting ride.

He tossed the can in the recycling bin and made his way up the steps. Each step he took echoed in the empty house, and he imagined it filled with friends, family and the pitter patter of little feet. When he made it into their bedroom, he cast his gaze over the far left corner where five boxes lay stacked atop one another. He zoomed in on the second to last of the stack—the box from Josh. Once and for all, he marched over and retrieved it, holding it with both hands. After all this time, emotion still got the better of him. There still wasn’t a day that had gone by when he hadn’t thought about the man. He grabbed a nearby box cutter, squatted on the floor by the box, and sliced it open, then began the process of removing the items that Josh had placed inside of it during the last week of his life.

First, their high school year book. Dane flipped through it, laughing at all the notes Josh had written—sarcastic notes, funny notes; circled girls in red meant the young lady was hot, circled in blue meant not so much. He reached back inside the box and pulled out a smaller container. Inside was his old favorite earring, a small white gold ball that he bequeathed to Josh on his final evening of drinking and debauchery before entering the seminary. He rolled it around between his forefinger and thumb, then attempted to place it back inside a long forgotten hole in his left earlobe that he was certain had closed .Much to his surprise, after a bit of finagling, it went in.

Next, he pulled out an empty bottle of whiskey that made him pause. Then, he saw a letter at the bottom of the box, sealed, with his name written across it in faded black ink, in Josh’s handwriting. He sniffed and drew his knees upward as he continued to sit on that floor, surrounded by cases, bubble wrap paper and a bunch of books for home decorating Melody insisted they keep. A chill came over him, and an urge to break down and let the pain out. But finally, he sucked it up, slid his thumb under the flap of the envelope and removed the handwritten letter addressed to him:

Dane,

If I know you as well as I think I do, you are reading this significantly later than when I wrote it.

Dane paused and burst out laughing as one tear trailed down his cheek. He looked down and continued to read...

Now that you’re reading it, let me tell you, ‘Hey Man!’ I’m telling you, even though I’m not there yet, I KNOW I love it here in Heaven. You should come and visit me sometime; I think priests get a discount to the all-you-can-eat buffet.

Dane shook his head.

Dane, you are my best friend. You spent most of your time lately trying to get me cured, trying to find someone to make it all better. I kept telling you to stop, but you wouldn’t listen.

Dane’s grip on the letter tightened as he made his way through it...

You wouldn’t listen and I know why. It’s because you love hard, and you think the sky is the limit! And it is! But no one said this was the end, bro! I will see you again, and we will do what we always do, get together and act completely foolish!

I love you.

Now, I want to tell you something that I was afraid to tell you to your face. You can’t kill me if I’m already dead.

God, please forgive me, but Dane, just because you are good at something doesn’t mean it is your calling. Let me rephrase that, just because you are good at something, and you are called to do it, doesn’t mean it is your lifetime destination. Let me just say what I need to say to you, because you need to hear it...You are one of the best speakers I’ve ever heard. Your sermons aren’t boring, they are funny and they hit people close to home. You make people actually want to attend church instead of stay at home. Do you know why that is? It is the very same reason you may need to get ready to move on...

I know what you’ve done; you know what I’ve done. You know all about my problems, my past, you know my history inside and out, and since we share this, we know each other better than anyone else on this planet. Maybe I know you better than you know your own self sometimes, and vice versa. But what I’m sure of is, you’re so good at giving passionate sermons, because your heart beats so damn loud, man! You are so alive; you were born to be seen! Please don’t be angry, Dane. I do think you are a great priest; that is the whole reason for this admission, actually. But, we used to talk about when we’d get married, where we’d live, our jobs and all this other stuff, and I know you told me you were fine with that being gone, but I never really bought it, Dane. You were going through a lot at that time in your life, and I think you felt you owed it to God to serve him in that way. It was noble, but inside, I questioned it. I know you bought it, and I knew you wanted it, so I let it go, but now that I have nothing to lose, I need to tell you the truth...

And here is what I think is going to happen. I think you are going to fall in love, Dane. I don’t know when, and I don’t know with who, but you are going to fall in love and get caught up in some shit.

Dane couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He covered his eyes with his hand and held the letter with the other. In the loud laughter however was pain, deep pain welling in his chest. He lost his breath as the crying grew louder, soon replacing the quiet tears altogether, until finally, the pain turned to relief. Sweet relief that the man he adored, his best friend in the entire world before Rhapsody entered his life, knew exactly what his future held before he’d even imagined it!

I’m telling you, I can just feel it. Just like I knew when you were going to get that C on the midterm exam in Mr. Gracey’s class because he hated your guts, regardless of all that brown-nosing you were doing to try to sweet talk him into a B. I know this, too.

“Josh, you’re something else…” Dane smiled, shaking his head.

You are going to meet someone, it will be innocent. Maybe she attends the church, that would make sense. Hell, I’m not psychic, I just feel it in my heart—but you will meet her, and you won’t be able to take your mind off of her and you know what, Dane? Why should you? The best part of me is my children. The most important person to me in the world is Margie. It sickens me that you can never have that, when I know you want it. That is what I hate most about being sick and dying. Not the pain I am in or the medicine and all that other bull, it is the fact that I won’t be physically with my family anymore. That is what upsets me the most! Until your faith allows you to do what we both know you need, you will never be at peace. The last few visits I had with you, before telling you about the cancer, you were just going through the motions. I wasn’t convinced you actually knew anything was wrong, but I knew something was wrong. You weren’t yourself. Man, you were dying right in front of me.

I had cancer, but you were dying, Dane. Once again, you’ve been sacrificing yourself to make other people happy. You may hate me after you read this. You might rip this letter up into a million pieces and tell yourself it isn’t true, but that will just prove that you know it is. I just want my best man who stood with me at my wedding, who carried my drunk ass across an entire football field at three in the morning, the same dude that let me have a girl that liked him better than me…you stepped out of the way and let me have her anyway and she became my first love... I just want that same man to have what he deserves!

This isn’t right, Dane. You deserve better than this. I want you to get married in a big ass church to a beautiful woman and have a honeymoon somewhere in Europe, maybe Italy or France since you like Paris so much. I want you to have a big house filled with fancy furniture, and a bunch of kids! You are smart, funny as hell and you would give your life for a stranger. The world needs you Dane, and you deserve to be happy, too.

Dane threw the letter down and sobbed so loudly, he thought his chest was going to burst. He took a moment or two to compose himself, picked it back up and started again...

Do you know why I put that empty whiskey bottle in there? That is the bottle of whiskey we shared the night my girlfriend left me to move away...Marilyn Lopez, the girl that had eyes for you, but she fell for me anyway, remember? We drank that entire thing and you kept telling me everything would be okay as we got drunker and drunker. I have no proof, but I bet you’ve started drinking again...a nip here and there. I know you, Dane.

You usually held your alcohol well, so it was kind of hard to tell, but some of the times we’ve talked lately, you didn’t seem right. If I’m wrong, I apologize, but I don’t think I am. You rarely got sloshed; you would do just enough to take the edge off, from all the shit you dealt with that no one else knows about. It’s time to stop this, Dane. It is time to stop being everything to everybody, but yourself. The bottle is empty! There is no more medicine to make the demons, as you called them, go away! It’s just you, and a mirror. Don’t piss this opportunity away. You still have a beating heart, blood in your veins, and ambition. You can do this. I just want you to be happy and you clearly aren’t!

Wet tear drops fell on the letter as he continued to read...

I pray to God that you follow your heart. If your heart really is with the Church, being a priest, then please try to find it in your heart to forgive me. If anything I said is true though, please, think about it long and hard. I may not be there physically, but I want to dance at your wedding, man, and if you ever have one, I will be there. And to prove it to you: remember that scary story your dad used to tell us about the haunted mansion? I will do that. I will flick the lights on or turn them off, then turn them back on.

Other books

Island of the Aunts by Eva Ibbotson
Best Laid Plans by Elizabeth Palmer
Cop Killer by Sjöwall, Maj, Wahlöö, Per
Collected Stories by Isaac Bashevis Singer
Fault Line - Retail by Robert Goddard
The Trouble with Sauce by Bruno Bouchet