I Am the Messenger

"How's it going, Ed?"

"Now you guys remember something." The father speaks sternly now. "Ed here is a personal friend of mine, and you're not to ask him for cigarettes or money. And especially not for his jacket." He flashes me a quick grin. "I mean, look at it, Joe. It's an outrage, isn't it? It's downright bloody awful."

Joe agrees with gusto. "It sure is, Father."

"Good. So we understand each other?"

They all understand.

"Good." The father and I progress to the corner.

We shake

hands and say our goodbyes, and the father's nearly out of sight when I turn around upon remembering his brother. I run back, calling out, "Hey, Father!"

He hears me and swivels.

"I nearly forgot." I stop running and stand about fifteen meters in front of him. "Your brother." The father's eyes reach a little closer. "He said to tell you that greed hasn't swallowed him yet."

The priest's eyes lighten then, with a touch of regret poured gently into them. "My brother, Tony..." His words are soft, and they hobble toward me. "I haven't seen my brother in a long time--how is he?"

"Not bad." I say it with a confidence I don't understand. Only gut feeling tells me it's the right answer, and we stand there now, among awkwardness and the rubbish.

"You all right, Father?" I ask.

"I am, Ed," replies Father O'Reilly. "Thanks for the concern."

He turns and walks away, and for the first time, I see him not as a priest.

I don't even see him as a man.

At this moment, he's just a human walking home on Henry Street.

Complete contrast now.

I'm at Marv's place, watching Baywatch with the sound down. We don't care about the plot or the dialogue.

We're listening to his favorite group, the Ramones.

"Can I put something else on?" Ritchie asks.

"Yeah, put Pryor on," Marv says. We even call Jimi Hendrix Richard Pryor these days. "Purple Haze" starts up, and he says, "Where's Audrey?"

"I'm here." She walks in.

"What's that smell?" Ritchie asks. He cringes. "It's familiar."

Marv knows, without doubt, and he points a finger at me. Accusingly. "You brought the Doorman, didn't you?"

"I had to--he was looking lonely when I left."

"You know he isn't welcome here."

The Doorman's at the open back door, looking in.

He barks at Marv.

The only person he barks at.