Redemption (Sempre 2)

“Because I’m screwed up. Who would want to admit that?”

“Someone without morals,” he said, “which brings me back to you being a good man. The truly bad don’t have a conscience, son.”

Carmine pondered those words. The old man had somehow twisted things to his liking.

“If you don’t want to discuss your past, why don’t we talk about the future?” the priest suggested. “Maybe we can figure out why God brought you here tonight.”

“God didn’t bring me here,” Carmine said.

“No?”

“No, the devil dropped me off.”

Surprisingly, the priest smiled at that. “Is there a reason he did that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m starting to think he might actually have a sense of humor.”

Time passed as the two of them sat in the cramped office, going round in conversation about religion and life. Neither wavered, Carmine refusing to budge from his line of thinking, but he found himself feeling better the more the priest spoke. Something about the man’s voice, the compassion in his words, put Carmine at ease. He started making small concessions, offering tidbits of truth as he skimmed the surface of his reality and shared the tiny shavings that came off the top.

The sun had already started to rise when Carmine tried his calls again, each one just as unsuccessful as before. He hung up the phone with a frown, realizing nobody would be coming to his aide.

“No answer again?” the priest asked.

“No,” he replied. “I should get going. I have a long walk ahead of me.”

“Walk?” The priest shook his head. “Nonsense. I’ll give you a ride.”

Carmine blinked a few times, surprised. “You have a car?”

“Of course,” the priest said. “A telephone, a car . . . I even have a microwave, if you ever need to borrow one. What’s mine is yours.”

Carmine stared at the priest with disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Carmine stood, stretching his tired body as he ran his hands down his face. “We wasted a whole night here when you could’ve driven me home hours ago.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say we wasted the night,” Father Alberto said. “I rather enjoyed speaking with you. It was quite illuminating.”

Carmine followed the priest out of the church and around the corner, where an old model Cadillac Deville was parked along the curb. He smiled when he saw it, eyeing the light blue paint and tan interior.

“This is yours?” Carmine asked.

“Technically it belongs to Saint Mary’s, but yes,” he replied. “A former parishioner donated it to the church ages ago. I want to say it’s been nearly thirteen years.”

“Christ,” Carmine said, surprised it still ran, and smiled sheepishly when the priest gave him a peculiar look. “I’m just saying, you know . . . wow. My grandfather had one of these. He used to pick me up from school sometimes when I was a kid and drive me around. Pretty much the only memory I have of the man.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. He died when I was a kid, probably about . . .” Carmine paused as he did the math in his head. “. . . Thirteen years ago.”

The priest smiled at him before climbing into the car and starting it. It hesitated, the engine roaring and car trembling as it sprung to life. Sighing, Carmine climbed into the passenger seat and rattled off his address, staring out the side window as they silently drove through town.

Father Alberto pulled the car into the driveway when they arrived. Carmine turned to the man, about to thank him, and noticed the look of awe on his face. Before Carmine could say anything, the priest burst into a loud, boisterous laughing fit. He laughed so hard tears sprung to his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his hand as Carmine stared at him with confusion. “What’s so funny?”

“The door is blue.”

“Yeah, so?”