Page 20 of On Your Knees

“I don’t have any ice cream here, bud. Let’s go to the ice cream shop around the corner and get some.”

This lights up his face like the firecrackers on New Year’s Eve and I take his tiny hand in mine.

“Ms. Jessica doesn’t let me have ice cream,” Nate says as I lock up the front door of my apartment.

“Why not?”

“She says it’s not healthy.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s true. Ice cream everyday isn’t very healthy.” I plop my keys into my purse and head down to the sidewalk. “But every once in a while is okay.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

Aww. “I love you too.”

We walk hand-in-hand down the street until we see the ice cream shop come into view. We enter the shop, a little bell dinging as we do, and Nate lets go of my hand to look at all the different flavors in the glass case.

I step up behind him, looking for which flavor he’ll most likely enjoy.

“See something you like?” a deep voice says from behind me.

I glance over my shoulder, shocked when I see Father Carmichael standing so close to me. “Oh, Father, I didn’t see you.”

“That’s not Grandpa,” Nate’s little voice says beside me.

I laugh a little. “You’re right. It’s not Grandpa, but we still call this man Father.”

Nate is utterly confused, and as I look at Father Carmichael’s face, he is as well.

“Who’s this?” he asks, gesturing toward Nate.

“This is my son Nathaniel.”

“I didn’t know you had a son. Are you married? Why haven’t we seen him with you at church?”

I always hate this part of my life story, and I cringe, waiting for the questioning looks I’ll get after I tell my story. “Nate lives with his father. I only see him every other weekend.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes casting no judgment whatsoever. “I can tell that must be hard on you.”

I will not cry. “It’s the worst.” I don’t know what it is about this man that makes me want to tell all my truths to him. I think it’s obviously part of his job. A man of the cloth has a way with people. A way of getting them to confess their uttermost secrets.

“What flavor are you thinking about?” Father Carmichael says to my son.

Nate’s face brightens. “Chocolate.”

I glance at my son. “You don’t want strawberry? I thought it was your favorite.”

He shakes his head. “Not anymore. Yuck. I love chocolate.” He bounces in place. “Can I please get chocolate? Please.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Allow me,” Father Carmichael says, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh, no. It’s okay.” I feel awful. He must think I’m some poor, pathetic woman. Even though I am broke, I can still buy my son ice cream. “I don’t need your charity.”

He smiles and it nearly splits me in two. “I know you don’t. But I want to buy you both an ice cream.”

The kid behind the counter looks bored with our conversation, and obviously wants to start making our order so I smile at him. “A chocolate cone for my son.”

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