Page 14 of Blood and Penance
He was the one who caused me to lose the most important thing in my life. So, I took a different route to forget about her and todistance myself from my father. I got clean, attended meetings, and started working on myself. And that also included stepping away from the violence of the world I was supposed to lead. That involved giving up relationships, especially those connected to my family.
I gave it all up. I gave up the power. The money. I gave up everything, with the mindset that if I changed what was wrong with me eventually all roads would lead back to her, despite me being the one who caused both of our pain. But Fate had a different plan for my life. I was on an alternate path that didn’t center around her for the first time since high school. It was scary at first and lonely, but I believe it was the path I was supposed to be on. The one God chose for me. Well, it was what I believed until she showed up.
I serve God. A man in love with a woman he will never have again. A punishment for the sins I’ve committed in the name of the Puglisi Family. The sins I ask God to forgive me for every day.
Once I step inside the confessional, I take another deep breath trying to calm my beating heart. However, there’s no point. When she’s around all the memories, all the feelings we share come rushing back to me like a raging storm. A raging storm I’d rather not deal with.
“My child.”
I try to stifle the irritation in my voice, but I know I’ve done a terrible job at it because she sighs.
“Could you drop the fucking priest act, Gianni? At least for me?”
“You’re in the house of God…”
“Never mind,” she sighs again after cutting me off. “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I don’t remember when my last confession was.”
I close my eyes, grasp my rosary between my fingers, trying to gain strength from the Divine. Her voice still sends shivers through my body, craving the ways of the flesh. I pray every night that I become stronger in my faith, so I won’t be tempted by her. However, those prayers have not been answered.
“Dear Lord, I pray your child finds peace,” I say, praying for her and myself. “I pray she finds comfort in your arms. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
“Amen,” she scoffs.
I can imagine her eyes rolling.
She stays silent for a moment, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I wonder if she’s in trouble or if she’s struggling to be in my presence as much as I’m struggling to be in hers. This was not where I want to be, but at the same time it was where I need to be.
She is always where I need to be.
“I’ve been struggling to control the thoughts of my mind,” she says, and I close my eyes. I know where her thoughts are. They are always on us because my thoughts are always on her. On the past.
“I dreamed of you last night,” she continues. “Like most nights.”
I hold in my discomfort with this conversation because I dream of her most nights, too. I’ve dreamed of the life we could have had if I hadn’t been born a Puglisi. I’ve dreamed of the day I ended it, but instead of breaking things off between us I get down on one knee and do what I know I should have done. She should be my wife right now.
Sometimes, I struggle when I listen to people confess their secrets. Their sins. It sometimes feels like an intrusion. With her, that intrusion is so much worse. I know her words will make me want to dream too much of the life we once shared. The one we should have right now. She makes me want the things of the past. The things of the world no priest should covet.
“We were back in Belize,” she says. “And everything is going so good. We are so happy. Do you remember?”
How can I forget?
I remain silent although I do remember that time. And I'll never admit it to her. Most of all, I remember all the wicked things we did to one another. It was one of the best weeks of my life. And it was also the week everything unraveled with one phone call.
“I know you remember,” she says, her voice laced with sadness. “You don’t have to answer, Gianni.”
I cleared my throat. “Father.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer, Father.” She took a deep breath and released it. “I killed him.”
My stomach dropped to my feet.
“You did what!”
“I killed him.”
I’m out of my seat before I know it. I push open the confessional door, then yank on the other one. She’s rising to her feet.
Not only are tears in her eyes but also fear, which raises my hackles.
