Page 21 of Blood and Penance
I’ve missed all of it.
“I’m sorry, Gianni. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“You’re sorry?”
A harsh, guttural laugh escapes me. A sound as dry and brittle that I would have never believed would ever be aimed at the woman I love as I glare at her. Though she’s undeniably my world, and always will be, the pain of what she’s done makes it impossible to see her in that way right now. In this moment she’s a painful reminder of what I’ve lost. She kept my son from me.
“You're not sorry. You didn’t want me to find out at all, Phoenix. If you did, you would have told me as soon as you found out you were pregnant.”
“And when was I supposed to tell you, Gianni?” She looks at me like I’m stupid for even making the comment, but she could have come to me. She knows that I would have done everything in my power to be in my child's life. And things would be different now if she had. “Did you forget that you broke things off with me! What was I supposed to do?”
I glare at her. “That’s no excuse, Phoenix!” I pick up the closest thing to me and throw the glass statue of Christ. It shatters against the wall on impact just like my heart. I’ve lost so much time with him. “He’s my son!”
“And he’s my son!” She slams her palm against her chest. “Don’t you sit on your fucking high horse and act like this is all on me, Gianni Puglisi, priest or not! You told me you were tired of fighting for us after claiming that you would be with me forever. So, tell me, Gianni. Should I have come back to the man who treated me like a piece of shit and say oh I’m pregnant! Beggedyou to take us back! Get the fuck out of here you self-righteous asshole!”
“Self-righteous asshole? I did it for you! All you had to do was come and tell me! You know I would have done anything for you and my child, Phoenix! You know me!”
“And how would I have known that, Gianni?” She sighs, tears filling her eyes. “You didn’t do anything for me, except walk away. So, I picked up the pieces the best I could and took care of my son.”
“Our son! He’s ours!”
She takes a deep breath then releases it. “I know he is, Gianni.”
The silence between us is deafening. What could have been if I hadn’t walked away? She is right. I’m the one who ended things, because I had to. Not because I wanted to. I can’t place all the blame on her. She probably felt like she couldn’t come to me. And she was right. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with her or a child after we split. But I would have tried. For her and for him. I would have gotten my shit together because they are my family.
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I wish I had a drink right now to calm my anger and my disappointment in her and all I’ve missed with my son.
“How is he?” I ask, pinning her with my stare and pushing the urge to drink away. I’ll have to call my sponsor and makesure I don’t miss my meeting this week. This situation has my emotions all over the place, and that’s never a good thing for a recovering alcoholic. Sobriety is a daily commitment.
A gorgeous smile crosses her face. A smile I haven’t seen in years. “He’s wonderful. He’s going to be so happy to meet you.”
I smile at that. Despite how things are between me and his mother, I’m so happy he’s alright. I don’t know him, but I already love him with everything that’s in me, and I can’t wait to meet him.
Before I can ask any more questions about him, a knock sounds at the door. I look at the clock sitting on the mantle over the fireplace. It’s almost nine o’clock. Unless there’s an emergency, no one bothers me at this hour.
“Are you expecting someone?” Phoenix asks.
I shake my head, and panic enters her eyes. “Go to my bedroom. Straight down the hall, room at the very end. Lock the door and do not come out unless it’s me.”
She nods then rushes down the short hallway. Once I hear the lock click into place, I walk to the front door of the rectory. It used to have beautiful stained glass paneling in it, but my paranoia from my previous life caused me to have it removed for something more secure.
When I look through the peephole, my shoulders sag just a little.
I pull the door open. “Sister Lolita. How may I help you?”
Sister Lolita just arrived at this parish a few months ago. She’s young, maybe in her mid to late twenties, and she has been eager to learn her position amongst the other nuns.
Her pale skin flushes a deep pink. She’s also very shy. "I thought I heard shouting. Is everything alright?"
"Yes. Just having a spirited conversation with one of my brothers. Is that all?"
“No, Father. I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s someone here to see you.”
“At this time of night?”
“Yes, Father. He said that the matter is urgent, and he will not leave until he has spoken to you.”
I don’t like this. I do get parishioners who come into the church at late hours sometimes and remain in the sanctuary because the doors are always open. However, none of them will ask for me unless there’s a call for last rites.
