Page 91 of Absolution

“My grandson. He, um … he got hurt real bad.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I know I should be with him right now. In case he takes a turn for the worst. But all I can think about is hunting down the dirty rotten prick who bashed his face in.”

My blood goes cold, and for a second, I almost think he senses the drop in temperature. Throat dry, I try to swallow past the lump and shift on the bench.

“I spent all night thinking about what I would do to the son of a … if I got my hands on him. Vile, tortuous things.”

“Do you know who hurt him?”

“Not yet. Word is, the slick bastard left with Ariceli. Pummeled my boy and took off with his girl.”

“No idea who it could be, though?”

“Does it matter? Fact is, I’m drowning right now. My head isn’t right. That kid is all I got. He’s a good boy. Didn’t deserve that.”

Perhaps he doesn’t know his boy as well as he thinks he does.

“And so, it’s these violent thoughts of retribution that bring you to confession?”

“No. I came to get something off my chest. I’ve been thinking these last couple days about where I went wrong with Miguel. I was hard on his father. Raised my hand more times than I didn’t. Been the same with Miguel.”

“The beauty of parenthood is that it’s never too late to change.” The words slip from my mouth without any thought. My mind is still trying to tease out whether, or not, he knows it’s me and is merely playing me right now.

“You don’t think I ruined that boy already?”

Perhaps he’s banking I’ll slip and respond as if I have any knowledge about what his boy is like. “I don’t know if you did. All I’m saying is if you’ve made mistakes, you can always try to reconcile.”

“You’re smart, Father. That’s good advice. Glad I came to talk to you tonight. So, what’s my sentence for this one?”

“I don’t believe the trials of parenthood call for penance. If that were the case, I’d be hearing confessions until midnight.”

“Well, you have a good night.” The creaking of wood on the other side is the signal that he’s leaving.

I need air. The box has officially become too tight, too suffocating.

I open the door to find Gordon standing alongside Ariceli, and the fear coloring her face is enough to make me approach them. He grips her arm, and she wrenches it free.

Gordon gives one glance toward me, then back to her. “People see things. They talk. I’ll find out who did this.” And without another word, he walks off before I reach him.

Tears glisten across Ariceli’s face, her body trembling and frail enough to collapse at any second. With some caution, I wrap my arms around her, to comfort her. “He’s upset, is all.

“I just came to tell you … to see that you were alright, and to thank you again. And ...” She glances back toward the door, where Gordon has already exited the church. “I haven’t said anything to anyone. Not even my father. He thinks my friend drove me home that night.”

I nod. “I appreciate that you didn’t mention me, but are you okay?”

Her brows pinch together, and she wipes the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t know. I keep thinking about it. Over and over.”

“Did you tell your father it was Miguel?”

“I couldn’t tell him anything. I wasn’t supposed to be at that party. I lied and told him my friend and I got into a fight, and I came home from the sleepover. I know it’s wrong to lie, but … please don’t say anything, Father.”

“You have my word. But for your sake, I hope you’ll talk tosomeoneabout what happened. Don’t allow him the power to imprison your mind.”

Lips forming a hard line, she nods and sniffs. “I won’t allow him to intimidate me. I’ll talk to someone.”

“Good. Take care, Ariceli.” I set my hand on her shoulder and give a light squeeze, before she turns away from me, heading toward her family, who waits in the narthex.

---