“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” The man sat across from me his arms on his knees and head dropped so that I could see the barest spot of his head like a bulls’ eye.
Eight years since his last Confession--I rolled that nugget around, testing it in the flame of my mind, and finally decided, there was promise here.
An affair some time back, impure thoughts of course, lying, stealing, and then he started to cry, but only for a moment.
“It’s like… like a doctor, right,” he collected himself, “you can’t repeat this?”
I smiled and suggested he come to the font with me, that the church was empty and perhaps the sensation of the water washing over him would serve as a catalyst in seeking true, penitent reconciliation.
I could see he was scared and so I said, “You’re not the only one who makes mistakes, there is always a second chance.”
“I killed a girl,” he sobbed, “six years ago.”
“Shhh,” I comforted him and helped him to the water, “I know, I know, now shhhh.” His nose touched the water and I said, “But you forgot her boyfriend, huh, dipshit?”