The Confessions(23)
“That’s a big part of it. Maybe the biggest part.”
“The great heartache of my life was discovering this truth—there is no such thing as a simple life. We all want it, all seek it. It doesn’t exist, Eleanor. Not on this side of Heaven. I’m a man without a wife, without children. I don’t pay my own bills. I have a guaranteed roof over my head until my dying breath. I have my health and nothing to worry about, and even I don’t lead a simple life. You can’t have a simple life with a wild heart like yours. The simple life is a mirage. It’s like a perfectly clean and polished wine glass. And you want that pristine chalice, but the second you reach out and pick it up, it’s covered in your fingerprints. It’s only clean until it’s yours, then it’s dirty. That’s the simple life. It’s simple until you show up and start using it.”
“I know you’re right,” she said. “But the desire’s still there. Such a beautiful mirage. It’s hard not to look at it when I’m on the plane to France leaving S?ren and America behind, and I know I only have four weeks with Nico before I’m back again. And I already miss S?ren and I already miss Nico.”
“Steal him then. Your Zach. If you tried, could you steal him?”
“I’m Nora Fucking Sutherlin. You bet your ass I could.”
Stuart laughed. He did love a woman with moxie.
“What’s stopping you then?” he asked.
“My conscience?”
“You sure about that?”
“No.”
“What’s stopping you then?” he repeated, more slowly this time, letting the words hit her one at a time.
“Because I’d have to give up Nico and S?ren.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“No. I don’t want to. My life is harder. But it’s better,” she said. “So much better than it was before…”
“There’s your answer.”
“And yet the fantasy remains.”
“Well, I still fantasize sometimes about getting married and having babies, and I’m 81 and a Jesuit. Wonder if Marcus ever has that fantasy? The simple life?”
“I’m sure he does,” Eleanor said.
“I’m sure he does, too. You think that’s what that photograph is? A small glimpse into his dream of a simpler life?”
“I’m sure it is,” she said. “But he wouldn’t choose it anymore than I would. And yet you still dream…”
“Exactly. Human nature,” Ballard said.
“What are you going to do?”
The question was rhetorical. He answered it anyway. “I’m going to absolve you, dear girl. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Finally.” She held up her hand, and he slapped it in a high five. “Absolve me good and hard, Father Ballard. This adulterous harlot needs it.”
“You promise you feel contrite about your sinful urges?”
“I do. I really do. I’m trying to be a good girl these days. My only two lovers are S?ren and Nico. No more married guys, especially not ones raising small children. No more drama. I f*ck a priest and I f*ck my priest’s lover’s son and that’s as drama-free as this bitch gets.”
“This is the strangest confession I’ve ever heard in my life, and that includes all of Marcus’s various and sundry perversions.”
She winked at him. “You’re welcome.”
“Any other sins we’ve missed? Anything you didn’t confess to Marcus?”
“I got Dairy Queen on Ash Wednesday.”
“Now that’s a mortal sin if I’ve ever heard one. Go on. Say your Act of Contrition…”
“Lord God, I am sorry for my sins. I am. I have sinned against you and against your Church. Forgive me for my sins and lead me with your grace and love.”
“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of your son, you have reconciled the world to yourself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. May God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” he said as he made the sign of the cross in front of her and she crossed herself accordingly. “Amen.”
“Amen,” she said.
“Feel better?”
“I like the prayer of absolution better in Latin.”
“Out of my confessional, you bewitching temptress. And give me my Jolly Rancher back. Cherry is my favorite.”
She popped it in her mouth.
“Jezebel,” he said, shaking his head.
“Thank you, Father.” She held out her hand to shake and instead he kissed the back of it as gallantly as an old man with a touch of palsy was able.
“You’re good for him, and I’m glad he has you,” he whispered. “But don’t ever tell anyone I said that.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “Our little secret,” she whispered.
She started for the door and then stopped. “Wait. Penance. Are you giving me any penance?”
“Penance? You? His lover? My dear Eleanor—you love a priest. The sin itself carries its own penance.”
She laughed and it was such a laugh he knew her soul was healed.