The Good Luck of Right Now(50)

Max added a “What the f*ck, hey?” here while opening his eyes extra wide and nodding enthusiastically.

I looked over at Elizabeth, and she seemed to be studying my reaction to the story, but when she caught my eye, she shrugged, which seemed odd.

Because she had missed so many weeks of work and hadn’t bothered to tell her boss she was in a hospital recovering from “alien f*cking abduction,” her job at an advertising firm was no longer waiting for her, so she began to live off her savings and volunteer at the library, because she “always f*cking loved stories.”

“That’s also when I moved here from f*cking Worcester, hey!” Max said.

Elizabeth looked at me from behind that brown curtain of hair and said, “Crazy story, huh?”

Back in Mom’s kitchen, I said to Father McNamee, “And that’s when Max invited me to go to Cat Parliament with them in Ottawa. And Elizabeth said she didn’t care if I went with them or not. What do you think it means, my having this experience and your already having the passports?”

“I have no idea,” Father McNamee said. “But I want to meet these people. God doesn’t do coincidences. You can bet your ass.”

The next day I took Father McNamee to Max and Elizabeth’s apartment. He told them about Saint Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal and how he had planned on introducing me to my father at the very spot where Father McNamee first heard his calling to become a priest, back when he was a teenager. He explained very simply that God had ceased speaking to him and he believed that reuniting me with my father would please God and get Him speaking again. “Perhaps we should travel together,” Father McNamee said.

“We’re not really religious,” Elizabeth explained, which was kind of awkward, because you could tell she and Max thought Father McNamee was absolutely crazy. “We’re just going to see Cat Parliament, because Max loves cats. It’s in Ottawa. Not Montreal.”

“Cat Fucking Parliament!” Max interjected.

Perhaps sensing he was losing the battle, Father McNamee said, “Well, I have money to finance the trip,” which surprised me, “and if you allow us to travel with you to Ottawa, and if you’ll travel to Montreal with us—the cities are only two and a half hours apart by car—I’ll share that money with you.”

“How much money?” Elizabeth said.

“Enough to pay for the car rental, gas, hotels, and food for all four of us,” Father said.

“Why would you pay for all that?” Elizabeth said.

“You’re friends of Bartholomew. He likes you both very much. That’s enough for me.”

“I’m not his friend,” Elizabeth said. “We just met yesterday.”

“He’s my f*cking friend,” Max said. “And higher numbers of people decrease the chance of alien abduction, Elizabeth. It’s a proven f*cking fact. Plus we’re f*cking broke. You said you didn’t even f*cking know if we had enough money to make it.”

Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling of their living room and swallowed several times.

“Call it a hunch,” Father McNamee said, “but I really think this is meant to be. And I do believe that Max and Bartholomew have already made up their minds. Don’t you think it could be fun?”

“Fuck yeah!” Max said.

“It’s your birthday,” Elizabeth said to Max. “It’s your present.”

And then somehow—astonishingly—it was settled.

This morning we loaded up a Ford Focus rental car and headed north.

Elizabeth and Father McNamee took turns driving, because Max and I don’t have driving licenses.

Like we were children and he was giving us a bedtime story, Father McNamee told us about the life of Saint Brother André Bessette, who was an orphan at the age of twelve, frail and often sick, uneducated, but a big believer in the power of Saint Joseph. Many came to believe that Brother André had healing powers, but Brother André always denied this—and even became incensed whenever people suggested he could work miracles. He said Saint Joseph worked the miracles. And yet, with the hope of being healed, people from all over still come to the oratory he built. “His heart is on display,” Father McNamee said. “I was inspired by this story when I was young—still am.”

“His real heart?” Elizabeth asked from behind her hair, completely ignoring Father’s point.

“Yes.”

“What the f*ck, hey?” Max said and then gritted his teeth.

“It was stolen in the seventies, but then recovered.”

“Why would someone steal his heart?” I asked.

“I really have no idea,” Father McNamee said.

“How did they get it back?” Elizabeth asked.

“If I remember correctly, they found it in a basement,” Father McNamee said.

Elizabeth remained silent in the front seat, hiding behind her hair, as I watched her in the side mirror, although I thought I heard her sigh quietly.

No one said anything for a long time.

We just drove north—all four of us looking out the windows at the dirty snow plowed and pushed up on the side of the highway, until we ended up tired and in great need of food and rest.

And that’s how I ended up writing you from a motel parking lot in upstate Vermont, my breath silver in the air, and my hand red with cold.