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“That was bad,” he conceded.
“She refused to accept the blame, even though it was her signature on both sets of paperwork,andshe took the death call. Ask her about it later. I bet she’ll still say something like, ‘We just saw Harry in church, and he looked fine.’”
“They still used us, though.” He shrugged, attempting but not succeeding in a smile.
“You know of any other Greek funeral home in town? In the state? Of course they were going to use us. They wanted Ma’s kouroulakia at the viewing. Anyway. It’s not like you were a deadbeat… and I feel like I’m missing out on the opportunity for a pun there, but I can’t think of one at the moment.”
“I was dead on my feet most of the time.”
“There it is.” I smiled at him, trying not to notice the wiry texture of his hair, how little of it there was left, how little of him there was left. He was never a big man—physically or otherwise. He lived a quiet life, had a quiet presence. He made himself small so his family around him could shine bigger and brighter. He was the kind of man I’d always hoped to become, and I was failing miserably at.
I was disorganized, loud, too big and brash to walk through the world unnoticed and humble, and now that I wore the garments of a holy man, it often felt like a farce. I was too much of a sinner to serve my church, my friends, my God. I longed for a way to seem smaller, to slip through life doing deeds of quiet good. I longed to be more like Dad.
I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap.
“You know, Dad... You might have been polishing the coach, or suiting up for a service, or—”
“Or in the basement,” we both said at the same time.
“I always knew where to find you. I always knew I had your ear if I needed it. I didn’t need you at every football game, or to help me with my math homework.”
“I don’t recall you ever doing your math homework.”
“I wasn’t much of a scholar back then.” I laughed.
“Hm. You may not have done your algebra but look at you now. Two Masters degrees. Probably Dr. Smythe one day. You had a rough patch, but who doesn’t? You grew into a man I’m proud of.”
I studied the dirty corner of linoleum where dust had been gathering for decades. Who else would notice, unless they were sitting in this exact spot atop an old, unused oak desk, avoiding their congregation during coffee hour?
“I still pray for forgiveness every day.” I gripped the rim of the desk tighter, my jaw growing tighter as well. This was where I usually shut down. I could casually sidestep this conversation if anyone else brought it up. I’d turn it into a joke about how I used to drink too much, or I was young and stupid.Look at me—see how far I’ve come?
But I couldn’t sidestep with Dad.
“Then I’m sure you’ve received it. From God and from George. Why not let it finally sink in? Stop hating yourself. And stop punishing Decca for what you did ten years ago.”
“What about Decca?” My heart seized.
“I see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. Especially when you both think no one’s noticing. Then I see the way you interact. They don’t match up. Something doesn’t equate, Gus.”
“Maybe I should have done that algebra homework after all.” I stood and folded my arms across my chest.
“Don’t turn this into a joke. I rarely put anything this bluntly, but I don’t have much time, and I need you to fix this before... before I can’t say anything anymore. Be a husband to her. Love her. I know you feel it, but love is more than a feeling. You need to act on it.”
He stood, too, his blue eyes—the same as George’s—bored into mine.
I took a step back, staggering a bit. It was the same image I’d had on my wedding night.
Except it wasn’t an image. It was real.
I was back in that room. The squeaking of the wheels and the clanking of the metal were drowning out the storm outside, as the mortuary cot rocked in rhythm with my thrusts.
I swallowed, but my mouth was still too dry. I took back the bottle I’d given Dad, uncapped it, and sucked down the rest of the water.
I had almost destroyed our family. I couldn’t do that to Decca, too. Not that I’d ever use her, or cheat, or anything near as disgusting. I trusted myself that much.
But there was a disconnect. In my head, I knew sex was perfect and pure. A gift from God for pleasure. I’d talked to other priests about it. I’d counseled couples on it. I’d understood the concept beautifully.
But my sin had defiled that gift. Corrupted the very idea of sexuntil it was rotten.
