Page 3 of Corrado

He was different.

And because he was a Catholic, and the son of an Italian mafia boss, his problem was on a more prominent display for him about just how much he didn’t fit in anywhere. He couldn’t explain that to those around him without giving away his secret though.

“Sit down,” Father Gene said.

Corrado passed the man a look. “I think we’re good here, yeah?”

“If you didn’t notice, allow me to point out to you what you missed about my statement,” Father Gene replied, pointing a finger at the chair. Corrado sat his ass back down because he didn’t have a choice, honestly. “I treated the sin of sex before marriage with the same tone and respect as I did homosexuality. Because sin is sin. And sin, no matter who is doing it, is all the same. The thing people seem to forget is that we do not get to weigh one sin against the other to bolster our own sanctity and pureness, Corrado. One sin does not trump another—sin is sin.”

The man shrugged, adding, “And we are all sinners. That is what Christ teaches us. It is why Jesus died on the cross for us. Because He recognized we were all sinners, and we would all need forgiveness not once, but throughout our lifetime. People wrongly assume that their faith, and the way they live within the truth of their faith is the same way everyone else should, too, but they don’t understand that isn’t how it works.”

Corrado chewed on his inner cheek. “How does it work, then?”

“Faith is a discipline for your own morality, Corrado, but it is not a right to dictate to others about theirs. And it would be ignorant for me to assume anything about someone else’s relationship with God, or their right to faith. I know my relationship with God; it is strong, and I hear Him, drawing me to my path and calling. So, because of that, I share His words, and I celebrate them—I do not dictate His words like a tyrant from the pulpit. That defeats the purpose of the Bible, and of Him.”

Corrado stared down at his lap, the gold Guzzi signet ring on his index finger glinting under the office light overheard. “So, what does that mean for me?”

“It means you are allowed to have faith, and your own relationship with God, and no one should expect to understand that relationship, or define it for themselves. They have their own faith to worry about before they need to even consider yours. It means you may be a sinner, and no one can or should tell you that your sins are worse than theirs because they don’t sin like you do. It doesn’t matter—sin is still sin. And yes, I believe you should aspire to live a life free of sin, but it’s impossible. Even Jesus sinned, Corrado.”

“Huh.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the priest smile again. “Not the answer you were expecting?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry that people seem to interpret the Word in their own way without seeing the bigger picture. That’s not your fault, Corrado. It is their own flaw.”

He nodded. “It doesn’t help me to make a choice, though.”

Father Gene cleared his throat. “About your father, and business?”

“Yeah, all of that.”

“Knowing Gian like I do, I think he will be happy as long as you are, young man. It is a matter of finding what makes you happy. Do you understand?”

Possibly.

“I think so,” Corrado said.

“Good. Confession after the New Year. I expect to see you here. Also, I hear you’re heading to Vegas this weekend—a trip for business with your father, yes?”

Yeah, a whole trip Corrado did not understand, if he were being honest. When Gian traveled for la familiga, he was quick to point out to his sons all the details of the organization they would be seeing. He liked for his boys to learn, so they never stepped out of line when it counted or caused a problem.

This time, his father said nothing.

Corrado wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Safe travels,” the priest told him, “I’ll pray for it.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Corrado pushed up from the chair, moving to leave. It was only Father Gene’s voice behind him that made his steps hesitate.

“Don’t I owe you, now?”

Seemingly lighter on his feet, and like he could do something with what he learned here today, Corrado had no idea what he forgot. Giving the priest a glance over his shoulder, he asked, “And what’s that?”

“Koi no yokan,” the priest said, and Corrado’s gaze darted to the tattoo on the man’s inner elbow. “It’s Japanese, and it doesn’t have a meaning as much as what it is. A feeling, Corrado. It is the feeling upon meeting someone you know, eventually, you will fall in love with that person.”