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My boys! his dad would say. Karl’s going to do important things one day. My wife says he’s going to be president, but I think he’ll stay closer to home and his family.
He was close to home and his family, and he was doing important things. What more could the ghost of his dad expect out of him? He had tried marriage, and it hadn’t worked out. What he had with Vivian didn’t count, as neither of them could define what they had with each other, and if they couldn’t define it, they couldn’t know what it was. She was pregnant with his child, and he was making sure he didn’t neglect his responsibilities. Everything else was…fuzzy.
You’re just going through the motions of marriage and family because it’s expected of you, Jessica had accused him at the beginning of the end of their marriage. The only thing you care about is your work, as if it will bring your family back to life. We could have a family of our own, but I don’t think you can flex your mind even the slightest to see how that might be possible.
Hearing the Nicene Creed said by the man next to him was a surprise and Karl wasn’t able to catch up until the second line. He’d completely missed the readings and homily, moving in concert with the congregation but not hearing a word the priest said. When flashes of white moved about the altar, Karl closed his eyes, as he had every Sunday since his brother’s funeral, to remember Leon in altar boy robes. Sundays, while the priest was preparing the Eucharist, was one of the few times he could remember his brother as alive, rather than dying in a hospital room. From the back of the church he could superimpose Leon’s smiling face on whatever child was currently serving at the altar.
Karl never sat in the front pews.
Jessica’s accusation had been unfair and proof she didn’t understand him or what his dedication to his work represented about his feelings for his family. He’d left corporate law for the low pay and drudgery of the inspector general’s office because the work was important, and despite what Jessica had believed and his mom had hoped, running for office was not a substitute for the work he did for the city. He wanted—needed—to do more to stop corruption than just pay lip service to ethics. He wanted to hunt down those who thought nothing of cheating the people.
Besides, he was the good son. He came to Sunday dinners at Mom’s, often ate at Tilly’s restaurant and had even worked a booth at the Taste of Poland for Renia. The good son, just as his father had expected, even if he wasn’t around to see it.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The present—Father Szymkiewicz holding the Eucharist up in offering and the warmth of the community around him—should be the focus of his attention, not anger at those who were in prison for their crimes. Anger had not brought his family back from the dead yet, and it never would. Justice and prevention were the key. And forgiveness. Surrounded by God’s grace, he couldn’t forget forgiveness.
“Peace be with you.” Karl jumped at the voice and turned to see the man next to him with his hand out. He returned the greeting and shook hands with other parishioners, crossing the aisle to shake hands with Mr. and Mrs. Biadala, who asked after his mother. Karl informed them that his mother was going to be fine, which wasn’t a lie. His sisters or Vivian would’ve called him if she’d gotten worse.
After taking communion , Karl knelt and rested his head on his hands, letting the edge of the wood on the kneeler bite into his knees and focus his mind. He looked forward to this moment of contemplation every week. No matter how many people interrupted him in a normal day—calls from his family or couriers with redacted and thus useless information—no one ever interrupted him during this moment of silence. And he could ignore the phone vibrating in his pants pocket while he talked to his father. Sometimes he used the moment to talk to his dad, and sometimes to his Father with a capital F, but he always took this moment to seek guidance.
The guidance he sought wasn’t always available. Or, as today, he didn’t like what he heard.
Forgiveness. Be willing to offer it, and don’t expect it when you have done wrong unless you are also willing to apologize. He hadn’t meant to expose Vivian’s secret to his family. That Vivian’s presence seemed to push him out of his comfortable stoicism was his responsibility, not hers. And he should apologize for any embarrassment he’d caused her—take responsibility for his actions.
