A/N: I'm not sure whether or not this chapter fits with this challenge, but I thought I could stretch it to make it fit. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it. Thanks. Laura
It was one o'clock in the afternoon when Aldo Clemens stood on a quiet side street in DC, slipping his key into the lock and opening the door of his bar, the Paradise Lost. He smiled once again at the irony of the name he'd chosen for his place of business. He knew it was an apt description for the life of a man who wanted to leave thoughts of God, Heaven, and Angels behind completely behind as he started a new life. Now if God would just return the favor and leave him alone...
Of course, Aldo knew that there was little chance of that ever happening. Even though he'd been laicized and no longer served any sort of community as an active Roman Catholic priest, it seemed like God kept annoying him, nagging at him about all the stuff that He wanted Aldo to do. Aldo had tried to shrug off God's nosiness and the prying into his life, but it seemed God just wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "How long is it gonna take before You get the message up there?", Aldo thought angrily to himself, mentally shaking his fist at God. "I'm not at Your beck and call, waiting for You to give me something to do! I don't work for You any more, remember? I'm living on my own terms now! You need to leave me the hell alone…"
He tried to shake off those angry thoughts as he entered the small taproom, wanting to focus as he got the place ready for the evening. After wiping down the counter and the handles on the taps, Aldo checked the glasses on the back counter to make sure they were all clean before going back to the store room for some bottles of 'that fancy foreign beer' to put in the fridge. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and he knew there might not be much of a crowd coming in this evening, but since the weather forecast called for possible showers, he decided it was better to be prepared just in case the baseball game ended early. He stocked the beer in the fridge and then he checked his supply of whiskey in the bottles underneath the bar's counter.
A quick inventory of the undercounter shelves also showed that he had enough mixers on hand to make the most popular cocktails, although most of his regular customers seemed to prefer a nice, cold beer. He opened a new bottle of tequila, complete with worm, ready to make margaritas if necessary. Then he pulled out his cutting board to slice some limes and lemons, and opened some new jars of olives and cocktail onions for anyone who might happen to want a martini. The vodka, scotch, bourbon, and rye were ready to go, and the beer kegs were full for folks who wanted the domestic beer he had on tap. He knew he had plenty of red wine, and there were two bottles of white wine chilling in the fridge with the beer. Aldo chuckled to himself as he thought about some of his more rough and tumble patrons trying to sip daintily from a wine glass.
He set out the mixed nuts, popcorn, and chips, and then turned to make sure the icemaker was filling correctly. Satisfied that things were ready for the evening, Aldo pointed the remote at the television over the bar and found a talk show on ESPN before sitting down at the counter with his newspaper. He had a bit of time to relax before his customers normally came shuffling in, so he opened the paper to the sports page to see how the Nationals had done the night before. A good bartender knows his sports scores. Gives him somethin' to talk about with his customers. Glancing at the headline, he noticed the date on the top of the page and sighed, wanting to ignore the significance of it, but he was unable to concentrate on the stories on the front page sports section today. His mind kept wandering back in time…
It was twenty two years ago to the day that he had been ordained a priest. He remembered lying prostrate on the floor of the Sacred Heart Cathedral, stretched out face down in front of Bishop Craddock, pledging his life in service to God forever. The bishop and all the other clergy had laid hands on him and the other men who were being ordained, intoning that verse from Hebrews:
"You are a priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek..."
...and, as Aldo admitted to himself while he tried to read the next story on the page, that had been the plan. On that day he had wanted to be a priest for the rest of his life. Aldo had always felt, even as a brand new altar boy, that he'd had a religious calling of some sort on his life. The priesthood had seemed to be a natural fit, and he'd often imagined being the parish priest of a small church in some quaint New England town for forty or fifty years, happily caring for his parishioners through their births, christenings, marriages, and deaths. His whole life had been pointing in that direction until the day not long after his ordination when God threw him that giant curve ball. Aldo's bishop had asked him to consider becoming an Army chaplain. Bishop Kilraine knew that soldiers would respect Aldo's plain spoken, down to earth nature. Aldo was no namby-pamby ivory tower priest, the bishop had said. Aldo was a salt of the earth kind of guy with whom the soldiers could build a trusting relationship…
Aldo snorted as he turned to the next page of the newspaper. Yeah, Bishop Kilraine just basically gave me a boatload of shit that day. They were desperate for Catholic Army chaplains, and I was too green to realize I could actually say no…"
Turning to the box scores, Aldo tried to push his uncomfortable memories aside. There were too many dead and wounded men...too many damaged souls...too many questions about the nature of right and wrong...too many questions about his faith. It was all too much for Aldo to deal with. For twelve long years, he'd tried to reconcile his faith with everything that had happened to the men he knew as his comrades and friends. He'd tried to rely on the teachings of his Church so he could provide comfort to those who needed it. He'd tried to see God's wonderful plan in all of the death and destruction that occurred on the battlefield. Aldo thought he was going to be able to make it through to his twenty years in the army, so he could get his pension and retire to a quiet parish. That was the plan, but then there was that young soldier who'd pushed Aldo's faith until it couldn't be stretched any further, and he knew he couldn't, in good conscience, serve God as a priest any more.
That young man had believed everything his Church had taught him without any doubts. He was so worried about how being a sniper would affect his mortal soul. How could he reconcile killing people with the command to love God and to love his neighbor? He was haunted by what he had seen and by what he had done...haunted by the fortunes of war and survivor's guilt. Then there was that night where it all came to a head…when he and Aldo had sat together, having a cup of coffee, trying to figure out God's big plan for the Universe.
I don't get it, Father...Teddy Parker was a good guy. Why did he have to die? Why not me? Why did the Lord let this happen? It doesn't make sense. Teddy was just a kid. I must've done something wrong, you know, Father? Maybe God is punishing me for killing so many people...but that's my responsibility, Father...that's my job, and those are my orders, and I gotta follow those orders. I'm supposed to kill people to save other lives...but those people I killed have families, too, Father...
Aldo didn't have the answers to any of the man's questions, at least not answers that satisfied either of them, and he knew, no matter what he'd read in the Bible or learned in seminary, he never would. He'd never be able to understand for himself why all those bad things happened they way they did, and not knowing the answers made him angry...angry at himself, but more than that, angry at God. Here was Master Sergeant Booth, a good, honest, faithful man who just wanted to do the right thing while he served his God and his Country, and God was jerking the guy around. It became too much for Aldo to stomach any more. He knew he could no longer serve a God who would treat a good hearted person that way…his ire would never be quenched. Aldo knew he'd never be able to look another soldier in the eye again while he talked about having faith in God's plan for humanity...he knew he'd feel like a liar and a hypocrite. It was time to walk away from the priesthood and from God...
Glancing at the clock, and seeing that it was five, Aldo sighed as he put the sports page away and got up to wipe the bar again. He'd seen an obituary in yesterday's paper, and he was expecting a customer to come in this afternoon. Don't wanna look like a slacker when the customers get here…
A few minutes later the door chimed as it was pushed open. "Hey, Aldo…"
"Hey, Booth." Aldo poured two fingers of Scotch into a shot glass and pushed it toward the man as he sat down at the counter. "How's it going?"
"Not good...not good at all." Booth wiped away a tear as he stared into his glass. "My brother, Jared…" Booth exhaled heavily. "He died, Aldo."
"Yeah." Aldo poured himself a glass of Scotch and took a sip. "I saw the funeral notice in the paper yesterday. I'm sorry to hear that…" He paused, waiting for Booth to continue. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Maybe." Shrugging, Booth avoided eye contact with Aldo as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass. "It's kinda hard to explain, though. Jared got mixed up in some really dangerous stuff with some really bad guys, Aldo...illegal stuff he had no business being mixed up in. He was trying to pick up some quick cash, I guess, and things got out of control real fast. It was stupid stuff, too, and I tried to help him get out of it, you know? I tried to get him out of the situation, but…" Booth choked back a sob. "...he was in too deep, and I couldn't do anything about it. He got himself killed, and I was shot up pretty bad myself. I mean, Bones didn't know where I was for a couple of days, and then I almost died. I was in the hospital for a week or so." Slamming his fist on the counter, Booth looked up at Aldo, unashamed of the tears that ran down his face. "Goddammit! Jared did something really stupid and died away from the Church, Aldo. He hadn't been to confession or taken Communion in years. He turned his back on everything my grandfather tried to instill in us boys about faith and honor. I mean, I guess I always knew Jared would do something stupid and end up dying young, but now…I mean, what about the state of Jared's soul? I hate to think about that, Aldo...I couldn't save his life, or help his mortal soul. I was his older brother. He was my responsibility...and I...I guess I failed him, and he may burn in Hell because of it..."
"I don't think so, Booth. I mean, I don't know about the Jared burning in Hell part. That's in the Lord's hands, not ours. But I don't think you failed him." Aldo looked Booth in the eyes and felt his searing pain. He paused before he continued, choosing his words carefully. "You did the best you could to help your brother, but, you know what? In the end, you weren't responsible for your brother's failures or his death. Jared was a grown man. He was forty years old, dammit! He was responsible for his own decisions and his own standing with God and the Church, not you."
"But I was supposed to set an example…" Booth grimaced as he drank his Scotch and slammed his shot glass on the counter. "I was supposed to show him how to live! I was supposed to be there for him. That's what an older brother does. Pops always reminded me to take care of Jared...to watch out for my little brother..."
"And you did just that. You took care of him for years, right? You've told me how you got him out of scrapes all the time. And no one could've been a finer example for your brother than you were. You can trust me on that, okay? But here's what you have to realize...maybe not today, but maybe some day, you have to understand that Jared made a whole series of bad choices. He chose to ignore what you were trying to tell him and what you were trying to show him by how you live your life, and instead he did something totally crazy...like really stupid and dangerous, right? That was not your fault. You were there for him as much as you could be, right? But in the end, it was Jared's own choices that cost him his life. It wasn't anything you did or did not do." Aldo watched as Booth thought over what he'd said. "The only person you can ever be completely responsible for is yourself, Booth, and as far as I can tell, you're not doing too bad on that front." Aldo shook his head as he filled their glasses again. glaring at Booth. "I don't suppose you went to see your own priest at your own church to talk about this shit, did you?"
Booth ran the back of his hand over his eyes and sniffled a bit as he reached for his glass again. "Nah. Father Mark, you know...he's a good guy, but as far as I can tell, Aldo, one way or another, you're always gonna be my real priest." Booth shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. I mean, I know it's a goddamn pain in the ass to have to listen to me whine about everything that sucks in my life, but I just feel a lot more comfortable talking to you about God and stuff like that than I do talking to the priest at my church. You know all the bad shit I've done in my life and you've never judged me too harshly, and you know me enough to tell me to cut out the bitchin' and the bull shit if you need to, and most of the time I listen to you, right?"
"Yeah, well, maybe sometimes you listen to me." Aldo pursed his lips as he thought things over. "Okay, it's no big deal, I guess, if we talk about God and shit like that here at my bar as long as you buy some drinks while you're here...and as long as you remember I ain't a real priest any more, Master Sergeant Booth. And I ain't gonna sit through no more of your marathon confessions, okay?" Aldo winked at Booth and laughed as the agent handed him a couple of ten dollar bills. Aldo put the money in the cash drawer and poured another round of drinks for both of them. "Why don't you tell me more about your brother while you're here? I'd like to hear about him..."
Nodding as he listened to Booth, Aldo finally felt like he had a tiny inkling of what God had wanted from him the whole time He was bugging him. Maybe this moment with Booth was why the Lord had been nagging him. Aldo knew he might always be really angry at God, and he also knew he'd never again be able to serve the Lord as an army chaplain and that he'd never have his own little parish church. But he also knew that as long as Booth needed someone to listen to him, Aldo would be his friend and his priest...his priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.