Frist of all. OH MY GOD are those REVIEWS I see? Oh, you wonderful wonderful people! I shall try and respond but words cannot properly express my gratitude.
Emsi, I am thrilled that this story had an emotional response with you, as that is the point afterall. I definetly put in a lot of emotion into writing it. I delight in such feedback and do please keep reading. Shuramiyaki, oh you ... what can I say to you? Dear friend you are an excellent person as much as you are excellent writer. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart for all your support and encouragement. Coine, my aim is to capture the characters and Anderson is particularly hard to capture at times. I hope I continue to remain true to him as you continue to keep reading. Sigmund 17, talk about poetry! That was one of the most poetic reviews I ever read. For myself, I can't describe how good it is to get such a positive response and to know I have such kind literate readers. I definetly will continue to write, with charming reviews like that how can I not?
Alright. Here it goes...
"If ye hae a moment, wuild ye plaze wrap this fer meh Sister ."
Despite all the things he was capable of, Anderson could never wrap a box properly.
"Certainly Father. " The young nun said. There was a brief silence as she tried to discern the cause of the priest's distracted expression, and waited for him to reveal the recipient or the occasion.
Anderson gave the box to her and revealed nothing.
"Is there any color paper you would like?" The nun cradled the box to her breast with the propriety of the Virgin Mary holding the infant Christ.
"Blue's nice." Anderson smiled politely. "Thank ye."
A few hours before this exchange, Anderson conducted a through search through his crammed cabinets. He collected all of Maxwell's letters he could find and stacked them on his drawer.
Later he sat hunched over at the edge of his bed and read them one by one. When he finished each letter he would let it fall from his fingers to the floor. By the end , the man was surrounded with Enrico's words, circumscribed by papers like an advancing army.
He read in no particular order, except the first one which he saved for last. It was still in its envelope, the congealed black-red wound of its seal nearly peeled away.
Having read all those preceding it, Anderson read with no particular interest until his eyes stopped at an underlined passage. He had not underlined anything in the others.
The passage read:
I have a good tiding of things to come. Everyone concerns themselves with their studies here. They are cordial, and we discuss our class work, but they have no interest whatsoever in befriending me. I am very pleased about that ."
In the margin next to it, Anderson's hastily scrawled in question mark.
Lunch.
The priest arrived at Amigo's at one as he promised. He waited five minutes, then forced himself to wait another five. To distract himself, he took in the décor of the place.
It had a traditional Spanish theme, with thick textured white walls and furnished with dark woods . Burnished bronzes of muscular figures, some pagan, some Christian, were scattered strategically through the dining room well featured by gold lighting and looping blood colored hangings. They gesticulated with laughing, grimacing and glowering faces around the patrons like small strange familiars.
Having thoroughly examined the interior, Anderson was about to rise from his seat when he caught the sight of a splendid ponytail flit pass the front window.
The full sight of Maxwell went through him like a javelin. The hostess pointed him in Anderson's direction.
"Yer ten minutes late. Tha 's unacceptable. It is yer pleasure tae waste mah taime? Taime Ah dunnae hae?" Anderson demanded when Maxwell arrived at the table.
Enrico stood with an dry hapless look , as if Anderson were complaining about the actions of someone else. He was dressed in his smart black seminary uniform, a strange choice of outfit considering his truancy.
"Well" Anderson continued impatiently "wat dae ye hae tae say fer yerself?"
Maxwell set down the briefcase he was carrying, crossed an arm over his breast and bowed.
"Peccavi, pater optime" Maxwell drawled with tobacco tinted breath, lash fringed eyes set on the carpet.
Anderson waited a few moments to see what he would do. The young man remained deeply bent. It became clear he would not move until he was told to leave or sit down. Meanwhile Anderson's ears caught low murmurs from the other patrons. Maxwell's outlandish act of deference had everyone's eyes on them.
"Jes siddoon son." Anderson patted the tabletop, wanting to end the show. "Ah haven't got all day."
"Thank you Father." Maxwell sat down. "This is a very pleasant looking restaurant. Do you dine here often?"
"Nay not too often." Anderson sniffed. "Lukes's more convenient."
"Convenience is very important to you isn't it Teacher."
"Aye, if there are other thangs Ah rather spend taime on." Anderson was bothered by the uncomplimentary insinuation in that remark but then again everything the boy said sounded odd to him.
"I thank you then for suffering the inconvenience to come meet me." Maxwell nodded courteously.
"Ye neednae thank meh" Anderson's eyes contemplated the boy, not sure what to make of his polished obsequious behavior. "Did ye slape well last nite Enrico?"
"Adequately thank you. And you Teacher?"
"Jes fine. Ye taken care o yerself ?"
"Yes Teacher."
"Gude tae hear tha. As yer on yer oon, ye must beh mindful o wat ye dae."
"I always am, but perhaps my conduct last night may have given you the wrong impression? "
Anderson scoffed. "Ye gave meh quite teh impression all rite."
"For your information, I do not meet many people in bars." .
"O is tha sae? " The priest mocked. "Nae many? How many dae ye meet then Maxwell? Four or five?"
"Like you Father?" Enrico raised an eyebrow.
"Huh. We'll discuss this sum oother taime." Anderson grumbled as he reached under the table.
"Ah thought as it was yer eighteenth birthday last nite…."The priest set the sky blue wrapped box before them. "Ye shuild git a present."
Enrico ticked his head quizzically on a elegant stalk of a neck. Anderson thought in amazement: The boy's neck was so long, it was a surprise he could ever hold it up straight . Then perplexed and discomfited by the peculiarity of that thought, the priest's face flattened and his glasses nearly fogged over.
"Ye dunnae hae tae take it if ye dunnae want." The older man adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"No -its not that… I was .… simply- admiring the paper." Maxwell spoke mutedly with hesitation.
The boy took the box carefully and fidgeted fretfully with the wrapping, glancing up repeatedly as he did.
The gift was revealed to be a book on the Vatican art collection.
Maxwell gazed down at it, his reaction reminiscent to the lofty detachment of a Greek statue.
"Ah remembered ye liked art. " Anderson managed a genial smile.
" That I do." Enrico's tone was dead and aloof. "How terribly thoughtful of you Teacher. I thank you for this charming gift. It will be a memento of this happy occasion. "
Anderson's face fell as Enrico brought out his rosewood colored briefcase and placed the book inside it. That dumb inert briefcase had made its full debut as a key prop in this comedy of errors , a dummy witness withholding damning testimony against him. The priest recognized it as the same carrier had had held his letters last evening, the letters Enrico knew by heart. He tried to push back that disturbing memory in his mind.
In his bed last night, Anderson attempted to further excavate and unravel Maxwell's ruthlessly unsettling revelations and far from being illumined by any insight , the events of the night merely repeated themselves in his consciousness like a frenzied mitosis of a cell. The bar steeped in the odor of failure, the dead-eyed waiter, the noxious cloud of cigarette smoke, Enrico's hideously enraged face, the cracked cup, over and over like the tableaus of a hellish nightmare. The priest had angrily, exhaustedly crashed into sleep like a ship sways and plunders forward into black wrecking crags.
Despite his sincere wish (more a prayer) for all to be made well, Anderson had nursed a mean couched hope to be spared the trouble , that Enrico would not show up this afternoon. Recalling this, the priest's extremities prickled with feverish futile shame and regret, as if by hoarding that minute and ugly desire had guaranteed that Maxwell would come and that the lunch would go poorly. His shame served as a thin veneer to a boiler of compressed and secret resentment towards the boy, at his calculating antics and his heinous slights on him like a shower of bile.
The priest knew all these negative phenomena of feeling was a kind of proof. Of what, Anderson could not discern but he sensed a base subterranean presence of something within him. Not understanding its nature, he dreaded it would, without his knowledge , appear plainly on his face like a mark of Cain. The priest touched the scar that disfigured his cheek ruefully.
Maxwell ordered coffee and Anderson ordered tea.
"Ah read yer letters back this mornen." Anderson forced himself to grumble spiritlessly.
"Any striking discoveries Teacher?"
"Ye dunnae mention yer personal affairs in em. "
Maxwell dead panned. "You did not ask."
"Ah jes assumed ye wuild tell meh. By sayen naethang, ye lead meh tae believe everythang was fine."
"Yes. I suppose I did do that. " Maxwell 's hands spread out on the tablecloth with the hard-edged hospitality of a card dealer. "How then can I apologize to you for the failure to pour onto your eyes the innermost workings of my heart?"
"Ah nae interested in any sort o apology, sae lets change the subject. " Anderson replied. So far so good he thought darkly. What was the point, to try to qualify a bond, a paper bond that subsisted in letters now strewn across his floor like desiccated leaves waiting to swept away? It was like a mass tissues peeled back to reveal nothing. The priest's weathered features twitched with an agonized pang. He had adored reading those letters when he received them. "Why dunnae we talk aboot yer hasty exodus frum teh seminary"
"I divulged my reasons last night Father." Maxwell shrugged. " I do not see the purpose in repeating myself."
" Ah dunnae ask tha ye repeet yerself. Ah ask sae tha ye can divulge sumthang ye may o haven forgotten, or retract any thang ye said, if fer any reason ye were mistaken. "
The boy stroked his chin and raised his eyes to the ceiling superciliously.
" No." Enrico said airily. " I retract nothing. I forgot nothing . I was not mistaken."
"Sae ye threw away a first class education and teh opportunity tae serve God's true church usen the gifts He gave ye… cause… ye jes didnae like it?" Anderson glared.
Enrico's blasé pallor remained in tact. "That is correct."
" Well tha was a big waste wasn't it. Boot very well lad. It was yer choice and we all hae tae make oor oon path in life." Anderson smiled unkindly.
"Yes we do."
"And Ah suppose we're all not cut oot tae be men of teh cloth, are we."
"No of course not."
"'Better late than nevar' as the auld adage goes. Wat dae ye think of tha?"
"I cannot speak for you Teacher but I wholeheartedly agree with it."
"Gude then. Suppose we were tae talk aboot yer future plans ."
"Suppose we do." Maxwell sighed. " But I very much doubt those would interest you. Talk of plans are always so tedious . "
"On teh contrary, Ah'm very interested, and Ah wouldnae find it tedious at all-"
At the same moment they both reached for the pitcher of milk . Their outspread hands stopped in mid-air, one naked and lean, the other gloved and broad.
Enrico stared at the man across from him, as his slim hand acquiesced and fell starkly to the table like a cut reed.
To that, Anderson silently slid the pitcher towards Maxwell.
"Of course I always appreciate your kind interest. "Maxwell helped himself with the meticulous movements of a chemist, he transformed the coffee from a jet black pond to a swirling milky tide pool. " However I cannot disclose my plans at this time, as they are quite involved."
"Ah'm sure they are." Anderson watched Maxwell ceremoniously stir.
"That said I must ask…" Enrico tinged his spoon fastidiously against the rim of his cup as if to punctuate his next point. "Did you come here today to simply inquire into my affairs Teacher?"
"Nay. Ah came tae eat lunch." Anderson said. "Ah assume ye came fer teh same reason."
To that, Maxwell raised his cup and smiled slowly into his sip.
They ordered their meals.
"Hae you kept up with yer prayen Maxwell." Anderson asked.
"Ofcourse Father. There is not much to report. No visions, no visitations in the night, no stigmata, no burning bush." Maxwell smiled speciously. "Not even a singed flower."
"Is tha teh problem?"Anderson craned forward. " Hae ye lost yer faith ?"
"It is not something you can lose, can you Teacher?"
" Not witoot a fight." Anderson cocked an eyebrow.
"I still believe. What troubles me is the nature of the thing I believe in. I understand that God manifests Himself to every man differently. However He seems to manifest Himself to me in constant absence." Maxwell said.
"Nae sooch thang. Teh LORD yer God goes wit ye; he will never lave ye nor forsake ye. Deuteronomy 31:6. Remember there's nevar separation from God. Even in oor darkest hoors, The Lord is wit us." Anderson stated.
"And what of our frequent separations Teacher?" Maxwell rested his head on a fist.
"Wat o 'em." Anderson eyes sparked. "Oor paths same tae kape crossen."
"Albeit through a combination of unlikely circumstances."
"The Lord warks in mysterious ways." Anderson was terse.
"Quite mysterious." Maxwell's eyes contained the tiniest splinter of mirth, and his lips curved up almost imperceptibly. "I for one, could have never guessed that you would chase me through the streets at night."
"Ah cuildnae either." Anderson heavy neck and shoulders knotted as he was disgruntled, piqued at the Maxwell's simmering tone and subtly puckish look . "boot Ah dunnae regret daen it." He said this as if to convince himself.
Came Maxwell's reply dragging as light as a tugged silk tassel. "Then … do you regret not doing it before?"
Anderson visibly bristled like he had heard a insult. "It was yer choice tae lave lad. Remember that?"
" Yes I remember well." The boy said with a tight smile as he drummed his fingers on the table. "I also remember the conditions in which my decision was made. Despised as I was, what choice was I left with?"
"Nay, tha wasnae teh case." Anderson glowered confusedly. "Ah know it may have been hard fer ye tae make friends… and teh other children may hae teased ye a bit, boot naewan despised ye son. "
"heh." Maxwell grinned incredulously. " I wonder how it could be that we lived in the same house Father."
"By God's grace we did." Anderson muttered.
" I still do not think that could be so." Maxwell twittered a finger between the two of them " For if we had, you would know the other children did not … tease me." He hissed 'tease' through his jaw like an obscenity. " Rather they made every day for me a endless succession of humiliations-"
"Sshhh." Anderson placed a finger over his own lips.
"What?" Enrico's eye twitched. "Teacher are you-?"
"Shushen ye, aye Ah am. " The priest raised a brusque and blocking hand. "Ah heard enough fer now."
Enrico cringed as if he just been doused with freezing water.
"But …but did you not say that you wished to talk to me?" The boy said shrilly, sunken eyed . His hands gestured fruitlessly as if they were bearing a weight they could not support
"Aye, Ah wish tae talk, boot o thangs o importance." Anderson replied bluntly.
Maxwell's features seesawed and contused with a blush until they gained their equilibrium, evened into a white mask of contemptuous tranquility. "Would you care to tell me why that is not important Father?"
"Maybe once it was , boot it not anymore. Its back in teh past. Wat gude is it tae bring it oop 'ere ?"
"What good you ask. Certainly not for my good, for what good can it do me? Rather I say it for your good Teacher, only so you may have some idea of what trouble transpires in your house, when you are out of sight." The boy's voice was lingeringly arid.
"Ah'm well aware wat goes on in mah oon hoose, whether its in or oot of mah sight and Ah tend tae its troubles. " Anderson spoke briskly and set his shoulders back. "And Ah can tell ye rite now, tha if yer brothers and sisters teased ye, its because they didn't know any bettar. They were jes children."
"But was I not a child too Father?" Enrico erupted petulantly, eyes narrowed and lustrous as his bottom lip trembled.
"Aye tha ye were Enrico." Anderson continued authoritatively with a flinty glance. "1 Corinthians 13:11 When Ah was a child, Ah spake as a child, Ah felt as a child, Ah thought as a child: now that Ah am become a man, Ah have put away childish thangs." If yer ever tae grow up ye hae tae put aside these childish grievances and learn tae forgive. Its Christ's oon command: "Forgive, Ah say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven." If ye dae not forgive others of their trespasses, Oor Lord in Heaven cannot forgive ye o yers. Matthew 6:14.15 For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. Its fer yer oon gude as well son. Yer cannot hae peace of mind holden ontae petty grudges, and why shouldnae ye hae it ?"
"Why indeed." Enrico pouted with voluptuously brooding. He turned away with a sleek and restless movement of his shoulders. "but what can one do? Who can evade the effects of Providence?"
"Providence has naethang tae dae wit it, it's teh aim o sin tae deprive us o God's grace, and the fullness o teh holy sprit " Anderson declared. "as it's a wicked hart tha tends tae bitterness and is hideous in His eyes. Terrible punishment is teh lot of teh Christian who carries secret grudges, as God allow their lives tae beh accursed, their prayers blocked, and then delivers em doon tae teh devil, as He has already given us meens tae break teh devil's master plan, which is His love and his mercy. When we dae not follow in His example towards oor neighbor, naethang casts us quicker intae Hells clutches. "
"Ah but who would be better accustomed to the devil's plan than the devil's child?" Maxwell hissed.
A age of dead quiet.
"Did Ah jes hear ye … call yerself …. teh devil's child?" The priest said dumbly.
Maxwell buckled forward, gnashing shark-like into the white crag of his knuckles as he burst into a sniggering fit of giggles.
"Why… are ye laughen?" Anderson gaped repulsed. "Thas nae teh least bit funny."
Maxwell only giggled louder, as if Anderson's words were the punch line to a perverse joke. His free hand slapped his chest in an attempt to choke it back. This only seemed to eject it further out to its full and ghastly trajectory, a low, harsh, atrocious cackle that sounded it should be accompanied by ejaculations of globs of black venom.
The priest laid his gloved hands on the young man's shoulders. "Stop it Maxwell."
Like a spell broken, Enrico's laughter ceased. He was held still and was made to stare into Anderson's stern troubled eyes.
"Dae ye understand tha these beliefs…callen yerself teh devil's child and thinken providence has it oot fer ye - aren't rite?" Anderson asked carefully.
"Abstractly perhaps." Maxwell enunciated precisely with a blank steady stare of a doll.
Anderson growl was low and swift as an under draft. "Wat kind o answer is tha."
"It is an answer be fitting the question."
"Ah'll tell ye sumthang now lad." The older man's lips were thick and down set and from behind his spectacles his eyes were kindled, the determined glower of a boxer facing his opponent for the first time. " Ah dunnae know how ye were taught tae spake by the sophists in the seminary, boot Ah won't abide this kind o worthless cleverness. It serves nae purpose boot tae confound and spake in circles. We're spaken privately son not innae lesson boot man tae man, sae all that Ah ask tha ye beh yerself. "
"Which one Father." The boy trembled defiantly.
"Which wan? Is tha meant tae beh a laugh?" Anderson barked spurred gut-upwards by a powerful manful disgust. He re-tightened his grip making Enrico tremor like a flame. "Are ye glutten yer irony or is this a bloody joke tae ye? If sae, ye best say it now and not deceive meh any further. "
To that, Maxwell smiled desolately, violet irises blazing bright as a cold and empty fire . "No sir." He said quietly. " I speak to you as I am "
Anderson released him.
"It'd might beh bettar if were a joke….bettar than harbouren those awful ideas. Men who think like that… they're off their heid. " Anderson huffed, heart pounding as he glanced down at food but it looked sallow, unreal, unappetizing. He could still feel the ghost of sensation in his hands, the quivering warmth he had felt in the spokes of Maxwell's surprisingly broad shoulders.
"You think I'm… off?" Maxwell pointed to himself.
"Ah wouldn't presume tae know wat ye are lad boot Ah'm not liken wat Ah see." Anderson said warily.
" Ah, so you find me repugnant." Maxwell leered. "That is what you must mean ?"
And Anderson saw. The boy's eyes were tormented, near hysterical with arrogance, hatred, fear, shame.
"That's nae wat Ah meen . " Anderson was stone faced. "Ah'm concerned."
"I insist then that you do not waste your concern ." Maxwell's chest caved, his demeanor guarded, and seedily sullen. He gestured to his temple adroitly with two fingers. "I assure you there is nothing wrong with me."
"Then why dunnae ye gae ahead and make sense o it tae meh. Explain it son." Anderson upturned a hand to give Maxwell the floor.
"Explain it to you?" Enrico moistened his lips with his tongue. "How could I Teacher? It is unlikely that it would achieve anything. If you pardon my saying so, it seems between you and I a great divide is fixed. "
Anderson sighed heavily. "It might beh bridged, if ye were straight forward."
"I have a premonition of what may happen in that scenario." Enrico said with a piercing glance . "One that may offend your sensibilities."
"Offend mah sensibilities? We've gone too far tae worry aboot tha." Anderson grunted. "Jes say wat ye hae tae say and Ah'll listen."
"Oh I am sure you will listen Father to whatever I say. " Maxwell spoke in a soft, even, merciless tone with a lithe viperous smile. He let a finger rise up and tap the side of his cheek, as he leaned back and draped one leg over the other.
"With barely disguised impatience, convinced its simply the impudence of youth speaking. Then you probably will impart at enormous length a somewhat pre-prepared sermon endowed with a muscular portion of scripture, recounting my many errs, that due to my eccentric un-Jesuit path against your sound advice, for having no camaraderie with my coarse self-satisfied school mates, for having such folly to set myself apart , ex hypothes, my current plight is simply my just desserts, God's way of correcting my presumption, His will on earth as in heaven… yes? It would be as insignificant and unimportant to you, as it would be injurious to me. What is needed is a speech borne out of an ineffable understanding. To speak otherwise would be a graceless and irrelevant ordeal, a deformation and reduction of the worst kind, a running of the gauntlet. For you are, after all, the master of yourself Father, with a decent blameless disposition, evidentially beyond reproach, well admired for your kindly practical concern. Alas, it is of no help to someone like me. In fact it'd only be of harm. As St. Theresa said: there is no pain more unbearable than that of falling into the hands of a confessor who is too…." The boy whispered this word with a thick curl of his lips. " prudent."
Maxwell's words hit Anderson, sent his mind sprawling up and out into a harsh gray and airless plain , while his heart felt like a sponge being slowly luxuriantly crushed in Enrico's fist . It might have been better, Anderson managed to think, if Enrico had just taken his butter knife and stabbed him under the table.
"So Teacher, am I right?" Enrico eyes smoldered, still sitting in his pose.
Anderson coached himself that he should stand up and leave right now. He could not be blamed for it. To stall, the priest took a half-hearted sip of his tea. It was cold and flavorless and left his mouth dryer.
"Nay " Anderson finally said gravelly. "Ye missed teh mark entirely Maxwell. If ye understood anything fer certain , ye'd know a child's unhappiness is nevar insignificant tae meh and tha Ah'm nevar too practical tae neglect teh matters of the spirit. How we often perceive is a dark and narrow sight. Thangs are nevar as they same and they also hae meens of changen themselves . Amends can still beh made as new bonds can be formed. Ah believe in mah soul tha God is gude, tha He is kind and He cares fer us. Watever divide there may beh between ye and Ah, He'll give us teh wings tae overpass it. "
To that, the boy lips twisted in a contrived subdued smile.
"Ah but we'd sooner resemble Icarus and his son than angels Father… "
"Wat makes ye say that." The priest frowned intensely as he was instilled with the image of them tumbling headlong into emptiness. "Another premonition?"
"Something like." Maxwell suddenly sat up and uncrossed his legs. A tremor passed through his face as if he were struggling to cope with new some inner occurrence before it hung down to stare at his clasped hands on his lap. "Its's strange. So much has happened, so many disappointments, but I do not seem care at all. Ha. There isn't any time to care. What good is it to do so. What pith or significance of it is it? There simply isn't anything left..." his soft intonations resonated like the hollow lonely echoes of a shell.
" Wuild ye tell meh moor aboot tha." Anderson leaned in attentively. "Ah'd like tae understand bettar."
Maxwell peered up, his eyes wide with astonishment at Anderson's interest, then were dreamy, clear, exquisite with sorrow. His neck curved like a dove and his youthful face was delicate with anxiety, lit with inner yearning, like a glimmering reflection a single touch might destroy.
Anderson stared. The boy was beautiful.
"Father." Enrico spoke quietly like the excruciating tremolo of a violin, his hands slowly unfurling, and curling lustfully with anguish. "Is it not a possibility… that for some thing there can be no amends, that for some things, there are only failings and punishment ?"
Anderson's green eyes flickered at the sight of the boy's sudden vulnerability. Tenderness roused and composed itself in an discerning deep honeyed grief, the urge to console swelled in his chest like a balloon about to pop.
"Can ye tell meh wat those thangs cuild beh child? " Anderson asked gently.
"Many things. Perhaps the most important things. "Maxwell looked ahead far-gazing, and rose out of his seat as if entranced. "Do excuse me."
"Where are ye gaen." As Enrico slinked past him, the priest inflamed by instinct, began to raise his hand to seize Enrico's wrist. Sudden doubt like the abrupt dip of a candle snuffer set his hand down on its armrest. He feigned to himself (and anyone watching) that his aborted gesture was only a reflex, a accidental twitch.
" The restroom ." Maxwell answered without looking back.
The priest's eyes followed Enrico's El Greco slender form and its smoothly undulating saunter until it vanished around the corner.
A minute passed. Perhaps several more.
Anderson rose and followed the same path as Enrico did. He came to the end of the yellowed dank hall way and swung the men room's door open.
The bathroom was white and empty as a cracked egg, reverberating with the sounds of hygienic despair, the sterile drone of the air condition, the whimpering drips of a urinal.
Anderson closed the door and returned to his table. He knew he should feel furious and fed up. Instead he fell into his seat densely, unable to make any bearable sense of what just happened. He allowed himself to feel the full extent of the drain the powerful emotions that had taken from him last night until the present. The priest was exhausted, numb from what felt like countless blows, chained to his seat. It was an eternal feeling, within each minute and second great hollows of time opened and devoured themsleves. He was a motionless forgotten ancient object fixed to the pole of the world while people and things span around him with stupid harried exuberant orbit.
In the midst of his despair, Anderson's boot hit something. Enrico's rosewood leather briefcase fell over on the floor.
The boy had left it behind