11. With Or Without You

When Assumpta came back to the hospital after dinner, she was stunned to find a very wobbly Peter standing by the side of his bed.

"What is this?" she asked. "An amateur talent show or stupid human tricks?"

"Maybe both, and just watch this!" Peter slowly managed to shuffle across the room with the aid of a cane. "Makes the loo much more civilized," he added very matter of factly.

"I bet it does. What else can you do?" She couldn't help noticing just how gaunt and thin he really was now that he was standing. "My god, Peter, you really have lost a lot of weight. I'm tempted to try that diet myself."

"I'll save you the bother. You don't want to, nor need to. You're perfect just the way you are. Let me try it without the cane." He took a few steps toward her, then seemed to fail. She rushed forward and threw her arms around him just in time to keep him from pitching headfirst onto the floor.

She steered him back towards the bed, when a loud and gruff voice landed in the room like a naval salvo. "And just what the divil is going on in here? Honestly, I turn my back on you for one minute, just one minute and you're in here trying to dance a jig. Englishmen!" she wailed "When will you learn you can't dance! Didn't I tell you not to try anything stupid, I mean heroic? There'll be plenty of time for that later. And you, Miss? Encouraging him, were you? Ah youth these days! I don't know why I bother sometimes. As for you, Father, a man of God!" There was a blur of hands as Sister Chlotilde tucked Peter back into his bed. "Doctor will be along shortly to straighten you out, so!" She was spitting venom and fire at both Peter and Assumpta, but it was clear she was doting on her charge. "In all my years…" she muttered as she bustled out of the room leaving the two suppressing a storm of giggles.

"Well, that was fun. Is she always like that?" asked Assumpta.

"Dunno, I was asleep for most of her previous ministrations. She's called the Terror of the Night Shift. Says all the looney stuff happens at night, and its her job to stop it. Supposedly, she served in the Royal Marines, singlehandedly liberated Port Stanley during the Falklands War, smokes three packs of cigarettes and drinks a bottle of Jameson's, neat, every day to give her voice that edge which could cut steel….or so they say. Doctor Foley is frightened of her. She tucked me in so tightly I think my foot is falling asleep." Peter had been fidgeting with his bedclothes but the blankets were resisting his efforts.

Later, Peter was in an introspective mood. "Don't misunderstand me, I've greatly enjoyed seeing you here, but when do you have to get back to the pub?"

Assumpta resisted the thought that he was trying to get rid of her. He did seem genuinely pleased to see her and be with her, but there was this nagging doubt that he would soon retreat to the safety of the collar. She ventured a noncommittal, "Not sure, really. Niamh seems to have it all in hand there, but I'm going to have to go back before too long. I can always come back again, or if they move you to another place. Where there's a will…" She let that last bit hang in the air to see if it prompted a response.

"Well, I got a call this morning from my old boss in Manchester that as soon as I am ambulatory, I am to present myself to him. He didn't make it sound urgent, but he clearly wasn't going to brook any unnecessary delays. He offered a transportation to Manchester, but I told him I would get there under my own power. There are certain questions that need to be answered, and that may occupy a lot of time. This is very hard for me, but I think it is important to prepare the field of battle, fill in the blanks from earlier. About nine months ago I applied for laicization. Naturally, the Church resisted ,made it sound like it was all but impossible even and insisted I seek counsel, go on retreat again, and try to renew my vocation. I had no choice but to go along with it, but neither my head nor my heart was in it: no concentration, a stereotypical load of good old fashioned Catholic guilt, as well as a bunch of other things. Huge obstacles I just could't get around. So I did the old English trick: I ran away to sea, and they seemed only too happy to oblige. 'Give it time, and when you get back let's see how you feel' they said. They are going to want an answer, but I'm not optimistic about their reply."

So 'here we are' thought Assumpta. Is this the moment when it all falls apart? "Can't they give you a little time to recover from this ordeal first? Geez, it's all business all the time with them. So that priest this morning ratted you out. If I'm not prying, why were you thinking of giving up your vocation?"

"I still am. I haven't done any pastoral work since I left BallyK a year ago. There are a number of reasons. You remember that whole circus surrounding the sweating statue? That brought to the front a number of the more questionable facets of my vocation, they were an annoyance, but still I could live with, or at least work around those. However, it was becoming obvious that my vocation was the source of increasing stress and dissatisfaction with my life. In short, the price to keep it was presenting a bill I could no longer bear, and that created even more stress and dissatisfaction of its own. I wanted things that I simply could not have. There was no discussion about it. Simply wasn't on, and never would be on if I continued that same path. There was no reasoning with it. It just was and that was it. It wasn't like dealing with the death of a loved one, it was dealing with policy I no longer believed in. I felt like I was suffocating. I was a mess of emotions and confusion, being pulled in every direction. David Gordon was fond of a song called "I'm Not Waving, But Drowning." That was how I felt. The final straw, was that just before I left Ballykissangel, I came to the conclusion that I had come between a husband and wife. That was an unforgivable sin. I had potentially ruined, or was in the process of ruining a marriage. I am supposed to officiate and consecrate marriages, not intervene and destroy them. What kind of a priest was I? God might forgive me, but I could no longer act as a priest for the people after that. I felt a complete fraud on a number of levels, and lost all my faith in myself. I knew I had to get out of town. I also knew I had to get out of my vocation. I couldn't stay in either with a clear conscience. No matter what, I knew that to do the right thing, and that meant I had to leave. So I requested a transfer from Father Mac, and he was only too happy to arrange matters.

"Then when I first requested laicization and told the board in Manchester my reasons, they seemed rather dismissive about the whole thing. 'Not a problem, we've seen that, and worse. Repent, you're forgiven, Go back to work.' That is oversimplifying it, but basically that's what they told me. They basically threw me out of the room. And I thought, yeah, I get the whole forgiveness bit, but treating it all like it was just a parking ticket really annoyed me. Why does the Church impose rules if it is so dismissive of them. Seemed like a club of men whose motto was "Do as I say, not as I do." Seemed to me the people, the congregation were being left out of the equation. Weren't they entitled to a priest who actually practiced what he preached? The Church may have been accepting of my transgressions, but I wasn't. I wasn't sure that I would be best serving God if I remained in that cadre. However, I want to play this by the Marquess of Queensbury rules if I can. I really want to take a high road here, I'm just not sure it's possible."

"Wow! Oh how the mighty have fallen. I always knew you were too human and kind-hearted to be a priest."

"Assumpta, don't misconstrue or make light of what I'm saying. There are a great many men wearing the collar doing great works for God and Man, an overwhelming majority of them, in fact. I can't paint with the same brush as you, but I do have more than a little dissatisfaction."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's go back a little bit. Were you meaning, that you came between me and Leo? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Come on, Assumpta, you remember. Leo accused me one day of being the reason that he was…what was the phrase he used… "on a hiding to nothing?", yeah, that's it, on a hiding to nothing. It was in the kitchen of Fitzgerald's. He was clearly holding me to account for it. Understandably, he was pretty upset about it. I certainly would be."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Peter. You eejit! Is that what you are worried about? Do you feel strong enough for this conversation now? Let's wait a few days. When you're stronger."

"It has to happen at some point, might as well be now."

"OK then, Peter. Let me fill you in on a few things. I never thought I would ever have this conversation with you, but here goes: I'll admit to thinking I was attracted to you when I first met you, the day I gave you a lift in the rain when you first came to town. I was mildly put out that you were English and much more so that you were the new priest. The first bit I was pretty sure I could live with, the second, not a chance. But you grow on people. Like mold. It didn't take very long for me to realize my long-held beliefs were been challenged and discarded. I knew you were out of reach, but still I could't help myself. Anything to keep you around, driving lessons, petitions, whatever it took. The petition had the added benefit of annoying Father Mac. That was a good day." She smiled to herself. "I was in trouble during Padraig's and Brendan's play, real trouble. Luckily for both of us at the time Doc Ryan patched Enda Sullivan up in time to keep me from making a complete spectacle of myself in front of the whole town. I spent twenty hard-earned quid, just to be able to have you spend time with me without raising suspicion. My mind entertained pretty crazy thoughts with that one. It alway's came round to you. There was something there, I was sure of it. I could feel it. It seemed we had reached the rubicon that night we sat in your car at Cill Na Sidhe, but my heart was breaking, and I had to get out and do something. I couldn't take it anymore. I hoped that you would decide one way, but I knew you would decide the other. So I ran away to London and married Leo. You didn't come between us. I put HIM between YOU and ME! I thought that in time he would push you out of my head. For that I will always feel shame and regret. I probably lost a very dear friend. It didn't work, it couldn't work. Even though you never came back, I could never have been satisfied with him. Try as he might, it just wasn't right. I don't know how much of this I could admit to if you hadn't been presumed lost at sea. When I heard that, my whole world completely fell apart. You might not have been in my world, but you were at least in my universe, and then it seemed you left that. I had a hard time breathing in that new universe. I thought of all the time wasted and opportunities not realized. Maybe if I had been clearer it might have removed some of the questions we had back then, but could never voice. I thought that if I ever had the chance to do anything over, I would try to tell you exactly what and how I felt. Not that it would do any good, but we spent a lot of time dancing around the elephant in the room and that certainly didn't do either of us any good. So that is it, Peter. In case your English brain can't process it, this Irish brain will instruct you in three simple words, English words too: I. Love. You."