Repent

For all the negative press that this place has been getting in recent years, to their credit it does feel really peaceful and serene in here. I always pictured places like this as having a musky smell, like Nana’s attic or something, but it smells like candle wax in here. Not quite sure of the exact scent, but I do know that whatever it is, it’s something red. Rosary isn’t the right word, but it’s the first one that comes to mind.

I also thought that there would be a lot more stained glass and old pews made from wood that probably dates back to the time of Jesus himself. Instead, this place feels more like a middle school converted into a church. Instead of hardwood floors that would allow even the slightest whisper to echo through the halls, the floor is adorned with a cheap green carpet that is not even worthy enough to be the astro-turf at a minor league baseball park. The walls still retain the smell of cheap drywall work. Hell, I could have done a cleaner job myself. Instead of stained glass windows, or any windows at all for that matter, the walls are decorated with pictures of Jesus, God, Joseph, Sleepy, Sneezy, Dopey, Peter, Paul, and Mary. I don’t know. The only one I recognize is Jesus.

The spot of the church that I came here for looks exactly how I imagined it would. The confession booth looks like it was transplanted from an older, better church somewhere out in…where are the good churches? New York? Delaware? Liechtenstein? I don’t know. I don’t think God had New Jersey in mind when telling people where, when, and how to construct these things. Right there is that smelly wood that I had imagined. I wonder if there are termites in there? There were termites in my desk at middle school.

Just standing in here, I feel like a sinner, and I haven’t even confessed anything yet. Everything feels so clean inside this middle school church that I can practically see the sin emanating off of me as if it were my Spider-Sense. Little, squiggly black lines of sin. I wonder they made the confession booths look like portable showers/bathrooms on purpose.

Of course the door would creak as I open it. Just like in the movies. I sit down, and breathe deeply. Of course this is the first time I’ve done this. Not even a cushiony seat for me? It is less like a public middle school and more like a private one. Sit up straight, no excuses. I can already hear Father Ohwhatshisname shifting around in his seat on the other side of our churchy toilet rooms. I guess I’m supposed to knock.

“Yes, my son?”

Whoa. I didn’t even say anything, and he already knows my gender. He’s good.

“I’ve never done this before. I don’t really know where to begin.”

“Well, what brings you here today?” I almost want to laugh. Every stereotype of a priest that I have seen in movies is personified in the toilet next door to me. His voice has an Irish accent. I almost want to ask him if his name is Father O’Malley.

“Well, I…um….” breathe, keep breathing. It’s just an anonymous voice, “…I’ve been having some…issues…and I want to know your opinion. See, I never believed in God or anything of the sort, but recent events and circumstance have forced me to reevaluate my beliefs.”

Father O’Irish cleared his throat, “The Lord and I are listening my son. What has been troubling you?” I wonder if he can see my Spidey-Sin through the little copper peephole? I almost want to look in there, but shyness always wins.

“See, I always grew up thinking that all of religion was a bunch of hocus pocus. I could never wrap my head around the idea of Adam and Eve, people walking on water, unicorns, and fairies.”

“There are no unicorns or fairies in the Bible, my son. That is, as you say, hocus pocus.” He already thinks I’m a dumbass.

“You know what I mean. I’m very realistic, so it was hard for me to follow that kind of stuff. Anyway, recent events and coincidences have made me rethink everything. I’ve had three suicide attempts within the past two months.”

“Three?” I could tell Father O’Potato was surprised. “What troubles your soul?”

“It’s a strange story. Well, to me it is. I don’t really work, I just play around with the stock market using the money that my family heaped upon me upon graduating college. They thought I was going to be a successful computer programmer, so I was given lots of money for equipment. I decided that it would be lucrative to just invest and trade, and for a long time I was doing pretty well with it. Well, when one company crashes, a lot of similar stocks fall with it.”

“How much money have you lost?” Damn, he’s good.

“I’m 2.1 million dollars in debt,” Father O’Bono tried to interrupt but I kept going, “I can’t even afford food for my daughter anymore. We’ve been eating ramen noodles and leftovers that we find in the trash outside of Lucky 8 Chinese Restaurant. At one point…well, at three points…I tried to give up and get out of it all. The first time I tried hanging myself, but Holly caught me in time once she heard the chair fall over from the other room. The other two attempts were while I was in Fairview Mental Hospital. It was just like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Girl, Interrupted in there, I tell ya. I’ve watched enough movies about mental institutions to know how to sweet talk the nurse so that my buddies could smuggle more drugs from behind her counter. So the second time, I swallowed a handful of Adderall along with some wine that my buddy had smuggled inside. The nurse caught me as soon as she heard my vomiting.”

“What about the third time?” Boy, he’s curious.

“As soon as I was released, I tried cutting myself. I don’t think I did it right. Well, I know I did it right, but I never died. I slashed up and down the river instead of side to side, and I laid in a warm bath. Nothing happened. Well, I passed out for a while, but I woke up feeling woozy from losing all of that blood, but not enough to kill me.”

“Oh my.”

“For real. That’s what brings me here today, Father. Why can’t I die?”

“I think you know why, and you’ve already made a step in that direction. God has a plan for all of us, and He loves each one of us equally whether you accept his existence or not. I feel that God has great things in store for you. You’re obviously a smart man, and your financial pursuits have gotten in the way of your happiness. God knows that your daughter needs you at this point, and He’s keeping you here because of that. Money isn’t everything, my son. Money can’t buy you love.” Heh, a priest that listens to The Beatles.

“If I can’t provide for my daughter and be a good dad, then what’s the point?”

“That’s the point. God is there with you, every step of the way. You felt distressed from losing all of that money? God knew, and He saved you from yourself.”

I think I buy it. Three botched suicide attempts is no coincidence, not to me, no sir. And he’s right. I knew what the fuck I was doing before I walked in here. Of course there’s a God. How else to explain my continued existence?

“Can I come back, Father?”

“Anytime, my son.”

For the first time in several months, I smiled. I don’t know what it is that Father O’Leprechaun said, but I don’t feel so alone anymore. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. Holly needs me. I need me. I can do this.
As I step outside, I feel like a new man. I’m ready. I feel happy and relieved. Time to go get something nice for Holly. As I walk across the street, I hear the Doppler Effect of a bus horn out of my left ear. I look to my left, and all I see is a metal grill before everything goes black.

And then it hit me.

Of course.