Cross Dressing (25 page)

Surrounded by so much death and rendered helpless by governments, armies, and his own Church, Father Michael comes to believe that nothing in his world will change unless he changes it himself. Unable to do anything about the larger problems, Father Michael obsesses on the smaller ones. If he can just get food and clean water into the belly of one child, delaying that child’s miserable, stinking death by a single day, he feels he will be doing God’s work.

It is to this end that Father Michael approaches a man who is known as General Garang. He is a belligerent African rebel leader who makes a good living on the misfortune of some and the charity of others. He has narrow, piercing eyes and a wide, flat nose.

“I have a proposal,” Father Michael says.

General Garang is used to making deals with the aid workers. He likes them because they tend to keep their word. Garang smiles. “I am always interested in something profitable.”

Father Michael explains that a man has come to him looking to buy human organs.

“And where do I come in?” Garang asks. “I am certainly not
interested in selling.” He chuckles and looks at one of his bodyguards, who laughs despite not knowing why he should.

“The refugees will sell,” Father Michael says. “I just need money to pay them first.”

“Why doesn’t this man just take what he wants?” Garang asks. “The refugees are too weak to fight back.”

Father Michael hesitates a moment. “He says he’s a Christian, and that would be stealing. He wants to pay for them. Give me the loan and you will triple your money in a week.”

General Garang sits forward and looks into Father Michael’s eyes. After a tense moment, he smiles and says, “If you can’t trust a priest, who can you trust?” He turns to one of his guards and says something. The man goes into the next room and returns a minute later with a small canvas satchel containing several thousand U.S. dollars.

D
AN MADE A PILE OF THE DIRTY SHEETS. HE LOOKED AT THE
Care Center’s ancient Whirlpool washer and the box of generic laundry detergent and had serious doubts about their ability to get things whiter than white. Dan reached into the box of detergent, deeper and deeper until he hit the gritty bottom of the nearly empty container. He tilted and shook and thumped the box until he had rallied half a cup of soap flakes. When Michael had said the place was short on funding, Dan had assumed that was just poor-mouth posturing, another way of saying it would be nice to have more money. Now, after being there a week, Dan knew the place was in bad financial shape, but the question was, how bad?

Across the kitchen Ruben and Sister Peg were cleaning up after breakfast. Dan watched as they signed to one another between dirty dishes. A curled index finger brushed his cheek, then he slapped one hand backward into the other. She crossed an
X
over her heart and rubbed a set of knuckles in small counterclockwise circles on her breastbone. Hopelessly locked out of their silent conversation, Dan simply enjoyed the ballet of the thing, fingers dancing in elegant chatter. Dan didn’t care what they were talking about as long as he could watch Sister Peg’s hands. He couldn’t stop looking at her hands. They were soft as forgiveness despite the hard work.

Dan took an armful of warm, dry towels over to a table and started folding them. He was trying to think of a fund-raising scheme when two men walked into the kitchen. They were in their thirties, wearing nearly identical suits. One of them brandished a Louis Vuitton briefcase as though it proved something. The other one conspicuously displayed a $2,000 Mont Blanc pen in his breast pocket as a way of saying he wanted to give you the short end of the stick. Like a jerked knee, Dan target-modeled them as “Urban Veblenites.” The man impressed by the brand of his own briefcase was Larry Sturholm. “Good morning,” he said.

Sister Peg turned around. It took a moment for Larry’s face to register. Sister Peg had never seen him in any context other than the bank. “Oh, hello, Mr. Sturholm.”

“I bring good tidings, Sister,” Larry said with a thick smile.

For a moment, Sister Peg allowed herself to believe it was true. “Really? That’s … that’s great.” She wiped her hands as she walked over to greet the men.

“Sister, I’d like you to meet Mr. Benjamin. His company’s made an offer to assume your mortgage.” Larry gestured at Mr. Benjamin. “They have a very exciting development concept. It’s going to bring significant employment to the area, which I think you’ll agree is sorely needed.”

“Maybe,” Sister Peg said, “but what’s the good news?”

“Well,” Larry said, “if they take over your payments, we keep your credit rating from getting worse than it already is.”

Good tidings, my ass
, Dan thought.
This guy is a prick.

Mr. Benjamin shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sister,” he said. “As Larry said, we’re very excited about this location. Our research tells us it’s perfect for our project.”

Dan knew three things right off the bat. First, he didn’t like these guys. Second, whatever their project was, it was bad news. Third, both men were wearing too much cologne. They smelled like a slap fight between Ralph Lauren and Karl
Lagerfeld. Mr. Benjamin made eye contact with Dan and nodded a dismissive acknowledgment. “Father,” he said. Dan wondered if Michael had known that his place of employment was near foreclosure when he signed on.

Mr. Benjamin walked to one of the load-bearing walls and banged on it with his fist. He figured a bulldozer could bring the old building down in an afternoon. “When Larry showed me the property, I knew it was the perfect place for our new efficiency retail commerce center.”

Larry gave an aw-shucks shrug. “Mr. Benjamin’s already got a doughnut shop, a liquor store, and a check-cashing service lined up,” Larry said. “That’s seventy-five percent occupancy before we’ve even started to build. Of course, there’s a zoning matter still pending and we can’t proceed until then, but we have relationships with those guys, so we’re optimistic.” He smiled like a guy who knew how to purchase influence at a reasonable price.

Dan looked at Sister Peg. A shadow of defeat darkened her eyes, giving her the look of a woman who felt she had let someone down. “I thought I had another month,” she said.

“You might have more than that,” Larry said. “It just depends on the zoning board.”

Dan wanted to slap the callous prick. “Well, I can certainly see why you’d be excited about this project,” Dan said. “An efficiency … retail … commerce … center.” He said the words deliberately, revealing their dishonesty. “Wow. That’s quite a concept.”

Larry and Mr. Benjamin turned, surprised that the priest was addressing them. Dan walked toward the men, his hands held up like a film director framing a scene. “I can see it now. Another exceptionally crappy little L-shaped building with inadequate parking.” Dan stood uncomfortably close to Mr. Benjamin. “Got a name for it?” Dan tapped his chin with a finger. “Hmmmm, what shall we call it?” He jerked his finger
into the air. “Got it! ‘Load of Crap Plaza’? Whaddya think?”

Sister Peg smiled. She felt like a girl whose honor was being defended in the schoolyard. Perhaps Father Michael was more of a kindred spirit than she had imagined. “Father,” she said. “It’s okay. That’s really not necessary.”

Dan looked at Sister Peg and shook his head. “No, Sister, a strip mall—excuse me—an efficiency retail commerce center is what’s not necessary.” He spun back to Mr. Benjamin. “But as long as you’re building one, let’s talk about it. I assume the liquor store will concentrate on fortified wines and malt liquor, am I right?”

“Listen, Father,” Mr. Benjamin said. “I—”

Dan thrust an index finger into Mr. Benjamin’s face. “Son, it’s rude to interrupt.” Dan became the stern priest excoriating the moneylender and his crony. “Now, the check-cashing service will take ten, fifteen percent of whatever the already underpaid laborers bring in, right?”

“It’s a service, Father,” Larry said. “A lot of these people don’t have bank accounts. They need—”

“They need what? Liquor, doughnuts, and another bite out of their checks?” Dan shoved Larry. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can just throw these people out on the street?”

Sister Peg was heartened by Dan’s defiance. It felt nice having someone on her side.

Mr. Benjamin folded his arms and spoke confidently. “Father, I understand your sentiments, but I think you’ve been watching too many movies. People don’t actually end up on the street unless that’s where they want to be. There are all sorts of programs out there for these people.”

Sister Peg saw Dan’s eyes pinch into angry slits, his hands balled up into fists. As much as she would have liked to see Mr. Benjamin stomped like a bunch of grapes, she didn’t think
it was the answer. She walked over to Dan and put her hand firmly on his forearm. “Let it go, Father,” she said. Sister Peg felt the muscles as Dan opened his fist. She secretly thrilled at the touch of her brave knight in shining armor.

“Uh, Sister, we really have to get going,” Larry said. “But as I mentioned, I do have some good news.” Larry reached into his coat pocket. “I looked over your financial statements and I decided what you really need is a consolidation loan. And right now we’re offering a terrific rate.” Larry handed her an application form. “Here, fill this out and drop it by any branch.”

When Sturholm and Benjamin turned to leave, Dan started after them, but Sister Peg held his arm tightly. He could have pulled away but knew there was no point. Besides, he liked that she was touching him.

Larry paused at the door. “And I’ll call you about that rental property if I hear anything.”

Dan wondered what Jesus would do in a situation like this. Sister Peg stayed at his side waiting for him to decompress. She let her hand slide down Dan’s arm. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks,” she said.

“Don’t mention it.” Dan was pissed. These pricks were messing with his mission. He wondered if Sister Peg was going to clue him in on her plans. Maybe she didn’t have a plan. Maybe she was in complete denial about the foreclosure. They probably didn’t teach a lot of banking and finance in nun school. Maybe she was waiting for a miracle. Dan felt Sister Peg letting go of his hand, but he held on. He wanted an explanation. He turned her to face him. “Sister, is there something you haven’t told me?”

B
ack in her office Sister Peg gave Dan a partial confession. “Well, we’re having some financial problems,” she said, “but I expect some funding from Monsignor Matthews any day now.”
Her speech left Dan unconvinced, but he didn’t press her. If Sister Peg was telling the truth, he had nothing to worry about. On the other hand, if they were about to become homeless, Dan knew the best thing he could do was to come up with a new funding source. He spent the rest of the day trying to brainstorm ideas while doing laundry, cooking dinner, and cleaning the kitchen. He came up with several solutions. The problem was that each of the solutions required him to be Mr. Dan Steele, who, unfortunately, had been declared dead as the proverbial doornail. He couldn’t think of a way to solve the problem as Father Michael, but he was working on it.

Before leaving that night, Dan looked in on Alissa. She was curled up in her bed, her doll held close. Dan wanted to get her to trust him, even a little. He sat on the edge of her bed. “If you want, I could read you a story,” he said. Alissa shook her head like she didn’t want to cause anyone any trouble. “Okay, maybe tomorrow.” She reminded Dan of childhood nights he had spent curled up in fear about what the next day might bring. Dan smiled and, as gently as he could, he touched Alissa’s forehead. “You sleep tight,” he said. He crossed to the door and turned out the light.

Dan walked out the front door and headed for the VW. For the first time since the funeral, Dan was going to go visit Michael’s grave. Something had been bothering him and he wanted to get it off his chest. As he walked around the side of the building, Dan noticed the one room in the Care Center with a light still on. He saw Sister Peg’s silhouette moving against her partially drawn curtains. Even in silhouette there was no mistaking her movements. She was undressing.

Lead me not into temptation.
Dan knew he should look away and go straight to his car, but he didn’t. From where he stood, Dan could see Sister Peg from the waist up. If he took just one step forward, he’d be able to see between the curtains, but in a twisted display of decorum, he stayed put. She
removed a couple of hairpins and placed her wimple on the dresser. Then she began to unbutton her shirt. As if nudged by Satan, Dan took a step forward for an unobstructed view. Dan’s id argued with his superego.
She’s a nun, for God’s sake. You can’t stand here and watch a nun undress
, his conscience said.
She’s a woman
, the id countered.
What harm is there in catching a glimpse of her skin?
Dan saw merit in both arguments, but he knew the furtive nature of his viewing position made him a creep, so he decided to walk away.

Before Dan could get his body to cooperate with his mind, however, Sister Peg removed her shirt and made herself a revelation unto Dan. She was beautiful, living proof that God knew exactly what He was doing. Her skin was creamy, her habit having protected it from too much sun. Her body was lean from her stingy diet and toned from all the hard work. And her breasts, upturned in praise of—
Good Lord
, Dan thought,
I’m staring at a nun’s … tits.
And they were good. No, great. She looked at her body in the mirror and tilted her head as she ran her hands lightly down her torso. Dan had a woody hard enough to nail something to, and that just had to be bad, didn’t it? Before he resolved the question, Sister Peg disappeared from sight and a moment later her room went dark.

Dan walked quickly to where he was parked. He sat in the driver’s seat thinking,
forgive us our trespasses.
It was a good thing he was on his way to see a priest.