Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved (7 page)

Anthony, on the other hand, was a real card. Shorter than Joseph and Dane, and stocky, he looked like a stunted version of their father and behaved in a similar fashion—trivial, a bit immature, but with a heart of gold. Although only ten months older than Dane, he acted like the youngest of the quartet. Then there was Dane, the youngest son, nicknamed ‘The rebel with a conscience’, as well as, ‘Old Soul’. Then, finally, the true baby of the family, Daisy, who’d been spoiled rotten since birth and never grew out of a sense of entitlement. Nevertheless, her heart was good, under the icy exterior; she didn’t wish ill will toward others, so Dane oftentimes dismissed her silly antics.

“Do any of you have questions?” the lawyer asked, his bottom lip slightly poked out as he pivoted in his squeaky leather seat, his hands steepled.

“Well, this is, hmm...” Dane’s father stood behind his eldest son’s chair, gripping the headrest. “We actually suspected this, you know, money squirreled away somewhere, so to me and Maria, it really was no surprise. I am a little shocked about it being left to Dane, seeing as my father-in-law never—”

“Joseph.” Maria shot him a look, a
begging
look, asking him to stop in his tracks. Everyone knew any unkind words spoken about her deceased, glorified father would render the one who articulated the ghastly words a scarlet letter and when mom was angry, well, one may as well pack one’s bags and move on.

“Yes, mmmm,” Dane’s dad rubbed his chin. “Her father was a good man and... I’m sure that he had respectable reasons for doing what he has done. It... it is just a bit surprising is all.” And that was how the now wise man, better known as ‘Dad’, left it.

“Well,” Maria offered, brandishing a stiff smile after a long sigh as she cast a glance toward Dane. “My father was very pleased when Dane became a priest. My father’s first love was the church...it makes
perfect
sense to me.” Ending on a chipper tone, her gaze taut and unyielding, she looked around the room at her startled children.

No one said another word; they all just rolled in their respective elation, envy, confusion or turmoil as the heavy seconds passed, turning into minutes until they went their separate ways. Dane, of course, headed straight to the bank asking to speak to the branch manager and to immediately hire a financial advisor...

~***~

Dane lit three more candles, thanking God for answering his prayers.

In the last couple of weeks, he’d effectively paid off all of his parents’ outstanding bills, as well as given them spending money, upon the condition that they finally take the Caribbean cruise that they’d dreamed of since he and his siblings were children. Then, he wrote Joseph a nice, big check and mailed it privately, certain the man would refuse it if he handed the cash in person. Dane understood those unpaid medical student loans from years past would not pay themselves back, and they were mounting with staggering interest. Joseph was a dentist, but struggling financially due to many of his patients losing their homes in recent years. And surely, the homeless are less inclined to get their six month cleanings, crowns, braces or root canals when they are simply trying to find a place to lay their head. He had a wife and children to take care of as well, but Joseph struggled with pride, always trying to be the beholden big brother who never had any struggles or worries.

For his part, Anthony was comfortable, but he too had dreams. Dane slid him some cash in hopes he’d spend it wisely, but didn’t have high expectations. Anthony was a bit reckless and a dreamer, but at least he’d be happy for the time being. Then there was Daisy, smiling sweetly in her little yellow 1960’s style dress with the tailored, cinched waist, like a doll perched on a shelf, only she was sitting in a plush, snow white chair, her hand out and her blue eyes lit up with emerald greed. Dane looked down at her, his lips twisting as he minced his words. The woman had a way of testing him, but he never let her see him sweat. He’d fought telling her a thing or two almost every day of their existence, and sometimes, he would succumb and simply let her have it—but she was his baby sister, and he knew she sometimes couldn’t help herself.

He’d called her to stop by their parents’ house for her share. In what seemed like moments, she was there, glammed up, as if she were going to receive a much anticipated Grammy for her leading role as ‘Queen Pain in the Rear.’ Regardless, the money was going for much needed repairs for her home, and for a better quality of life for his nieces and nephews—all worth it in Dane’s book.

Plans to speak to a contractor regarding expanding the church were now underway, and the last piece of the financial windfall puzzle needed to be laid. The most important, the most crucial, but Josh repeatedly refused to be flown anywhere, to be seen by anyone new, or to receive any additional treatment. Dane had planned to take things into his own hands, and requested two weeks off from the parish, which was promptly granted by Fr. Kirkpatrick after the recent events.

He’d fly to San Diego, and even if he had to drag Josh kicking and screaming, the deed would be done. He’d get that man in front of one of the best medical oncologists in the entire nation, and the doctor’s highly skilled team. He’d already spoken extensively to one of the top pulmonologists and lung surgeons in the world, and though Josh’s prognosis was still grim, they wanted a look at him, to possibly extend his life and give him more comfort. He was sure the money didn’t hurt, made them more resolved to helping the ailing Josh, but he didn’t care what the motivation was—this way, he could save the world, at least
his
world, thus,  save himself. Full of optimism, he finally had an emotional moment’s rest. He couldn’t thank God enough for opening this door for him and he planned to walk right on through, with his chin up and pep in his step...

~***~

Several weeks later...

“I’ll do as I please.” Josh flicked the hot amber ashes in the ashtray and crossed thin, pale ankles on the black ottoman, his hospital gown exposing part of his leg. Dane snatched the cigarette from his grasp.

“Hey!” Josh cracked a smile and rolled his eyes, then let his head fall back onto the chair as they waited for the doctor to come back into the small, stark white room. Dane was running on pure adrenaline. After three weeks of testing, Josh’s health had further declined, yet he seemed to have peace about him. Dane had called Fr. Kirkpatrick, explaining he needed more time, and it was granted. He offered apologies to his parishioners via email and to a few that had depended on him for council via phone, but this simply couldn’t wait. He crossed his arms and paced, still offering a smile, but inside, his stomach turned, flipped and kicked as his nerves tried to wrestle his resolve, twiddle it down to the nub. Meanwhile, Josh sat there peacefully, seeming fully relaxed, as the time ticked away.

“Would you be still, please?” Josh smiled, shooting him a lazy glance. “Geesh, you’re making me nervous with all that prancing and dancing around.”

Just then, the door swung open and the doctor entered, holding a small tablet and a folder. He closed the door behind him and observed the computerized information before approaching his patient. He looked up at Dane, his eyes telling him what his mouth hadn’t yet.

“I’m going to be frank, Mr. Leonard, you—”

“I’d prefer you to be Dr. Abraham. Don’t care much for Frank,” Josh joked, causing a stiff smile from the doctor and a stern grimace from Dane.

“You’re supposed to be the best!” Dane yelled, losing control, as if he were having an out of body experience. He made a threatening step toward the doctor, exploding into a million fragments of his former self.

“Fr. Caruso, please calm down. I do thank you for—”

“No!”

“Dane, stop it.” Josh waved his hand at him, causing Dane to stop in his tracks. Slumping down in a chair beside Josh, he stared at the wall—the blank wall where nothing began and nothing ended.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Leonard, there isn’t much we can do. I agree with the original diagnosis of your doctor, uh,” he scrolled through his tablet, “Dr. Turner in Sacramento. I believe, based on the aggressive progression, you have approximately three months. I am very sorry.”

“You’re sorry! That’s all you can say? You’re sorry?!”

“Dane!” Josh called out, holding his chest.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry!” Dane snatched his jacket and, bumping the doctor aggressively in the shoulder; he stormed out of the room and paddled up the long hall, passing people in a blur. He ran away as far as he could but the emotions kept chasing him, harassing him, taunting him, no matter which way he turned. Soon, he found himself in a waiting room, in an area of the huge hospital he’d never seen before. He wasn’t even sure how’d he arrived there. Gripping his hair with both fists, he turned in circles, round and around, his gut knotted like rope. He wanted to cuss, he wanted to scream, and he wanted to pound something into oblivion. He wouldn’t mind a drink, or four, probably more.

He wouldn’t mind cracking Heaven open, shoving his head through the damned clouds and demanding an explanation—in his fury, he no longer held back. Eyes blurred with hot tears, he raced out of the waiting room, bypassed the elevator and hot tailed it down seven flights of steps, as if competing in the Olympics. Soon he burst through the doors into the open air, tumbling forward, and landing on his knees in a praying position. The irony...

He looked around. To his right were several parked ambulances and to his left was a man smoking a cigarette, the guy’s eyes shifty and his body motionless. Getting to his feet, Dane headed around a side area toward two benches sitting near an overstuffed, rancid trashcan filled to the brim, spilling fourth with rotting fast food, crushed aluminum soda cans and sandwich wrappers. He stood there, uncertain, trying to catch his breath—the little he had left.

“You alright there, buddy?” the man finally asked as he blew copious smoke out the side of his crooked mouth.

“Put that crap out...it’ll kill you,” was all Dane could muster as the tears flowed and his heart gave out.

The man offered a slight smile. “I know...” He took another drag and disappeared, leaving Dane to his own devices, more than likely not in the mood for a judgmental, holier-than-thou conversation.

But Dane didn’t feel holy at all; he felt like raising hell. However, as soon as he came back to his senses, he finally realized his place was back by his friend’s side. Summoning some form of control, he re-entered the hospital and made his way back to Josh.

Josh looked eerily calm while a male nurse explained his discharge instructions and handed him a pain medication prescription. He offered Dane a smile, one brimming with sincerity. A special smile that offered condolences on his pending death, gave Dane his deepest sympathies, as if Dane were the one dying, not he. For Dane was the one who was struggling, having problems letting go. He grappled reality to the ground and expecting that when they both rose from the dust, a brand new ‘truth’ would greet him with a promise to be different, to be better, and create ‘make-believe’ just this once. Just as Josh had told him over dinner, and numerous times over the phone, he’d accepted his destiny and now Dane knew without a shadow of a doubt, his best friend truly meant it.

Nothing else was left now but for Dane to accept it, too...

~***~

“Hello, Henry!” Dane waved to a priest in his parish. Fr. Daniel nodded and waved back as he made his trek across a small clearing through the freshly cut grass.

He’d seen quite a few of his fellow priests lately while sitting and relaxing, jogging or daydreaming on the lawn with a book and packed lunch. He reckoned they’d been around the entire time, but he had always considered the park his special place, to be guarded from the world. Now that it was getting warmer, people were coming out of the confines of their dwellings to enjoy nature and decompress. He leisurely walked on the bike trail he’d crossed a hundred times before, taking in his surroundings and feeling a sense of tranquility.

“What is that?”

Dane stopped dead in his tracks trying to figure out the source of the humming that seemed louder as the moments passed. The musical, feminine lilt warmed his heart. So low, soothing, earthy, and real. Soon, the hum turned into words, lyrics floating past his ears and tantalizing him with a rhythm that resonated inside of his heart. Somehow, it seemed familiar, like when one hears the very end of a song on the radio, but in other ways, it seemed brand new to his ears. People began to walk briskly as the rain started to fall, but he was stuck, still searching for her who kept singing as if the sun still shone and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He gripped his gray sweatshirt hoodie, covering his hair as it came down even harder—then there she was, her back turned. She sang louder, her hair again wrapped up, high to the sky like Erykah Baud’s, circa 2000.

“Jesus...what a beautiful voice,” he said, caught in a trance as she slowly glided back and forth, as if reaching for angels. “She sure sings like one...” A lump formed suddenly in his throat, and he rubbed his swollen eyes. He hadn’t slept in days, but he strained with all of his might to focus on her as she exercised, and her tune soon turned back into a low hum. She seemed unmoved by the rain, moving, twirling and prancing about playfully. She owned the space, she was the queen of peace, she was the wife of ‘not a care in the world’—she had papers on it. He wanted to know what it felt like again. He wanted a taste of what she had...