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| Confession is Good for the Soul; PG-13, Complete | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Wednesday Feb 15 2006, 01:43 AM (807 Views) | |
| Fanfics Admin 01 | Wednesday Feb 15 2006, 01:43 AM Post #1 |
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"Boyz, boiz. Issgotta…go…um…go…um" "You got to go the bathroom?" Cranking his head towards the unruly, if fuzzy, sounding laughter Lucas tried to remember what he'd been trying to say. "Nooooo..Issgotta..go Home! Yah, that's it. Home. I'll give youiz a Jackson if you take me home." Lucas held up what he hoped was a twenty dollar bill to the bouncer, Mike, and his pal, Dave. They were the last ones in the bar and for the most part Lucas thought they were good shits, a little rowdy; but a hell of a lot more sober than he was. He was pretty sure they'd give him a ride home. "Who said you can't buy friendship?" Mike retorted as he pocketed the fifty from Lucas's hand and winked at Dave. "Come on Dave, let's help the General to his car. Keys please?" As Lucas surrendered his car keys and two strong shoulders supported him from either side, he could feel himself slipping in and out of darkness. God he was wasted. "Hey…hey…keep it alive there…wakey wakey soldier boy…you're almost home." "I am?…uhwha-we were in the car?" "Yes but you passed out for that. Remember? Of course you don't." It was Dave's voice this time chuckling along with Mike. "Be nice." "We are being nice; we brought you all the way home. Here you are. Open the front door and get inside before you pass out again." Unable to even slur out a thank you, Lucas nodded his tottering head wondering vaguely why they were laughing so much as he stepped through, what he thought, was his front door. In actuality, his legs met mid air as he stumbled off the docks. The ice, cold water woke him in a blinding panic as he struggled to make his sluggish body respond. The thick liquid surrounded him, choked him as he flailed and swallowed. Finally, desperately he broke the surface to find two strong arms supporting him again, dragging him towards the shore. "Chr-st Mike he was drowning. F-ck, I told you he was too drunk." "It was joke…just a joke. Jes-s, lighten up already. See he's alright…aren't you buddy?" As Mike patted him on the back, all Lucas could do was wretch and heave trying to get air back into his burning lungs. Years later he'd remember that moment as the turning point, how Mike's words unknowingly struck a nerve and twisted inside his mind, how he could see himself clearly, drenched from head-to-toe puking out his insides, how it finally dawned on him just what he allowed himself to become. He was nothing more than a joke. *************************************** … We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity… The second step of AA, as humble and simplistic as the cross hanging from St. James's steeple, beckoned Lucas forward through the heavy oak doors of the church, opening up to the entrance way and a statue of the Holy Mother veiled in blue, her head bent and hands folded in pious supplication, the serpent crushed beneath her bare feet. As Lucas dipped his fingers into the holy water fountain and crossed himself, her lovely face and its promise of serenity mesmerized him. Her downcast eyes held him in a thrall. They pierced him, accused him, implored him; or maybe he was simply seeing his own confused emotions unleashed and projected. You never knew what it was like to be lost, did you? You always believed…always felt His presence…always knew you were loved. Unbidden the silent questions poured from him as he stood transfixed seeking a faith he never really possessed. Sighing, he finally abandoned the Virgin and walked up the steps leading to the inner church. Long forgotten reflexes took over as he walked down the red isle runner to the middle pews closest to the confessionals and genuflected. He pulled out a kneeler and knelt starring up at the crucifix perched high above the altar. Jesus' sorrowful face, his lean wounded body condemned him. And in the pressing quiet of the empty church Lucas didn't need to search his soul or run through the Ten Commandments--he was all too aware of his sins. His failures seared him from within, eliciting a bright and heavy pain, the same as the self-hatred that would only be silenced with the tilt of a glass. He tried to pray, but he couldn't remember the words. He tried to ask God for forgiveness, but he couldn't even forgive himself. And then the familiar doubts that had always plagued his practical, seeing-is-believing nature began to torment him once more. If God was real…why couldn't Lucas feel it, believe it? Why didn't God tap everyone on the shoulder and reveal Himself as He did with the saints and the devout? And why didn't God just speak to him directly and say "hey Stupid, listen up, this is how you should live your life" instead of playing a 2,000 year old game of telephone, relying on the words of a bunch of dead guys to relate that Jesus and all his miracles really existed? Didn't God know how easily garbled the message became? Smiling ruefully into the anguished countenance of his Savior, Lucas had to laugh at himself and his desire for a personal miracle. Maybe it's me, he thought; maybe when you get right down to it, I'm not worth the effort. And how am I suppose to believe in a power greater than myself, a merciful saving power at that, when deep down I know I don't deserve that kind of redemption? The things I've done…dear Lord, the things I've failed to do… The time he spent condemning himself, trying and failing to listen, while he bowed his head with last night's hangover a dull throb in his ears, sped and inched past him like a dream until Lucas realized that he couldn't force himself believe. Dejected, he stood up to leave only to hesitate at the confessional. The green light was on indicating the booth free. All he had to do was step behind the curtain and he could unburden himself and relieve his spirit. Maybe it would help; even if the words of forgiveness from the priest were meaningless, maybe he'd find some kind of focus. After all, if he couldn't fulfill the second step of AA today, at least he could come clean and be honest about his mistakes, his past, and his alcohol problem. Under the protective shield of secrecy, he could reaffirm the first step…and that in itself could be enough to keep him sober, keep him sane. Taking a deep breath, Lucas made his decision and stepped behind the black curtain to kneel down in the soothing darkness. He didn't realize it until the window separating the two sides of the confessional slid back and the indiscernible outline of the priest's profile came into view how very much he wanted or needed this. He was more than ready to confess. On the other side of the screen, a small tape recorder in her hand, his confessor was more than ready to listen. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was about thirteen years ago. My sins are…well…let's just say that I've probably broken every single one of the commandments. I even shot a man dead, but I can't feel very sorry for it; he was going to kill my mother at the time and I did to protect her. I wasn't thinking, I was reacting…but that's not why I'm here. Like I said, I'm not sorry for that. I guess…I've had a revelation of sorts. And it's made everything painfully clear…I'm an alcoholic. Not to use that as an excuse for all the wrong I've done, it's just that it's something that I wasn't able to admit to before and now I can. And I think it…it is my greatest sin…how I've lied to myself but not simply about the drinking. You see, I loved somebody Father and I didn't know it; I guess I couldn't accept it. I don't know. I loved her and she hurt me and I let that love turn into hate. I pretended that I never loved her at all and in the process I've ruined three lives-hers, mine, our son's. Because of me she almost died on more than one occasion. Because of my blind selfishness my son almost didn't have a mother. It's such a mess, and I don't know how to fix it." Kneeling there in the dark, Lucas let the tears stream down his face, crying out his own baptism of truth, never wondering about the uncanny quiet, the mute priest, as wrapped up as he was in his aching confession. Rather, he found the condemning silence a comfort, not really ready to hear the unshakeable platitudes of the faithful. Consequently, when the priest finally spoke, it came as a complete surprise. "Do you still love her?" The question was a ghost of a whisper and yet it startled Lucas as if someone had jumped up from behind him. "…Yes I do." He confided, never more sure about anything in his life, while the nape of his neck tingled with some unknown apprehension and his breath caught with some inexplicable tension. "Then I forgive you." Sami revealed, clearly and recognizably, as she bolted out of the confessional before Lucas could so much as blink. She was long gone by the time the reality of what had happened sunk in. Shaking Lucas got to his feet and went over to the priest's side of the booth. The curtain was pushed back and a tiny tape recorder lay abandoned on the floor. Trembling, Lucas picked it up and rewound the tape amazed and left wondering about the nature of miracles as he played her voice over and over again walking past the Crucifix, the Saints, and the Madonna in a daze. The End. |
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4:13 AM Jul 11