Free Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved by Tiana Laveen

alone, just like him...
    He’d jogged, worked out so much at the gym he almost passed out, threw himself into his work—even making over two-hundred sandwiches single-handedly to take to the homeless shelter the night before. But it still didn’t completely quiet the nagging voices, the hidden secrets and the resentment. The heavy chain-wrapped bitterness that he admitted in prayer remained deep inside of him, festering, growing stronger instead of waning as time promised to do. All of those ugly enigmas from the past died with his beloved confidant, which, for Dane, exposed them, dug them up from the dank soil he’d buried them in. Perhaps they refused to stay in the grave with the man and clawed their way out, scrounging and fighting, kicking up freshly unearthed mud. They made themselves known, these secrets. Yes...secrets.
    The ones that caused him to do things that he said he was ashamed of, after he’d accepted his calling into the priesthood. Josh was there, picking up the pieces, making it right. He’d discarded the empty wine and beer bottles, cleared away the marijuana debris and chocked the pills. Dane had held on to the lie: that he’d hurt himself during a football scrimmage and needed help because his back was a twisted wreck. He soon discovered that alcohol and uppers made a surprisingly interesting cocktail, one that promised sweet relief from the incubuses that at times kept him up at night. These were complicated feelings, a thorny place to dwell. Dane knew full well what his problem was. It wasn’t only that he’d lost his best friend and sounding board—he’d lost his own personal priest—the man he’d confessed it all to, the things that Josh hadn’t been privy to, but Dane purged all the same. He did it right before he was blessed by the bishop—he’d confessed his sins and prayed the dirt away, the guilt that tortured him so.
    When he conducted his homilies, he often pulled from personal experiences, riveting the crowd as they held onto his every syllable from the pews. He was often told how ‘entertaining’ he was, how ‘up to date’, ‘hip’ and ‘contemporary’ his sermons were by the young and elderly alike. It was no coincidence. That familiar torment, he turned around and used to help others, but no one knew why he sounded so authentic, why he seemed to truly understand their pain. The reason was the liquor, the pills, the guilt, the vicious cycle; though he never let these seduce him thoroughly, and had let God pull him out just in time.
    Dane only gave a piece of himself, never unwrapped his full past for their public eyes and mental consumption. It wasn’t that he cared what someone would think, or even that others would know, but because he understood that if he lost any of the respect of the devoted congregations, he’d be alienated at the parish and that would bring undesirable attention to the church, especially since he now dined once again with the enemy...
    No, it had reared its ugly head from time to time during periods of extreme upheaval and stress. Josh knew all about it, and he kept him sane. He figured Josh wasn’t aware he’d relapsed, though he told his best friend that very fact in his dreams. Secrets...more and more piled up like stinking trash. As a youth, keeping it away from home was daunting; explaining to a college professor why he wobbled into class was a chore, but like many addicts, he’d manipulated his way through. Now, who wouldn’t trust an almost straight A, good Catholic boy?
    Dane looked to his left then to his right. The coast was clear. He slid the pint-sized bottle of Smirnoff Vodka out of his pocket, unscrewed the top and sucked down the final drops, hoping that they’d chase the demons away. He immediately rejoiced in the warmth, the soothing heat that coated his throat and relaxed his woes and tense muscles. He’d been isolated, suffering from depression due to it, and the liquid lady had been his friend, though he knew her