A novel by Leo Gonzales

I walk into the booth after I see Timmy walk out all teary eyed. “Dang,” I whisper. “What’d you do?” I grab him by the shoulder, but he just keeps walkin’ and don’t look back. One of the sisters guides me to the booth and shuts the door for me so I can’t get out. I see the silhouette from the corner of my eye, but I don’t stare. You’re not supposed to stare.

“Bless my Father, for I have sinned.”

“What have you sinned about?” Father asks. Right away I can tell that it’s Father Aberdeen. His voice is all hard, like he wants me to say I did something way badder than what I was planning to say, but what I was planning to say was pretty bad.

“I’m a liar,” I say to him. “My loneliness is killin’ me and I must confess.”

“And what, my child, did you lie about?”

“I lied to my parents,” I say.

“You know lying is a grave sin,” Father says, “Especially to your parents.”

I feel my face turn red and I touch the wood on the side of the door. I wonder if one of the sisters is blockin’ the door and take a deep breath. “Is it a deadly sin?” I ask, and Father laughs.

“No, my son. It is grave, but it’s not as bad as the other ones. What did you say to your parents?”

I start shakin’ harder, feelin’ redder and my stomach grumbles. I couldn’t eat at lunch after the presentation and feel like I’m gonna faint right there in the confessional. “Forgive me father, I haven’t eaten all day and I’m hungry. A bird flew at my window, Father. I tried to nurse it back to health, to save it Father, but I couldn’t. It hit the glass too hard and I think its neck broke before it even realized what happened.”

I squeeze my hands and then he’s holdin’ mine and I start cryin’ ‘cause I know I’m lyin’ again. Oops, I did it again. The bird was alive, but I didn’t know how to fix it. It looked so miserable, so broken I had to stop it. I squished it with my hands until I heard every god dang bone in its body break, ‘till it stopped breathing’. I squeeze my hands just as hard.  “I told my parents I saved the bird,” I said, rockin’ and pantin’, “that I picked it up from the sun’s heat and brought it into my room so that some vicious animal wouldn’t eat it.” I suck in a bunch of air to breathe. “Then one day I just opened my window and it flew out. That’s what I told ‘em.” I start cryin’ and hit my head on the wall, makin’ that cry that only babies make. “I’m a murderer!” I tell him.

“Now, now,” Father Aberdeen says, “You’re not a murderer. Stop crying.” I hush up for a second and wait for him to say something, puttin’ my ear against the little holes to hear him.

“You’re a very sweet boy, Charlie,” Father says, “But have you ever thought about how animals behave with one another? Birds eat worms out of the ground, lions eat gazelle in the middle of Africa, and sometimes birds hit windows.” I hear him chuckle slightly, but stops after a second. “Don’t be afraid, my son. We all want a better world, but the only one who can give us that is God. You will say three Hail Marys tonight and you must now do an Act of Contrition.” I back up off the wall and sigh.

I look back at the little holes and think back on our studies. I know the Hail Mary, but I can’t remember what a contrition is.

“My son, have you forgotten what Contrition is?” I shrivel from embarrassment and shake my head even though he can’t see me.

“Son, an Act of Contrition is you directly speaking with God. Just the two of you. Do you not remember the prayer?”

I shake my head again and say, “No, Father. I forgot it.” 

“It goes like this,” he says, clearin’ his throat, and the booth turns orange. “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins, because of Your just punishments, but most of all because…”

“Oh!” I shout, the rest of the verse floatin’ in my head. “I remember now,” I say. “…most of all because they offend you. My God, when I’m not with you I lose my mind. Give me a sign, Hit me baby one more time!”

I wake up in the treehouse, sweat all over my body even though it’s cold. My underwear’s all sticky and I take ‘em off and throw ‘em outside in a bush. I go to bed, but can’t sleep. I look out the wooden window, but only for a second. I imagine a man out there, don’t know why, and then I see someone out there. A man. Just standin’ there in the woods, and I know it’s him. John David. My heart starts racin’ and I sit back, gettin’ all my things together. I’m ready to go if it’s him, but then I get all mad. 

“This is my fort,” I say, and I puff out my chest. “This here’s my fort!” I yell. “I built this! You hear me, John David? You get out of here, now you hear!” I swallow and look over the edge. He’s gone.

This work is featured in issue #16