The Fallen and the Elect
Page 38
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During Michael’s absence Father Hernandez found himself assisting in the evening service with Father Dominguez. This was one way he felt he could contribute and repay the Church for being an excellent host to him and his companions. He was amazed at how well Father Dominguez officiated the service, displaying maturity greater than many of the priests in his own Diocese. The service and communion progressed flawlessly. He was a little envious of the sizable congregation. At his parish in Los Angeles, he was lucky if 15 or 20 parishioners attended the midweek services; here, on a Thursday night, the cathedral was nearly full. He would need to confess his jealousy and covetousness when he returned the next day.
After securing his borrowed garments, the Father retired for the night by heading back to the visitors’ parsonage. He decided to close out the evening with a cup of tea. In the kitchen, Michael sat at the table, still in his gym clothes, drying sweat stains under his arms and blotched on the chest area of his dark blue T-shirt.
Not expecting to see his episodic harasser sitting at the table, Father Hernandez decided to make an offer of peace. “I'm going to make myself a cup of tea, want one?”
“No thanks, padre,” Michael gently answered.
“You’ve been sitting here awhile? Could’ve sworn you left to go jogging before this evening's mass,” Father Hernandez replied.
“I did,” Michael noted softly, surprising Father Hernandez with his muted demeanor.
The Father continued with his intended cup of tea, filling a teakettle with water and placing it on the front eye of the electric stove.
“So boy toy, what do you like to do in your spare time?” Michael asked.
The Father paused a few seconds, flabbergasted by Michael’s attempt to initiate a conversation. “Well, if I get the chance, I like to play the piano. I learned when I was a kid and enjoyed it quite a bit, even though I didn’t let my parents know. Every chance I got, I would play. What about you?”
“I like to run. You can run into a lot of interesting people and places. What’s your favorite type of music to play?”
“I’d say it would be …”
“Do you still do any type of angel research?” Michael interrupted.
The Father overlooked the interruption while grabbing sugar from the cupboard. “I haven’t done any in a while. I’ve …”
Michael interrupted again, “Do you think, if they do exist, they get involved with us in supernatural ways?”
“I’d say…everything all right Mr. Saunders?” Father Hernandez inquired, noticing that Michael appeared out of sorts.
“Ever have anything weird…” Michael started, looking at Father Hernandez intently for a few seconds, then continued, “Ah, to hell with it.”
Michael got out of his seat and went to his room. Father Hernandez watched him, puzzled, knowing something was bothering him. He decided not to pursue the inquiry but finished gingerly placing tea in a metal tea strainer. He put Michael out of his mind.