by Amanda Long
“Dorian, what's wrong, my son?” Father Murphy asked, his face creased with worry.
“I'm so sorry for abandoning you, father. I didn't know what else to do. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Please, look at me, Dorian,” Father Murphy commanded, utilizing his fatherly tone. He softened it when he complied. “There is no need for you to ask for my forgiveness. I forgave you the day you left.”
Dorian looked at his father through watery eyes. “Really?”
“Of course.” Father Murphy smiled. “Your departure saddened me greatly, but I knew you wouldn't leave unless you felt you had no choice.”
He grabbed his father, hugged him tightly, and sobbed softly into his shoulder.
Father Murphy patted his back until the intensity of the embrace became unbearable. “Son, would you mind not hugging me quite so tightly?”
He released his father with a laugh, “Sorry.” He sat back in his chair and wiped the wetness from his face with his shirt sleeve.
That act switched Father Murphy into disciplinary mood. “Dorian, don't use your sleeve to wipe your face.”
“Sorry, father.”
“You should be,” Father Murphy teased. “I taught you better manners than that. Speaking of your sleeve, I've been curious where you came by such nice clothing?”
Dorian glanced down at his clothing as he answered his father. “From someone who helped me understand what was happening to me.”
“Would you care to share that knowledge with me?” Father Murphy prompted.
“No. I'm sorry. It's no longer important anyway.” Dorian shook his head, then added pleadingly, “Please let me explain. What happened changed me, or at least tried, into someone I didn't want to be. For a long time, I thought I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had left you out of fear and then that fear turned to anger. I blamed God. Not only that, I hated Him. I thought He had turned His back on me. When in truth, I was the one who had turned away.” He held his head in shame for his failure to follow one of his belief's most fundamental principles, trust in God.
“Dorian, do you think you're the only one to ever blame or even hate God?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know, but I, of all people, should have more faith, shouldn't I?”
“So you feel you should be judged at a higher standard than those not of the cloth,” Father Murphy stated, beginning to understand his son's turmoil.
“If we are not, then what is the point of us?” Dorian whined.
“The point of us, Dorian, is to spread God's Word, share with others His amazing love. That does not mean we are infallible. We are still human, after all.”
He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, I'm not human, which was the root of his problems. However, He didn't want to expose his father to that truth. He lived it and barely could handle it. He didn't see how his father could. And he couldn't risk his father shunning him. Finally, he nodded his head in agreement, the conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn and all he wanted to do was make peace with his earthly father. Another awkward silence filled the air. He tried to wait his father out, hoping he would be the first to speak.
Just when Dorian began to panic about having to come up with a harmless topic of conversation, his father furrowed his brow, “Was I a good father?” Father Murphy held up his finger. “Before you answer, let me try to explain why I'm asking.”
Dorian sat silently waiting for his father to explain himself, but he already knew what his answer would be, nothing his father could say now would change that.
“I wonder about how well I did as a father for several reasons, not all of which you had any control over. Some of what I have to say will probably be familiar, but please bear with me, I've had quite some time to contemplate what I wanted to say to you when you returned. I never imagined being a father. I gave up that prospect long ago when I decided to serve God. I guess God had other ideas because here you are, my son. And there you were 22 years ago, on the steps of the church sleeping, just a toddler barely two years old, wrapped in a tattered blanket with the words 'Please care for my Dorian' scrawled across it. As I picked you up, you looked at me with confusion, calling out for your mother. I didn't know what to tell you, so I just patted your back and hummed my favorite hymn until you fell back asleep. I laid you down on the bed you still use and watched you sleep the whole night, praying silently for guidance. I didn't know what else do. By morning, I had memorized every contour of your precious little face. I fell in love with you that night and although I hadn’t planned on it, I accepted my role as your father. When you woke the next morning, you once again called for your mother. I told you she had taken a trip. I expected you to cry, but you didn't. For days, you asked 'When's momma coming back?' I always replied soon. Then, finally you stopped asking. I don't know if you forgot or simply knew what my answer would be.”
A familiar hurt welled up in Dorian as he listened to his father re-tell of his mother's abandonment. He loved his father and thought he was better off in his care, but not knowing why his mother left him had plagued his mind for years.
“It was many years before either of us mentioned your mother again. I guess you were about nine. Of course, your age is only a guess, I'm sorry to say in truth I have no idea exactly how old you are.”
Dorian swallowed hard, “Really?”
“I'm sorry. I guess I should have told you long ago. I just wanted the day of your arrival to be joyful, not sorrowful. The day after your mother left you in my care, I took you to Dr. Adams. He confirmed my earlier assessment that you were around two years old and that you were healthy. So, since I had no idea when your real birthday was, I choose to celebrate the day God blessed me with you.”
Dorian gazed at his father, only slightly surprised he had been celebrating the wrong day of his birth, often wondering how his father would know his true birthday when his mother only left him with a name.
“I am sorry for any mistakes I made raising you,” Father Murphy whispered, looking away from his son for the first time since beginning his explanation.
“You gave me your love, father. That was more than enough. And to answer your question of whether you were a good father, the answer is a great big loud, OF COURSE. I wouldn't, couldn't have asked for a more loving, nurturing, caring man to be my dad. You took me in, loved me like your own and you didn't have to. Please don't, for a second, think it was anything on your part that caused me to leave.”
Tears streamed down his face as Dorian denounced his biggest fear, that his failures as father had pushed his son away. “I have been terrified it was my fault, you running away so abruptly, afraid it was something I did or didn't do. And when you refused to share what happened to you, it all but confirmed my fears.”
“Oh father,” Dorian sighed, his own tears making a return. “I never meant to cause you pain. It's the last thing I would ever want to do. That's part of the reason I have been reluctant to return. I didn't think I could bear seeing the pain I caused you or the possibility you wouldn't forgive me.”
Father Murphy cradled Dorian's face in his hands. “There is nothing you could do that I wouldn't forgive. You are my son. I love you and I always will, no matter what. As for the pain you caused me, that's all part of being a dad, worrying over your children.” Father Murphy patted his cheeks before releasing him.
Dorian wiped a tear from his face. “Was I a good son?”
“Well…” Father Murphy replied with a coy smile, hoping to lighten the mood. The magnitude of emotions whirling around the two men wore on the usually calm priest. “Indeed, you were. Borrowing the words of a wise man,” Father Murphy winked, “You gave me your love, even when you knew I wasn't your father. I couldn't have asked for a more loving son.” Tears once again moistened his cheeks; his attempt to lighten the mood failing greatly. He sighed as he resigned to accept the added emotions emanating from the two of them. His son had returned. He would gladly shed many a tear in celebration.
The
next several hours flew by as the two men reminisced about Dorian's youth. As the light streaming in through the kitchen window dimmed, Dorian realized the time for goodbyes approached fast. Promising to only be away for a couple of days, he knew Megan would be starting to worry. So consumed by his reunion with his father, she had almost slipped his mind. He wanted to yell at himself. She was the main reason for this visit, both as an advocate to the mending of his relationship with his father and for discussing his plans for their future.
Never had he imagined discussing matters of the heart with his father. And now that he was, his body freaked. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, his heart pounded, sweat beads dotted his forehead. Why was the prospect of discussing a girl with his father so physically taxing?
During a lull in the retelling of his adolescence, he blurted out his words like ripping off a band aid, “It wasn't my idea to return. I wanted to, but I was scared. Scared by what I might find, of whether you would forgive me.”
A look of curiosity replaced one of hurt over Dorian's admission. “Well, who do I owe my thanks to for reuniting me with my son?”
“Her name is Megan.” Dorian answered joyfully.
“Her?”
“Yes.” Dorian replied, his face turning a bright shade of red.
“Well, I can tell by your blush, she has done more than reunite you with me.”
Dorian's jaw dropped as he thought his father referred to sex. Shaking his head, he felt his face heat up passed critical. “No…we… uh.” Unable to manipulate his tongue into a forming any comprehensible denial of improper behavior, he just stared into the pungent brown juice in between his hands.
Father Murphy barely contained his amusement over his son's flustering. “I didn't mean to embarrass you, my son. I only meant that it's obvious by the way you said her name and lit up like a furnace when I inquired, that she not only brought you back to me, but has made her way into your heart.”
“Oh.” Dorian looked up after releasing the breath he had been holding in.
“I may never have experienced the physical or emotional symptoms of infatuation, but that doesn't mean I don't know them when I see them,” Father Murphy added, smiling widely.
“Of course, father,” Dorian whispered.
“Now, is it just me or is this a conversation neither of us thought we would ever be having?”
Dorian shook his head, unleashing nervous laughter. “No, I never would have imagined talking to you about a girl.”
“Well, I've always heard 'never say never'. Now please, tell me more about this Megan. I'll try my best not to embarrass you again, although that's part of the fun of being a father.” Father Murphy teased with a wink.
Dorian forced a smile and pondered how best to describe Megan, his savior and love of his life, to his father. Choosing to begin with their first meeting, he hoped by the time he had finished, his father would understand the magnitude of her importance. He doubted he would succeed. His description, no matter how great, would fall short, unable to do justice to even the simplest aspect of her character. He would try though.
“I guess I'll start with how we met. I was...” Dorian paused, realizing with his decision not to tell his father about his curse, a good deal of his story would have to be left out or lied about. The first omission would be his activities prior to meeting Megan. Keeping his father in the dark pained him, but he saw no alternative. Looking down and shaking his head, he attempted to play off his pause as embarrassment. “It's kind of embarrassing, we literately ran into each other. We were walking towards one another, both oblivious to our surroundings when wham, I nearly knock her on her a... bottom.” He looked up at his father to gauge his reaction to the near slip of foul language, only receiving a smile and nod to continue.
“I didn't think about her for quite some time until we crossed paths again outside a little grocery store. She accused me of stalking her.” He shook his head thinking he had just shared too much. He couldn't help himself though, He appreciated her boldness and its role in his redemption and wanted his father to know this important facet of her personality.
“Stalking, interesting,” Father Murphy mused.
“I, of course, denied her ridiculous accusation.”
“Of course,” Father Murphy replied with a coy smile.
“Why are you smiling?” Dorian asked, put off by his father's all knowing smile. “I wasn't stalking her,” he added as convincingly as possible.
Father Murphy straightened his face. “I believe you, son. I only smiled because I'm enjoying your story. Please continue.”
“As I was saying, I denied her accusation, but she didn't seem to believe me. But instead of calling the police like a rational person, she asked me out under the ruse of explaining myself.”
Father Murphy pursed his lips. “Seems quite forward of her and possibly dangerous if she makes a habit out of such behavior.”
“Exactly what I thought.” Dorian announced. “She had no idea who I was. I could have been a criminal, a murderer.”
“Indeed, thankfully you are neither.”
“Right! So, I meet Megan, against my better judgment. At this point, I suspected she was insane.” That was the truth, but not all of it. He omitted his fear of harming her or the uselessness of getting to know her, given what he was. “The evening turned out to be pleasant, the highlight of the evening being her admitting she didn't make a habit out of inviting strangers on dates.”
“That's reassuring,” Father Murphy smiled.
“We agreed to meet again in a week.” Dorian looked down, dreading describing what happened next, knowing how vague he would have to be. Also he was angry with himself over the amount of information he had given. He hadn't planned on being so detailed with his relationship. He just wanted to say, “I met a girl and I'm in love.” However, one of his father's unnatural gifts was his ability to pull out details, no matter how hard he tried to hold back. He was surprised he hadn't readily admitted he was a vampire already to the old man. The only reason for his ability to withhold this damning truth was his belief it would destroy his father. That thought kept his lips firmly closed on the topic of his curse.
“I couldn't do it though. I stood her up. I hid in the shadows and watched her cry because I didn’t show. I couldn't expose her to anymore of the mess that was me.” Tears splashed against the wooden table, as Dorian hung his head in shame.
“And you won't tell me why you felt this way about yourself, will you?” Father Murphy asked hopefully.
“I can't” Dorian shook his head without raising it.
Father Murphy swallowed his disappointment over Dorian's reluctance to confide in him. “Well then, I guess you should continue with your story because I doubt it ends there, seeing as how you've told me Megan is the reason for your visit.”
“You're right.” Dorian raised his head as he wiped away tears. “The pain I caused her haunted me until finally, I decided to apologize.” He omitted the brief thought of her murder as a viable solution to his guilt. “She accepted my apology, scoffing at my excuses and insisted I wasn't in as bad a place as I thought, as if she were some kind of shrink. I didn't think I had a choice though, not until Megan opened my eyes and put me in my place. She brought it bluntly to my attention that I blamed God for my situation, for abandoning me when I had turned away from Him. She saved me even when I wasn't even sure I wanted or deserved to be saved. Before I met her, I thought my numerous prayers were going unanswered, but now I realize she is the answer. All the wrong that I believed was thrust upon me, brought me to her and I am grateful.” Dorian sighed, relieved to have completed his story. Now he hoped, even with the numerous omissions, he had accurately portrayed Megan and her extraordinary role in his life.
“Wow, that's quite a story and quite a woman.” Father Murphy exclaimed.
“Indeed.” Dorian bragged, pleased with his father's response to Megan.
“I have one question, though I'm sure I already know the answer. Do
you love, Megan?”
“I do.” Dorian answered with a broad smile.
“Do you think Megan loves you?”
“Yes, she has to, to see the good that remained hidden so deeply inside me.”
Father Murphy smiled, gladdened by his son's happiness, but also saddened by the realization his son's visit was most likely temporary. “Well, then I suppose you will be wanting to return to your love soon.”
Dorian cringed, seeing his father's sadness even behind his perfect smile. He didn't want to leave his father again but he wanted Megan more. “I do but there's one more thing I would like to discuss with you.”
“Okay,” Father Murphy responded nervously.
“I want to ask Megan to marry me and I would like you to do the honors.”
Clapping his hands, Father Murphy beamed. “It would be my honor. When do you plan on popping the question?”
“As soon as possible.” Dorian stated eagerly.
“Do you have a ring?” Father Murphy inquired.
“No.” Dorian shook his head. “I haven't even thought about one. How stupid of me.”
“Don't beat yourself up too much.” Father Murphy reassured, smiling. “I have a solution to your problem.”
“Really?” Dorian questioned with a raised brow.
Without further explanation, Father Murphy excused himself from the table. “I'll be right back.” He returned with a small brass colored box embossed with cherubs. “Open it.” He instructed, handing the box to Dorian.
Dorian opened the box. Inside, tucked securely within a satiny pillow, was an antique wedding ring set. He looked back at his father, mouth agape. “Where...whose?” He stammered.
“They belonged to my mother,” Father Murphy responded both proudly and sadly.
“May I?” Dorian asked before removing the set from its soft bedding. Father Murphy nodded. He carefully and gently removed the rings as if they were made of glass instead of diamonds and gold. “They're beautiful.” He admired the center ring with three clear rectangular diamonds set elegantly within a delicately etched rose gold band. Two matching bands etched similarly hugged each side of the center ring. He slid the rings halfway up his left pinky.