She was directly in front of Rick, who sat at the helm and steered with one finger. She did not block his view. On the contrary, he loved to look at her. Now in her mid-thirties, she probably would always look young.
She finished her hot dog and crumpled the paper napkin in her fist. She did not toss it into the water. The river appeared too pristine to defile.
Why was she depressed?
The weather was picture-perfect. For this afternoon at least she could pretend they were wealthy enough to actually afford a cabin cruiser this grand. She and Rick had their health, and each other. She was more or less looking forward to this evening’s party. She wasn’t overjoyed with the entire cast of characters. But it was a singular occasion when she and Rick could be together with others legitimately. Both of them qualified as members of that exclusive club—people who had served time at St. Ursula’s under Father Angelico. In only a few more days her school would close for the summer. God was in Her heaven, all was right with the world.
So, why was she depressed?
Could it be because her life seemed to be drifting toward a dead end?
She should be married. She should be a mother several times over. Well, at least once. She should be living in a neighborhood. Not an apartment complex where people shuffled off to work only to drag themselves home each day. She should be free to walk openly with her husband arm in arm. They ought to be able to attend concerts, movies, exhibitions, parties together. They shouldn’t have to be vigilant all the time, worried sick that someone might recognize and report them.
Complicating everything was the outlook that their situation was more like hell than purgatory; these conditions would endure for the length of their lives, not just for a few years. Experts conceded that under the present Pope the Church laws regarding a celibate clergy—with exceptions that would not include Rick—would not be changed.
But none of these considerations ever seemed to bother Rick.
Of course, he had just entered his sixties. She had no idea what that might be like. But from her vantage point sixty seemed almost ancient. In that age bracket one ought to be approaching life’s end.
Maybe, she thought, that’s why none of these depressing considerations seemed to bother him: From this point on, he did not have as long to live as she.
Why was she depressed? It was the whole damn thing!
This is the sort of day to drift down the Detroit River and come back again upstream into Lake St. Clair. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
What could be nicer? Absorbing the sun’s warm rays. Not a care in the world. Some satisfying disputation and debates with the gang this evening. Watching, with controlled amusement, Harry Morgan take on the whole, changing world.
Everything going well in his parish, everything under control. The gym and auditorium, contained in one building, had been completed just before Rick’s predecessor had retired, leaving Rick with the bill for construction. But he’d paid it off.
In short, he felt good—maybe even great.
He was just entering his sixties. He remembered how foolishly concerned he’d been when he had hit various milestones. Thirty, the credibility gap. Thirty-three, the biblical number of years, reputed to be the age at which Jesus had finished his salvific work on earth. Forty, when certain aches and pains became noticeable. Fifty—half a century.
Now, sixty. It hadn’t laid a glove on him. If anything, he had a better appreciation for things than ever before. Chief among those things was that glorious creature just now rising from where she’d been sitting on the boat’s prow. His life had been sweetened immeasurably by her presence.
She was wearing brief white shorts, calling attention to her shapely long legs. A pity to have one’s attention arrested by just one aspect of her body. Everything was worthy of appreciation. However, he was well aware that Lil definitely was not all body and no brains. On the contrary, he valued their serious conversations, her insights, even her intuition.
If only he could convince her to relax more. These past few years, they might just as well have been married. All they lacked was some paperwork, a priest, and a very different Pope. The facts were that with the present Pope chugging along, no priest would dare try witnessing their marriage and there wasn’t enough paper in the world to fix things up and clear the way.
But, all in all, this was such a beautiful day and he was feeling so good that Rick believed he might prefer their present “third way” to a canonically approved marriage.
Lil climbed down from the prow and sat next to Rick. She further crushed the paper napkin in both hands and vehemently flung the wad into the cockpit. Clearly, she was not happy.
Sometimes when she was like this, Rick would suppress any comment that came to mind and wait for her to clear the air, get it off her chest. This was not such a time. Later he would wish he had followed his first instinct and waited her out.
“Something the matter?”
She didn’t respond.
He didn’t push. “A beautiful day.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It doesn’t do anything for you?”
“I’m feeling down.”
“A beautiful day gets you down?”
“I just decided … it’s the whole damn thing.”
“That’s funny. I just decided I was happy due to the whole damn thing.”
Silence. The boat’s engine purred.
“Honey …” Lil turned to him. “How many years do you figure I’ve got?”
“For what?”
“To live.” She was feeling some anger toward him. He was playing dumb. He knew damn well to what she was referring.
“What do you mean? How would anyone know?”
Silence. Eventually Rick felt he should say something. “Who knows? Forty years? Maybe more.” Pause. Then he said, “What’s bugging you, honey?”
A longer pause. Then she said, “I got my period yesterday.”
For the life of him, Rick could think of nothing to say. Except, So what? But that would not speak to the emphasis Lil was placing on this period. “Is there something special about this particular period?”
“I was thinking … Ever since I was twelve I’ve been having periods. Regular as rain. You could set your watch by them.”
Rick almost laughed out loud. Her metaphor was funny. But her tone and demeanor made it quite clear that she was not in the mood to be humorous. He remained silent.
“In ten or so years, I’ll go through menopause.”
“That’s a long way off. Are you scared? No need to be. I guess it affects different women differently. No way of knowing how it’ll be for you. It’s just too early to give much thought to it.”
“That’s not the point!” Lil said peevishly. Men! Why do they have so much trouble understanding women?
Women! Rick thought. Why is a simple conversation such a guessing contest with them?
“You’ve heard of the ‘biological clock’?” She looked at him almost challengingly.
Aha! He thought he understood. “Of course I have. After menopause there’s no fertility.”
“Exactly!”
“Honey, we’ve talked about this before. You want to go through it all again?”
“That’s just it: We talked about it a long, long time ago. I was lots younger and the reality of being childless didn’t hit me then. In just a few more years I’ll have sealed whatever chance I ever had to be a mother.”
Rick nodded. “That’s the conclusion we’ve reached whenever we discussed this.”
“Things change.” She turned away from him but spoke loudly enough to be heard. “Take your experience, for example.”
Briefly he wondered what in his experience had anything in common with menopause.
“When you were ordained, there was no doubt your life would be monastic as far as sex and women were concerned. And so it was until the Council happened and you no longer saw any value for you to live a celibate life.
“Just about then I came along. We fell in love and would have married but for Church law. You didn’t want to leave the priesthood and I didn’t want you to leave. So we got as married as we could get. And here we are.”
Pause.
“So?” Rick considered Lil’s little speech an accurate historical narrative. He just didn’t know where she was going with it.
“So,” she said, “you saw things one way when you were very young. But with age, more experience, and that redoubtable Council, you’ve changed your mind. And now, darling, I’m telling you that I’ve changed my mind. Or that I am changing it.”
“You mean …”
“I mean I’m sick of having these tiresome if predictable periods. I want a child. I want your child.”
Rick couldn’t stop the boat dead in the water. But that, figuratively, was the state of his mind—frozen and immobile. Her statement was completely unexpected. “How about another hot dog?” he said.
“What!”
“You said there were more.”
“I am proposing having a child and all you say is ‘another hot dog’?”
“It’ll give me a chance to think.”
Lil shrugged and stepped into the galley. She emerged with the dog on a bun slathered with mustard—the way he liked it.
Rick held it in a paper napkin. It was too hot to chew. He let it cool in the brisk breeze.
“Well?”
Lil waited for a response to her demand.
“We’ve been over this. Lots of times.”
“I know. The question is still the same. But I’ve changed.”
“To me, it’s moot.”
“What?”
“Whether you’ve really, radically changed. Or whether your ‘female problem’ is depressing you.”
“You’re referring to my ‘curse’?” she responded sarcastically.
“Just that your reawakened concern may be a passing thing.”
Lil attempted to comment but Rick held up his hand. He wished to retain the floor. “Granted,” he said, “I am not now nor have I ever been a woman. So all I know about your ‘biological clock’ is secondhand at best. Nor have I experienced any of what goes on during menstruation. So, I guess I can just sympathize from a distance—”
“I’m well aware you’re not a woman. Matter of fact, I’m grateful you’re all man. But I assure you, the plain and simple truth is I want a child. My present period is just a nagging reminder of the fact that I am barren—childless. And I don’t want to be that way.”
Rick bit into the hot dog. It was tasty and just the right temperature. But his mind was too occupied to appreciate the savor.
They had, indeed, been over this question many times. He did not wish to flog a dead horse. But Lil gave every indication that she would be satisfied with nothing less than a definitive conclusion. Even if it was the same conclusion they had reached at the end of all previous similar disputes.
“First off,” he began, “we don’t know we’re both fertile. We know I’m potent; we know we’re both orgasmic—plenty orgasmic. But neither of us has ever proven fertility—”
“So, we go to our doctors and take simple tests.”
“Fine for you. As far as your doctor is concerned, you need to find out because you’re planning a child and you want to know what your chances are.
“But me? I go to a doctor to discover whether I’m fertile. Or exactly how fertile I am. And just why does a priest need to know this?”
“You’ve got this backward,” Lil protested. “We—you and I—don’t go running to our respective doctors. It’s far more simple than that. I merely go off the Pill. We don’t even have to change our relationship. We make love when we want to. Maybe a little more often when I ovulate. We don’t visit a doctor, unless, after a few months of trying to conceive, nothing happens. With any luck there won’t be any visit to any doctor. We’ll be an ordinary couple. We’ll be parents.”
Rick finished the hot dog. He wadded the paper napkin and pitched it into the river. As the paper left his fingers he remembered that Lil had much stronger feelings than he about littering. For once, she didn’t call him on what he’d done. She was too involved in their conversation.
Despite the cooling breeze from the river, Rick was perspiring freely. Sure, that’s all they’d have to do: She could cease taking the birth control pill and they could take their chances. Both of them were healthy adults. Of course he was in his sixties. But that didn’t make much difference—or so he’d read. Men, unlike women, could become parents at almost any age.
For the first time in their relationship he felt pressured.
He had enough trust in Lil that if he were to veto her proposal, he was confident that she would not deceive him. She would stay on the Pill. Plus, they would continue to be cautious during her fertile period.
Maybe he could yet convince her that parenthood probably would prove to be a disaster for them. “Suppose—and this is purely hypothetical—that you found yourself pregnant. Then what?”
“Then what what?”
“We won’t be able to get married. You don’t, all of a sudden, want me to leave the priesthood, do you?”
“Heavens, no!”
“Then, again: What? You become a single parent? What about your job at St. Enda’s? Do you suppose Father O’Leary is going to tolerate an unmarried mother being principal of his parochial school?”
Lil shook her head decisively. “I would resign.”
“Nice! And live on what?”
“I’d line up a job in a public school. With my résumé and experience that shouldn’t be so tough.”
“And the baby? You gonna take him to school with you?”
“Nursery school, day care, Montessori. There’s lots of places—good places—for a child while the parent or parents work. I’d have him with me in the evenings and early mornings. You’d be with us at least as often as you’re with me now.”
The invisible noose was tightening.
“And when the baby is old enough to know, with all the implications, that its father is a ‘Father’?”
“By then, who knows? It might not be all that uncommon for priests to have families. We’ll just be a bit ahead of the game. And, if not? He, or she”—for the first time she introduced the possibility that their baby might be a girl—“whichever—in any case, we will have been good enough parents that our child will be able to deal with this lifestyle.”
She paused. Then: “What happens to children whose parents are expriests and ex-nuns? What happens to the Episcopalian priests who convert to Catholicism and bring their wives and children with them?”
He continued to sweat profusely. This was not off the top of Lil’s head; this was something she had long thought about and planned.
“Lil, honey, this is a momentous decision. If we were to go ahead with your idea, our lives would change completely … radically. This isn’t the kind of thing you bring up during a pleasant ride on the river.”
Neither spoke for several moments.
Then Rick said, “Look, why don’t we think about it? Talk about it some more? Later?”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Give me a chance to consider the possibilities. We don’t need a timetable or a scheduled meeting or anything. Just let it rest for a while.”
“Is this your way of putting this on an eternal back burner?”
“Of course not. It’s just not something to rush into. There are lots of things to think about, to talk about. There’s … there’s … uh … adoption. We haven’t ever discussed that.”
“You mean you’d be willing to adopt?”
“I didn’t say that!” he responded hurriedly. “It’s just another facet of what might be open to us.” He was taken off guard by her seeming acceptance of the notion of adoption.
“Be up-front honest with me, Rick: If I agree to put this matter on hold, will we ever seriously consider it again?”
“Of course …”<
br />
“Rick, love, up-front honest!”
His brow was creased in painful thought. “Probably … not,” he admitted.
“It doesn’t matter how important this is to me?”
“I’m banking that in a little while you’re going to look at this in an altogether different light.”
Lil smiled with absolutely no humor. “I see. It’s like if a Catholic doesn’t agree with the Pope: He’s advised to go pray until he sees the light.”
She’d struck a nerve. It was this sort of slavish, forced agreement with the teaching office of the Pope that Rick abhorred. “No, of course, that’s not what I meant. And it’s unfair of you to accuse me of trying that on you.”
Their tempers were drawing short. They were on the verge of heated disagreement, something they seldom experienced with each other.
“I would not do anything underhanded to you,” she protested. “You know that without your consent I wouldn’t take any chances—like fooling around with the Pill.”
“Does the lady protest too much?” The line was delivered reeking with sarcasm. She was offended, but he didn’t care.
She studied the river until its rapid current became a sort of mantra. He saw no reason to continue this conversation. Not in the direction it was going. So they sat in silence. There was no sound but the lapping waves, the cries of the seagulls and the soft purr of the motor.
Without looking at him, Lil said, “Do you ever confess us?”
He figured her period was giving her more than the usual inconvenience. “Do you mean,” he restated, “do I go to confession to a priest and confess our relationship?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s the first time you’ve ever asked me anything like that. You’re treading on pretty private territory.”
“There were supposed to be no secrets between us.”
“With an exception every now and again.”
Again time passed in silence.
The boat was nearing other water craft. Rick steered away from them. The maneuver once more reminded them of their state of virtual solitary confinement. A wave of pity passed over him. Their companionship was much more trying for Lil than for him. She was still young. Yet she was deprived of a normal existence.
Till Death Page 17