“I’ve been walking around with it on me like an idiot for like five weeks, waiting for the right time,” Sydney confessed.
“Oh,” Maura‘s eyes began to tear up. She held both her hands to her chest. “That’s just the sweetest thing! And you said you weren’t the romantic type,” she accused, shoving Sydney.
I loved watching just how many emotions Maura was cycling through throughout this exchange.
“What can I say? Jules brings it out of me.”
I glanced over at Ethan, who had remained silent. He was expressionless. Was this his first time realizing Maura’s best friend was gay? I was surprised his presence didn’t cause Maura to hold back her excitement for Sydney and Julie. It was a welcomed change from how stifled she always acted around him.
“Oh my gosh,” Maura realized, “you are going to have so much fun planning the wedding, Julie! Do you have a date? Do you want it to be in the spring or summer? What’re your colors going to be? You’re going to wear a dress, right?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Sydney held up a hand, signaling for Maura to calm down. Julie appeared to be just as entertained by Maura and Sydney’s exchange as I was. “It’s been a day. Give us a minute, will you? I mean, we at least need to start by deciding who will be in the wedding party.”
Maura sighed.
Sydney paused for a moment. “Maura, I was wondering if you would like to be my best person?”
Maura’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”
Sydney nodded.
Predictably, Maura’s eyes teared up again. She touched her hand over her heart. “Aww, you guys, thank you, of course.” She pulled Sydney and Julie into another hug, much to Sydney’s dismay, but she tolerated it. Maura pulled back, wiping her eyes.
“I’m the best person! Yay!” she exclaimed quietly one more time, gently clapping her hands together.
Sydney sighed and shook her head, but still smiled.
“Well, now that we got that over with,” Sydney said in a labored tone. “Ashland, on my way back in with Jules, I ran into some managers I know from a housing agency. They are always looking for interns. I said I would bring you back over to them and introduce you. I’ll work this side,” she said to Maura while she, Julie, and Ashland walked away.
Father Sean stopped to say hello to Sydney and shake Julie’s hand as he approached us. He looked like a campaigning politician; his grin never wavered.
“Hey guys,” he greeted, patting my back. “Having a good time?”
We all nodded.
“Father Lorenzo from Saint Peter’s has some parishioners he wants to introduce you to,” he said to Maura. “And I was wondering if I could borrow this guy for a second?”
“Oh, has his fan club showed up?” I assumed Maura was referring to the Warrens and Paulsons.
“Actually, I was going to introduce him to the Archbishop,” he informed.
Maura let out a laugh. “What? Really? The Archbishop? That’s a good move, Father Finley. I’m impressed.”
“What?” He maintained his look of innocence.
Maura glanced at me, realizing I needed more explanation.
“Father Finley, here, is making sure that the Archbishop, who has a background in homeless ministry and is particularly fond of our program, knows just how involved he was in helping set up our voc-ed program. Father Finley has to make sure the Archbishop meets the very mechanic he convinced to come help the children for free. What, Sean? Does Newman need a new roof? Are you already thinking of expanding the seating area? Is it finally time for those stained-glass windows? You’re certainly an ambitious first year director.”
I was still lost. Father Sean remained cool, not flustered by her pointed tone.
“If those things were needed, Maura, I’m sure the Western Dominican Province and the Archdiocese would hold a meeting and determine an appropriate way to secure funds, as opposed to me relying on the Archbishop’s favor like you’re suggesting. You know, not everything is politics.”
The dots started to connect for me.
“Sorry, Father, but you must have forgotten that I’ve worked in the nonprofit sector for five years. Everything is politics,” she said knowingly, taking a sip of her wine.
“Did you get that line from watching The West Wing or House of Cards?” he joked, deflecting her accusation. “This one,” he pointed at her, looking at Ethan and then over at me, “was obsessed with West Wing reruns when we dated. You put Ethan through that torture too?”
“Yes, because watching an award-winning TV series is torture compared to having to watch all five Die Hard movies,” she snapped back. He’d managed to hook and distract her from her original point. It was impressive that he did it with such ease.
“Well, I think it’s clear which one has more cultural merit,” he said obviously, now smiling at his effect on her. “Ethan, how many seasons has she forced you to watch so far?”
“Uh, none. I’m not really into TV or movies, so I guess she’s decided to spare me. Honestly, it’s surprising to hear that Maura would even care about watching something that had anything to do with politics. She’s so neutral when it comes to that stuff.”
“Well, I guess you’re the lucky one,” he said to Ethan while looking at Maura. Those two seemed to have an entire language when it came to the looks they exchanged with one another.
“So, Thomas, what do you say? Let’s go say hi to the Archbishop,” he motioned with his head.
“Sounds good. I’m sure he’d love to hear about how you used to play baseball for the Irish,” I called him out, for Maura. “Or were you planning on hustling him at the batting cages like you did me?”
He paused, realizing he’d been caught.
“Aw man, she told you that?” He laughed nervously. “I was a walk-on. I mean, that hardly counts,” he justified.
“Fair point,” Maura chimed in. “I mean, Rudy was a walk-on and it’s not like he mattered enough for them to make a movie about him or anything.”
Father Sean stared at her.
“You do remember the movie Rudy? That’s the one where you cry like a little baby every time you watch it.” She had found her retaliation.
“It’s called having a heart. You’re the weird one for not crying at the end of Rudy,” he argued.
“All I’m saying is, maybe it would have been a better message if he found something else that he was really good at doing.”
Father Sean threw his head back with a heavy sigh. They’d had this debate before. The glint in her eye told me that she knew she was going to get that exact reaction from him.
“That was the whole point of the story,” he exclaimed. “He was good at inspiring people because he didn’t give up.”
Maura nodded, communicating more placation than agreement.
“Thomas, Ethan, come on, you guys gotta help me out here.” Father Sean looked expectantly at me. While, I did agree with him, I continued to align myself with Maura.
“You know, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen it,” I said. “To be fair to both of your arguments, I feel like I would have to watch it again. That is, of course, if I can get over the fact that my last experience with a Notre Dame alumnus was one of deception.”
“You want to meet the Archbishop, or not?” he asked shortly, realizing I would not take his side.
Ann called to Maura, motioning her over to another cluster of people. Maura excused herself from myself and Father Sean, grabbed Ethan’s hand, and went to join the other group. I watched her walk away.
“That’s a considerable amount of time to stare at someone you’re not interested in.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I never said she wasn’t nice to look at.”
“True,” he granted. “Let’s get a drink before we meet up with Archbishop Bennett.”
“I’m going to ne
ed some food first.” My mother would kill me if I met the Archbishop while tipsy.
“All right then.” He directed me toward the serving station where I eagerly grabbed a plate and loaded up on appetizers, most them involving bacon in some way.
“It’s clear this isn’t a Jewish event,” I joked.
“There’s a reason why the majority of fundraising is done after Lent. For some reason, people don’t enjoy it as much when you serve them soup and skimp on the wine.”
I was consumed with eating while Father Sean talked to various people who walked by. He seemed to know everybody.
“Come on,” he said when I had devoured everything on my plate, leading me over to the bar to get some wine.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked before I took a sip. “Was there any truth to what Maura said? About the whole politics thing?”
He shrugged. “To an extent, yeah,” he answered honestly. “But I like to think I’m not as conniving as she makes me out to be. What I said at the cages was true; I would like the voc-ed program to continue and in order to do that I have to make sure the Warrens and Paulsons approve of what’s being done with their money. Additionally, they are my largest donors at the Newman Center, and keeping them happy, in general, is in the best interest of the Newman Center.
“Now, the other side,” he continued, “is that Newman also has to depend on the financial support of the Archdiocese, because college students don’t tithe. So, it’s vital to keep the Archbishop happy. I knew the minute I took over at Newman that we needed to be more involved in the youth center, not just because it’s a good community program, but also because it would please Archbishop Bennett.
“When the Warrens and the Paulsons came to me saying they had a large amount of money they wanted to go towards a social justice program, it was beneficial to direct it towards the youth center rather than attempting to develop something on my own. It’s relatively the same thing as the positive publicity your shop gets from you volunteering your time. Is that the only reason you do it? No, probably not. But are you going to turn down any business it generates?” he asked rhetorically and then took a drink, wrapping up his explanation. “Hopefully you’re not too jaded now.”
“No,” I said. His savvy was commendable. “But why does it piss Maura off so much?”
“She doesn’t like playing the whole game,” he said. “In her eyes, people, religious institutions, and the government should be putting their money towards programs like the youth center because it’s the right thing to do, not because they like the people who told them to put their money towards it.”
“She looks like she doesn’t mind it so much tonight,” I countered.
“I said she didn’t like playing the game; I didn’t say she couldn’t do it, and do it very well, I might add. She was charming enough to get you to volunteer.”
“You make that sound like an impressive feat,” I laughed, but knew it was true.
“Some women have a way of inspiring us to live up to our potential, especially when they’re nice to look at.”
I sighed and shook my head, a common response to Father Sean at this point.
“I see what you’re trying to do.”
He took a drink of his wine, not denying anything.
“But I hate to break it to you that I plan on leaving tonight with another woman.”
“And how fulfilling do you think that will be?” he challenged.
“Ah, Father Sean, I think we both know the answer to that question, but I understand your confusion, being six years out.” I patted his back, purposely avoiding his question altogether. “Come on, let’s go meet that Archbishop before they all figure out what a heathen I am.”
I hated to admit it, but I truly enjoyed the rest of the evening. Father Sean and I played off each other well. The Archbishop seemed impressed with the work that had been done at the youth center. He even mentioned sending his car to our shop the next time it needed to be serviced, which I knew would leave Michael on cloud nine, should it ever happen. Father Sean introduced me to a few other donors, and when our conversations concluded, they made their way over to Ann and pulled out their checkbooks.
As cheesy as it was, I felt good participating in the whole night, knowing I was helping kids like Juan and Justin get more support for their future. I was having such a good time basking in the joy of my newfound humanitarianism, I had completely forgotten about Ashland and where she was. In the middle of a conversation with two middle-aged women, who were clearly relishing the attention they were receiving from Father Sean and me, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Ashland.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” she said quietly before leaning in to whisper in my ear, “I’m ready to rip that suit off of you.”
Okay, so that was a turn on. I managed to maintain my cool though.
“Sure, just one second,” I said, turning back to the ladies and Father Sean. “I’m sorry, but I have to get my date home.”
“Oh, and all this time, I thought I was your date,” one of the women lamented playfully.
“Next time, next time,” I joked back. “Ladies, you have my card. Let me know if you have any more questions or even if you have some concerns about your cars. Have a good night. Make sure you keep Father Sean out of trouble,” I instructed before making my exit with Ashland.
I briefly considered finding Maura to say goodbye, but I had a hunch Ashland didn’t have any patience left. Once we were driving away from the hotel, Ashland let out a heavy sigh.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” she announced. “You looked like you had a good time with Father What-A-Waste and the bourgeois fan club.” She ran her fingers through my hair.
“What can I say? Get a little red wine in me and I’ll ask anybody to donate money for the kids.”
“Ugh, the whole thing is disgusting. Just thinking about how much money all those people have and what little amount of it they give, and yet they still feel good about themselves...”
It still seemed a little arrogant to scoff at any amount of donation just because she believed someone was in the position to give more. In my opinion, that level of judgment was above my moral standing, especially when I’d seen some people write out checks in the thousands that night.
“It’s like they don’t even really care about fixing any of the problems,” she continued. “They just want a warm fuzzy feeling and to pretend that they have a clear conscience. You know?”
She looked to me for agreement. Not wanting to debate, I tried to find a neutral way out. It didn’t seem right to critique a bunch of people I didn’t know, who spent their evening giving money to charitable causes.
“You know, I hadn’t thought much about what they were getting out of it. I’m just glad that the voc-ed program can continue and potentially expand someday.”
“Aww, it really is commendable how much you love working with those kids.”
Despite the condescension, I was hopeful things had gotten back on track. I wanted Ashland to go back to being the woman I wanted to sleep with instead of the overly-critical grad student who had shown up as my date that night.
“So, I’m wondering why that priest always wants to hang out with you? Is he trying to get you to become a priest too?”
“No,” I laughed at the absurdity of the question.
“Are you sure? Maybe he has a crush on you and wants you to become a priest so he can be with you.” Her tone was only half joking.
I gave her a look that said I thought her comment was even more bizarre than her question.
“What?” she laughed. “Oh, you know odds are he’s probably gay and, like, super in denial about it. I mean, really, think about it. It’s either that or he’s just incredibly weird. I mean, can you think of any priest you’ve ever heard of that was normal?”
I didn’t say anything, n
ot really wanting to dignify any of her statements with a response.
“Oh, come on, Thomas, you know I’m right.”
“I haven’t really met a whole lot of people in general who I thought were normal,” I answered. “And if he were gay, it wouldn’t make sense to recruit a guy you were interested in because it would make the whole celibacy thing a lot more challenging.”
“Oh, yeah right. You really think he doesn’t have sex? You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughed with disbelief.
I exited the freeway and headed towards her apartment. “It’s not really a concern of mine if Father Sean is having sex or not.”
For the first time, I wished she would stop sharing her thoughts.
“The whole Catholic organization is just so deplorable with its hypocrisy and oppression. I mean, they want to sit there and pretend like nobody should have sex, yet they want everybody to have a million babies. And of course, they won’t let any woman think for herself and have the right to do what she wants to do with her own body. I guess I can understand why men could easily be part of that religion, since they have all the power, but why any woman would willingly partake and raise her own children in it is beyond me. Seriously, they have to be either incredibly dimwitted or in some sort of abusive situation.”
I pulled up to her apartment and parked. Her last sentence triggered something inside of me.
“You realize my entire family is Catholic, right?” I tried to keep my tone informative, but the words came out more emotional than I wanted. It was probably the implication that every female in my family, specifically my mother, was either stupid or abused by their spouse.
She paused for a moment, taken aback by my response. “Well, no, but you said you weren’t religious.”
“I’m not, but–”
“So, obviously, you see the flaws I’m talking about, especially if you decided to stop being Catholic.”
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