Sunday, April 26, 2708

I feel lightfooted to walk the Sunday path by daylight, unencumbered by my chain.  The clearing looks clean of any trace of the past debauch--purified, a sacred space.  Father Man has already emerged, draped in his vestment-weeds.

More than that--he blocks our path.  "Nonononono!" he cries.  "No mass without confession first!  What Man binds in heaven, sets loose on earth, uh, same as in the other place--this is not good!"

Cyran smiles and shrugs.  "Sure, Father.  I could use a good confession."

Father shakes his longest finger at Cyran.  "You!  You go out and out and sin and sin--every time you come back you bring more sins with you!"

"Well, let's not discuss them here, shall we?"

"Oh.  Oh!  Quite right."  Father straightens out his rattling, dry-grass stole.  "In my cell, then.  And after you the rest, one by one."  He turns and bustles off to his hovel with Cyran in tow, his last two fingers hooked in hir belt.  "One by one," he cackles, "Even if they sin by twos and twos, hee hee!"

Damien gives Kanarik an ashen look.  He pulls her aside into the bushes; by virtue of no longer seeing me he assumes that I can't hear him whisper. 

"Beloved, before I voice contrition before God, I owe it first to you."

"Contrition?"

Huskily he tells her, "That I should so profane the sweet, unsullied temple of your soul, your hitherto most radiantly pure..."

"But you didn't."

"Huh?"

"You missed."

Long pause.  "Missed?"

"It was dark.  You were drunk.  You missed."

"You mean I've got to go and confess an attempted sin?  That I not only besmirched my soul, but that I failed?"

Sweetly she whispers, "And I will confess that I wanted you to succeed."

"Oh Kanarik, someday I swear to you by Our Holy Mother that I shall..." and then he stops.

She giggles.  "And shall you also confess the sins you intend to do?  By Our Holy Mother, no less?"

I hear nothing more till they emerge and Damien murmurs to me, "Tell me, Deirdre, do men ever drive women as crazy as women drive men?"

"More," I say.  Then I see Cyran emerge, watch hir eyes darken with a contradicting luminance when they light upon Malcolm, and I know what e wishes e had cause to confess.  "And for some it's even worse than that."

* * *

(Bless me father, I have killed.)  (Bless me father, I have doubts about killing in the Cause of Justice.)  (Bless me father, I'm a coward.)  (Bless me father, but I look forward to the coming battle all too well.)  (I have doubts, Father.)  (I doubt God, Father.)  (I doubt you, Father.)  (I doubt Cyran.)  (Bless this poor, sorry sinner, Father, for I'm afraid that I masturbated--again.)  (Bless me Father, for I have tortured yet another prisoner.  But again, we needed the information.)  (Bless me father, but I dawdled on the way; the information came too late, and people died.)  (Forgive me Father, but I doubt our cause.)  (I doubt myself.)  (Oh God, Father, I just want to desert!  What am I even doing here?)  (Bless me father, I stole food.)  (Father, I feel hate.  I eat, drink, and breathe hate.)  (I guess I sort of lost my temper again, Father.  I'm sorry.  I think I went too far.)  (Bless me Father, but I keep making him mad.  I provoke him more than he can bear.) (Bless me Father, but I can't stop.)  (I can't say no, Father.)  (I steal wine, Father, sometimes chaummin.  I think maybe I drink too much, Father, and it scares me.)  (I stole my bunkmate’s shorts.  He never wears them, anyway.)  (Forgive me father, but a soldier on the other side looked so much like the man that hurt my mother that I took too long to, I guess I took way too long to, you know, uh, finish the job.)  (Bless me father, but I pulled off this really wicked prank, and every time I try to repent I just start giggling all over again!  It’s awful!  It’s, hee, um, it’s, Oh God, hee hee, I’m sorry, but...oh mercy!)  (Bless me, but I still want to kill whoever moved the goddam outhouse...uh, sorry.)  (Forgive me father, for I cuss.)  (Forgive me Father, I shot a prisoner after he surrendered.)  (I had sex outside of marriage.)  (I tried to have sex outside of marriage.)  (I keep wanting sex outside of marriage.)  (Bless me Father, but I got so drunk that night I'm not sure what I did.)  (Bless me Father, I have lied and lied and lied...)  (Bless me Father, I think I committed euthanasia.)  (Bless me, I set a bad example.)  (I have killed.)  (I have killed.)  (I have killed.)  (I never passed my test of blood, Father—and nobody knows!)  (Father, you know how I've been celibate all these years--but I didn't realize how an abundance of the flesh could so provoke desire in my heart, how curve upon curve could tempt such thoughts...and me, not even equipped to do much about it.  That's the part I didn't, couldn't tell you, Father.  That's the part that I can barely tell myself.)

(They keep talking, talking, talking, burning buildings crash in upon the dead and dying and they think they know sin but stigmata didn't take my last two fingers so everybody burned I've seen the coals of Hell but bless them, bless them all, they won't go there with me, oh no no no, absolve them every one I'll go alone.)

* * *

After mass I want to stroll a bit, just take in the beauty.  The jungles of the Charadoc bloom year round, though I expect it'll probably drop off a bit as the rains do.  I cradle my arms against me, trying to move them as little as possible, trying to ignore the itching under the bandages, just focus on the flowers, don’t think about it.

I hear commotion in the camp.  Lots and lots of voices, all talking at once, a distant rumble of which I can make no sense.  I shrug.  Whatever’s up, it can wait.  Medics might not get a real day of rest, but can’t I have another hour?

Alysha asks if she can join me.  I can't refuse anything that that bruised face asks of me.  When she lights two cigarettes and hands me one I can't refuse that, either; she does that sometimes, just to share something.  I only feel a little of the buzz now, comforting on a lazy afternoon, and the smoke tastes warm and good. 

"I like you, Deirdre--you understand about sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"

"You know."  Her cheeks cave in around the deep pull on the tobacco, and then she exhales smoke, eerie films upon the air.  "You Tilián--I've read about you.  Countries can beat the crap out of you and you keep on coming back for more.  You know that if you stick it out you can change those you love for the better."

"Um, Alysha, you can't compare international agency to..."

"Oh, can't I?  We took you prisoner, Deirdre.  We kept you on a chain for months.  And now you love us?"

I stop and carefully ask, "Alysha, do you have a problem with trusting my allegiance?"

"Not at all.  I understand sacrifice, too.  If I didn't maybe I'd have my doubts, but..."  She hesitates, then punctuates her words with the glowing cigarette-tip jabbed in my direction.  "Just don't you judge me!"  Then she drops the cigarette, smashes it out in the dirt, and stomps back to the clearing.