A Bookseller and a Priest Walk Into a Confessional

A Last Word story

It’s Saturday afternoon and Sal is trudging reluctantly up the steps of St. Jude Catholic Church. He had promised the penguin he would go to confession, and he was going to keep his promise, but he would do it his own way.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to confession, but it was at least ten years ago. Given all that had occurred in that time, there was no way was he going to walk down the street to St. Joseph’s Cathedral and talk to a priest he might run into the bookstore on any given day. After a few phone calls he discovered there was a very understanding and very discreet priest at St. Jude’s. It was worth the drive to Arlington to get that combination.

When he spoke to Father Boyle and explained his somewhat unorthodox situation, the priest told him to come an hour before the normal time for confession. That would give them time to talk — he had actually said “have an unhurried conversation” — before anyone else arrived. Sal got there even earlier, wanting to reacquaint himself with being inside a church again.

Upon walking into the church, Sal is immediately pleased with his choice. He hadn’t known what to expect from the Texas version of a Catholic church, but this one was almost a carbon copy of St. Anthony’s back in his old neighborhood. There is something to be said for familiarity when you’re about to bare your soul, at least to the degree he intends to.

Sal crosses himself with holy water as he enters the church and is encouraged that he does not immediately burst into flames. The church — he vaguely remembers that the part he’s in right now is called the nave, which is a strange word — is dimly lit. It is cool inside, and there is the faintest smell of incense, probably soaked into the wood from thousands of earlier Masses. The scent calms him somehow.

He walks to a side altar where a statue of the parish’s patron saint stands surrounded by votive candles in red holders. He pulls out a quarter and drops it in the money box, then decides that’s not nearly enough. He pulls out his wallet, folds a ten-dollar bill several times and pushes it through the slot, then lights one of the candles.

“Trying to buy some extra favor from St. Jude?” a voice behind him asks.

Sal turns around and sees a priest he assumes is Father Boyle. The man has a youthful appearance that makes it hard to guess his age, which is likely close to sixty. He is average height but solidly built, with thick salt and pepper hair and Clark Kent glasses.

“I’ll take any advantage I can get, Father,” Sal says, extending his hand. “Sal Terranova. Thanks for meeting me.”

“As you’ve probably guessed, I’m Father Boyle,” the priest says, shaking his hand warmly. “Meeting people is what I do. Can I assume from your accent, which was less obvious on the phone, that you’re not a native Texan?”

“New Jersey,” Sal says. “Just moved down here recently.”

“I’m originally from Boston myself,” Father Boyle replies. “Though I’ve been here so long I can say ‘park’ now instead of ‘pahk.’ So, would you like to come over to the rectory and talk about what’s on your mind?”

“If it’s all the same to you, Father,” Sal says, glancing around the church, “I’d rather do this the official way.”

“Certainly,” the priest says with a smile. “The confessionals are right over there.”

Father Boyle points to a front corner of the church, and Sal follows him. There are three identical doors set into the wall; the two outer doors each have a little white and red light bulb above them, just like back home. White means the confessional box is empty, red means someone is inside. Boyle goes through the middle door, Sal the one on the right.

Sal kneels down, fighting off a sudden panic attack this small space has given him since he was in second grade. A small door in the wall in front of him opens, and he is once again face-to-face with Father Boyle. He is startled, and apparently it shows.

“Open confession is on the right side,” Father Boyle says with a hearty laugh. “If you want the screen between us, you’ll have to go over to the left side.”

“No, this is fine,” Sal says, then quickly makes the sign of the cross. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a long time since my last confession.”

“And what are your sins, my son?”

“Well,” he replies, hesitating. “As you can imagine, there are a lot of them. Can I maybe hit the high spots?”

“Certainly,” the priest responds. “We probably don’t have time for you to list ten years’ worth of sins, even if you could remember them all. We’ll just assume the fact you’re here now is evidence of your contrition and intent to amend your ways.”

“Right, amend my ways. Let’s see, it’s been a good while since I stole anything, which is kinda freaking me out a little, but since my last confession I’ve stolen a lot.”

“Can you clarify what ‘a lot’ means, Sal?”

“I don’t think I can, Father. But it’s a lot. It’s what I do…did…and I was really good at it.”

“I see,” the priest says, trying to contain a grin at the misplaced pride Sal still shows. “And among the things you stole, I understand there was a particularly infamous incident in, I think, Albany.”

“Actually, to be totally honest it was Ithaca,” Sal says, surprised that the priest knows about this, “but if you were to ever break the seal of the confessional, I’d swear I was in Brooklyn that night.”

“Funny, Crime TV said your alibi was that you were in Atlantic City.”

“Damn…oh, sorry for that one too, Father. And while we’re on the subject of my language, I said ‘damn’ in front of a nun a few days ago. That’s why I’m here, actually; she made me come.”

“She made you come?”

“Okay, she told me I’d better come, and I have a long-standing fear of disobeying the sisters.”

Father Boyle cannot contain himself and actually does laugh at this.

“We all do, son,” he says. “We all do.”

Sal nods, then hesitates, unsure what else to say.

“Are you married?” the priest asks.

“Married? No, Father, not married. Why?”

“Well, you’re a young man, and if you’re not married I have to wonder if pre-marital sex might be a problem for you.”

“A problem?” Sal repeats, confused. “No, I do okay with the ladies.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” the priest replies.

“Oh, right. Sorry again. Yes, Father, I have engaged in premarital activities, so to speak.”

“But no adultery, correct?”

“Adultery? No, Father, we just talked about me being unmarried.”

For the first time Father Boyle appears exasperated. He rubs his temples and tries again.

“And were all of the ladies you had ‘activities’ with also unmarried?”

“Oh, I get it,” Sal says, feeling like an idiot. “Yes, all unmarried, absolutely. Though there was a misunderstanding with someone’s mother.”

“Say again?” the priest says, now confused himself.

“It probably doesn’t qualify as a bigger sin with the Church,” Sal says, “but I kind of, um, had relations with the mother of the head of the Garrafolo Family in Philly.”

Father Boyle is not sure how to respond to that, so he nods and tells Sal to continue.

“I mean, it’s not like she was ancient or anything. In fact, she’s probably barely fifty years old and looks thirty. Nicky’s one of the youngest Dons in decades; he’s younger than me. It was an honest mistake.”

“I see,” Boyle says. “Then wouldn’t the misunderstanding be about someone’s mother, not with her?”

“You would think so, but not in this case. Nicky didn’t care; I’d kicked lots of cash up to him the last year or so, and he wasn’t going to kill the golden goose, but Lorraine was another story.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When I found out she was Nicky’s mother I broke it off. She wasn’t happy about that.”

“But if he didn’t care, what could she do?” This was becoming the strangest confession he had ever heard, which was saying something.

“An angry Sicilian woman can make life very difficult when she wants to. It made the decision to move here much easier.”

“And why do you think this sin is worse than the others?”

“Isn’t there something in the Old Testament about sleeping with a guy’s mother?”

Father Boyle ponders this for a long moment, then realizes what Sal is thinking of.

“No,” he says, “there’s nothing specifically about that. I think you are remembering, or misremembering, Leviticus 18:17. It says you are not to have sexual relations with a woman and her daughter.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Sal says. “I’ve never done anything like that.”

“I’m impressed that you knew the passage from Leviticus, if not quite correctly. Do you still read your Bible, son?”

“Not like I should, but yes, I still do sometimes.”

“Keep it up,” the priest says, then looks at his watch. “It’s almost time for Mass. We should probably wrap this up.”

Sal rattles off a list of more minor sins…missing Mass a couple hundred times, not paying taxes, lusting after the Sirens. He does not include pulling his gun on Randal, as that was obviously not a sin. Father Boyle prays over him and gives him absolution. Sal waits with some anxiety to hear his penance.

“For your penance,” the priest says, “I want you to read one chapter from St. Luke’s gospel each night until you’ve finished it. Then do the same with each of the other three gospels. Also, since you probably can’t make direct restitution for what you’ve stolen over the years, I want you to find other ways in which to give back to those in need. Finally, you have to stay for Mass tonight.”

“No five thousand Hail Marys?” Sal asks, surprised.

“I think this will have a better result,” Boyle says gently. “But since you want to be old-school, say twenty before Mass starts.”

He makes the sign of the cross over Sal, then they leave the confessional. Before leaving to prepare for Mass, Father Boyle places a hand on Sal’s shoulder.

“Sal,” he says, “you know you didn’t come here because a nun scared you, right?”

“I didn’t?”

“No. I think you’re here because you’re looking for a place to call home.”

“With all due respect, Father,” he says, “I think I’ve found my home. It’s a bookstore.”

“And what is the best-selling book of all time, Sal?”

“Good point, Father,” Sal says with a smile. “A very good point.”

Thanks for reading. The books in The Last Word series can all be found at your favorite indie bookstore or ordered in either the paperback or Kindle version here.