“Oh gosh! I’m so sorry.”
“Some time ago. I live with my second... wife, Faith... and our children.”
“Your children? You adopted her children?”
“They’re my children too,” he said.
“Oh.” I dropped my bag on purpose but got out my phone and pretended to be checking if the screen was broken, but really switching on Voice Memos so I could record him. Then I decided that there was no reason to hide it: “I want to record what you say in case it’s necessary to use anything in the story. I doubt that because this is really just background, but I don’t want to make a mistake. I hope that’s okay.”
I looked up, way up, at Roman Wild, who had to be six-five or taller. Then I looked behind him where two little boys were running around, maybe about four or five—I had no idea how to estimate the age of kids. “If you were married to Ruth? You had two families at once?” He didn’t nod. He didn’t shake his head. “That’s real tabloid stuff for anybody, but a minister?”
He shrugged.
“Reverend Wild, I only came to your church one time. But it’s kind of a coincidence that what you were preaching was about honoring your wife and being chaste in your marriage. But you were already with this other woman? Don’t you feel like you betrayed the people who saw you as some big role model? And supported you?”
“I betrayed myself and my family—”
“Which one?”
“Very good, Reenie. Very sharp. Anyway, I betrayed myself and my Lord, first and foremost.”
I had to take a deep breath and remind myself that in that moment, I was here as a reporter, not as Ruth’s friend and Felicity’s friend, but it was as a friend that I got mad and wanted to slap that self-pitying look off his face. “And your congregation too,” I said.
“They can make up their own minds about that,” he said.
They evidently already had. “My mom and I went over to Starbright Ministry. It was a ghost town.”
“It’s being reconfigured. The county bought most of those buildings, but the church will still be a presence, I think.” He told me he had decided to abdicate (his word) in favor of the assistant pastor because of a complex series of issues and misunderstandings. “I was fired. I won’t be a minister anymore.”
Roman Wild looked miserable. On his cable TV show in the middle of the night, he used to proclaim himself “Wild for the Lord.” But now, all that holy exuberance seemed distant as a cold star is distant from earth. “The short version is that I borrowed money from the church that I intended to pay back. I had some significant debts, bills for medical things and some supplies...” I thought of my father ranting, after he’d encountered Roman once downtown, in a new Mercedes and a bespoke cashmere suit, about how the vow of poverty clearly didn’t extend to Protestants. I thought of that big, luxe, deserted house and the school, the missionary dorms, the auditorium, the gyms...
“Was it a lot of money?”
“It depends on what you’d call a lot of money.”
“I would call, like, a hundred thousand dollars a lot of money.”
He said nothing.
“More than that?”
“We are all sinners,” he said.
“Well, I hope you work it out. I just wanted to talk about Felicity...”
“I haven’t killed anybody,” he said.
Just then, the two little boys in identical stocking caps embroidered with leaping red stags ran up and grabbed Roman Wild around the waist. One yelled, “Daaaaaad! I’m too cold! Hot chocolate! Hot chocolate! You promised!”
“Felicity pleaded not guilty,” I said.
“I heard.”
“Dad!” the second child shrieked. “We have to go home!”
“Reenie, this is Owen the Loud, and this is... Roman Jr. We call him Romy.” He had no shame. “I should get these rascals back. Faith probably has dinner ready. Anyhow, Felicity’s problems have nothing to do with me.”
“You sure you want to say that? It sounds cold.”
