I held his gaze and willed my expression to remain neutral, even as my heartbeat began to go wild.
“Confession hours are over for tonight,” I said. “And you don’t seem to be in any condition?—”
“Oh, I’m inpeakcondition.” He swayed a little, and I couldn’t help but reach out to steady him.
But the second I touched his skin, it burned like fire and I jerked my hand back. He tried to catch me before I let go, but his reflexes were slowed by the alcohol and he missed.
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I needed to leave.Heneeded to leave. This wasn’t going to end anywhere good, not with him in such a state.
“I…think you should go,” I finally said, though part of me rebelled against his leaving. I saw so little of him as it was. Would it be so wrong to keep him there, just a little longer?
Yes.The resounding answer to that wasyes.
“Please?” Alessio’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes pleading with me, and I felt my resolve crumble.
“Very well.” I gestured to the booth. “Can you make it on your own?”
“What if I say no?”
I swallowed back the retort that immediately formed on my tongue, and instead turned on my heel and headed to my side of the confessional.
I didn’t bother to wait and see if he followed. He’d made it through the underground tunnel without hurting himself, so surely he could make it a few more steps.
Plus, I didn’t trust myself to touch him again.
Once inside the small wooden stall, I pulled the curtain shut and took my place facing the tightly woven lattice. My Bible and rosary sat on the small shelf in front of me as I waited for Alessio to take his spot on the other side of the booth. The silence that usually brought me so much peace now mocked me.
What in the world did I think I was doing?
Alessio was drunk, that much was clear. Nothing he said in here tonight was going to be said with any kind of clarity, and yet I’d agreed to hear his innermost thoughts.
It was wrong, I knew it, and yet I’d agree to do it anyway. Some masochistic part of me reveled in the fact that he’d come to me for something…anythingat this stage.
I should be ashamed of myself.
A foot thumping into the wooden frame of the confessional had me jolting in my seat and turning to the curtain, thinking he might’ve mixed up which side of the booth he needed to enter. But a loud shuffling sound on the other side of the latticesoon dispelled that notion, and Alessio all but tumbled inside the small space, the strong smell of alcohol following him like a cloud, filling the air between us.
It took everything I had not to ask if he was okay, but that wasn’t what he wanted from me. Not now. Not ever again. He didn’t want me caring for him, didn’t want any kind words from me.
So I sat there in silence, waiting for him to begin.
Seconds passed, then minutes, and for a moment I wondered if he’d passed out.
Then I heard, “Forgive me, Father—” Laughter, then a snort. “Fatherrr. I have sinned.”
I was about to speak when he continued.
“My last confession was, um, fuck… Oh, sorry. It was, um, the night you decided God was a better option than me.”
My breath caught in the back of my throat as Alessio’s words found their way through the barrier between us and shot straight to my heart.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to say, butthatwas not it.
“Alessio—”
“I don’t need you to talk,” he interrupted, then leaned forward, pushing his face against the lattice. “My confession, remember?”
Pretty hard to forget with an opening statement like that.
