Holly often wondered how the priest was able to recognize her voice with all the people he must talk to all day long, but – she glanced over her shoulder at the empty pews – maybe it wasn't such a mystery after all. But he also had some involvement with St Patrick’s Cathedral uptown, which she guessed would be a much busier post.
‘Hey there, good to see you. What have you got for us this month?’ Father Mike appeared in the doorway and gratefully relieved her of the box. He was a short man, built like a boxer, with greying hair and a weathered face, and his life was dedicated to helping all and any who came his way. He had plenty of destitute and needy in his congregation who might not necessarily show up for Mass, but definitely showed up on Wednesdays for soup, and for provisions, like clothes and blankets. He placed the box on his desk in the tiny room and began sorting through the contents. The church basement was hopping with activities most of the time, Holly knew. There were flyers all over the place. Single parenting meetings, AA meetings, grief counselling, marriage counselling, choir, soup kitchen … the list went on and on.
‘Oh, would you look at that?’ He pulled out an oversize leather handbag that was a blatant Gucci knockoff. ‘That has Stella written all over it … ’ he winked at Holly who smiled in agreement. Stella was a local ‘girl’ – a transvestite who suffered from depression and was occasionally in need of help. Holly had only figured out who she was after watching her march by the store one day in some worn Versace boots Holly had dropped off a few days before.
‘Nice Holly, very nice … ’ He sorted through the rest of the items – warm coats, more bags, things the few older women in his tiny congregation could use. ‘It’s a pity you don't get more men's clothing … that's what I really need, suits. Something to give them some dignity and some confidence.’
Holly shook her head. ‘Sorry, I wish we did too. I got as much as I could from Frank but you know what he’s like … ’
Father Mike smiled and closed up the box. ‘I sure do. That man could find my grandmother’s tea cosy and sell it as the shroud of Turin.’
Holly laughed. It was true; Frank felt obligated to try and sell absolutely everything that came his way, which was one of the main reasons Encore was so crowded and disorganised.
‘Thanks for this, and pass on my appreciation to Carole too, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
There was noise in the front of the church and a few people started filing in in the dark, laughing and making noise.
‘Ah, they're here to set up downstairs,’ said Father Mike. ‘We're having an alcohol-free mixer tonight – want to join us?’
Holly smiled and shook her head. ‘I'm too bushed tonight, Mike, and I need to get back to Danny, but thanks for the invite.’
Father Mike patted her on the shoulder. ‘Ah well. Now go home and … meditate or do yoga or whatever it is you heathens get up to these days.’
Holly gave him a hug and promised to try and weasel some additional menswear out of Frank next time.
When she reached home about half an hour later, the glow of the TV was on and Danny and Kate were on the couch watching a movie.
‘Hey guys.’ Holly gave Danny a kiss and he looked up at her sleepily. ‘You're late.’
‘Yeah, I know, I just had to pop over to Sacred Heart. Did you eat?’
Kate nodded. ‘Yep, we had hot dogs, just like you suggested.’
‘Yummy … ’ Danny added appreciatively.
Holly slipped off her coat and hung it on the hook by the door. ‘Well, I hope you left some for your poor old mom.’
Kate stretched and got up off the couch, readying herself to leave. ‘Course we did.’
Holly gave her a quick hug as she left, promising to talk again tomorrow. She put some ketchup and mustard on her hot dog, and sat next to Danny on the couch. ‘What are you watching?’
‘Oh, I think it's something about a Falcon,’ Danny said disinterestedly. ‘It’s kind of boring though.’
Kate had become addicted to old movies, probably from her days with Justin, but as a result she had got Holly addicted to them as well. On the TV screen, Humphrey Bogart looked passionately at the portrait of the woman he was searching for. Holly ate her hot dog, wondering if times were simpler back then.
‘That's some apartment … ’ she murmured.
‘Yeah, in Hollywood,’ Danny murmured back.
Holly watched as Bogart searched frantically for the love of his life, and wondered if anyone would ever do that for her. Relationships seemed so dispassionate nowadays … no one seemed willing to try hard, to fall in love so deeply you felt as though you’d got hit on the head with a shovel. Did love like that even exist any more? Did it ever?
Holly sat back on the couch, reminding herself that, in truth, she’d felt a little bit like that when she first met Nick …
18
Chelsea, Lower Manhattan, 1999
