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the unchosen path that I was on or
the obstacles I was currently hurdling, he had another thing coming.I
knew all about life choosing you instead of you choosing it. However, I wasn’t
going to talk about it. If the two of them had thrown together an impromptu
grief counseling session, they were going to be supremely disappointed. I had
nothing to say on the subject of coping. I was fairly certain I was failing
miserably at it anyway.
    I nibbled on the
end of a cold French fry before tossing it back on my plate and looked up to
find Father Paul still watching me. He smiled his most reassuring smile. It was
a lifeline that he usually reserved for the most hopeless souls coming through
the soup kitchen.   “You’ll get
there. Takes time.”
    “Well, I have
plenty of that.” That was the honest to God truth. All I had was time. I pushed
the burger around on my plate, hoping that if I continued to move it, no one
would notice that I was no longer eating.
    I wasn’t hungry. In
fact, I was never hungry. The days of looking in the mirror and worrying that
my stomach was too big, that my ass was too round, and that my thighs were too
flabby were a thing of the past. I didn’t need to worry about those things any
more. I was wasting away, but I didn’t care. With any luck, one day I’d just
completely disappear.
    “The fries are
really good,” he said as if he’d read my mind and thought he could persuade me
not to give up.
    “Father Paul,” Kate
interrupted. “So, where’d you grow up?”
    “How about we ditch
the ‘Father’?” he asked, looking at me while answering Kate.
    “Isn’t he always
with us?” she asked, teasing him.
    He redirected his
gaze to her and laughed loudly. “Indeed. Kate, are you making a joke?”
    She giggled like a
schoolgirl. “It’s a specialty of mine. If you need pointers, I’d be happy to
help.”
    “I’ll keep that in
mind.”
    “So do your friends
just call you ‘Paul’?”
    “Typically, yes.”
His expression indicated that he thought the question was a ridiculous one.
“Though nobody around here does, I guess.”   He grew quiet, as if considering the implications of that.
    Kate smiled warmly.
“Well, fantastic. Grace and I will be your first uncongregational friends in Merriville . We would be happy to call you
Paul.”
    “Every now and
then,” he started, his eyes darting to me before he finished, “it’s nice just
to have dinner with a couple of friends. ” He emphasized the last word as
if he was trying it out.
    I stared at him. Unmoving and unbending. I’d spent a lot of time with him
while working at Karen’s Kitchen, but he was always ‘Father Paul.’ I didn’t
feel comfortable calling him anything else.
    “Can I ask you a
question, Friend Paul?” she asked. “Even if it’s vocationally related and
you’re technically off the clock and we are decidedly uncongregational ?”
    He pushed away from
the table and leaned back in his chair intrigued. “Sure. Go for it.”
    “Okay, confession
time,” she said, her voice a hushed conspiratorial whisper.
    “You have one?” he
asked, taking a sip of his water.
    “No. That would
take us all night. I want to know what’s the juiciest, most exciting thing
you’ve heard during confession.   No
names, of course.”
    “No names, of course,”
he said, clearly entertained. “Well, you know I can’t answer that. Even without
names.”
    She pouted for a
few seconds while her eyes darted between my untouched bacon cheeseburger and
her grilled chicken salad.   “Okay,
tell me this then. Coveting. How bad is it, really? I mean, let’s say that I
covet my neighbor’s … rose garden.” She reached for my burger. “I might,
theoretically, wander over there and take a look around. Maybe I even pick a
flower every now and then, but I leave the bush behind.” I smacked her hand
just before she picked it up. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it? Any
chance at redemption?” she finished.
    Father