Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 5 - Oh Hell No

I can't do anything but recite the words on the page – too numb to think: 

"Claire Elisabeth Saint, you are hereby reassigned to the charge of Our Holiness Himself, Pontiff and Guide, Pope Francis I, as of this Thursday next.  Enclosed are private-flight tickets and you will be guided along every step by loyal followers of The Church through the gates of Vatican City and into the Hallowed Halls of our Excellency.  Don't waste this opportunity to be guided by the Voice of God Himself." 

Father Jonas pulls the van over onto the curb and crosses himself as he slams the transmission into park.  He looks panicked. 

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he mutters, crossing himself again.  That is the closest I've ever seen him to swearing.  This can't be good. 

"I'm going to meet the Pope," I squeak out, stating the obvious.  Good one, Claire, I tell myself. 

Father Jonas takes several deep breaths, and I wonder if he's having a stroke or a heart-attack or something.  He really doesn't look good.  He's pale and keeps mopping the sweat on his face with his handkerchief.  Jojo reaches in and pushes the A/C all the way up, but he turns it down right after, "She'll overheat," he says and begins checking traffic in his mirrors, waiting for a break so he can pull out again. 

Father Jonas takes his exit, politely signaling and changing lanes one at a time.  It sets my teeth on edge.  Massaging my temples again, I promise myself Manny's top-shelf margaritas as soon as we're done here.  Father Jonas eases the van into its usual parking space in the church's lot and cuts the engine.  We listen as the old girl belches and gurgles her shut-down.  She really isn't driven often, and hardly ever on the highway.  

I open the door and slide down to the pavement before he unbuckles his seat belt.  By the time he closes his door, I already have my skirt down around my knees again.  He helps Jojo out, "Come inside," he nods to us both, "Bring your packets and your tablets." 

We head in through the side door, which bypasses the church and leads to his office, the choir room, a small conference room and the church kitchens.  A door out the back leads to his small rectory.  Neither Jojo nor I have ever been in his home, but we've found him outside tending his begonias plenty of times. 

He unlocks his office door and motions for us to sit.  His desk is strewn with papers, files, newspapers and pictures.  An ancient CRT monitor sits on the corner, plastered all around with sticky-notes.  Three tall file cabinets sit behind him and the wall the door is on is lined with stuffed bookshelves.  There's an old leather couch on the opposite wall, beneath the shuttered window, and a vintage, kidney-shaped coffee table in front of it.  A tall wardrobe sits against the opposite wall – doors open – showing his robes and vestments, all covered in dry cleaning bags.  A small round table sits in the middle of the room with four worn chairs tucked around.  

We sit in our usual leather chairs in front of his desk, but he doesn't sit behind it.  Instead, he stands in front of his bookcases and scans them, lost in thought.  A knock comes on the door and a head pokes through. 

"Café, Padre?" Lupe asks. 

"No.  Gracias, Lupe," he smiles kindly at her. 

She nods and closes the door, too reverent to inquire further.  Lupe had been at the church longer than Father Jonas and apparently knows when to keep her nose out of things. 

I, however, haven't learned that yet.  "Well?" I ask, exasperated. 

"There's a bottle of Advil in my top desk drawer," he says, still perusing his library, "And you know where the water fountain is."