The Dead

“I don’t believe I’d express myself so unequivocally,” Father Ted answered.

“Didn’t you just say that ‘lack of self-acceptance is the greatest sin of all?’” Max asked. “That sounded pretty unequivocal to me.”

“Would you please let me continue?” Father Ted replied.

“Sure.”

“What I probably told him is that some theologians no longer consider adultery a serious matter,” the priest told Celia. “Now if your husband decided I was condoning infidelity because of that, he was very badly mistaken. I was only suggesting that if he couldn’t stop, he should try not to punish himself with guilt.”

Max immediately went back on the offensive: “Because a handful of theologians in the fever-swamps have decided the Church has been wrong for two thousand years?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes.”

“Then why should he have stopped at all?”

“He was in such pain.”

“But his guilt was irrational?”

“Yes.”

“And you tried to persuade him it was irrational?”

“Yes, but…”

Max pounced. “How exactly does that differ from condoning infidelity?”

“I don’t feel any need to stand here and chop logic with you, young man,” Father Ted blustered.

Lucky for you, Gary thought. Max was a very formidable logic-chopper. Gary remembered an episode from his late teens, when he and Max had been beset down at the boardwalk by a group of young Baptists looking for converts. It took two hours, but ultimately Max had reduced all seven of them to tears. And that was before he co-majored in philosophy at college.

Conan the Apologist, Gary thought.

“The Bible even goes so far as to describe how the men of Egypt have ‘members like donkeys,’” said Mr. MacAleer from the TV. “Ezekiel, Chap-”

Gary shut the set off.

“I certainly didn’t encourage your husband to make a habit of it,” Father Ted continued to Celia.

“But Father,” she answered, sadly but firmly, “When he kept doing it, you kept saying how God probably didn’t mind.”

“That’s hardly an endorsement of adultery, Mrs. Holland.”

“But it’s hardly surprising that he stopped worrying about it, is it?” she pressed. “Especially when he respected your opinion so much. Especially when his girlfriend-” A choke rose in her voice- “was so much younger and prettier than me.”

“Since that’s how you feel, Mrs. Holland, do you still want me to celebrate the funeral mass?”

“Max would’ve wanted you to.”

“Very well then,” Father Ted said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be going. Good-bye.”

He turned on his heel and went out.

“Max, Max,” Celia said, once the priest was well out of earshot, “Wasn’t the day sad enough?”

“I just couldn’t stand there and keep my mouth shut,” Max answered. “He hurt us all too badly. And what about Dad? Where’s he now, mom? That bastard convinced him that no matter how much he cheated on you, he had nothing to fear from God. What do you bet Dad’s gotten a very nasty surprise?”

“Jesus,” Gary said. “I don’t believe you said that.”

Max ignored him. Celia looked at Max as though she were horrified by his suggestion, but couldn’t bring herself to upbraid him because she thought it might be true. Gary was shaken as he studied her face.

“Be that as it may,” she said at last, “Father Teddy-I mean Father Ted-is a priest, and his office deserves respect. You of all people should believe that, Max.”

Max cocked his head, apparently weighing her point. Gary thought it was a good one, but Max finally replied:

“I do respect his office. I’d take communion from him without a second thought. He’s a true priest, a special channel of God’s grace. But I don’t respect his opinions any more than you do. And I don’t respect him. There’s nothing in the dogmas of the Church that says a priest can’t be a son of a bitch. Getting into Torquemada’s face would’ve been obligatory, I think.”

Celia pondered this. “Jesus said anyone who’s angry with his brother will be liable to judgment,” she answered at last.

“Who’s angry?” Max grinned.

“You were. At Father Ted just now.”

“No, Ma. I was furious.”

“He’s no Torquemada in any case.”

“I’d like him better if he were,” Max said. “But as for that quote, it really depends on what manuscript you read. Some versions read ‘angry without good reason.’ And since that reading fits more with common sense, I prefer it. Jesus gets mad in the gospels all the time, anyway. Calls his opponents ‘whited sepulchers’ and ‘knots of vipers.’ Carries a whip and uses it-”

“You know what you are?” Celia demanded, pointing a finger at him in frustration.

“What?”

“A… A Philadelphia lawyer!” she answered, very seriously.

“So how come I’m not rich?”

She bit her lip, then laughed in spite of herself.

A strange silence followed, as if everyone had suddenly become aware that such levity (if it could be called that) and the argument that had preceded it, were inappropriate, under the circumstances; Gary was amazed that his mother had laughed at all. But he was always surprised at how people behaved after a death in the family, at least the way they behaved in his family, pouring out tears one moment, cracking jokes the next. It always seemed that one’s sense of humor should be completely submerged, that all enjoyment should cease, that normal life should halt entirely. But it was never that way.

“Anyone care for some leftover roast beef?” Celia said presently.

“It’s gone,” Max said.

“You ate it all?”

“You didn’t tell me not to. There’s a lot of that ham still.”

“Ham’ll be just fine,” Gary said, Linda seconding him with a nod.

“I could cook up some of those steaks, I suppose,” Celia said. “And there are the noodles…”

“Leftovers’ll be just fine, Mom,” Gary said.

“Cooking’ll take my mind off things,” Celia answered.

“I’ll help,” Linda offered.

“No, really, it’ll do me good.”

They went into the kitchen. In the end, Linda helped. And afterward, midway through the dishes, Celia suddenly burst into tears, clutched Linda and hugged her tightly as Gary and Max looked on.

Chapter 3: Uh-Oh

That night Gary had another dream.

He found himself standing naked and alone in a bare stony wasteland, a landscape such as Michelangelo might have painted, all its colors grey or grayish brown, its aridity stretching out endlessly under a vast leaden sky. A cold wind swept him.

He stood in that spot for what might have been a minute or an hour. And all the while, dread grew within him.