eternity, a battle, a struggle, raged inside him, a compulsive hunger to touch childlike innocence, which in his youth went wanting. He tried to fight it off through counseling and prayer, but time and again, he met only defeat.
His earliest recollection of the struggle came a year before he finished his seminary. Before that, up until the age of fourteen, he grew up alone in a small Italian village, a bastard nobody wanted, or paid much attention to, except for a compassionate young priest on the rise, Giafranco Polletto.
When Father Tolbert turned six years old, Cardinal Polletto had gently informed him that his mother died at childbirth, and that his father had abandoned him and was nowhere to be found. Cardinal Polletto, his only friend, shifted him from family to family, and did his best to make sure he was well taken care of and safe.
However, having a busy grown-up as his only friend plunged Father Tolbert into bouts of deep depression. A fate he faced alone. He didn’t make friends easily, and when he eventually did, he was yanked to another family, in another town. Then Cardinal Polletto was transferred from Rome to Chicago, and Father Tolbert was placed with the Antonini’s, another family beholden to the cardinal in Brooklyn, New York.
Father Tolbert enjoyed New York City and adjusted quickly, only to find himself in Chicago less than a year later. Not long after the move, Cardinal Polletto, then a bishop, continued to look after Father Tolbert closely, seeing the troubled youth through high school and college at Northwestern University. Father Tolbert became a loner, and although he was considered to be very handsome, most girls showed very little tolerance for his introverted personality, heavy drinking and drug use.
After college, Father Tolbert drifted from job to job, but nothing satisfied him. His only avenue of true comfort came from attending mass, and the counseling sessions organized by Cardinal Polletto at St.
Thomas Cathedral, where Father Tolbert was always at ease and trouble free. He took his comfort in the Church as a sign, and with the help of Cardinal Polletto, enrolled in the seminary to become a catholic priest.
Comfortable during his time at the seminary, Father Tolbert made a few real friends, and thought he’d found his place in the world.
Then, a year before graduating, while on assignment at St. Thomas Elementary School, he became enamored with and molested his first child, Cedric Benson, an enthusiastic boy, friendly and eager to please, who eventually grew up, floated in and out of jail, and hung himself in a rundown motel in Los Angeles. Slowly, Father Tolbert fell into a pattern too satisfying to stop, and like a drug, his appetite for child innocence increased, consuming him inside out, and hurting child after child along the way.
Father Tolbert checked his watch again. Eduardo’s father, Armanno, had promised to have Eduardo at the chapel by ten o’clock. They were forty-five minutes late. At eleven-fifteen, the doors to the Church eased open, and Father Wex Angler, young and studious, also on temporary assignment to the Vatican Archives from a parish in Australia, slid inside, searching the shadows of the sanctuary, illuminated only by the sunlight gleaming through the beautiful stained glass frescoes. Father Tolbert called out, and the young priest’s trademark enthusiasm immediately filled up the building.
“I’ve been searching all over for you,” said Father Angler. “There’s a young boy and his father waiting for you in your room. They showed up an hour ago and said they had an appointment with you. We searched all over. Thankfully I found you here.”
“Thank you, Father. I appreciate your effort. We were supposed to meet here, but I guess they misunderstood,” said Father Tolbert.
“I left them alone in your room. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all,” said Father Tolbert, gathering his things. “I’m sure they appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown them.” Father Angler’s smile widened and he bent over slightly, hands together. “Thank you, Father,” he said, effusive with delight. “You’re too kind.”
After three minutes of convincing, Father Angler finally accepted that Father Tolbert didn’t need help carrying his things back to the room.
The eager to please priest finally bounded off, no doubt searching for his next good deed.
Father Angler’s enthusiasm left Father Tolbert embarrassed, ashamed and envious. He could barely remember his own zeal for the Church, excitement and energy now buried deep in a trash dump of unforgivable sin.
Father Tolbert reached his room and stood outside, hands on the doorknob. He closed his eyes, took a deep nostril breath, and went inside.
“Father, we’re so sorry,” said Armanno, running over. He grabbed Father Tolbert’s hand and kissed it. “Please forgive our stupidity. I thought you meant for us to meet you here.” Father Tolbert accepted the fish trader’s apology and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Its okay, it’s an understandable misunderstanding.” He winked at Eduardo sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling.
Armanno pulled a dingy handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and dabbed at his sweaty face. “If today is not a good day, we can come back tomorrow.”
“Nonsense,” said Father Tolbert, walking over to Eduardo. “Hello, young man. How are we today?”
Eduardo’s smile threatened to crack his face wide open. “I’m fine, Father.”
Father Tolbert fought back his urge to run the back of his hand down Eduardo’s cheek. He turned to Armanno. “This might be a blessing in disguise. Instead of a long drawn out affair, I’ll spend an hour or so with Eduardo, asking him a few questions. You come back in an hour or so, and we’ll schedule something more formal for next week.” Armanno looked over at his son then back at Father Tolbert. “That will be fine, but shouldn’t I stay. I’d like to see what we’re getting ourselves into.”
Father Tolbert laughed. “I understand, my friend, but Eduardo will have to do much of this without his papa watching over him. He’s a fine boy, and I’m sure you’ve taught him well. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s very rarely been out of my sight since his mother died giving birth to him.” Armanno beamed. “But as you wish, Father. We trust you very much. I’ll take a walk around Il Vaticano and come back in an hour.”
Father Tolbert gave a bow. “Perfect,” he exclaimed. “Let’s get started.”
Armanno walked over to Eduardo and knelt. “Be good and do just as Father Tolbert tells you. I’ll be back soon.” He gave his son a hug and left the room.
When Father Tolbert turned around, Eduardo’s smile was gone, replaced by a look of trepidation. The priest took a handful of candy, chocolates this time, sat them on the bed in front of the boy and pulled up a chair. “Help yourself,” he said, grabbing several pieces himself, and stuffing them in his mouth. “They’re good,” he mumbled, through a full mouth.
Eduardo laughed, grabbed two pieces, and did the same. They stuffed chocolate in their mouths until it was gone. Father Tolbert went to the bathroom, got a washcloth and cleaned Eduardo’s face.
“That was fun,” said Eduardo. “Thank you, Father.”
“You’re welcome, my son. Now, tell me, how’s that rubber ball I gave you? Putting it to good use I hope.” Eduardo reached in his pocket and removed the ball. “I take it everywhere,” he said. “I’m getting good at catching it.”
“Great,” beamed Father Tolbert. “We’ll have to play sometimes.” He got up, went to the closet and returned with a blue plastic bat and small baseball glove. He gave them to Eduardo, whose mouth opened wide in astonishment.
“Wow!” said Eduardo, so excited he almost fell off of the bed.
Father Tolbert caught him and helped him back up. “Grazie, tante grazie!” He jumped up and gave the priest a hug.
Father Tolbert laughed and closed his eyes. “Prego,” he told Eduardo. “You’re very welcome.”
The priest put his nose to the boy’s hair and took a long whiff, rubbing his cheek to Eduardo’s, then pushed away, his breathing heavy, heart pounding, member hardening. Eduardo, oblivious to anything but his new toys, sat back down tossing the ball up into the air and catching it with the glove.
Father Tolbert sat back down. “Wouldn’t it be nice to do this all the time?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Eduardo, tossing the ball higher. “Could we?”
“Yes,” said the priest. “But it would have to be our little secret.
Grown-ups don’t always understand.”
Eduardo continued to play. “Yes, Father, anything you say.” Father Tolbert sat back and watched Eduardo, enjoying his playfulness as though it were a snort of cocaine or a hit off the crack pipe. The longer he watched, the further he was sucked into the boy’s innocence, and the more excited he became. After a while, he didn’t see Eduardo, he saw Samuel, which only increased his excitement. It took every bit of his will not to throw himself at
