Page 132 - What They Did to the Kid

120 Jack Fritscher

the priestly situations that might arise in real life? I felt hot, all wrong
lying in that strange room in someone else’s house. I knew all my
life would be spent in rooms that weren’t mine, in houses that were
strange, taking orders obediently from old men.
What is it like in a rectory at night?
I grasped at straws that might delay my Ordination. Tuberculo-
sis or something from the movies like a war. Anything, because so
much was to be done to me in such little relentless time. Tick. Tick.
Tick.The sacrament of Ordination to the priesthood puts a perma-
nent mark on a man’s soul. Once a priest, always a priest. Forever.
Mike lounged nervously out on the porch. He had found some
cigarettes, stale ones, he had shouted, in the drawer. I threw back
the clinging sheet, and knelt by the bedside in my swim trunks. My
senses glutted with everything I had seen driving up, at the lake, and
all I had heard tonight.
Something very loud exploded over the house and a rectangle of
light from fireworks outside the window fell across me.
Dear God, I prayed, when one looks at girls for the first time,
he’s delighted by what he sees. That’s fine and normal, but I should
have done that at fifteen, not twenty-one. I’m even behind the nor-
mal calendar of my life. I’m too afraid to actually sin mortally. I have
no idea of what goes on in a back seat. My conscience is too blunted
to perceive the refinements of many venialities. I’m neither hot nor
cold, Lord. Hardening. Don’t vomit me into the pit. Every noble
intention I had for the summer, every thought of Mass, medita-
tion, almost of You, Oh Lord, has been drowned in the rush of this
beautiful world, the land of love and sweetness for which I long but
give up for You. I don’t want this pleasure. It’s the hurt of the wonder-
ful things missed, gone-by, time-passed, when I’m alone. Take this
pleasure away. My prayer is never good. My prayers are emotional
sedative at one time, emotional catharsis at another. That’s why I
flounder so easily, why the world can swamp me, and not let me
give a clear answer to people like Kenny and that stupid Rip. I will
try harder, Lord, so I don’t lose out like Dick and Mike. I will be
Your priest and life will be hard. I will never interfere with myself.
Because I’ve started to be good so many times, I have the habit of
beginning and not the habit of perseverance in anything. I’ve got to

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