Page 75 - What They Did to the Kid

What They Did to the Kid 63

“Love you,” I said.
“Love you too.” He scooped up a piece of pie in his fingers and
walked out.
At the snowy railroad station, from the train window, I watched
my mom and dad, between the white clouds of steam, standing in
the freezing wind. The heavy glass between us left nothing but the
sad last wavings of good-byes. Annie Laurie moved her arm in the
quick jerky fashion of women who are exhilarated by the cold.
I constrained myself, holding my palm up and out, pressing on
the cold window glass, in a single immobile gesture. Was the cold
suction on my palm worldly vanity, spiritual discipline, or movie-
acting? Wearing my new clerical black suit, with other passengers
watching, I could not afford any show of scandalous attachment
unbecoming a seminarian. Priests and seminarians were supposed
to set a good example when out in the world.
But deep inside me the vast homesickness welled to an ache of
emptiness. I wanted my mom and my dad and my dog. Even my
brother. I wanted to fill the void with something. I wanted God to
fill it with Himself and His grace. Outside, Annie Laurie jumped
lightly, twice, waving briskly while holding onto my father’s arm,
as the train finally pulled away, leaving them on the cold platform.
The priests told us no vocation was given free. Anything of value
has its cost, even with God. I paid the down payment on the price,
my palm slipping down the cold glass, sadly, willingly, suddenly
realizing my celibate life would always be pulling out of stations,
steam, whistle, chug, movies, where I loved too much the world where
I did not belong.

January 4, 1957

In deep snow, I returned in a taxi stuffed with six other senior-high
boys to the red-brick mansions of Misery.
“Yeah,” the taxi driver had said, “the Divinity School.” Only a
Protestant would call a seminary a divinity school. “Seven of youse
boys is all I can take. What’s with all the fub duck suitcases?”
“Fub duck!” We all laughed. “Fub duck!” We could not stop
laughing. Riding all the way back to Misery and up the formal drive

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