As Frank lay in bed he thought about the events of the evening. In a way, he felt guilty. Had he not mentioned Billy Taylor to Bill, none of this would have happened. Had he not tried to get involved, Bill would know nothing about it. As it stood, nothing had been done for Mr. Lacy, it would be days before Bill could recoup his life, and Taylor was still out there shaking his tambourine. Nothing had been gained.
Frank got up and went to the kitchen. He wasn’t normally a drinking man, but maybe tonight a shot would be in order. As he reached under the sink for his bottle, he heard a tap on the door. It was close to three a.m. He went to the door and there stood Bill. His eyes were still red.
“I’m sorry, Frank.”
“For what? I had no business getting you into that mess in the first place.”
“Remember when we used to play policemen when we were what, ten, eleven?”
“Yea, we had fun. Of course back then we were chasing bank robbers.”
“Yes, it was fun, and for a while it was like it used to be. Do you know how boring it is to be a priest?”
Frank looked at Bill and smiled. “You want a drink? I have a fine old scotch under the counter.”
“You know, I think I will.”
“Now, tell me, how boring is it to be a priest?”
“This morning, when I go to my office, there will be four or five people sitting outside waiting to see me. It’ll be the same old story, they need money. Either the husband spent the rent money on lottery tickets or he got drunk and lost it. It’s the same thing over and over. It’s never their fault, someone else always did something wrong. After those people are gone, the good parishioners will begin filing in. Now, they wouldn’t dare come in while the bums are there. They’re above coming in while that unwashed crap is in the office. No, they’re above them.”
“Are there people in the church like that?”
“Frank, don’t play with me. You know there are. Hell, it’s most of them. And God knows, don’t expect them to help those people I was talking to earlier. They don’t even want to recognize they exist. But ask them to write a check to feed someone half-way around the world, someone who doesn’t even speak the same language, and they’re all over it, can’t write it fast enough. It’s disgusting.”
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