Tea
Entering the chapel, Zorah clung to Avaline’s elbow. She didn’t know why she was feeling so nervous, but she was decidedly so.
“Why do I feel so sick?” Zorah whispered suddenly.
“Because your entire life, church has been your prison, Zorah.” Avaline commented with a pat to her hand. “A few days ago, you finally escaped the shackles of your religion, and the pain associated with it and now we’re back in.”
Zorah was surprised by Avaline’s insight. “I didn’t consider it like this.”
“Me either but Father Tarantino when I called him this morning mentioned you might not be keen to return to the church after being tortured in one for so long.”
“You told him?”
“Dagoberto did.”
“Why?”
“To ask for guidance. Dagoberto is very protective of you Zorah, as am I. He called Father to ask for guidance on how to be supportive for you.”
“Dagoberto is nice to me.”
“He always wanted a daughter. We had two,” Avaline said quietly swallowing audibly, “but one was born stillborn at eight months and the other I delivered her and while she took breaths, she didn’t live an hour. We talked about adopting but it never felt right for me. It makes me angry your mother had what we wanted so much and mistreated you.”
“You must have been devastated.”
“Yes, but it was part of life, and I needed to move forward. The church and my faith helped me. I found in helping others, my own sorrow was lessened. For as great as my heartache was, seeing others with situations far more painful than mine helped me keep things in perspective. Though,” she gave a smile as a grey-haired man wearing a suit and a collar turned a corner, “this man will tell you not all sorrow is equally measured and not to compare your pain to others because we all feel differently.”
“Avaline, it is good to see you. We missed you at mass,” the man’s voice was warm and low as he clasped Avaline by the shoulders affectionately.
“Father Tarantino, may I present to you my daughter, Zorah.”
“Zorah Lucchesi,” he took her by the hand and gently patted it. “It is lovely to meet you. How is your introduction to Italy and Sicily?”
“I only arrived in Sicily last night and went straight to bed. Other than drive from the house to here, I haven’t seen much.”
“Well, I hope you learn to love it. Now,” he gently tucked her hand in his elbow. “I understand you’ve spent an eventful few days. Would you like to have a chat? I have a pot of tea on in my office if you’re interested.”
“Um, sure, okay.”
“Father, I’m going to go talk to Sister Mary Frances.” Avaline gave Zorah a reassuring smile. “I’ll be along shortly.”
“Zorah, are you comfortable being alone with me in my office?” Father Tarantino looked to Avaline with reproach.
“I’ll be okay,” Zorah said quietly while Avaline paled.
“I am so sorry, Zorah. I didn’t consider –”
“No, no. My experiences with priests have not been all bad, only the one I was related to.” She gave Avaline a smile, “I’ll be fine.”
Father Tarantino escorted her to her office with a nod to Avaline. In his office, in a gentlemanly fashion, pulled a chair out for her. He then busied himself making tea and setting a cup on a saucer for her. “I would offer you coffee, but I made Sister Mary Frances take the machine out. I was drinking so much caffeine I ended up with jitters. I was abusing the espresso machine and drinking it much too late in the day.”
She smiled at his easygoing personality. “I appreciate the tea. I was never big for coffee.”
“I was blessed to be sent a video of you singing in your church choir. You have a beautiful voice, Zorah.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Perhaps someday, you’ll feel comfortable to come here and sing in a service. No rush of course. We want you to feel safe and healed enough emotionally.” He took his seat behind his desk and sipped his tea giving a little smack of his lips and a sigh of satisfaction.
She sipped from her own cup and welcomed the burn of the hot tea.
“You endured a rough day yesterday. I will tell you now, anything you say to me here, I protect with the same vow as if we were in the confessional booth. Your words won’t leave this space.”
“Okay.”
“So, if you want to vent about the things you’ve seen, you know I will take your secrets to the grave.”
“Have you ever seen them kill someone?” she asked boldly.
“By them you mean the Lucchesi family?”
“Yes.” She nodded, the teacup clattering from her shaking hands as she set it back on the saucer.
“No. I have delivered last rites to many people of our parish and community, but I have not been involved in any of the bloodshed they are accused of.”
“I saw Icaro shoot someone yesterday. His anger scares me. This world is so different than what I am used to, and I’m scared, Father.”
“As you should be. Fear is what keeps people alive, Zorah.”
She was startled by his comment. “Really?”
“Yes. Fear, the little frisson which runs down your spine when you’re scared, the sixth sense people like to tout, is the way God has taught us to be wary of dangerous situations. It makes us take a step back, reevaluate, think of what the next steps in our lives should be. Fear isn’t anything to be ashamed of or embarrassed by.”
“I flaked out yesterday in the midst of all the chaos and everyone was angry with me.”
“I bet in retrospect, most of them are angry at themselves for forgetting themselves and not protecting you as they should. Tell me, how quiet was the flight from Rome?”
“Incredibly quiet. They were all angry at me.”
“Were they quiet due to anger or due to self-reflection.”
“I don’t know. The only one who actually apologized was Avaline, but I haven’t seen Dagoberto at all.”
“And Icaro?”
“He wanted to talk but I was so furious with him for his treatment of me.”
“How did he treat you?”
“He and Vodingo were going off about how I need to be tougher if I’m going to be the Lucchesi bride. I think they expect me to be Avaline. I barely know who I am. I don’t want to be someone else.”
“And you shouldn’t be.”
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