Richard Halerman sat with folded hands and closed eyes. The priest stood at the pulpit, chanting a verse in Latin.
“Amen” Richard mumbled with the rest of the people in the church after the prayer was finished. As he stood to leave, Father Alman cleared his throat, and the congregation sat down.
“Do not forget, next Sunday is confession,” Father Alman said. The congregation murmured anxiously, and Richard took in a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes. A lump formed in his throat. “Settle down, everyone,” Father instructed. “Do you forget that only the ears of God will hear?” Everybody sat silent, but the same thought ran through all their minds. “God uses my ears as His own,” he reminded them. The congregation nodded, and silence followed. “Very well then,” Father Alman said after a moment. “See you next Sunday. God be with you.”
Richard’s hands were balled into fists in his pockets, nervously clenching and unclenching, damp with sweat. He bit his lip, and cringed slightly at the toll of the church bells as everybody slowly walked to their small homes in Tubridge County. He could hear the excited chatter; discussions on plans of what to do on a warm Sunday afternoon in the middle of May. The word stung his mind.
Confession.
“What do I do?” Richard whined, shaking with angst. He had to confess. Richard knew he had to confess, and he wanted to. He was just afraid. What would God think of him? But God already knew, didn’t he? “What about Father Alman? Surely he’ll tell!” But Richard knew that wasn’t true. Father Alman was bound to keep their secrets, no matter how horrid. ‘All sins are the same in God’s eyes,’ Father Alman once told them.
With that comforting thought, Richard straightened his back and quickened his pace home.
“Richard?” A voice called, as he pulled the door open. A slender woman waltzed to the door. “I still don’t see why you go to church…” The woman complained, while Richard hung up his jacket.
“You’re the only one in town who doesn’t go…” he replied. “And by the way, I like going to church.”
“Can’t imagine why,” She wondered, and Richard rolled his eyes, turning to face her.
“Alma…” he groaned. “Please… not here, not now.”
“Oh? Why?” She asked, her lips pursed. Richard slowly lifted a hand and ran his fingers gently down her cheek. Alma blushed, and leaned in, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“After dinner,” She whispered, her lips lingering by his ear. With a frown of disappointment, Richard followed Alma into the small dining room, where two plates and countless dishes sat on the small table, waiting to be cleared of their food. Richard licked his lips and sat in his chair, waiting for Alma to bring in the last dish.
As she sat down, Richard folded his hand, and bowed his head.
“Dear Lord Jesus and God in Heaven, I thank You for the food on the table, and that Alma and I may share another meal together. I rejoice, for next Sunday I can clear my conscious in confession.”
Confession.
“Confession…” Richard began to shake.
“Richard?”
“Amen.” He finished quickly, and wiped sweat from his brow.
“Darling, are you ok?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Let us fill our stomachs.” Alma gave him a curious look, then nodded, and took a few slices of cold meat onto her plate, as well as a Kaiser roll and some vegetables. Richard piled his own plate generously, though his mind was far from food.
Confession.
I can’t do it, Richard thought, his mind buzzing. I won’t do it. I don’t care if nobody else will know. I won’t do it. I can’t!
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