Penance

Friday, 27th September - 11:15
San Bernadino, California
 

Unruly teens snapped and howled at the back and forth banter filling the community centre. One threw a balled-up Capri Sun at a boy sitting across from him while two girls with large hoop earrings and scraped back hair cornered a goth. One gangly skinhead was etching illiteracy on the wall by the fire exit, and a trio of tattooed Latinos, their pants hanging faithfully low swayed from one foot to the other as they spoke in their native tongue on the other side of the room. The whole place was a fucking state again, and half of the junior thugs hadn’t even turned up yet despite it being over an hour past their sign-in time.

Almost out of his seat, a tanned authoritarian with enduringly tired-looking eyes parted full lips to reprimand the morons who had to be reminded every day of how to act like human beings, and not mentally damaged monkeys at the zoo. Before he could get his words out, or even smack his fist on the glass confining his cramped office, the door to his space was knocked on and opened without a prompt to do so.

“Ramírez, you have a visitor,” a stout man, five-five and pushing two hundred and fifty pounds, gestured over his shoulder as he would when any of the reprobates wanted a word. Quickly fixing his mistake, Ramírez’s colleague turned and apologized to the man behind him. “Sorry, Father.”

The man who had been shadowing the round employee entered the muggy office lined all-walls-around with filing cabinets. Straightening the front of his clerical shirt, the man in his late fifties inclined his head to the Hispanic man behind the desk. “It’s good to see you again, Father Ramírez.”

Hands reaching out to greet, Ramírez knocked a stack of folders off the edge of his overflowing desk. “Father Hannigan, what are you doing all the way out here?” Rounding the table, he pulled out a wooden chair for the aged man sweating bullets due to the heat-wave which had taken over the city, paying particular attention to the fish bowl trying to pass as an office. “Please, take a seat,” as he was saying that, he gestured to his colleagues congregating in the open-plan kitchen area off to the left.

“No matter where you go, you always like to load your plate, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I have a lifetime of repentance to exact.”

“Nonsense, boy.” Hannigan took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his brow as he wafted his free hand. “You worked off your sins a long time ago, no matter what people like to say.”

“It’s kind of you to say, but even if I had a dozen lives, I don’t think I’d be able to make up for what I’ve done.”

“You know, Mateo, not everything you happen to be involved with is your fault. Regardless of how much time or effort, or whether the outcome is good or bad, you can’t be so vain as to think the end result is solely down to you.”

“I wish it felt that way.” A rap on the door paused the conversation and a petite woman in her mid-thirties stumbled in holding a tray of tea, a glass of water and a small saucer of assorted biscuits.

“Uoah-I’m sorry, Father.” She teetered to the side, away from the greyed man in minimal clerical-wear. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I brought a selection. I hope this is okay.”

Looking up at the woman well-worn past her age, her frumpy blouse and bad ‘mid-30’s stay-at-home-mom’ dye-job adding an extra ten years, the guest nodded with a smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Giggling upon receiving the reaction, the ‘tea maid’ fiddled with her hands. “We don’t have much here, but you’re welcome-”

“Miss Jones…” Ramírez gave her a look he had to give her one too many times a week. The woman would always get caught up when it came to-

“I’m sorry, you just don’t get to see a priest every day now, do you?”

Ramírez quirked his brow and Hannigan laughed at the remark. “You do know that Mateo was a Priest for over twenty years, don’t you?”

Jones glanced to the man she worked with. Her brows narrowed. She recalled how he treat the delinquents under their care on a daily basis, and how he had beat up the father of one boy who had tried to make off with the fridge-freezer and its contents when his parents called Ramírez and the other members of staff liars. Jones had also taken particular attention of the fact the Puerto Rican had an array of tattoos during the time he had worn a tank top when he was helping to fix the roof last summer. As faded as the ink had been, she knew what Hispanic gang tattoos looked like, being previously engaged to the kind of man she had been.

“It’s not the same if he’s not wearing the uniform,” she said just as the two girls dragged the goth past the open door.

“Hahaha, Jones is into role-play!” One of them shrieked and the other barked an obnoxious laugh, quickly followed by the rest of the teen criminals joining in when the words echoed throughout the sweat-stinking concrete hut.

“This is an office, not a corner; go and loiter somewhere else,” Ramírez told and Jones scuttled out of the confined space, knocking the bitchy pair out of the way as she went. “Shut the door,” he gestured to the barrier with his mouth munching half of a cookie. “Idiots…”

Lightly snorting, Hannigan sipped his tea. “You really haven’t changed much in all the time I’ve known you, kid.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The last I heard, you were stationed two States over and well on your way to retirement-”

“-Are you keeping tabs on me-”

“-Twenty five years ago, we were on opposite sides of this same kind of table.”

“Do you really think there was such a little gap? Don’t forget you had your wrists in metal when you were their age, Mateo.”

“How can I forget it after everything that’s happened?”

“The church needs you back.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” The aged man across from him wore an expression which said the statement was anything but. “Loads of kids are trying to join the church these days, what with their peace-keeping, and greener world escapades. Why can’t they just pick someone begging for a chance to impress the higher-ups?”

“Because the higher-ups want the best back.”

“You were always good with your words, Father, but don’t try to use that line of bull to make me feel something that isn’t there.”

“Regardless of how you feel for those who run things, you still believe in God, don’t you?”

As if he’d had the scolding tea thrown in his face, Ramírez retracted further into his chair and placed his hands on the edge of the desk. “It makes me sad that you have to ask me that. I have never stopped believing.”

“Good,” rooting through his briefcase, Hannigan handed over an unmistakable letter, “because that’s exactly what is needed right now.”

Having no choice but to accept the letter, the distinct beige parchment in his fingers bringing back memories he hoped he had scrubbed away a long time ago, Ramírez glared at the old fashioned crimson wax seal. It was almost like a bad joke. Or a movie cliché. No, it must definitely be a bad joke.

“Open it.”

Against his better judgement, and knowing once he had done so it could not be taken back, Ramírez did as he was told. Unpeeling the wax and opening the flap which was surprisingly weighted, pale hazel eyes scanned the words in handwritten cursive. A few seconds passed and he pressed the letter to his desk, his broad hand keeping it flat amongst the strewn documents and toppled folders as if prying eyes could secretly be peering out from the walls and fixtures. “Do you know what’s written in here?”

“Not word for word, but I do know a little of the situation.”

“Is that why they sent you?” Looking up from the unintentionally hunched position which had taken him over, Ramírez examined the man he had known more of his life than not. Regardless of his harsh facial structure, Hannigan often looked like a cat that had indulged in cream in front of a warm fire, his expression soft and smug.

“I was in the area - I’m picking out a retirement home.”

“Don’t lie to me; you were always going on about retiring to Rome. Downtown L.A. is not even remotely close to Rome, in distance, culture, nor environment.”

“What do you want me to say? The Church is getting backed into a corner all roads around and they don’t like it.” Patting his forehead with his handkercheif, Hannigan sucked in a long breath. “They really don’t like it, Mateo, and you know what happens when they feel threatened. Isn’t it better for everyone’s sake if you just accept their offer?”

“I can’t go into that again.”

“What happened to repenting for your sins?”

“This is different.”

“Really, because as far as I see it, it’s the closest to the original issue as you’re going to get.”

“How could I go back to doing that? How could I look her in the eye and ask for her help after what I let happen?”

“I can’t see her being too angry; she hasn’t seen anyone besides the same doctor and guards for the past three years.”

Glancing around the shoddy space set like a prison guard tower in the middle of the community centre which was situated in one of the worst crime area’s in the State, Hannigan took note of the man’s habitual need for having everything out and to-hand. And the half-assed printed out certificates stating feeble qualifications which any moron with a hundred logged hours of study under his belt could obtain. One must have been a moron to want to be a probation officer in San Bernadino: the hours would be too long and thankless, and the wage drastically lacking considering the city’s rank on the State’s income and crime list.

“You probably won’t know this, but she has escaped a handful of times.” He continued to examine the stuffy space reeking of puberty, own-brand Walmart coffee, and cheap cologne, his cadence turning sing-song, “The first time, when they realized that she wasn’t in her cell, they organized a unit to look for her only to find her back before they’d mobilized. What does that say to you?” Ramírez kept his mouth shut but the older man could read his body language like a Latin Epic. “She's a well-trained lapdog regardless of sloppy house-keeping.” Shifting, exchanging one leg to cross the other, Hannigan kept the corners of his lips taut. “How long that will last when she finds out you’re close is anybody’s guess. The point of the matter is, you should probably go to her before she decides to find you in whatever hut your sleeping in these days. Unless, of course, you should find no reason whatsoever that she’ll hurt you…”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but it sounds outlandish.”

“Fine,” huffing, the older man shook his head with his lids shut, “you’re not bound by your vows any more, Mateo, but don’t try to play coy that there was no relationship at all between the two of you.”

Pulling his chin in, a look of tasting something sour morphed his face, his upper torso pulling back and straightening. “She was the daughter of two of my parishioners. She skipped services more often than not, but she always did take part in charity bake-sales and helped work her mother’s shooting gallery at carnivals. Besides what happened during that incident, I hardly knew her. Aside from that, she was a child.”

Right brow flickering, the small tug of a fractionate smirk didn’t reach Hannigan’s eyes. A clear tell that he was done with that line of talk. “Even if you don’t want to take the job, perhaps you should use the hospital pass to see her before the higher-ups decide to use her against her will.”

Ramírez opened his desk drawer and took a carton of cigarettes from inside, his attention focused on his task. “She was seventeen the last time I saw her and four priests performing an exorcism in tandem couldn’t stop her from snapping full-grown men into little bits and laughing as she dangled their innards as if she was playing puppet master.”

“But she spared you.”

“Don’t say that so lightly.” His brows furrows and his jaw pulsed.

He was fine with Hannigan turning up there, even if it was under false pretences; and he could even learn to deal with his former employers trying to drag him back in order to fix their mess just because they had been struck by a whim. But they hadn’t been there, at that time, with her. Nobody from that time was alive any more besides himself and the female in question. She wasn’t in that office right now, and he didn’t want to get into it all over again, but he wouldn’t have people throw around words when they had no clue about what had happened back then, no matter how good of a friend they had been over the years.

“I watched her go from mildly agitated and having mood-swings, to vomiting insects and frogs, her skin blistering and carved from the inside out, and talking in tongues within a nine-month period.” Taking a deep breath on the smouldering cigarette between his calloused fingers, the probation officer stared at his empty coffee mug. “I would sleep in the same room as her and awake to her screaming because of lashes on her back even though she was tied down.”

“The church said there was no demonic possession.”

“Then, explain to me how she knew of my mother’s parents, and about the Archbishop brought from Rome before he had even knocked on her front door.”

“Further scientific research on her has concluded she is exceptionally bright. Even though she never finished high school, she completed the standard tests 20% faster than the majority of students who had studied. She has an IQ of 146 at seventeen - She could have easily caught cues from you and those around her.”

“That was my immediate thought - I was also sceptical of the claims before I got there. However, when a seventeen year old girl can overpower four grown men, and know things that could not possibly be know, it's unlikely that it’s a con. I mean, over the period I was there, she had spoken in twelve languages. Even gifted polyglots are rarely that good; one of them a dialect only spoken in a small village of Romania in the early 1600’s - it took four linguistic specialists to even find out what it was, let alone what she was saying.” Ramírez held his head in his hands, a hefty sigh escaping him as his mind wandered back to that time of his life. “It was no surprise that neither of her parents spoke Ancient Romanian; her mother was an immigrant from England who came from a family of farmers, and her father was a Midwest native who had never gone further than two States in any direction. Even her sister's weren't smart enough to feed her that kind of information.”

“They’re subjective-”

“-Seven people saw her levitate upright on more than one occasion. As soon as we started performing Rituale Romanum, she was thrust up to the ceiling, completely cracking the plaster and breaking a support rafter. She didn’t gain a scratch; the others reading were seriously injured. Father Gallo flew out of the window, for fuck’s sake.”

“There was no video nor audio of the sessions. Nothing conclusive, that is.”

“I gave what was left of the tapes to the inspectors, both those from the police and the papacy. I re-did the sessions several times to get clearer readings - the second time, I told the family to get rid of all electrical devices from the house. By the sixth time, we took her to the barn just to make sure it wasn’t interference. I hired independent cameramen, and even sent in people undercover to find out if there were discrepancies due to the family.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were the only one spared from the wrath of this so-called demon.”

Furrowing his brows and sitting back in his chair, Ramírez exhaled a long breath of smoke from his nose. “Is that why you’re really here? Are you trying to find some kind of inconsistency in my report after all this time?”

“It’s not. I came here to deliver the letter and make you you read it.” Sipping his tea, the older man gave a gentle shrug. “I’m really glad I got to be the one they asked to come here. I have missed you.” Placing his cup down, Hannigan swiped the cotton cloth over his forehead and around the back of his neck. “It’s been a long time since we could sit together without having anyone interfere.”

“Fathe-”

“How long are you going to keep that up? We’re not being audited. You’re excommunicated, and I’m on the verge of retirement. Can’t we talk to each other like normal men?”

“Yet, you still come here with the intention of convincing me to take a job you know will end badly no matter which way it falls.”

“I’m thinking of you, Mateo. You’re fifty two, you’ve gone from cartel Captain to esteemed Catholic Priest, to what? You’ve done your stint in the army, and have been a missionary in half a dozen third world countries. What is this that you actually do now? Human-zoo keeper? You watch the dregs of society day-in-day-out, and make them cross off daily activities like mentally challenged, emotionally stunted children?” Sitting up straight, Hannigan’s tone hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought it was a place I’d never be found.”

“Bullshit.” The greyed man spat the curse and shook his head once, jabbing his finger at the space between them. “A mess like these little shits? It’s the first place they’d know to look - you just can’t leave chaos alone.”

“Is the letter real?”

The man’s attitude flipped one-eighty as his shrugged his shoulder, a small ‘pft’ passing his lips as he did so. “No one else has that kind of stationery.”

Ramírez rolled his eyes at the real attitude of the man across from him. “I mean the contents.”

“Unfortunately, the claims of possession have ballooned by around two hundred percent in the last quarter.”

“And they can’t find anyone else to deal with the previous accounts in all of that time?”

“You didn’t hear it from me but, but of all of those cases found substantial….You’re one of the few who worked them that are still alive. I was at the Vatican last Fall and an old friend told me in confidence that there were only around a dozen or so with experience in such matters still in play here in the States.”

Leaning forward in his seat, Ramírez’s brows knitted closer as his voice lowered. “So there were more?”

“You should understand that the church doesn’t want this kind of thing to get out.”

“You made her look mad, and me seem crazy.” Features screwing up, Ramírez gnashed at the air. “You took away our reputations and fucked us.”

“I think you should calm down, son.”

“Don’t talk to me like some fucking acolyte hanging onto your robe strings, Harold.” His words came out fast, the fastest he’d spoke in a long time. And venomous. His tongue burned at the way it had spoken to his oldest acquaintance the way it had, but half of his brain was working on deciphering the real reason behind the drop-in while the other directed his body to convert his internal issues into something more manageable. “You were supposed to be my friend but you’ve come here to load me with the dirty work of the place that threw me away even though I once called my home.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Mateo.” Unperturbed by the flare in the younger man’s true character, by the dangerous glint in the eyes which effortlessly beguiled women into sin, or at least thinking about it, Hannigan barely raised his sparse brows with closed eyes. “It was one bad job, and yes, the higher-ups dealt with it sternly but, this could be your chance to get back in their good graces.”

Expression dropping into neutral, the employee chewed his teeth. “You’re lucky I found this place instead of going back to what I used to be good at. I came here and started to teach people with issues to take a breath and step back before losing their temper. When you met me, I wouldn’t have been able to to that.” Standing up, Ramírez’s knuckles whitened under pressure. “I think you should leave.”

Following the probation officer to his feet, the man in a clerical dress collected his belongings. “Does that mean that you’re going t-”

Shadowing the guest out of the office, Ramírez practically urged the frocked man towards the open double doors. “I hope you enjoy your retirement, Father Hannigan.” Watching him cross the cracked concrete and get into the same model of Towncar sent by the Vatican, the tanned man turned around in a huff without waiting to see it drive away.

“I didn’t know you were a Priest, Matty~” One of his charges sung as she followed him across the communal space.

“Don’t call me that.” Without averting his gaze from where he was going, Ramírez snapped at the teen in revealing clothes. “Go and learn to hop-scotch, or sing Barbie Girl; you’re a child.” Blustering into his office, he slammed the door behind him, causing the glass panes to shudder in threat and the shutter blind it to become half-unstuck from its bracket.

Scoffing at the harsh brush-off, the girl flicked her hair over her shoulder with a snarl. “Priest my fucking ass.”

A beat didn’t pass before there was a light tapping on the office door. A creak followed and soon enough, the man who had seen Father Hannigan in cautiously stuck his head around the barrier. “Is everything okay?”

If the snap in temper hadn’t given it away, the fact Ramírez was locking up the papers he kept strewn on purpose into the filing cabinets was but the start of many clues that he was not okay. Chest heaving and jaw pulsing, the tall employee thundered around the space slamming drawers and grumbling in his native language. Crouched down behind his desk, he took something from the cupboard compartment and thrust it into his work bag before his company could get a glimpse of what it was. “I’m going to have to take a couple of personal days, Ray.”

A little more confident that the reformed criminal-turned-man of the cloth wasn’t going to throw him through the glass, the stout man opened the door enough to stand at the threshold. “Before you go, you’ll have to sign some paperwo-” he paused when Ramírez glanced up, a dangerous cast covering his face. “You know what, don’t worry about it; I’ll take care of it.” He shook his upheld hands and back-tracked at the imposing man stood up and marched towards him.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he handed over a stack of papers as he passed. “That’s my Con list. I’ve highlighted the names of those who should be coming by in the time I’m gone.” Dropping a key into Ray’s hand, he strode for the main exit, his colleague waddling to keep up. “That’s for the cabinet with the files you’ll need.” Ray opened his mouth to ask something but he was cut off before the first syllable could be formed. “I shouldn’t be gone too long, a week at most, if everything goes well.” He opened the door to an old navy Prius with a dented scrape down the driver’s side and threw his bag onto the passenger seat.

Unable to verbally produce a legitimate question for the perpetually moody man, Ray simply said “Drive safely,” as Ramírez got into his car and drove away, doing just the opposite. Stood in the literal dust kicked up by back tires spinning out, the round employee swiped at the grit stuck to his sweaty skin. And then, under the vicious California sun beating down, Ray remembered something of the utmost importance. “Ah, shit!” Realization setting in, he kicked the wire trash can cemented to the floor only to yowl when it bit back. “Mary! Mar-argh, fuck-Mary, get the ice! Goddamn it…” Hobbling on one foot, Ray fell to the dusty ground and rolled around like a Weeble.

Updated: 12th January 2020 - 16:00