Matter of Trust Read Free

had voiced it.
    â€˜That was a long time ago,’ he said.
    â€˜I know. But as far as I am concerned, love is love, and I haven’t had enough of it in my pathetic excuse for a life to reject it, however it comes.I believe you still love me – not in the same way that you used to – but there is love there, just the same. And that’s why I am here, because besides you and our old friend in Boston, I have no-one else to ask.’
    The priest sat there – silent, unmoving – the shadow of his friend’s perfect profile cast against the thin screen that separated them.
    â€˜Please, Father,’ she said, before referring to him again – this time using his given name – effectively stripping him of the comfort of detachment the religious robes offered, and leaving him vulnerable, bare. ‘I need to know what you think I should do. I have been smart enough to make one decision in regards to this, and that is that whatever you say, I’ll follow.’
    â€˜That’s not what priests are for, Marilyn.’
    â€˜Of course not,’ she said, not needing to explain that the role of an old friend was different.
    â€˜Tell them to go fuck themselves,’ he said then, knowing there was no other way to say it.
    â€˜You think I should throw away a hundred thousand dollars for the sake of my pride?’
    â€˜I think you threw away a lot more than that, years ago, when you decided that being in his life was more important than
being
in his life.’
    â€˜You’re calling me foolish,’ she said.
    â€˜I’m calling you courageous.’
    She nodded. ‘You’re right, Father. The money can sit forever on my living room dresser for all I care. What do I need with a hundred grand in any case? I already have that Park Avenue penthouse he puts me up in,’ she said, her tongue firmly in her cheek. ‘Even if I am talking 5 Park Avenue, Newark, not Manhattan.’
    â€˜He doesn’t own you, Marilyn, never has. But if you take the money . . . they will.’
    She nodded again, before leaning into the screen one more time.
    â€˜I love you, Father,’ she said. ‘Always have, always will.’
    And despite himself he answered, ‘Me too, Marilyn. Me too.’

2
    Boston, Massachusetts; nine days later
    â€˜T his was a really bad idea,’ said David Cavanaugh as he crawled out from underneath the scrum and picked himself up off the snow. ‘I’ve lost all feeling in my entire body, which might explain why I keep dropping the goddamned ball. Sorry guys.’
    â€˜No problem,’ said his team mate and fellow Boston College Law School grad Tony Bishop, hanging his head and placing his hands on his thighs in an effort to catch his breath. ‘That lack of feeling might explain why you haven’t complained about the gash on your right cheek, which is going to need at least eight stitches by the way.’
    â€˜Great,’ said David, touching his cheek to feel the gaping cut just below his right eye. ‘At least I can take a dive on the anaesthetic. At this point, I don’t think I’d feel it if they operated with a chainsaw.’ He grabbed Bishop by the arm and dragged him toward the ref who was calling for a line-out ten yards into the opposition’s half.
    â€˜I always knew you were one of those “grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it” men, DC,’ grinned Bishop.
    And David could not help but return the smile, as he slapped his friend on the back and glanced toward the sideline where his wife and babydaughter were waving in encouragement.
    It was early January and the boys from BC and Northeastern were undertaking their annual ritual of insanity which included a New Year get-together on the BC rugby field. The official old boys’ season did not start until April, but this midwinter match had become something of a tradition – a sort of