It was 1 of em old churches. I could hear each step I took on stone steps. Looked down, it was a bunch of different shapes mortared together. Someone on their hands and knees spent a lot of time putting it together. Stone everywhere, lot of it smoothed down over the years.
Inside, big stained glass windows, all the stations of the cross. The old pews, scratched wood, but none of them kneeling brackets, no cushions on the seats. You came here, you were uncomfortable, you came to worship God almighty.
Up front near a table full of lit candles, a nun kept praying in front of the crucifix, whispering just loud enough I couldn't understand what she was praying for. Looked around, she was the only person anywhere nearby, except maybe in the confessional.
Walked inside the confessional, shut the door. A screen slid open. I asked the shadowy father on the other side for forgiveness. It'd been at least 6 or 7 months since the last time I confessed. Figured it wasn't too necessary, cause I beat myself up over them sins. Mostly fighting and drinking, not too bad in terms of the big sins. Felt like I'd done enough of both for a lifetime. Kinda felt lost in there.
He told me to do 15 rosaries and 15 Hale Maries for penance. Then I asked him if he talked to anyone just now, like the guy came in before me. Real simple, real slow voice, he told me whatever the guy said was between him and God almighty.
Slipped out of the confessional. Nun was still praying up front when she made the sign of the cross. She stood up, turned back, smiled at me. Little older, cheeks starting to sag, thin lips made for praying, but green eyes real clear.
I walked up to the nun, asked her how she was doing. She said she was fine, smiled back at me. I asked about Viktor, and she showed a small smile. Sister Tasha, she said he'd come by once a week. Never had time for church on Sundays, so he came on Wednesdays. Still counted, cause it was more than most slobs did, like me.
We sat down in the front pew, staring up at the pale Jesus. Real nice paint job, crown of thorns and blood trickling down his face. I asked what Viktor did for those Wednesdays, and she said they'd pray and talk, and then he'd confess his sins in the confessional. All she knew was that he was trying to make things better, said he was trying to do better. She said she was kinda proud of what he'd become, how he'd never forgotten her after all these years.
Told her I was investigating him, that any help she could give would help me. Thing is, she didn't have anything to say but good.
I asked her how long she'd known him, and she said they grew up together. Crunched my fedora in my hand, asked who she was. She told me Viktor was her brother.
Kept asking questions, but it was pointless. Really stuck up for him. Didn't know about much besides God almighty and what Viktor would tell her. It was obvious, when I mentioned his business, she sighed, looked at the ground, said she wished she could go out more. Said occasionally, she just wanted to see the world.
I asked her if she missed speculator life [Secular life. -Dara]. She said every once and a while, but this was all she'd known since she was 16.
Asked why she ended up here so young, what happened in school. Sister Tanya looked up at the crucifix again, crossed her hands in her lap. High school was a different lifetime. She was different. Got pregnant, and her parents forced her here.
She turned back to me, smiled faint like she was tired of thinking about all that. She was just a wide eyed girl then, and he was the star point guard on the basketball team. Sister Tanya rubbed a bead on her rosary, wondered whatever happened to George.
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