VENERATING<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 BY<\/strong><\/p>\n TIMOTHY HERRICK<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0Copyright 1999\u00a0 held by author<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong>That morning, Steve\u2019s wife, Natalie, already dressed in her typical wall street get up of blue blazer, knee-length, dark plaid skirt and white blouse, sticks her head in the bathroom while Steve dries himself off from the shower. She tells him she will be home late.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He dresses quickly, chinos, denim shirt, paisley tie and tweed jacket. He\u2019s an editor of trade magazines. Two of them. The piping Industry. One is a news tabloid which covers changes in the business side of the industry, the other\u2019s a technical journal which covers developments in piping technology. Natalie, a stock broker, gets to work at eight and he gets to work around nine. She rarely leaves work before seven, Steve rarely has to stay past five.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 In the kitchen, he drinks coffee and reads a few pages of The City of God by Saint Augustine. It\u2019s an old hard back he bought in a used bookstore. He has what he says is a religious, spiritual, philosophical reading bent\u2014except for sincere dabbling in the Zohar and Pilgrim\u2019s Progress, it\u2019s almost exclusively Roman Catholic. Last week he finished The Oblate by J.K. Huysman.\u00a0 He even attends Mass, but not every Sunday. Contemplating Catholicism is something besides piping to stimulate his intellect. Everything else about it, he\u2019s able to ignore. The Augustine reminds him of philosophy courses in college\u2014a pleasant way he feels to start his day.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Muddy leaps to the counter and hisses at him, fangs bared. Steve looks up from the page. Muddy snaps his jaws like an alligator. He\u2019s brown with spots of white and a piece of his ear was ripped off. The cat hates everybody, except Natalie. He\u2019s the nastiest house pet in America. He\u2019s worse than the zombie cat in that movie Pet Semetary. Natalie rescued him from the alley behind her old apartment. He\u2019s an old tom whose claws were removed. To compensate for this loss in defenses, he is prone to biting and hisses more than he meows.\u00a0 He\u2019s never liked Steve, but that\u2019s fine, since Steve has never liked Muddy, and has never liked cats, really. He gives the cat the finger, and listens to its enraged howl as he locks the door and\u00a0 heads to the elevator.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 That afternoon he takes a long lunch. He browses in a bookstore. He is in the mystery section. He\u2019s thinking that some pulpy noir might be a nice break from the religious stuff he\u2019s been feeding his brain. As he scans the titles on the lower shelf,\u00a0 from Jim Thompson to Cornel Woolrich, somebody approaches him. He sees a woman\u2019s slender\u00a0 legs.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSteve,\u201d she says. He knows her voice immediately. For a moment the years, the resentment, the anguish doesn\u2019t exist and he smiles and Theresa smiles back. But as he straightens his back, his face slackens into a frown.The truth always returns. After a four year relationship, only a month after his father\u2019s death, she said she was moving to California with another boyfriend. He was devastated. He contemplated suicide. Instead, he went to a shrink and got his life together. Tried to forget about being in love, about the long sexual marathons they shared and the agonizing loneliness that plagued him for months and months.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He still thought about her. At times, it required effort not to, even though he feels he loves his wife.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The last time they saw each other was\u00a0 when she said goodbye.<\/p>\n She is wearing a leather mini-skirt and black stockings and a\u00a0 long gray cotton sweater,\u00a0 with a black and white enamel ying\/yang pin near the collar. Her hair is black and short\u2014it fell below her shoulders last time\u2014and she still favored bright red lipstick, like she just kissed a freshly painted fire engine. He looks into her obsidian eyes, and remembers how they used to glow even at night, like two shiny black almonds shadows couldn\u2019t hide. Whether she was whispering I want you inside me or declaring I don\u2019t want to marry you, I want more out of life, their glint didn\u2019t alter.<\/p>\n She says, \u201cYou look good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He doesn\u2019t respond. Sweat\u00a0 seems to slither out of every pore on his forehead. She points at the shelf of\u00a0 books and says, \u201cdoing noir now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cCan\u2019t be reading theology all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 She nods. There\u2019s another long pause. She says, \u201cI better get back. It\u2019s good to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He says nothing.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cCan I call you,\u201d she stammers, her voice quiet. \u201cI still remember the office number.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sure you do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 She touches his arm, \u201cSteve, you know I\u2019m sorry about what happened, I have felt bad, it hasn\u2019t been easy for me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s always about you,\u201d he replies, backing away.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Her mouth trembles. He remembers right then kissing that mouth and when he was kissing it thinking his life made sense only to have the same mouth deliver words he still hears when his wife\u2019s asleep and he has insomnia and can\u2019t quite fight off the dread. She rubs her dark eyes, then reaches into her designer leather pocket book and pulls out a pair of sunglasses and puts them on. They\u2019re cat eye shapes,\u00a0 leopard print plastic. She stifles a sob.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cCall me if you must,\u2019 he says then turns around and walks swiftly out of the store, resisting all urges to look back.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 That night, he goes to Mass. He doesn\u2019t know why he wants to. Better than getting drunk he rationalizes. He didn\u2019t get much work done for the rest of the afternoon. He wants to stop replaying the past. But nothing seems to prevent it. He needs to divert his thoughts.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 There\u2019s a small sign on the door of the church: Tuesday Night, devotion to Saint Anthony Du Puda. He\u2019s not sure what this is, but goes in anyway. There are old people there, some with rosaries in their hands. He\u2019s the only one without memories of World War II.<\/p>\n Natalie doesn\u2019t have the patience for church, but doesn\u2019t mind that he goes. Not always, but often, he goes to Sunday morning Mass and comes back with bagels, newspapers and gourmet coffee. She\u2019ll go on Christmas with him, makes her feel the spirit of the season she says, but otherwise, she has no interest. Her parents are divorced. Her father was Methodist, but never inflicted this on his children and her mother, despite a Catholic upbringing, taught yoga and meditation, threw the I Ching. She was intent on instilling in Natalie a different value system.<\/p>\n The ceiling above the altar curves like a dome, and is covered by a painting of Mary, mother of Jesus, blessed virgin. She\u2019s depicted as queen of heaven. She wears a gold jeweled crown over the veil on her head, which is encircled by a gold halo. Her face is serene, smooth, feminine There are golden curls popping out of the side of her veil. Angels hover holding a rosary made out of roses around her waist. A snake, it\u2019s skull crushed, is coiled under her foot.<\/p>\n There\u2019s only about a dozen or so people in the church, all sitting in the pews close to the altar. Steve is towards the back. He notices an old man, but the rest are women\u00a0 It\u2019s a parish of widows. The priest is from their generation. He\u2019s slightly stooped, the green vestment drapes from his shoulders like a flag on a skeleton. He folds his hands over his chest. His elbows shake and his voice seems to wheeze out the words, \u201cI confess to Almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters, that I\u2019ve sinned through my own fault…\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The routine of reciting the prayers he\u2019s known since childhood and following the Simon Says responses of kneeling, sitting and standing at the appointed times,\u00a0 begins to disperse the anxiety lingering from his run in with Theresa. The ritual of the Mass, the litanies, the petitions, the consecration, the Our Father and the kiss of peace, always the same. You could depend on Mass.<\/p>\n He\u2019s not even sure if he believes in a personal god, much less the resurrection of Jesus Christ and His presence in the transubstantiated host. He\u2019s not even sure he is really praying when he is kneeling, with his eyes closed, after communion. Is he begging for guidance? Giving thanks that he is not poor and homeless or sick and dying? Or praying that the people he\u2019s known who have died are in heaven? Those notions may flash through his thoughts for a few seconds but eventually he is thinking not about God or spiritual issues, just boring life stuff. What should he do about dinner?<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The priest stands and so does Steve.\u00a0 But the women and the man remain kneeling. The priest announces: turn to page two of the prayer book. The priest and the congregation begin reading out loud: \u201cOh Holy Saint Anthony, gentlest of saints, your love for God and charity for His creatures made you worthy, during your time on earth, to possess miraculous powers.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Steve kneels and reads along.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMiracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety. Encouraged by this thought, I implore you to obtain for me (make silent petition.)\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 When he gets to the parenthetical Make Silent Petition, for nearly a minute, the congregation is quiet, not even a murmur.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then the priest continues, \u201cThe answer to my prayer may require a miracle; even so, you are the saint of miracles. O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of Jesus Christ, who was forever with you. And my gratitude will be forever yours, amen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then the Priest says, \u201cSaint Anthony.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The people resound: \u201cIntercede for us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Priest: \u201cSaint Anthony.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 People:\u00a0 \u201cPray for us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The priest picks up a gold crucifix that is in the corner of the altar. Steve hadn\u2019t noticed it before.\u00a0 Sculpted gold light rays shoot out from the center of the crucifix, in which is a glass circle. Then he remembers what the object is called: a reliquary<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The priest holds the reliquary and a small\u00a0 white cloth and stands at the foot of the altar. The women mosey out of the pews and in single file go up to the reliquary, and kiss the center. After each kiss, the priest wipes it with the cloth.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Steve gets in line, behind the old man, who walks with a cane.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The priest gives Steve a warm smile. Steve leans his head forward, touching the cross with his forehead and nose but his lips don\u2019t actually make contact with the glass center. He crosses himself then turns and walks out of the church. The old man is by the doors, talking with one of the women. Steve asks him, \u201cwhat was that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He says solemnly, \u201cit\u2019s the relic of saint Anthony. We venerate the relic every Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Steve thanks him. He feels good. It was so completely medieval, Huysman would have loved it. They didn\u2019t venerate any relics during Steve\u2019s Catholic childhood in suburbia.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 This has to be good luck, he thinks. Then he calls home from a pay phone and tells Natalie he will pick up dinner and asks her to check if they have olive oil.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He stops at the grocery store and buys the most expensive, extra virgin brand with an unpronounceable Italian\u00a0 name they carry, as well as fresh broccoli, pasta, garlic, boneless chicken breasts and a loaf of Italian bread.\u00a0 He stops at the liquor store for white wine.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cGoing to Mass on the weekdays and it\u2019s not even lent,\u201d jokes Natalie, who had changed into her comfortable sweat suit. She hugs him hello. \u201cAre you praying for our marriage?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He slips his hand up under her sweatshirt and caresses her breast. \u201cGive me some sin and I won\u2019t need to pray at all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 She laughs, \u201clet\u2019s see how good this dinner is first. I\u2019ll open the wine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 When he has the water in the pot and the pot on the stove, he goes to the CD player, choose The Best of Jim Carroll and then begins to chop up the garlic.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Muddy leaps to the counter, issues a viscous squeal.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cGet down,\u201d he shouts. Muddy nips at his hand.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThe guy\u2019s just hungry, put some dry food in his dish,\u201d says Natalie who is on the couch drinking her second glass of wine and reading Business Week.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHe\u2019s the only cat in the world who never purrs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Natalie says, \u201che purrs\u00a0 for me. Not too often, but he\u2019s been known to do it. The guy\u2019s had a hard life Steve, show some compassion.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Later, after they\u2019ve made love, Steve listens to Natalie fall asleep while he stares into the darkness. When Muddy jumps on the corner of the mattress, he kicks him off.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Theresa calls him the next day. \u201cIt was nice seeing you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, nice isn\u2019t the word I would use. Let\u2019s say, interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u00a0 can\u2019t live with you hating me, I think.\u201d He hears the sound of the plastic sunglasses being unfolded. Her voice cracks. \u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI only hate you because I loved you so much, Theresa.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 She clears her throat, then whispers. \u201cSo you are going to blame me for everything? Do you want to hate me forever?\u201d<\/p>\n He thinks about the answer, before whispering, \u201cProbably I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 That night he\u2019s looking through a book on Catholic Saints. There\u2019s a famous shrine of St. Anthony, a basilica in Puda, Italy. In 1263, 32 years after his death, while his flesh rotted, his tongue and vocal chords remained intact. Incorrupted.\u00a0 Pilgrimages are made to the Basilica of St. Anthony in Puda to see the incorrupted organs. The book also says that the bones of St., Anthony are \u201cvenerated as relics\u201d in churches all over the world.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhy are you reading about saints,\u201d asks Natalie.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cJust killing some time, better than TV,\u201d then he reads to her about the incorrupted tongue and vocal chords.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s disgusting,\u201d she says. \u201cMy grandparents prayed to Saint Anthony.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThey venerated him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t think so. When things were lost, they said pray to St. Anthony. They did it all the time. Dear St. Anthony, something is lost and cannot be found. They repeated it\u00a0 again and again. Dear St. Anthony, something is lost and cannot be found. Dear St. Anthony, something is lost and cannot be found. They used it like a mantra until they found what they lost.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid it work?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember it working. You never heard of that before?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m not sure it sounds familiar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThey did a lot of weird stuff those two.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then she picks up Muddy, who rubs his head against her chin.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSee, he\u2019s purring,\u201d she says, leaning towards Steve. The cat stops purring and hisses.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He sighs, puts the book down and says, \u201cI heard the Dow was up again today.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Theresa calls him every afternoon. They chat a bit longer each time. His hostility fades. She insists on getting together, for a drink. He agrees to do so next week, when\u00a0 Natalie is out of town on a business trip.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Tuesday night, his lips make contact with the glass. The glass is thin. As he glances at it, when he goes in for the kiss, he sees a tiny gray twig. It\u2019s the relic. It\u2019s the bone of a saint dead for nearly 800 years. He goes back to the pew afterwards, kneels with his eyes closed. He still doesn\u2019t know if he\u2019s really praying. He knows he should be thankful, so he says thanks but he is unable to formulate a request to this patron saint of miracles. Maybe just world peace, or good luck, or peace of mind. Eventually, a woman gently taps his shoulder, tells him they have to lock up the church<\/p>\n Outside, he slips his hands into his pockets and watches the blurry headlights of cars pass into the distance.<\/p>\n He meets Theresa in a bar after work. The place has a restaurant in back. In the bar area, there\u2019s a long cushioned bench along the wall, with very small tables, barely big enough for drinks and appetizers, and chairs. The chairs are black metal. The tables are black metal. The bar is trimmed in black metal. Everything else is dark brown, wood. He sits on the bench and she sits in the chair and a waitress comes over right away. Steve orders a beer and Theresa, after inquiring about what sort of wine by the glass they offer, settles on a burgundy.<\/p>\n They clink their glasses together. After the sip, he jokes, \u201cwell, this is nice, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n He laughs out loud, waves the waitress back over. \u201cBring me a Bushmill straight up.\u201d Then he looks into Theresa\u2019s eyes. \u201cI think I may need whiskey to get through this.\u201d<\/p>\n The waitress brings over the hard alcohol and he takes a healthy swig. There\u2019s music on, some kind of jazz. The volume is low. He says, \u201cLook, I\u2019m trying Theresa. I guess it\u2019s a good thing that we\u2019re here together right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0She nods, says, \u201cYou will find me much changed. I\u2019m a better person, I like to think.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hope so.\u201d<\/p>\n Her\u00a0 bright red lips tremble. The bottom one mostly. She sniffles, puts on her sunglasses. \u201cI\u2019m sorry Steve. You don\u2019t know how long I\u2019ve wanted to tell you that. I\u2019m just sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve said that before.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cForgive me please.\u201d She sobs briefly. Her knuckles tap the table top. Then she exhales, clears her throat. \u201cYou\u2019re the big Catholic, isn\u2019t forgiveness the big thing. That\u2019s what I was taught.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not fair,\u201d he says, then shakes his head, swallows the rest of the whiskey, waves at the waitress and points to the empty glass.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u201cI was a mess. I had a bad breakdown, I was on medication for a long time. I had to do detox twice.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hate cocaine,\u201d he sighs. \u201cDrugs can be fun for a little while, but in retrospect they\u2019re a waste of time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you never were as bad as me,\u201d She holds up her glass. \u201cI only drink wine now.\u201d<\/p>\n She takes out a cigarette, and he asks her for one. She holds the lighter for him.<\/p>\n They smoke for a few seconds. He\u2019s still angry. \u201cYou ripped my god damn heart out. It was like you didn\u2019t care about what we had gone through. I only slept with that friend of yours because you refused to break up with your other boyfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSteve, I was horrible. I admit it. I don\u2019t care about what happened with Stephanie, I really don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe were just high. One of those nights I guess.\u201d He feels tears in his eyes. He squints. \u201cWhy am I putting myself through this, I haven\u2019t even told my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI haven\u2019t told my husband. They wouldn\u2019t understand, would they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI suppose not.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI do cherish the times with you.\u201d She touches his hand. They look at this for a few long seconds, then he picks up his glass of beer.<\/p>\n \u201cI suppose that\u2019s good to hear, I wondered about it. I also wondered about love, Theresa. I mean, you lied to the other guy about me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe never knew.\u201d<\/p>\n He shrugs, denying his presence like he denied it then. \u201cAnyway, I always wondered if you loved him more, but if that\u2019s what you think of love, then maybe it was good that you loved him more because the type of love you give, it\u2019s like a poison.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGod damn, I said I was sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe I should go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you think love chooses us. I mean,\u00a0 love, it\u2019s there then it\u2019s not and it\u2019s so much work and we were young and high all the time, snorting and screwing all night then going to work the next day\u00a0 and pretending we were just friends. It was crazy. Love is crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n Their eyes meet. But not for long. He puts out the cigarette. New customers arrive, two women who are meeting the two businessmen at the bar. The music has been changed to Aretha Franklin.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a lull. They finish their drinks and order another round and discuss weather. There was a bad storm in January, over a foot of snow and the city was shut down for two days and they talk about that. Then she mentions a novel she liked, he had only read the reviews but had read a book by the same author.<\/p>\n This next lull is different. She takes off her sunglasses.\u00a0 Those dark eyes make him think about her body.<\/p>\n She nudges the table to the side and then shifts her chair so the table is not between them. She moves closer and whispers. \u201cNo one has ever made me feel like you did.\u201d<\/p>\n Then her tongue is in his mouth. Her fingertips on the back of his neck feel warm. Neither of them know if this kiss lasts\u00a0 a minute or five or an\u00a0 hour. The temperature in the place seems to go from Anchorage to Miami.<\/p>\n When she leans back her hands move down his chest and sides, lingering for\u00a0 a moment at the top of his thighs.<\/p>\n He finishes the whiskey, then the rest of the beer, then asks her for a cigarette.<\/p>\n They don\u2019t order another round. They walk to a nearby park and he sits on the bench and she straddles him by dangling her legs between the plank where you sit and the plank where you lean your back and they grope and kiss and she moves back and forth. It\u2019s night and they\u2019re nowhere near a street lamp and the park is empty and the sides of her jacket are positioned so no one can see him unbutton her blouse and unsnap her bra.<\/p>\n She calls him in the morning. There\u2019s not a trace of animosity in his hello. She says, \u201cnext time I don\u2019t want to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMe neither.\u201d<\/p>\n He goes to the Saint Anthony Novena. Please help me he tells Jesus. Please intercede for me he asks St. Anthony. He moves his lips when he repeats these statements in his thoughts. But to do what? He doesn\u2019t know. When he kisses the glass of the reliquary, it feels cold.<\/p>\n That night he eats Pizza, drinks beer and tries to read South of Heaven by Jim Thompson but winds up watching TV. He gets out the scotch and a bowl of ice and by the second drink he\u2019s throwing ice cubes at Muddy.<\/p>\n Natalie comes home after midnight, carrying her brief case and garment bag. She\u2019s exhausted from the delayed, turbulence-besieged flight. The only sound louder than the informercial on the television is her husband\u2019s snore. She sees\u00a0 the empty beer cans, the open pizza box, paper towel wads, crusts, the scotch bottle on the coffee table and a bowl of water. Her bags thud on the floor. Muddy rubs against her calf. She mutters, \u201cwelcome home.\u201d<\/p>\n Theresa calls him every day. She talks about a new show\u00a0 at the gallery where she works. He declines her invitation to come to the opening.<\/p>\n \u201cWon\u2019t your husband be there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe works at night. He\u2019s a waiter. It\u2019s a good restaurant.\u201d<\/p>\n Steve picks up a pen and holds it like a cigarette, places it between his teeth and says, \u201cI pictured you with like a movie producer or some kind of mogul.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, well life\u2019s funny isn\u2019t it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust hilarious.\u201d He takes the pen out of his mouth and drums it against the edge of his desk.\u00a0 \u201cLook, do you really want to go through with this. Should we really do this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you want to?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat wasn\u2019t the question was it. We both took vows in front of God and our families and our friends, didn\u2019t we.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNobody cares about God anymore, Steve. God\u2019s just a metaphor to believe in to keep us from killing each other.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHistory tends to indicate the reverese is true.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh Steve, let\u2019s just get it out the way. I have feelings for you. Total, complete monogamy until we die, is so conventional.\u201d<\/p>\n He taps the pen rapidly against the desk. \u201cI do hate conventional.\u201d<\/p>\n During Natalie\u2019s next business trip, they meet. The small romantic Italian restaurant they used to frequent closed down, re-opened as a Thai restaurant, not as romantic, but they go anyway and in the middle of their spicy entrees, she takes her foot out of her shoe and drags her toes up his leg, and says, \u201cwhy are we wasting time eating?\u201d<\/p>\n He asks the waitress for the check.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to go in the bedroom,\u201d he says\u00a0 when they get to his building.<\/p>\n \u201cI understand,\u201d she says. Muddy crouches in the hallway, hisses then curls his back, fur standing straight in a row along his spine. Steve kicks the cat away.<\/p>\n She follows him into the living room. He turns on a light and\u00a0 asks her if she wants something to drink\u00a0 She says no and takes off her jacket, then blouse, then\u00a0 bra, then kneels down in front of him and pulls down his pants.<\/p>\n They make love like young twenty something\u2019s high on pharmaceutical cocaine, Spanish fly and rhino horn. They do just about everything they can think of and everything they can remember.<\/p>\n After, they squeeze close to each other as they lay on the couch. Their perspiration soaks into the fabric. She listens to him smoke a cigarette, the fumes going from his throat into his lungs\u00a0 then out again. She takes his hand and puts her lips to the filter and inhales. She blows\u00a0 a rolling plume across his chest, then rubs his chest hair. \u201cThis feels so good against you, it feels so right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cToo bad the rest of it couldn\u2019t be as good as this.\u201d<\/p>\n Tears flow out of her eyes and into his chest hair. He puts out the cigarette and holds her closer. Suddenly, her expression changes and she screams in pain.<\/p>\n Muddy\u2019s teeth grip her ankle. He clamps his jaw tight. Theresa thrashes her leg, raising the cat up and down in the air. Steve jumps up and punches the cat off her. He reaches over to the book shelf and starts flinging paperbacks at the animal. The cat disappears into the bed room, conceals itself in the shadows beneath the bed.<\/p>\n He gets paper towels from the kitchen to wipe the blood trickling down the back of her foot. She laughs, \u201c I just hope he doesn\u2019t have rabies.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s healthy,\u201d Steve assures her. \u201cBites all the time. Usually doesn\u2019t break the skin, though.\u201d<\/p>\n When the bleeding stops, she says, \u201cI better go. I do have to be home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou could stay the night.\u201d Steve is thinking about how they used to have sex first thing in the morning. He pictures them drinking and calling in sick the next day. He\u2019s hoping that the intensity of their passion can be prolonged, miraculously freeze time and erase responsibilities.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t. I\u2019ll call you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure,\u201d he says, smokes another of her cigarettes and watches her dress and leave.<\/p>\n He stares at the night in the window. He doesn\u2019t get up, he doesn\u2019t turn on the TV or go to the bathroom, or get a glass of water. He thinks about a hundred things at once and doesn\u2019t try to make them make sense.<\/p>\n He doesn\u2019t remember falling asleep. He wakes up an hour or so before dawn, takes a shower then goes into the bedroom. When the clock radio alarm goes off, he is still awake.<\/p>\n Steve cleans the entire apartment, does the laundry. He washes every floor, dusts every space, vacuums every rug. When he\u2019s finished, he\u2019s exhausted and falls right to sleep.<\/p>\n That Tuesday night, during the Make Silent Petition part, Steve whispers, help me. He can feel his knees and hands tremble as he slowly walks to the altar. He puckers up, bends towards the reliquary. When his lips touch it, he extends his tongue and licks the glass.<\/p>\n The priest does not make eye contact with Steve. He frowns when he wipes off the glass. Steve quickly leaves the church, forgetting to dip his fingers in the holy water for a departing sign of the cross.<\/p>\n He\u2019s shaking all over when he\u2019s outside. He lights a cigarette. He\u2019s been buying packs. He\u2019s been smoking half a pack a day. At work, he stares at the phone wondering if the next ring will be a call from Theresa. At the end of the day, when he finally leaves for home, he\u2019s always confused. Is he upset that she hasn\u2019t called since they made love, or relieved? He simply doesn\u2019t know.<\/p>\n Steve steps off the curb, a car screeches to a halt next to him and honks. The driver gives him the finger. Steve runs across the street,\u00a0 then lights a new cigarette with the end of the first one.<\/p>\n At\u00a0 home, Muddy rests on Natalie\u2019s lap.<\/p>\n \u201cHope you prayed for my cat,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n Steve\u2019s calm and collected by now. \u201cFor nasty old fatso?\u201d<\/p>\n She doesn\u2019t laugh. \u201cI think I will take him to the vet. Have you looked at his mouth lately?\u201d<\/p>\n He shakes his head. Natalie places her thumb and fore finger beneath Muddy\u2019s whiskers, pushes up the fur to reveal his teeth. \u201cOne of his fangs has broken off. Do you know how that happened?\u201d<\/p>\n Steve remembers to shrug, eventually.<\/p>\n