Man Of The Cloth
Marvin knelt at the altar, dressed in his priestly robes, his head bowed.
“Do you promise respect and obedience to me and my successors?” asked the bishop.
“I do,” replied Marvin.
“May God, who has begun this good work in you, bring it to fulfillment,” proclaimed the bishop and he laid his hands on Marvin’s head. There was a round of applause as Marvin stood up and faced the congregation, his face beaming from ear to ear.
“Father Cranford indeed,” I said to myself, sarcastically. Marvin was the least religious person I knew, so it came as no surprise that I held reservations when he told me he was going to become a priest and go to Ecuador.
“For how long?” I asked him.
“Until the Lord’s work is done,” was his reply. He seemed determined and sincere, but it didn’t smell right to me. This was not the Marvin I knew. Something had happened to him; I was sure of it.
That evening, Marvin invited me out to The Hoof House to celebrate with him.
“I’m so glad to be serving in Ecuador,” he said, pulling a small bible out of his pocket and waving it in my face. “This is my life now.”
“I’m happy for you.” I said.
“You’ll be even happier when -” He began, but then he stopped himself. Heaving himself up from his seat, he dropped his bible on the table, excused himself and headed to the restroom. I looked at the bible and noticed a piece of paper protruding from its pages. Glancing around to make sure Marvin wasn’t returning, I carefully removed the paper and discovered that it was a letter, written in Marvin’s hand. Dearest Alejandra, it began. I read on, becoming increasingly intrigued. Alejandra, my sweet, I have been ordained and within a week I will be in Ecuador and your loving arms. I will play my part as a priest and the church will be none the wiser. When the time is right, we will run away together and be wed. I was stunned, but also relieved. Marvin hadn’t found religion. He had found a woman.
“Cunning devil,” I snickered to myself. “However, I am afraid that neither Ecuador nor dear Alejandra are going to receive your ministry, Father Cranford.” I placed the letter back within the pages of the bible and returned to my drink, feeling rather pleased with myself.
Two days later, Marvin, in a state of distress, called me and said he needed to see me, urgently.
“I’m not going to Ecuador,” he wailed.
“Oh no,” I said, trying to appear concerned
“It gets worse,” he continued. “I’ve been fired from being a priest. They said I was unsuitable!”
“What?” I asked, half-heartedly.
Marvin leaned in and lowered his voice. “Just between you and me,” he whispered. “I think someone ratted me out, blabbed to the church about me.”
“Oh?”
“Still,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”
I smiled and nodded, averting my eyes from his unmoving gaze. Marvin reached into his coat, pulled out his bible, and forced it into my hand. “From one good friend to another,” he stated. I opened the cover and Alejandra’s letter slipped out and glided to the floor. We looked at each other, locked in a stalemate, each waiting for the other to pick up the piece of paper on the floor.
“Bedtime reading, pana,” Marvin said coldly, and he got up and left, leaving me holding the bible and forever wondering if he knew.
