SACRILEGIOUS: Confessions of a Roman Catholic Seminarian

Chapter X: Humility of Heart

Rain splattered heavily against the windshield, the wipers fluttered full speed, desperately attempting to clean the foggy glass. Surfs of wind made the car rock gently to the sides, changing the direction of the rain with every gust.

It was only mid-afternoon, yet the sky looked no different than during sunset. From afar, drafts carried the rumble of thunder, too far away to see their flamboyant flashes of light. Jake held tight to the steering wheel, his small rice rocket, firmly rolling over slick roads. Every turn was tight, the rain made it worst, thankfully he was the only driver on the road in this grey Tuesday afternoon.

"Make a left on Howell Mountain Road, then make a slight left onto Pope Valley Road." Broke in Siri in a thick Australian accent. Jake, made the left turn sharply, the directions came just as he was on top of the intersection.

"Damn it Siri!" shouted out Jake, as if Siri was a real person. Immediately Siri replied to him.

"Your destination is on your left. 5983 Pope Valley Road, Pope Valley, California. Arrived."

From the highway there was no house to be seen, Jake pulled out of the road and took a second look at his map. The little blue pulsing dot indicated he was just in front of the house, yet he could not see any. He lowered his foggy window and saw a small iron gate with a placard with the numbers 5983 on it. This was the place, he drove across the road, positioning his car just in front of the gate, he reached to his pocket and check if the key he had picked up at his mom's house was still there.

The rain was beginning to soften up, but the winds were vicious, Jake exited his car and ran to the chain holding the fastened gate, his key opened the padlock instantly. He drove in not before locking the gate behind him. A small muddy road run up a flat-topped man-made the hill, on top of which stood the house hidden behind tall shrubs, who jealously guarded it against onlookers.

Jake drove up the hill, his car skidding on the mud driveway, the dirt road had become a temporary waterfall in the storm. Upon reaching the hill he noticed smoke coming out of the chimney, Fr. Virgil was home. Jake parked his car next to a small shrub making the edge of the hill, he made sure the emergency breaks was on and ran towards the door stepping on puddles.

The door swung violently open before Jake had the time to knock on it, the air smelling of freshly brewed coffee and smoke escaped. Fr. Virgil stood on the door sill, his shotgun, finger resting firmly on the trigger. Jake docked and fell backward immediately dropping the cake he had brought for him, splattering all over Fr. Virgil's feet and fleece pajamas.

"Gosh! I'm so sorry Jake, it thought you were another reporter." Said Fr. Virgil, who immediately unloaded the shotgun and placed it back on a rack next to the door. Jake could feel his chest pounding, the man who had almost shot him looked nothing like Fr. Virgil, he was much older, weathered, yet his voice was still recognizable.

"Dear boy let me give you a hand." Said Fr. Virgil stepping into the rain stretching a hand to Jake who watched him perplexed from the mud. Jake examined this man before accepting the hand, it took him a while to accept it was Fr. Virgil. His graying hair had finally transubstantiated to dry cotton, he had lost weight, his belt was proof of it, and heavy bags hung from his eyes.

"I'm sorry father, for a second I thought I had the wrong house. Is this a good time?" replied Jake as he took Fr. Virgil's hand and stood up.

"Any time is a good time for you. I am sorry if I scared you my boy; it's been a tough couple of days. Come on in, come in, this rain is picking up." The rain was indeed picking up, a dark cloud had moved swiftly above the head, unleashing the floodgates upon them. Jake did not bother picking up the cake he had brought and instead cleaned the mud and cake from his shoes before taking them off and placing them by the door.