Page 8 of Soft Tissue Damage

Suppressing a sigh, I tell him, “I feel like I’m not interesting enough for my friends. Not smart or pretty enough for my boyfriend. That I’ll never know who my true family is.”

The priest cuts me off impatiently. “Sins, girl.Sins.”

I push away the worries that have been gnawing on my heart and try to think of something the priest will want to hear. “I’ve been impatient when I’m tired. I’m ungrateful for my blessings. I suppose I’ve been lazy, because it never seems like I get ahead, but I feel tired all the time. I’ve had uncharitable thoughts about my aunts.”

That should please the priest, shouldn’t it? Is that enough?

“What else?” Father Connell asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“You mentioned a boyfriend.”

My face turns red. “I’m a virgin, Father.”

“I should hope so,” he says coldly. “Confess how you have sinned with this man, or you will damn your immortal soul to hell.”

“I’ve let him touch me over my clothes,” I say in a small voice. Leon’s kisses are nice, but when his hands start to roam I feel…nothing. But maybe that’s a good thing? I won’t be tempted to crave more.

“Do you perform oral sex on him?”

The blunt question has me cringing. “No, Father.”

“What about thoughts of him? Any impure thoughts?”

“No, Father,” I reply promptly. Please, let that be the end of it. I’ve been truthful, and I haven’t got anything else to confess.

“You sound very certain. No impure thoughts at all, a healthy young woman of your age? I find that hard to believe. Surely you have lustful thoughts. Sinful thoughts.”

I feel my face turn scarlet. I had a dream this morning between sleep and waking. A dream that made me ache between my legs. A sharp, sweet ache of longing and desire.

But it wasn’t about Leon.

I imagine a bolt of lightning coming down from the sky and hitting Father Connell, making him drop dead on the spot. A second and third bolt of lightning strike Aunt Frieda and Aunt Astrid next, burning them all to a crisp, their hair standing on end and smoking. What a sweet relief it would be if they all died right now, if God smotethem down like he’s always smiting people in Father Connell’s sermons.

I’ve hesitated too long, and now Father Connell knows I’m lying to him.

“I’ve had impure thoughts,” I finally admit.

“About this boy?”

“No. About a…man. An older man.”

I think about tall, broad, handsome Mr. Grant. In my dream, he held me tight while his deep voice whispered into my hair. There was a dark glint in his eye as if he were a dangerous trap I’d fallen into, but I didn’t care. His big hands caressed my body, and I was hungry for him to do so much more than just hold me, and I could feel he wanted more as well.

I’ve never felt more turned on in my life.

“Um, he touched me a little, but that’s all. Is that a sin?”

The priest snorts in disgust. “Of course it’s a sin, you stupid girl.”

“Oh. Right.” I stare at my hands. I’m stupid as well as lustful. I’m so glad I came here.

“Is there anything else?”

A lot, actually. “I don’t really understand how thoughts can be sins. I can’t help my thoughts.”

Right now I’m thinking about toppling this confessional over with the priest still in it.