Confessionale

[Fenris]

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confessional was... Uh. My last confessional was..."

There was a very long pause. A small sigh came from behind the lattice, followed by Father Esposito's gravelly voice.

"Six weeks ago, Dante."

"Oh, shit, yeah, six weeks ago. Dope."

Father Esposito's sigh was slightly louder this time.

>> DANTE VALERIO: START

Dante's left foot tapped out a steady rhythm as he sat in the confessional booth, his whole body bouncing up and down in time to the beat of a song he couldn't remember the name of. When he'd first started with confession, when he was eight and nine and ten, Father Esposito had gently scolded him when he moved too much or made too much noise, said something about how it was rude to make so much noise when God was listening so closely. He had tried, sort of, but it was hard, and also sometimes he forgot to try, and eventually Father had just kind of given up. He had thought to ask him about it years later, and Father had said that breaking a willful boy of a bad but harmless habit hadn't been covered in seminary which, as far as he was concerned, made it not his job.

Dante had always liked Father Esposito.

Father cleared his throat slightly, letting Dante realize he hadn't said anything in a while. He frowned, trying to remember why he'd decided to come to confessional this week anyway. His parents used to make him go every time he went to church, but when he turned eighteen they'd declared that he was a man now and therefore he could decide whether or not he needed to confess from then on. His sisters had carried on, especially Bea, who had literally just done her first confession like two months ago and was already sick and tired of it. Dante had never minded it much, though. He saw on TV and heard from friends that it sucked a lot worse in other parishes, with other pastors who would just read from a script and give you like twenty Hail Marys and pressure you if you didn't come up with enough sins, but those weren't problems he'd ever had. He'd had problems coming up with sins sometimes, but Father understood.

"Dante."

"Uh, sorry. I was just trying to, uh. Remember why I came."

"To confess, I would imagine."

"Well, yeah, but like." He scratched the back of his neck. "I dunno. I probably lied a few times? I think I told mamma that I was gonna be out at the skate park until 10 and then didn't get home until midnight. Guess that isn't a lie, though, huh, just like, a fuck-up?"

Father Esposito coughed but didn't say anything.

"Fuck, language, sorry. Does that count as a sin? I never remember." Father didn't respond. "And... oh, there was a party a couple of weeks ago and I drank a little. Like, I didn't get drunk, so I don't know if it counts? I ate a cookie that was supposed to be Venetia's but she stole my cookie first so like I think that one was on her. And... you said kissing girls doesn't count, right? Like as long as it's just kissing."

"As I have told you at least a dozen times." Dante could practically hear the smile in his voice. "Is that all, my child?"

"Yeah, I think so."

There was a surprisingly long pause during which he scratched the back of his neck again, awkwardly. Usually Father had some reassuring words for him, a couple of Hail Marys, maybe something he wanted him to do for one of his sisters or a Bible verse he wanted him to read. Usually he came up with those things pretty much instantly. This time, though, the silence but for Dante's still-tapping foot felt awfully loud.

"Dante. Please be honest with me. I don't believe that you returned to me after six weeks for such minor sins. There is something weighing on you, my child, I am sure of it. I am here to help you make your peace with God. Do not be afraid."

His foot stopped.

He was right, sort of, maybe. There was something weighing on him, yeah. That was why he was here. The rosary ring around his neck felt heavy, like his sins had pooled inside it, but that was the problem, wasn't it? He hadn't said it because it wasn't a sin. He was sure of that. He'd told his mother once that it wasn't a sin and she pointed him to the passage that said it was, but he was still sure, and he thought if he was so sure it must mean that God agreed with him. He thought it was a test, maybe, that he was meant to understand something that the Bible didn't tell him, that it was a weight he was meant to carry. But still, he knew he was supposed to say it.

He'd told Father once, and he had only said that Dante had to understand his relationship with God his own way. He'd probably understand. Even if he didn't, he wouldn't tell anyone.

He played with his rosary as he spoke words that he didn't feel like he could quite control.

"I... no, Father. There's nothing else. Honest."

Another pause.

"... Confession is a sacrament. It is meant as a blessing, not a curse. If this thing that weighs upon you so hurts to speak of, perhaps now is not the right time to speak of it. I know that you would not cause anyone harm. I do not believe this sin to be a mortal one. Perhaps it is better for you to make your own peace with God."

"Yeah. Yes. Okay. I mean, yes, Father."

"... As for the rest of your confession, I'm almost concerned that you aren't having enough fun for a teenager." Father Esposito chuckled lightly. "You are on a good path, my child, though your imperfections make you human. Two Hail Marys should suffice, along with an apology to your mother. I'm sure she was worried sick. And a replacement cookie for Venetia, even if she did start it. As the elder brother it is your duty to sacrifice for your sister."

"Got it. Uh, Father."

"One last thing." Another pause, a small sigh. "This is not required penance for you, Dante, it is only a recommendation. I know it is difficult for you to perform, but I believe you will find some peace if you can pray the rosary. Your communion ring represents your connection to God, and He will help to ease your burdens. ... I am always here, as well, should you need to speak to someone. I hope that you trust that I only want what's best for you."

"Yeah... yeah," Dante muttered, twirling his rosary ring between his right index finger and thumb. Why hadn't he said anything? He could trust Father with anything, or at least he was supposed to, and this wasn't even a sin, it wasn't, he was sure, there was nothing even to forgive, so what was the problem? What was he afraid of? But when he opened his mouth again it was just a bunch of words he knew by heart. Confession always ended the same way, and it was comfortable, and distracting, and for a moment the weight lifted.

"My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart..."

"God, the Father of mercies, though the death and resurrection of His Son..."

"Amen."

"God has forgiven your sins. Go in peace."

"Thanks be to God."

When Dante finally stumbled out of that booth he felt at once ten pounds lighter and ten pounds heavier. Which didn't make any sense.

But he couldn't remember the last time he was in such a hurry to leave church.


>> Dante Valerio continued in I'M A SHARK, I'M A SHAAARK, SUCK MY DIIIIICK, I'M A SHAAARK