Girl, Part I

It became very clear to her that if she continued to wait anymore it would only make it feel worse when she finally went through with it. Not that she was eager to get it done, but she knew that she needed to. How, she thought, could she do it?
Of course it would be easy, saying something usually was easy, especially when you weren't looking at the person. This wasn't hard, she told herself, it was like breathing or eating something that was overly delicious.
She sighed.
"Go ahead, tell me your sins, my child," the priest said from the other side of the confession booth. She hated doing this. She already knew that God knew what she'd done, but why should she have to admit it to a stranger who would be able to figure out who she was instantly? And then, after all of it, have to sit in the front pew every Sunday and have him look at her in such a way that made her feel like she was lesser than a piece of dirt.
She hated doing this.
"Okay, look," she said in a rush, "I'm only here because I was told that I had to confess to a priest, though I don't see a point because I already know that God knows what I did."
He breathed quietly for a moment, though to her it was almost like he was right in her ear, panting loudly. "If you feel there is no need then you don't have to be here."
"Usually you are supposed to tell me that I should tell you anyway, right?" she only then realized that the voice of the man sitting next to her wasn't the priest she thought. This voice was younger and more charming than Father Gregor.
"Well, yes, but you seem to have everything all figured out, so why make you do something you feel uncomfortable with?" He sounded almost bemused.
"Are you really a priest?" she arched her eyebrow.
"Yes. Do I not sound like one to you?"
"No, you sound like someone who has a brain."
He laughed, "I sure hope I have a brain, I'm too broke to visit Kansas."
She laughed with him now, "That was pretty funny ."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They sat in silence for a moment, until the bell in the cathedral tower began to ring out in a loud, intimidating voice. She tried to peak through the screen to get a better look at the priest she was talking to. She could make out dark hair, very, very dark hair.
"Why are you staring at me?" you could hear the smile he wore on his face in his voice.
"I'm trying to figure out what you look like. There's got to be a face to go with the brain."
"There is, but it's not worth trying to glare a hole into the screen to see it."
"If I step out of the booth will you step out too?"
"I suppose," he chuckled. "Are you really so curious to see what I look like?"
"A little," she admitted sheepishly.
He laughed again, "All right, on the count of three."
"One," she said in barely a whisper.
"Two," he laughed.
"Three," they said at the same time. They both opened the doors and turned to face each other...

© 2008 Tarin Prichard