The Fancy Dancer

soul from when you were ordained. You wander around with that thin g stuck on you like the mark of Cain.”
    “It isn’t any worse than what everybody else goes through,” he said. “So don’t make a big production out it.”
    “Holy Christ,” I said, “what time is it?”
    My watch said nearly three in the afternoon.
    “My folks’ll be going crazy,” I said. “I told them I'd be there around two. And I’m going to miss the appointment with Father Matt. Doesn’t much matter, I guess. What am I going to tell him?”
    After thinking a minute about what kind of story I was going to tell them, I dialed my parents’ number in Helena.
    “Tom!” my mother cried. “Where are you?” We’ve been worried sick.”
    “No sweat, Mom,” I said. “I’m calling from a garage in Amberville. I had some carburetor trouble. Luckily the mechanic was around, and we got it fixed. I’m leaving right now.”
    “You should have called sooner!”
    “I know. I’m sorry. It took longer than I thought. Look, Mom, I’m a little short of change because of the repairs. Would you do me a favor and call Father Matt? Tell him what happened. I’ll make another appointment with him.”
    “Oh, I’m so relieved! We always worry about you. You drive so fast...”
    When I hung up, the tender amnesia had started to lift a little, and the guilty nervousness was coming back.
    “You’re improving already,” said Vidal, drinking the last of his coffee. “And speaking of money, we’ve stayed past checkout time. So I’ll owe for another day.”
    “How much is the room?”
    “Thirty bucks.”
    “Ill pay for half of everything, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    My worn black cowhide wallet yielded four ten-dollar bills, which I put on the tray. When I got to Helena, my financial state wouldn’t be a lie.
    “We won’t be able to afford this all the time,” I said. “No,” he said. “We’ll have to figure out some things. I’ll have to start climbing in your bedroom window.” “God, don’t do that.” The very idea made me break out in a scalding sweat.
    No one paid any attention to me as I walked out of the side door and unlocked the car. The mountain air smelled good after the sickly stuffiness inside. I got in, started the car, and wheeled out into the Interstate with a screech of tires.
    Now that I’d left him, images of him rushed back to warm me and haunt me; laughing in Trina’s cafe, looking sad by the picture window, angry and icy behind the confessional grille, gasping in abandon on the deep red mg, changeable as the weather over those mountains.
    There wasn’t even any point in repenting of my sin, because I knew I would do it again. Only now that I'm given in to it did I know how deep was my need to love a man.
    » « »
    At my parents’ house, we had supper instead of dinner. The everyday Irish linen placemats were on the table, and Mother lamented the nice prune whip that Rosie had ready in the afternoon. For once I didn’t have much appetite, but I choked down the food so that they wouldn’t think something was wrong.
    But Mother said, “You’re looking awfully peaked, Tom. Don’t you think so, Frank?”
    “If it was spring now,” said my father, “and my mother was around, she’d dose him with sulphur and molasses.”
    “It’s the work,” I said. “It’s getting me down a little.” “Father Vance has no right to run you ragged like that,” said my mother. “I’m saying a word or two to the Bishop next time I see him.”
    “For Christ’s sake, don’t do that,” I said irritably. “Why not?” said my mother. “Don’t you lose your temper, Tom. I was only trying to help.”
    “Tom means that things aren’t done that way,” said my father, who had more savvy for politics.
    “My goodness, I feel like an idiot,” said my mother. “How are things at St Mary’s, Tom?”
    “Pretty much the same,” I said. “We’re still half-broke and running around giving the last rites to people who get chewed up in baling machines.”
    It now seemed like I had to lie every time I opened my mouth. The shock of that intimate encounter was still in my system. Mother solicitously watched me butter a hot biscuit, and I wondered how she would feel if she knew what those hands of min e had been doing all afternoon.
    If this had been a normal situation, I could have sat there at the table glowing and joyful and said, “Mom, Dad, I’ve met this wonderful person that I think I'm in love with.” All my