The Trinity Game

present in the world. But you know, I think what I was really looking for was that feeling I had as a kid…when you were God’s messenger and I was His messenger’s companion. The feeling that I was living in a state of grace.”
    “That feeling came from your belief that we were helping people,” said his uncle. “I think you’ve spent the last fourteen years looking in the wrong places, son. It isn’t about miracles or proof or having God on speed dial. You want to be close to God? Reach down and help your neighbor. Faith without works is dead…and maybe in the end, works is
all
that matters.” Trinity stood and put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “It is God’s
only
commandment.”



D aniel danced around the heavy bag, snapping off left jabs and pounding home right hooks, left uppercuts, the bag rattling its chains, sweat pouring down his brow.
    The Saint Sebastian’s Boys Athletic Club hadn’t changed a bit. When Daniel rang the doorbell just after sunrise, Father Henri had welcomed him with a hug and a pat on the head. The old priest set up a couple of cots for Daniel and Trinity in the back rooms and then handed Daniel a key to the front door. No questions asked.
    Daniel reversed his footwork and pounded the bag with another newly remembered combination, amazed by how being in the old gym melted the years away, brought it all back.
    Trinity had his brisk walks, Daniel had this.
    It wasn’t just the boxing exercises flooding back. He remembered himself as eighteen-year-old Danny Byrne, remembered how it felt to be that kid. Soon-to-be New Orleans Golden Gloves Welterweight Champion. Living with the fathers and more than a little relieved that these particular priests in this particular parish didn’t seem to have a thing for teenage boys. Good student, and street-smart as hell, courtesy of a childhood spent with the Reverend Tim Trinity, grifter-at-large. Enough swagger to carry on a relationship with a beautiful and smart college grad and drink with her friends in bars that catered to grownups.
    But scheduled to enter the seminary after his next birthday. Scheduled to become a priest. On a mission to find a miracle.
    He had told himself that it was a great way to get a free university education. He had told himself he’d find a miracle before his twenty-sixth birthday and still be a young man with his whole life ahead of him, an advanced degree on his resume, and the stain of the con man washed clean.
    He had told himself a lot of things. He had even told himself that,
if it was
meant to be
, he might still end up with Julia.
    He was a smart kid. He could rationalize anything.
    But he couldn’t face the truth. Truth was, Daniel was an angry young man, and more than just angry. Trinity’s betrayal of his boyhood trust had provided a perfect channel for it, but truth was, the anger had always been with him, a deep rage that rushed like ocean currents far below the surface calm. Rage for a mother who died in childbirth and, worse, a father who chose to kill himself rather than stay and raise his newborn son.
    And rage for himself. Because, underneath it all, in the silent stillness of his innermost self, this thought was always waiting for him:
I killed my parents.
    At the seminary, Daniel had worked on it with church therapists, and in time he came to accept his personal history with not much more emotional baggage than most people carry through life. And he had learned to be honest with himself, most of the time, which he figured was about as much as anyone can ask for.
    He shuffled his feet, switched to southpaw, right jabs and left hooks.
    If it was meant to be…
Would he end up with Julia after all? While Trinity was still sleeping, Daniel had only managed fivehours, jolted awake by the realization that today he would go to the prearranged meeting place.
    Today he would see her again.
    And then what?
    No use getting ahead of himself. He had more practical matters to focus on. Like keeping his uncle alive.
    Trinity had vowed to resume preaching in public and to share the tongues whenever they came upon him. He’d also vowed to share what he’d learned about what he was calling
God’s Only Commandment.
    Daniel told him it was suicide and suggested that Trinity send his messages to the world on television, from a secure location. “You don’t deliver a sermon on love from the safety of a bunker,” Trinity had insisted, “you do it out in the open, embracing the world.” He would