Dahlia drove Roy back to his house without a word, but kissed him goodbye as usual. It almost seemed forced. Her tongue was limp in his mouth. She nuzzled her nose on his neck like a cat, said see you later, and drove away. Roy wheeled inside confused, indifferent, and hungry.

Roy's mother had nearly run into him.

"Darling!" She exclaimed.

Roy had never seen his mother much since he was home. He even saw Whit more. He was still rather pissed at Pop for telling Whit how he was actually injured, and was worried he had told his mother. She said nothing about it though, and patted him on the head. Usually when people did that he wanted to choke them. He didn't say anything. His mother loved him.

"Do you...have plans tonight?" She asked meekly.

"I do not."

"I'm headed out to mass. Would you join me today?"

"S-sure," Roy blurted out. It surprised him. He hadn't gone to a church in years. He had gone all the time as a boy and around thirteen abandoned his faith. He wasn't sure why. It was like it happened over night.

"No one ever comes anymore," Ma said disheartened.

"I'll come with you," Roy said.

She smiled faintly.

The church was a few blocks down the road; walking distance. It was fairly new and fairly white. Stained glass windows with scenarios from the bible graced the oblong walls.

Roy sighed when he realized the several steps leading into the front of the church.

"Oh," Ma commented. "Roy, um..."

She glanced around, other church attendees were keeping their eyes down trying not to make eye contact. Did they remember him? Did they know who he was? What he left to do?

"David," Ma called to a medium sized man with a pot belly and grey beard. "Could you please help my son? We..."

David walked over, noticing Roy and his mother awkwardly, and gestured to another short man with dark hair and a mustache.

"Not a problem," David commented.

Roy closed his eyes. He felt his face turning red as the two men lifted him up several steps. If he just closed his eyes, he could pretend he was somewhere else, completely far away, not being carried by two strangers...

"Thank you. Thank you so much," Ma said. "God bless you both. Thank you.

Roy wanted to go home already.

The church was rather small but still long. His mother made her way towards the front pews but Roy insisted he just sit in the back where several people chose to stand. He didn't want to look at anyone or force conversation.

People did remember him. He knew it. He saw some girl he went to high school with who quickly looked away. He had a crush on her at one point. An elderly woman in a yellow hat whom he had always greeted at the church picnics looked down at him and grasped his hand between hers. "How are you." He answered fine.

Roy hadn't paid attention to the priest. He talked something of the verse involving plucking ones eye out before entering the kingdom of heaven. Roy kept his gaze on the tabernacle. Candles were lit around it.

He never took communion. He found the idea of it bizarre, and wasn't particularly fond of putting his mouth on a cup that over a dozen elderly people sucked on every night. He felt odd when the congregation got down to kneel, he never sang a hymn. The organ was always out of tune. The choir upstairs was always slightly off key. But it didn't matter, because they enjoyed it.

Before he knew it, mass had ended, and people began filing out, each making a sign of the cross with the holy water.

He was ready for daily humiliation as his mother walked over to him with David and the other man when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I am offering confession." Father Augustine.

"Huh?"

"I am offering confession. If you would like to confess."

"Uh..."

"Let's go, Roy," his mother said.

"Uh, hold on just one minute."

Her eyes brightened. "Are you confessing?"

"Yeah..."

"We'll wait here then. I suppose I shall go in after you."

Roy wheeled into the confession booth after the priest. The room was soundproof, a small velvet wall making a barrier between him and the priest.

"You may confess, Mr. Walker."

God, he knew. And he always thought confession was supposed to be anonymous.

"Uh..." Roy couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The last time he'd been in a confessional, unholy things had taken place...

"Go ahead, my son."

"Mmm..." He had almost forgotten. "Bless me father, I have sinned....it's been a long long time since I've been in this place..."

"Continue, my child."

"I've been in love with lust. She was never mine."

"A woman," Father Augustine said.

"She thinks she's mine. She was never mine."

"Is your heart not pure in your intentions?"

"It is tar black, I'm afraid."

"There is salvation, my son."

"Not in this town. Not in this state."

"In Christ, Mr. Walker."

"In the core of a woman."

"It may well be temptation."

"She haunts my dreams. She visits me. I'm convinced it's divine intervention."

"That may well be so."

"Am I supposed to know?"

"We never know for certain."

Roy stared at the statue of the Virgin Mary across from him.

"Pray ten Hail Mary's and the Lord's Prayer. That is your penance. You may go now in peace."

What did he confess again?