“I’m aware of that,” James said.
“Then you know he and his parents were very active in their parish.”
“I’m aware of that as well.”
“Anyhow,” Jack said, “he reached puberty without much preparation, maybe none. As he tells it, it is rather humorous if nothing else. Apparently, he masturbated the first time by accident and utter surprise. He was in the shower, and he was washing his privates such that the cleaner they got, the better it felt, until he had an orgasm, which he described as divine pleasure. For obvious reasons, that episode ushered in a proclivity for taking showers, up to three a day, which made him feel closer to God and all the saints than he ever had previously.”
James found himself chuckling despite his general unease. He could clearly see Shawn telling such a story, as he was a gifted raconteur. A moment later he quieted, as he feared how the story was about to unfold.
“Apparently,” Jack continued, “it was several blissful weeks later that he came in contact with the teaching of the pope he mentioned tonight.”
“You mean Pope Gregory the Great?” James asked.
“I believe that’s the one,” Jack said. “Was he as negative about sex as Shawn suggested?”
“He was,” James admitted.
“Anyway,” Jack continued, “Shawn described the collision with the supposed antimasturbation dogma of the Church and his own sense of experiencing the divine as cataclysmic, especially learning that to receive the Eucharist he had to confess every episode of self-gratification and every unclean thought, such as fantasizing about Elaine Smith’s ass.”
“Was Elaine Smith’s ass something to admire?”
“According to Shawn and the number of times he had to confess he’d fantasized about giving it a good look.”
“I know this amusing anecdote has to be going somewhere bad, so let’s hear it.”
“Shawn said he struggled with this epic battle for as much as six months, trying to regain his chaste life so as to be in accordance with Church dogma. To do so required him to confess his transgressions week after week, such that to remember what he’d done when he got into the confessional, he began to keep a very accurate diary of his masturbation episodes, which had moved out of the shower because, as he said, his skin became too dry. As for his unclean thoughts, they had expanded to take in more parts of Elaine Smith’s supposedly enchanting anatomy.”
“You’re dragging this out,” James complained.
“Okay,” Jack agreed. “Sorry. As I said, this battle went on for months, with Shawn doing his best to remember everything he did and confess it each Friday in minute detail.”
“And?” James asked impatiently.
“Shawn began to notice that the two priests who normally heard confessions began to get progressively interested.”
“Good Lord, no!” James uttered.
“Don’t get upset,” Jack warned. “Nothing really happened, at least overtly.”
“Thank God!”
“But no matter how much detail Shawn offered in the confessional, it was never enough, and each week toward the end, he was asked more and more questions, such as even he, as a newly pubescent teenager, knew that something was wrong. The crowning moment for Shawn was when one of the priests offered, in the confessional, to meet with him privately to help him overcome this soul-endangering habit.”
“Did they ever meet?”
“Not according to Shawn. Instead it was at that point, to the consternation of his parents, that Shawn decided he and the Church would sever relations, supposedly on a temporary basis but which has been maintained until today.”
“That is an unfortunate happening,” James agreed. “It is a pity that he didn’t have more knowledgeable priests to help him at such a crucial juncture.”
“But isn’t that one of Shawn’s points? Celibate priests are probably not the best guides for children through the stresses of puberty, just as they are probably not the best guides for young adults starting families. Having children is always much more problematic than people imagine, even in the best of circumstances.” Jack couldn’t help but think about his own current situation.
“I cannot contest that, and it is an issue I will pray upon. But now I have to concentrate on the problem at hand.”
“You mean your hope of talking Shawn out of publishing his findings?”
“Exactly.”
“Here’s my sentiment. You are fighting an awfully steep uphill battle. Unless Shawn and his wife come up with definitive proof somehow that the bones cannot be the Blessed Virgin’s, he is going to publish that they are, even if he cannot prove it. You are not going to talk him out of it. Your switching your attack from talking about his hurting the Church in general to hurting you personally was clever, but even that didn’t sway him, especially after he got you to admit you didn’t believe yourself that it was inevitable you’d be punished for his errors.”
“Unfortunately, I think you are right,” James said with resignation. “I’m the last person who should be trying to talk him out of something he truly wants to do and has convinced himself he should do as if he’s on a mission from God. When I heard that, I knew I was surely barking up the wrong tree. Thank goodness it’s not as messianic as I’d feared when I first heard it.”
“Why do you think you are the last person who should be trying to influence him?” Jack questioned. “I think you are the perfect person. He knows you, trusts you, and you have probably the most clerical credibility of anyone in this country.”
“We’re too good friends,” James explained, as he exited from the West Side Highway at 96th Street. “I know he was quite besotted, but he still feels comfortable calling me lardo, which is what he used to call me in college when he was angry, which he knows I detest, probably because it is rather accurate. But such familiarity puts me at a distinct disadvantage.”
“If not you, who?” Jack asked. “I hope you’re not thinking of me, because I haven’t been any more successful than you’ve been. In fact, I’ve been completely unsuccessful. Especially compared with you two guys, I know nothing about the Catholic Church.”
“Where is it you live again?” James asked, after reassuring Jack he didn’t intend to saddle him with the problem of Shawn and Sana. Jack gave him the street and the number.
“So if not me, who?” Jack persisted.
“That’s the problem,” James said, approaching Jack’s home. “I haven’t the faintest idea, although I’m beginning to have an idea of the qualities I’d like the person to have.”
“Like what?”
“Persuasive, of course, but more important, absolutely and completely devoted to the Blessed Virgin. I mean a young person who has totally dedicated his or her life to the study and veneration of the Virgin Mary.”
“That’s an idea,” Jack said, suddenly sitting up. “A young attractive woman! Or we could find his old friend Elaine Smith, especially if she’d maintained her figure and had become a specialist in Mariology.”
“I know you are trying to buoy my spirits by being humorous, but I’m being serious here, my friend. I need to find immediately an incredibly persuasive zealot, tell him or her the story, and force Shawn to put up with him or her for a number of days. That is my last hope. I hadn’t thought of such a plan, because I was hoping not to have to tell anyone else the story to avoid anyone besides the four of us from knowing it. Obviously, I’ve decided it is a risk we have to take.”
James pulled over to the side of the road directly opposite the stoop on the front of Jack’s house. “Thanks for coming tonight. I really appreciate it. And thank your wife for letting you come, and tell her I’m looking forward to meeting her.”