“Well, I’m just not that kind of a girl.”
“So the wife goes to the closet,” a boy said to a group of three girls standing close to Andy, “and the husband is sitting in the living room, and he hears the paper on the package making a rustling sound, you know?”
“I heard this joke,” one of the girls said.
“Did you all hear it?” the boy asked.
“No, go ahead, tell it.”
“Well, I don’t like the one I got,” a boy in a brown suit said.
“What’s wrong with her?” his friend asked. “Tell me that.”
“She’s a dog.”
“So what? So I never done you a favor? Listen, I really like this girl, I mean it.”
“You say that every week.”
“This week I mean it.”
From the corner of his eye, Andy saw the priest approaching, and for a panicky moment he thought the priest was coming toward him. The panic outlived the moment when he saw the priest actually was heading his way. He tried to shrug closer to the wall, tried to become a part of the coats hanging there, but the priest wasn’t being fooled. He walked swiftly and purposefully, his black robe swirling about his black trousered legs.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned...
“Hello there,” the priest said. “I’m Father Dominick.”
“Hello, Father Dominick,” Andy said cautiously, softly. He had never spoken to a priest before, not close up like this. He had listened to priests delivering the Mass on Sundays, and he had talked to Father Ignatius in his own parish, but then only through the screened opening of the confession box, where he could hardly even see the priest’s face. He felt strange talking to this priest, and he told himself it was all part of the peculiarity he was feeling, but that didn’t stop him from feeling strange. The priest was a short man with a wide round face and a long nose. He had thick black eyebrows that matched the hair curling close to his scalp. His eyes were small and brown, the eyes of a ferret. He was not a good-looking man at all, not the handsome kind of priest who warrants a bewildered headshake and a wondrous “Why would he become a priest?”
“I’ve been watching you,” Father Dominick said.
“H... have you?” Andy asked.
“You haven’t been dancing,” the priest said, smiling benignly.
“No, I haven’t,” Andy said.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” Father Dominick said. “I was wondering if you liked our little gathering.”
“Oh, yes,” Andy said. “It’s fine. Fine.”
“We get a nice crowd here,” Father Dominick said, nodding his head. He was obviously trying to put Andy at ease, and Andy appreciated his efforts, but he still wished the priest would leave him alone instead of contributing to his feeling of peculiarity, God forgive him.
“Yes, it seems like a... nice crowd,” he said, wondering if Father Dominick had seen the three girls Bud had picked up.
“A very nice crowd. Don’t you like to dance?”
“I don’t know how,” Andy said wearily.
“Don’t you?” said Father Dominick. “Well now. Well now.”
“No, I don’t,” Andy said, feeling suddenly stubborn.
“Well, that’s no problem at all,” Father Dominick said. “You just come along with me, son.” He took Andy’s elbow. “What did you say your name was?”
“Andy.”
“Andrew, ah yes, a good name. Andrew. One of the Twelve Apostles.”
“Father, I—”
Father Dominick’s grip tightened on Andy’s elbow. “Now, just come along,” he said kindly, beginning to walk, steering Andy along the wall. “There’s no need for anyone not to know how to dance,” the priest went on. “Not when we have so many nice girls here. And a nice boy like you should know how to dance, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Andy said, “but...”
The priest’s pressure on his elbow was very strong, like the steel jaws of a trap. A trap, he thought, a trap, and the thought strengthened his original panic. He wanted to pull away from the priest’s grip, but he was afraid of offending God, so he allowed himself to be led, thinking, A trap, a trap, all the while.
The priest led him skillfully around the edge of the dance floor, nodding to the boys and girls seated or standing near the wall. They walked together, the priest’s fingers firm on his elbow. I shall walk in the shadow of the valley of death...
“Ah now,” Father Dominick said. “Ah now, here we are.” They stopped walking suddenly, but the priest did not release his arm. “Hello, Rose,” Father Dominick said. “How are you tonight?”
“Hello, Father,” the girl answered. “Fine.” Andy did not look up. The desire to run leaped into his throat, but the priest kept holding his elbow. The priest swung him around now, and he was face to face with the girl, a thin girl in a cotton dress, a thin girl with no breasts, no string of pearls, a boy-girl, not at all like the girl Bud had. The girl was smiling shyly, anticipation on her narrow face and in the forward lean of her body.
“Rose,” said Father Dominick, “I’d like you to meet a very nice young man named Andrew. Andy, this is Rose.”
“How do you do?” Rose said.
“How do you do?” Andy answered stiffly.
“Seems as if Andy doesn’t know how to dance, Rose. Now I told him that was certainly no problem, and I’m sure you’ll agree it isn’t. Am I right, Rose?”
“Oh, that’s no problem,” Rose assured Father Dominick.
“I didn’t think it was,” Father Dominick said, smiling roguishly. “Now don’t you think it would be a good idea for you to teach Andy a few of the elementary steps? He’s a bright young man, Andy is, and I’m sure he’ll learn quickly. What do you say, Rose?”
“I’d love to, Father,” Rose said.
“Good, good.” The priest released his elbow. “She’ll teach you, Andy,” he said. “She’s a very fine dancer, Rose is.”
“Thank you, Father,” Andy mumbled.
“Come on now,” Father Dominick said jokingly, “don’t be bashful. She’s not going to bite you, are you, Rose?”
Rose giggled, and Father Dominick backed off a few paces, leaning against the wall, smiling, his arms crossed over his chest. A new record dropped to the turntable, a slow, moody fox trot.
“Haven’t you ever danced before, Andy?” Rose asked.
“No,” he said viciously, taking his anger out on her, having been unwilling to vent any spleen on a representative of God.
Rose remained happily unaware, like an idiot child with a toy balloon. “It’s really very easy,” she said, smiling.
She has bad teeth, Andy thought. She’s not at all like the girl Bud has. He swiveled his head over his shoulder suddenly, desperately wishing that Bud were not being a witness to all this. God, if Bud saw—