Deviation Page 6

  “So do I.” After releasing Frank's hand he turned and nodded to Dianne. “Nice meeting you, Dianne. Good luck to you as well, and with whatever brings you here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Stevens nodded to both of them in turn and then spun around, retreating back down the hall.

  When he was out of sight, Frank opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in? I was just... catching up on some... things.”

  Dianne glanced cautiously into the small room, not sure how to proceed. She'd pictured them sitting in the kitchen again. “Uh...”

  “We could go somewhere else, if you'd prefer,” he offered, sensing her dismay.

  She nodded. “That might be good. There's a few things I need to tell you.”

  “Alright. I take it there have been some developments.”

  “Yes.”

  He pursed his lips and pulled his hand out from his pocket. He was holding a small glass pipe. “I don't suppose you want a little meth? Just a quick hit to clear your mind?”

  Dianne stared at the pipe, fascinated. “Maybe another time.”

  “Another time would be splendid. I'm almost completely out, but my guy is due to show up this afternoon. We could smoke up a storm later on, if you'd like.”

  “Maybe.”

  Frank opened his drawer and placed the pipe and a lighter inside. Then he closed it and joined Dianne in the hall, shutting the door behind him. “Any particular place you'd like to speak?”

  “The kitchen would be nice. If it's available.”

  “It's always available.”

  They made their way down the hall, Dianne fighting off the urge to start describing what had happened. She wanted to wait until they were seated comfortably, as they had been yesterday.

  “You look well,” Frank commented. “I take it everything went okay with your... friend?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh?”

  She sighed. “I was hoping... maybe... we could have another can of beer.”

  Frank smiled at the request. “A beer sounds delightful.”

  “I'm still a little hungover, but not too badly.”

  “I was a bit hungover myself. I must admit, I've already had a couple of beers, but I'm always in the mood for a couple more.”

  When they reached the kitchen, Frank entered first and motioned for Dianne to have a seat. “Shall we sit at our same little table?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “A creature of habit. Will Pabst work for you again today, or would you prefer something a little fancier?”

  “Pabst would be fine, thank you.” She pulled out the same chair she'd sat in the day before and settled in, placing her purse off to one side. She watched as Frank removed two cans from the refrigerator, feeling almost as if she'd fallen into a pleasant little routine. She could get used to this. It was too bad Frank wasn't a decade or two younger. And not a priest. She felt herself blush and tried to get such thoughts out of her head.

  Frank cracked open both cans and set one down on the table before her. “Chips?”

  Dianne smiled. “I'm okay for now. Thank you for the beer, though.”

  “You're very welcome.” He took a seat beside her and held up his can in a toast. “To better days.”

  Dianne lifted her beer and touched it against his. “I'll drink to that.”

  They each drank, Dianne surprising herself by guzzling almost half the can. It felt wonderful going down and eliminated most of what remained of her headache.

  Noticing her enthusiasm, Frank grinned. “Do I have some competition today?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Excellent.” He set his can on the table and folded his hands. “Please. Tell me what happened.”

  All traces of happiness instantly vanished from Dianne's expression. She looked suddenly depressed. “Well... things didn't exactly go as planned.”

  “They rarely do. Neither of us would be here right now if they did. But I digress. What happened? Nothing terrible, I hope.”

  “Actually...” She looked down at the tabletop, her face slack. “Things did go sort of terrible, I'm afraid.” She forced herself to look at him. “That's why I needed to talk with you.”

  Frank reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Dianne. Things could not have gone too badly. If they had, you wouldn't have made it back to tell your tale.”

  She tried to smile and failed. “He beat me up again. At least he started to. I just wanted to go to bed, despite what we talked about yesterday. I would have just gone to bed... but he wouldn't allow it.”

  “I hope you persuaded him.”

  “I tried. I really did. He was hungry, and angry I was home so late. Anyway, I don't want to go into all the pathetic little details. But he just kept hitting me, and slamming me into the wall. I couldn't take it anymore.”

  Frank was clenching his jaw. “I hope you got a chance to try out that little gift I gave you.”

  She nodded, not speaking.

  Searching her eyes, Frank realized what had happened. “Are you telling me... you went a little too far?”

  Another nod. Tears sprang from Dianne's eyes and ran down her face. She quickly wiped them away with her free hand.

  “It's alright,” Frank said. “You did what you had to do. You couldn't very well continue on with the way things were.”

  “No,” she croaked. She lifted her beer and drank several large swallows.

  “I hope you didn't tell anyone else what happened.”

  “No.”

  “That's good.” He squeezed her hand gently. “And what's left of the gallant young hero... he's still there? In the apartment?”

  “Yes. I didn't know what to do.”

  “You did the right thing, I assure you. The only part that bothers me is your reaction. You don't deserve to feel bad about this, Dianne.”

  She stared at him. “I don't?”

  “Not at all. You should be proud of yourself. In fact, I myself feel rather proud of you.”

  Dianne hadn't expected to hear such a thing. She studied him, trying to determine if he was being sincere. “You do? For killing someone?”

  “Absolutely. After you left here yesterday, I'd been worried that you were going to allow him to... do his thing... unimpeded. And then I thought to myself, no; not her. She's far too smart for that. Too good for it, too. But then I began to worry that you'd find the courage to stand up for yourself and fail, physically, which still would have been respectable, but obviously not desirable.” He smiled. “But you, Dianne... you stood up to him and you conquered him. You're a success on both fronts. Congratulations. You have nothing left to fear from the troublesome shit.”

  “But I killed him! His corpse is in my apartment!”

  Father Frank sighed. He removed his hand from hers and took a drink of beer. “Dianne, my young friend. What you've done was to eliminate a source of great misery from your life. In the only way that your tormenter would allow you to. Trust me when I tell you that you don't deserve to feel bad about this. Your problem is that you've been conditioned by society to think and act in a certain manner, and for perhaps the first time in your life you've gone against that conditioning. You need to take a step back from what you've been taught and see the bigger picture. The picture god himself would see, if god were to actually exist. The individual you killed was nothing but a piece of human garbage. I admire you for it.”

  Strangely, the words touched Dianne's heart. She felt as if she were going to cry again, but this time from gratitude. “But... I'm still in a lot of trouble.”

  “From whom, Dianne? Certainly not from god, which should be your only concern. You're judging your
self based on the ideals of man, and man is anything but ideal. Human beings, ourselves included, unfortunately, are really no different than shit beetles.”

  The comment confused her. “Shit beetles?”

  “Yes. Those disgusting little bugs that feed on shit. Much as we do, all things considered.”

  “You mean dung beetles?”

  “Precisely. Those are the ones. In the eyes of god, there is no difference.”

  She thought about it. “You're saying that god values the lives of people and of dung beetles equally?”

  “I'm saying he values neither. But yes, they are one and the same to him. To god, we're all shit beetles.”

  She had to laugh at the absurdity of it. She took a quick drink of beer. “Okay. So you're saying I should only care what god thinks, and that he doesn't care either way?”

  “I'm saying that you're worried too much about the reaction of your fellow man, about the invented authority of man, and that you don't need to be. Man has no real authority. Man only has authority if you, as a free human being, allow him to. Personally, I do not.”

  “But... the cops will still throw me in prison for murder, whether I grant them the authority to or not.”

  “Not necessarily. With human beings, everything is a game.”

  “I'm not sure I understand.”

  “You will.” Father Frank finished off his beer. “Can I get you another one? Something tells me we're just getting started here.”

  Dianne quickly guzzled the last of her Pabst. “Yes, please.”

  9. Frank's Discussion

  “One thing I definitely don't understand,” Dianne complained, “is that sometimes you talk about god as if you serve him, and dedicate yourself to his will, and other times you talk about him as if you don't even believe he exists.”

  “Ah, the mysteries of life.” Frank cracked open a fresh Pabst Blue Ribbon and drank mightily from the can.

  Dianne took several gulps from her own. “So you're leaving me in the dark?”

  Frank shrugged. “We're all in the dark, Dianne. If you're asking me whether or not god exists, the answer is I don't know. The only logical answer anyone could give you is that they don't know, because they can't know. No one can. If god wanted us to believe in him, he could easily give us a reason to. But he doesn't. On the other hand, if he exists and for some reason doesn't want us to believe in him, he could just hide and ignore us, which seems to be the most you can expect from him.”

  “So... you're not sure if you believe in him, but if you do, you believe he's kind of... uninterested in all this?”

  “He'd have to be.”

  She thought about it. “Either that or he just strongly dislikes us.”

  Frank smiled and lifted his can. “Now you're thinking. I've come to the same conclusion many times. Why else would innocent children die of cancer? Part of some master plan? It would have to be one hell of an evil plan, wouldn't it?” He took a long drink.

  “It's probably more likely that he just doesn't exist, isn't it?”

  “Sure, but that doesn't mean he doesn't. Or she doesn't. Hell, god could be a camel spider for all anyone knows.”

  Dianne laughed. “Wouldn't that be something?”

  “It would be. All those wasted prayers. I'd like to think that if there is a god, he's just letting all this play out and pretending not to notice. Letting things shake out naturally, you know? And then dealing with us each in turn after we die. Shoveling out rewards, or casting us to burn in hell, depending on our behavior. But it's a comic book idea. It's fairy tale nonsense. God either doesn't exist or doesn't care. And either way, what difference does it make?”

  Dianne nodded, lost in thought. “I guess so.”

  “Not very encouraging, is it?”

  “It is and it isn't.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it's nice to know you're not going to be held accountable for everything you do here. That would be kind of scary. But at the same time, it would be nice to know there was some sort of meaning behind all this. If there's no god, nothing we do really matters.”

  “Ah, but you're forgetting one thing, Dianne.”

  She puzzled it over, drinking some more beer. “What?”

  “You're placing too much importance outside yourself. You're what's important. You're the miracle. You exist, no doubt about it, and that's what should interest you. There is plenty of meaning if you want there to be.”

  “But no afterlife. No eternity.”

  “You're assuming. Do you really need god for an afterlife? Or for eternity? Or is that just what you've been led to believe by your fellow man?”

  Lost in thought again, Dianne didn't answer.

  “You don't need all the answers, Dianne. Which is good, because there's no way to get them. The best thing that you can do is to realize that god, if he's there at all, is not controlling you. If he's there at all, he's allowing you free will. Free everything, really. And I believe it's important to respect that, and to respect what he's given you.”

  “But if he doesn't exist, he didn't give us anything.”

  “That's irrelevant. We exist, and we have...” He gestured with both hands. “...the whole world. It's ours as much as it's anyone's. You have as much right to it as anyone else. In the eyes of god, we're all the same, be that good or bad or somewhere in between. And the fact that he ignores us we should take as a blessing to do as we please.”

  Dianne drank some more beer. “I'm not sure any of this makes sense.”

  “It does make sense. The issue here is that you've killed a man. You feel bad about this because you're assuming that you've done something wrong. But all you've done is to save your own life, and god has no problem with that. He doesn't care. You probably step on bugs or swat flies every once in awhile, and kill them, too. It's the same thing. We're all little bundles of protoplasm, bouncing off things and reproducing. A shit beetle or a human being, it's all the same to god.”

  “Okay. So you're saying that I don't need to worry about being judged by god. For anything. But I still have a dead body in my apartment, and I'm still a... a murderer... oh, god...” She began to visibly tremble.

  “Relax. We're all murderers. Even birds and Giant Chinese Salamanders. It's part of being alive.”

  She looked at him. “We all kill bugs, but this is different. At least to me. You have no idea what it feels like to... to have killed someone...”

  “And there you go, assuming again.”

  She stared at him, her stomach in knots. “You... you've killed before?”

  Frank shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Perhaps. Perhaps I had no choice, much as I believe you didn't. Or perhaps I did have a choice. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that my actions have not caused me to be admonished by god. Neither have yours.”

  Dianne was astonished. “Who did you kill, Father?”

  Frank leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. “That's a rather invasive question.”

  She flinched as if struck. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean --”

  “It's okay. But let's get back to your problem. Your problem is that you're worried about what you've done, not necessarily because it's immoral, but because it is illegal. Your problem is the police, not god.”

  She nodded. She didn't remember why she'd brought up god in the first place. “Yes. What should I do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Dianne hung her head. Sometimes it seemed as though Father Frank knew everything, and other times it seemed as though he just made things up as he went along. “I want the body to disappear,” she said softly. “I don't want to get into any trouble with the police.”

  Frank was nod
ding again. “Let me ask you this. Is that really what you want? Or is that what you feel like you're supposed to want?”

  She thought about it. “It's what I want. I want to be over and done with it.”

  “Why?”

  Dianne sighed. “Why wouldn't I?”

  “You're not thinking, Dianne. Not really. God has given us the gift of free will, and of free thought, and yet so many of us refuse to even attempt to use them. Are you really telling me that you want things to go back to the way they were before you ever met this Cliff character?”

  “Yes. I want my old life back.”

  Frank guzzled some beer. “Tell me about this life, Dianne. What does it consist of?”

  “I'm not sure what you mean.”

  “Where do you work? What do you do?”

  “I told you, I'm a data entry clerk. I work for a company called KBS Industries, downtown.”

  “And you like it there?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. It's okay. It pays the rent.”

  “Dianne... the reason I asked you what you want is because I want you to really consider your options. Think about your life, and about who you are. Think about the time you have left here, in this world. Is working at KBS Industries, and inputting data for them, really your true calling?”

  She thought it was a silly question. “Of course not.”

  “Well then, please think. Tell me what you really want. Don't hold back. I'm not suggesting for one minute that you can really have what you want, or achieve whatever it is you may desire, but for the sake of our little conversation here, try to tell me what it is that you truly want to do with your life. We both know it's not to be a data entry clerk in downtown Milwaukee.”

  The statement caused her to smile, and she quickly lifted her beer and took another drink. “I guess I've never really thought about it in that scope before.”

  “Think about it now. This is an opportunity for you. Remember, it's your world. God has given it to you. And it's your life. What would you like to do with it? God doesn't care. He wants you to do whatever you want.”