Putting the phone down, I get my stuff together. An hour later, I’m walking out of the apartment and making my way toward the church. I pull open the big brown door, and the incense hits me right away along with the silence and the instant peace that I always feel here. I walk down the aisles with wooden pews on each side. The church has seen better days—some of the ceiling paint is peeling and the stained glass colors are fading. I walk past the altar to the side where an open door leads you to two bathrooms and the stairs going to the basement.
I walk down the stairs and see that a light is on. Peeking my head in, I see Father Rolly placing papers on the chairs that are set up in a circle. “Knock, knock,” I say, and he looks up, his white hair falling onto his forehead and his face lighting up with a smile.
“Caroline,” he says and gestures for me to enter the room.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Father.” I smile at him and look around. “I was looking for Murielle.” Gesturing to her office, I see the door is open, but she isn’t behind her desk.
“She isn’t here,” he says and then sits down in one of the steel chairs. “She had to move to Vancouver to take care of her ailing sister,” he says, and my stomach sinks even more. “Did you need something?”
I try to think of something, and I even look down while my heart beats fast and my chest starts to hurt, tears starting to sting at my eyes. “No,” I say, ignoring his question and smiling. “I was …” I can’t even come up with a good excuse.
“You know that you can talk to me, right?” he says, and I drop down on one of the chairs. “You’ve been coming to us for the past four years, and I know she’s helped you when times are tough.”
I put my hand to my mouth to try to stop the tears from coming, but no matter how much I fight it, they just pour out. “I lost my job.” The worry comes over his face. “I’m looking for another one,” I say, “but I was hoping she could help me out with some bread, butter, and some milk.” I hold my head high and take a deep inhale. “But it’s okay,” I say, getting up. “We’ll see you Sunday.” I smile. There isn’t much I believe in since my life went downhill, but every single Sunday, we come to service, and every single Sunday, I say the same prayer, hoping that someone, anyone is listening to me.
“Do you have some time to help me?” he says, and I look at him. “We have the AA and NA meetings back here every day. Murielle usually helps me, but I’ve been doing it by myself.”
“Of course,” I say even though I need to get out of here and start looking for a job. “What can I do to help?”
“You can start the coffeepot and then fix the table in the back with white Styrofoam cups. There is a basket of sugar in the kitchen.” He points at the door at the end of the room.
“On it,” I say and walk to the back of the room and into the kitchen. The kitchen looks like it was from the 1970s, and the beat-up round tin coffee machine sits on the corner of the counter. I walk to the counter, taking it off, and then open the top. Luckily, I helped Murielle set up for a barbecue once, and she explained to me how it works. It takes me four minutes to get everything ready, and then I carry it over to the table, plugging it into the wall and waiting for it to do its thing. I walk back into the kitchen and open the cupboards, looking for the cups and some sugar. I get everything that I need out along with some stir sticks. I walk over and start setting up the table as people slowly start arriving. Looking over, I see that Father Rolly is standing by the door talking to someone, and then he looks over at me, pointing.
I stand here and look around the room, noticing some people sitting and waiting for it to start. “Excuse me,” Father Rolly says and then comes to me. “It is just about to start,” he says, smiling. “Luckily, Patricia is going to run the meeting.” I smile at him, and I’m about to ask him if he needs anything else when he holds out his hand. “Would you come this way please?” He walks toward Murielle’s office and steps in, waiting for me to follow him in, and then closes the door behind me. “Sit, sit,” he says, and I sit in the chair I always sit in when I have to come and ask Murielle to help us out.
He sits in the chair next to me, and I am suddenly nervous. Can one be kicked out of church? Can one be refused entry? “Relax, dear.” He chuckles.
All I can do is wring my hands together. “Easier said than done.”
“You know I always say everything happens for a reason,” he starts, and I just look at him. “Just like you coming in this morning while I was setting up. I was thinking to myself that I really needed to get going and hire someone to take over Murielle’s position.”
“She really did a lot here,” I say, knowing full well she ran the whole church.
“She did, and I know that it’s going to be hard to fill her shoes.” He smiles. “But I think you can do it.”
I look at him shocked, my mouth opening and closing and then doing it again, but nothing comes out. Finally, I whisper, “What?”
“It seems we have been pushed together for a reason,” he says. “I will be here with you every single step of the way, and I’m sure once you get used to it, you’ll be able to do everything with your eyes closed.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I say, along with the tear that slips over my bottom lid.
“You could say yes,” he says, smiling. I just nod my head, afraid if I say anything, a sob will rip through me. “Now to get to the nitty-gritty stuff. It pays sixteen dollars an hour.” My eyes open wider as I think about the extra three dollars I will make per hour. “The hours are very flexible. I know Dylan finishes school during the year, at three, so you can either have him in the after-school program, or you can take off at that time.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I shake my head. “I think the only thing that I have been saying is that I don’t know what to say.” Laughing now, I wipe away a tear with the back of my hand.
“Why don’t we start tomorrow after you drop Dylan off at camp?” he says. I’m so overwhelmed that all I can do is nod.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” I say honestly, and he reaches forward and grabs a tissue that is on the desk and hands it to me. “Thank you.”
“You can repay me by doing the job I know that you’ll be amazing at.” He smiles. “And in the meantime,” he says, getting up and going over to the desk drawer to take out a checkbook, “this is going to be an advance. We can take out twenty dollars a week until it is paid back.” He continues writing and then hands it to me. I look down and see that he wrote a check for two hundred dollars.
“I don’t need this much,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s too much.”
“Well, then put some of it away for a rainy day,” he says, and I want to scoff at him. It seems like every day is a rainy day.
“Now if you will excuse me, I have to get things ready for later,” he says. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” I say. “I will be here tomorrow.”
He turns to walk out of the room and closes the door after him. I put my hands on my face, and the tears that I kept at bay start to fall. This time, though, they’re not tears of sadness or despair but tears of happiness. I wipe my eyes, and when I’m finally calmer, I walk out quietly just as the meeting finishes. I smile at some of the people walking out.