Close Call

CLOSE CALL

A quiet man, a thinking man, was how thirty year old Stephen thought of himself and assumed society viewed him the same way. He’d never done or said anything wrong intentionally and for the little mistakes he had made his devout parents had ensured he had recited sufficient ‘Hail Mary’s’ to compensate.

         Stephen gazed around his sparse room. He had never needed many possessions. Simple tastes, easily pleased and sure of his future; that was Stephen. Until yesterday.

         Stephen felt his heart rate accelerate inside his compact frame. Removing his glasses he rubbed his eyes as if that would erase the memory. Oh, why had it happened just as he was about to make the biggest commitment of his life? He was due in church tomorrow at noon; to take the vows that would be the start of his new life. But for the first time Stephen nursed serious doubts.

         Had fate brought her to his table in the restaurant yesterday?

         “Do you mind if I join you?” a simple question but in that instant Stephen felt something stir within. He had never been a great conversationalist but with her he had found himself divulging his most secret thoughts, sharing his deepest feelings.

         Right now he wished he smoked or drank; he desperately needed something to soothe this unusual feeling of doubt. Temptation was something he had always been able to resist until now.

         “Please God, give me a sign. I need your…”

         Stephen’s prayer was interrupted by the telephone ringing.

         “Hi, it’s Michelle. We met yesterday afternoon. I hope you don’t mind but I tracked down your number. I wondered if you’d like to meet again tomorrow.”

         “Thank you. Amen.” Stephen silently mouthed to the heavens. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a priest after all.