She opened the door. Saylor opened the old time wooden door to see a padded bench along side the confession shield in the tiny, copped up room. Saylor wondered how many secrets have been told in this room, such a small place must have its secrets bouncing off the walls and rattling inside the poor priest’s head.
“Hello,” said an old, raspy voice . It was the priest behind the guard, she saw the outline of his hunched over body.
Saylor ignored his greeting. She kneeled before the screen and made the sign of the cross with her three fingers, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” She said.
He sighed, “Alright, confess your sins child.”
“I have lied.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes,”
“Now what is it you lie about?”
Saylor didn’t think he would ask why, but now she must answer. She hesitated,“ I have denied hearing the words of God."
He did not respond for a minute, which was expected.
He finally responded. “Oh?” He was quite surprised. “How so?”
“God, he talks to me, father.”
“And what is it exactly he has said to you?”
Saylor took a long pause. “Or rather what God says to you, but you haven’t heard?”
“Wouldn’t you think I would hear him?” The priest said with a chuckle.
“No, I don’t think so,” her scratchy voice rapped around every word very slowly. “He does talk to you, he talks to everyone. What he says is out in the open for anyone to hear, if they want to.”
“Well I want to hear him but I cant.”
“Sure, you do, a lot of people wish they could hear him. But you can’t possibly hear his words over your own.”
He was now quiet. Saylor wasn’t sure how he would react, and truthfully she didn’t care. He asked why he couldn’t hear God, and she answered why. She asked God this question many times when she was younger, why she could hear him but others couldn’t. And he always answered this question with the same explanation.
“What are these words that you hear and I can’t?”
Taken a bit by surprise from his tolerant tone, Saylor replied, “I wouldn’t classify it as words, He doesn’t have a deep enchanting voice as you would think he would, he doesn’t have a voice at all. He sends his messages through any sound. Sometimes it’s the wind, or the ring in your ears. I understand the meaning of these signals as if they were words, like its another language.”
They were both silent for a moment. Saylor would rather keep it this way, she really didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Even though he was one of the most open minded priests she has ever met.
The priest finally spoke, “I respect your strong faith in God. It is so good for a person your age to have such a close relationship with the lord.”
“I am sorry father for that is all I can remember.”
“Huh? Oh, that’s right. Yes, yes. I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, your sins are now forgiven, go in peace." He said hesitantly.
She sighed “Alright,” she got up from her knees and grabbed her bag.
“Wait, what is your name?”
“Isn’t that personal information father?” She said sarcastically. The priest poked his head above the screen, looking straight at Saylor with a confused expression on his face. He had a thin, old wrinkly face, but noble like an owl.
She rose both her eyebrows with a slight bitter smile, then turned around and opened the door halfway, “My name, is Saylor Wakely,” she said facing the door, and left the room with many secrets.
Father John was silent for a moment. He recognized her voice, and when he saw her he finally knew who she was. Emily Wakely’s daughter, and sister of that wonderful Nora girl.
He quickly sat up from his chair and ran out the confession room to look out the window from his office to see if he could catch her leaving.
There she was, no ride to pick her up. She was walking through the church parking lot alone. He felt sorry for her; every time he saw her she was alone.
But that’s okay, Saylor never minded being alone. She didn’t even think of it that way, the quiet turned into solitude. And the solitude turned into a friend.
The street is still wet from morning showers, though the sky was filled with gray storm clouds haunting over Hopewell itself. The bare trees hunched over the vintage houses, close together like a barrier, it gave an eerie look to it all.
It was five or so, her family was waiting for her, but she wasn’t in a rush. She was avoiding home actually, for a man who was not considered family to Saylor, was waiting for her also. Joe Wakely, her father.
It started to rain, she ran down the grassy, wet hill then around the orange fence to her small house. She opened the door.
“Saylor, is that you?” Emily, her mother, yelled from the kitchen.
“Yes, mama. It is me,” she ran upstairs and kissed her hello. A short and stout women, that Emily Wakely was. A plum figure she had, the scrubs she had on from the hospital did not flatter her what so ever, but that’s all she ever wore.
"Saylor!" He yelled and came down the stairs. "There you are Say, where have you been?" His artificial smile felt like it was eating her happiness away. For Lucifer was looking striaght at her.
