By Robert Drews A penitent left the confessional and knelt in contemplation,
crossed herself with holy water, and disappeared into the twilight.
The pews finally empty except for him, J.J. Werth breathed a sigh
of relief and checked his watch. It was unlikely anyone else would
come in to bare their souls, not with only five minutes remaining in
the confessional schedule on another glorious Friday evening in
Southern California. Confession may be good for the soul, but here
in God’s country, clear skies and dinner out were more than
enough for most people.
Late sunshine gleamed through a stained-glass window above
the altar to create a brilliant mosaic on the aged but immaculate
white tile floor of Saints Peter and Paul Catholic Church, like
watercolors painted in light. J.J. took no notice. Instead he walked
slowly to the booth, knelt inside, and folded his hands in prayer.
He caught a breath to collect himself and began to speak. The
words came slowly.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was a
long time ago.”
This was the first time in a week J.J. had put on anything other
than pajama bottoms and a robe, let alone ventured outside. For
days on end, he’d vegetated in bed, and yet, despite the endless
hours in a semi-conscious state, he still felt like a dead man
walking. His sleep, or attempts at it, were useless and exhausting
as he tossed and turned fitfully, bound by wadded sheets and the
oppressive weight of his own thoughts. On the rare occasions when
he forced himself up, he had stumbled around his comfortable,
ranch-style home in a well-kept but overpriced Los Angeles
suburb. He’d eaten little beyond a few slices of watermelon and the
remnants of a leftover restaurant salad that consisted of a few
shredded carrots and more than enough iceberg lettuce browning
around the edges. Picking at the sad pieces of salad, he shook his
head at the idea of eating something most people, including
himself not that long ago, would have tossed out days ago. What
did it say about him? Was eating spoiled greens a metaphor for his
life and loss of value? Did it—and he—really matter anymore?
When he had finally stopped to look at his image in a hallway
mirror, the sight unnerved him—a confident and self-assured man
who once took pride in his manicured, styled, and trimmed
appearance, workouts at the gym, and neat-as-a-pin wardrobe, now
reduced to a mess in sloppy clothes, five o’clock shadow grown
into midnight, eyes turned from glowing to glossy. Worse yet, J.J.
was disappointed in himself—of what his life had come to, what he
had come to—in just the few days since the bolt out of the blue
that played over and over in his mind like a movie with the same
miserable ending. . . Continue the story in the novel “Look for Something Good,” available on Amazon.com
Robert Drews is the author of “Look for Something Good” available on Amazon.com. This is the first chapter of the book.
