“Yes, I’ve grown up.” He was reflective. “I don’t know why Rav Schulman put up with me way back when. Such a cocky kid. Cocky, abrasive, argumentative, rude, irritating…a veritable thesaurus of unpleasantness.”
“You’re turning your grief inward,” Rina stated. “Don’t. It doesn’t help.”
Bram was silent. Then he said, “Thanks for calling last night.”
“I wouldn’t think of doing otherwise. After everything you did for…” Rina’s eyes started to water. She hid her face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”
Bram gave her a packet of tissues. Rina dabbed away tears, tried to compose herself. “Was Rav Schulman helpful?”
“Always. The man’s a stone genius.” The priest pushed the Toyota into fourth gear. “I wish he had known my dad well enough to eulogize him. I wish he were speaking instead of me.”
“I’m sure your father wouldn’t have wanted anyone else but you.”
“Flaws and all.” Bram’s voice held a bitter tinge. “I suppose you’re right. At least it will be from the heart. You’ve been okay, Rina?”
“Very well. I had a baby about three years ago-a daughter.”
Bram’s happiness seemed genuine. “That’s wonderful! You got your little girl. And what a lucky little girl she is to have a mother like you. I hope she looks like you.” He let out a gentle laugh. “No offense to your husband.”
“None taken. And you’ve been well?”
“Chugging along. I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long as a parish priest. But it’s a good place. We’ve grown tremendously. At the moment, we’re just about five hundred families.”
“Big congregation.”
“Very. Goes in cycles. Right now, church is in.”
“As if you’ve had nothing to do with it.”
“Not much. We’re practically the only Catholic show in town.” Bram turned onto Foothill Boulevard and headed toward the freeway. “I know several guys from Loyola-went to seminary with them in the States. They’re great about picking up slack during my absences.”
“Then you’re still traveling to Rome.”
“Yes, the Pontiff and I are very tight.”
“It’s a simple statement. You’re allowed to impress me without doing penance.”
Bram smiled. “The Vatican needs people fluent in ancient languages. It’s for their twenty-first-century synod.”
“What are you doing?”
“Comparing the simultaneous writings of various ancient accounts and events-holy or otherwise. I’m attempting to date some recently discovered texts that have shown up over the last ten-plus years. Most of the works are in Aramaic, Hebrew or Latin. Some are in Greek…Phoenician.”
He paused.
“I think several were in Ugaritic.”
“What?”
“Ugaritic. A Canaanite cousin to biblical Hebrew. As opposed to Ugric…which is related to Hungarian. Something you’d know more about than I would. Anyway, by using syntax and colloquial phrases, I can put a century on most of the ancient manuscripts. Then I analyze them to see if the writings fall within the prescribed dogma of the church. If they do, I determine how the See can best use them to its benefit.”
“Very interesting.”
“Pretty esoteric, huh?”
“I feel like I’m back with Yitzy. No wonder you two got along so well. You both spoke the same intellectual language. Left us mere mortals in the dust.”
“Hardly. Whenever you chose to grace us with your presence during one of our many long-winded diatribes, I recall you holding your own quite nicely. That is whenever we piggish males allowed you to get a word in edgewise.”
“You’re pushing seventy-five on the speedometer, Father. Can you please slow down?”
The priest hit the brakes, became somber. “Yitzy was a great teacher, Rina. Better for me than Rabbi Schulman because I wasn’t inhibited with him. I could make mistakes without feeling dumb. And, I did make mistakes. Here I was, a classic language major with a minor in biblical languages, and I couldn’t hold a candle to a high school yeshiva boy.”
“There’s nothing like learning a language as a child.”
“I found that out. Yitzy and I were about a year apart in age. His fluency in the Hebraic texts astounded me. I was humbled rather quickly. It was a pleasure to learn with him.”
“You know, Bram, I’ve always wondered why you became a parish priest as opposed to an academic. I’d always figured you’d wind up teaching at Notre Dame or some other university. You’ve got a professor’s mentality.”
The priest was quiet. Then he said, “I think Yitzy’s death knocked the intellectual fire out of me. Afterward, I wanted to do some actual good in the world, make a difference on a human level. Be a real priest.”
He smiled, but his eyes had misted.
“This sudden, terrible loss…meeting your new husband…seeing you…it evoked all sorts of old feelings. I miss Yitzchak, Rina.” He paused. “I miss you.”
A long pause. Silence except for the car’s elderly straining gears.
Rina said, “I’m not dead.”
Bram smiled. “Thank God.”
“You could call. I do have a phone.”
“It would be awkward.”
Rina knew that was true enough. She didn’t answer. He tapped the wheel. “What am I doing…running off at the mouth about Yitzchak because I can’t deal with my own father’s death. I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize. Would talking about it help?”
“I don’t know. Right now, I’m so confused, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
A strand of hair was tickling his cheek. Rina would have liked to tuck it behind his ear, but didn’t dare do it. The gesture would have been way too intimate. “You’re pale, Bram. Would you like me to drive?”
“No, I’m…” He sighed. “Why would anyone want to hurt my dad? He didn’t have an enemy in the world.” He tried to bite his nails. Nothing left to gnaw on. “My mom’s acting stoic. I’m worried.”
“Maybe it’s her way of grieving?”
“No. Being a priest, I’ve dealt with grief umpteen times. But this doesn’t seem normal. She’s too…detached.” He paused. “In truth, she’s acting stoned. Could be the sedatives we gave her last night. She had been hooked on them in our early years. You knew that.”
“Actually, no, I didn’t.”
“I didn’t tell you?”
“Never.”
“Must have slipped past me. Maybe it didn’t come up because she was off of them when we knew each other.” Bram rubbed his eyes. “When we were growing up, my dad was never home. And I mean never except for Sunday morning church. Then we’d go to the afternoon picnics, and he’d go back to the hospit-Now I know you’ve heard all this before.”
“It’s been a while. Refresh my memory.”
“Nothing to say except basically, she raised six kids by herself-three boys at one sitting. It was too much for her. She needed help. With her Fundamentalist beliefs, secular therapy was out. And back then, they didn’t have Christian counselors.”
“What about her church pastor?”
“No, she would never embarrass Dad like that. How could the wife of Doctor Azor Moses Sparks possibly have any problems. To the outside world, she was the model mother. Strong, solid, a firm churchgoing woman. And most of the time, while I was growing up, I viewed her that way, too. Like most mothers, she was our family anchor.”
Wasn’t that the truth. Rina nodded.
“But she had another side,” Bram continued. “Scared, frightened. Left alone in an empty bed most of the night. She had a hard time falling asleep. She turned to pills. Barbiturates. You know how they work. At first, they knock you out so you do sleep. Then, your body acclimates. You either take them or you bounce off walls. And with six of us, she did her fair share of bouncing. On the outside, she could maintain. But there were times…her mood swings…they were sometimes very hard to deal with.”