The Tour Stop
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Father
EXCERPT: She turns her attention to me as she rubs her forehead with her towel. “Well, well, what a coincidence.” I smile and enjoy the view. No point in denying anything, especially since there’s been no allegation. Yet. “So Bruno already found you. Are you stalking us or something?” she asks, raising a brow. Ah-ha, there it is. “Nah.” I grin. “Just your friendly neighborhood preacher patrolling the area.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s barely able to keep the laughter inside. “Got something to confess?” I ask. She snorts. “Like you don’t already know everything.” “I do!” Bruno raises his hand. “Oh, yeah? Tell me then, what’d you do?” I inquire, inching closer. He closes his mouth and freezes, so I lean in even closer and pat the bench. “Sit.” He does what I ask, and then I turn my ear to him so he can whisper. “I peed in the sandbox.” My grin turns into a full-on outburst of laughter. “What?” Laura asks. I turn my face to Bruno and whisper back into his ear, “Is that the real reason you didn’t wanna play in the sandbox anymore?” He nods. “What?!” Laura’s voice is even louder this time, and she’s even thrown her towel over her shoulder like some kind of statement. Bruno looks at me as if he’s pleading me not to tell her—probably because she’d get mad and rightfully so. But I think I’ll play along with this game. So I twine my fingers and smile like a motherfucker. “I’m sorry. Confessions made to a preacher are strictly confidential.” Oh, that look on her face right now. Blood-boiling rage. Magnificent. “Frank …” she hisses. I shrug, still smiling as I lean back. “He did something; you gotta tell me. This isn’t a joke,” she grumbles. “What if it’s something embarrassing or wrong?” “You mean like that thing we did in church?” Her eyes widen, and the shock on her face is amazing to see. “What thing?” Bruno asks. “Nothing!” Laura hisses. “Frank …” I look at Bruno and say, “Bruno. If you say you’re sorry, your sins will be forgiven.” “Does that mean God forgives me too?” I nod. It’s hard to explain these things to a kid as young as he is. He draws a cute cross on his chest and mumbles, “I’m sorry.” “Good.” I pat his back and then look at Laura. “See? He’s repenting, so he’s forgiven of his sins.” She narrows her eyes and snarls at me. “You are so bad.”
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