Dear HMS,
I'm loving it thanks. And congratulations on embedding some deep and
provocative thoughts in an attractive tale. I'm away now to look at
the visuals.
Love from Z
On Fri, 08 Oct 2010 08:48:06 -0600, HMS Victor Victorian
<victorvictorian@hushunomail.com> wrote:
>Act 4, Scene 2
>
>The Pries
>t
>Sunday, April 11th, 11:30 am
>
>Father Schroeder's office at St. Peter's. Schroeder and the
>Macmillans are seated in comfortable easy chairs, taking refreshment
>the priest had prepared for their visit. He'd given Nigel a Coca
>Cola, which remained untouched, as were the biscuits on his plate. The
>boy lay sprawled across the office rug, entranced by pictures of Waura
>Indians of the Xingu in a Royal Geographic he'd discovered on the
>shelf.
>
>"I'd say your desperation was well founded!" Father Schroeder laughed.
>It was a pleasant but peculiarly high laugh that matched his
>diminutive stature. "I'm still mystified at how quickly Nigel got out
>of his clothes, and more so as to how quickly you got him back in
>them!"
>
>The priest laughed again, but let it subside into a moment of
>discomfort. Neither Roger nor Angela seemed to appreciate the humour
>of the situation.
>
>"Would you care for an aspirin?" he asked Mrs. Macmillan with real
>concern. "Perhaps a bit of brandy?"
>
>"The former, please, Father," Angela replied, "Though I am greatly
>tempted to take the latter. I've got a beastly headache."
>
>The priest drew a small tin of aspirin from the lamp table drawer, and
>then slid out of his chair to get Mrs. Macmillan some water.
>
>"Thank you very much for the beautiful blessing this morning," Roger
>said, mostly to fill the silence. "It was very considerate and meant a
>
>"It was my pleasure," the priest replied, "But from what I see now, I
>Indianer. Would you like to take that home with you, Nigel?"
>
>"Yes, please sir." The boy said.
>
>Schroeder stood there for a moment, smiling down at him, then brought
>his attention back to the parents.
>
>"How long has Nigel been interested in Indians of South America?"
>
>"Perhaps you know, dear."
>
>Angela looked perplexed.
>
>
>"He doesn't bring any books home about Indians, or anything else with
>a similar theme?" the priest asked, then added, "If you know what I
>mean."
>
>"No. No, I don't believe so."
>
>"Very well." Father Schroeder folded his hands in front of him, "If
>you feel it appropriate and with your permission, I would like to talk
>to Nigel alone for a few minutes. Stroll around the garden, if you
>wish. It's very nice at this time of year."
>
>"Oh, yes. Certainly." Mr. and Mrs. Macmillan said, obediently
>standing, and the priest politely escorted them out. It was a few
>minutes before he came back in, closed and locked the door. He eased
>back into his leather chair.
>
> "Let's talk about things, Nigel," he said. "Would you like to talk?"
>
>"Are you going to do an examination?" the boy replied without looking
>up from the magazine.
>
>"What do you mean an 'examination'?"
>
>"Oh, like Ian did. My therapist." Nigel answered off-handedly.
>"Looking for ouches and bumps and swollen parts."
>
>The priest chuckled.
>
>"Dear Lord, no." He said, and patted the overstuffed arm of his chair.
>"Come and sit here next to me, Nigel."
>
>The boy closed the Royal Geographic, slipped it under his waistcoat so
>as not to forget it, then got up and unhesitatingly climbed onto the
>priest's chair. He straddled the chair arm like mounting a horse, the
>leather making squeaking sounds. The effect was to hike up his short
>trousers, making his skinny legs appear longer and even whiter.
>
>"Are you comfortable?"
>
>"Not very, Father Arnold." Nigel said. Lying to a priest was a bad
>thing. "But it's not a bother."
>
>"That's a good fellow," Schroeder patted the boy on a bare knee. "Call
>
>
>"Your mummy and daddy are very concerned for you. They don't
>understand why you must remove your clothes in public. Can you tell
>me why?"
>
>Nigel began to fiddle with his zip.
>
>"I want to be comfortable. I don't feel comfortable when I've got
>clothes on."
>
>"Were you always that way?"
>
>"No, I don't think so."
>
>"Well, when did it start?"
>
>"I don't remember."
>
>"You're mummy says perhaps it was four or six weeks ago," Father Arnie
>mentioned, scratching an ear. "March? February, perhaps? Awfully
>cold to be running around undressed, don't you think?"
>
>Nigel furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, thinking.
>
>"I think it was last summer, when we were on holiday. We went
>
>"So your mummy let you go swimming without clothes on." The priest
>finished for him.
>
>"Yes. It was my first time." Nigel nodded his head a bit in
>embarrassment, "I think I quite liked it."
>
>"Well, of course you did!"
>
>she made a lot of fun of me and said all kinds of things."
>
>grin, "That as a boy I would go swimming without any clothes on at
>all?"
>
>"Really?" Nigel was suddenly impressed, and he looked directly into
>the priests eyes for the truth. "You DID?"
>
>"Ja, ja, wirklich. But you must promise not to tell a single soul."
>He lightly tapped Nigel's nose with a finger. "My dear chums and I
>would run off to a little lake near my boyhood home and spend the day
>there, swimming and lying in the grass, frolicking and having our
>
>"Oh, that must have been wonderful fun!" Nigel was entranced by the
>prospect. "And VERY comfortable."
>
>"Yes, it was." Father Arnie smiled, remembering. Then he turned
>somewhat serious. "But the day always ended, and we got dressed again.
>We got dressed and returned to our homes and our everyday lives. As
>
>The priest sounded more regretful that he had intended.
>
> Nigel fell silent, looking at Pooh's hands creeping round on his
>wrist watch.
>
>"We forgot our childhood freedoms, and life went on, as it should."
>Then Father Arnie posed a question to Nigel. "Do you know why we wear
>clothes?"
>
>"Because we'll catch our death?" Nigel said, "Or get a cat scratch or
>get it caught in the door?"
>
>Father Arnie suppressed a laugh.
>
>"Not actually. Do people in your neighborhood wear clothes when it is
>hot outside?"
>
>
>"So, why don't they take them off?"
>
>"Because," the boy dared to guess, "It's nasty?"
>
>"No, no." the priest shook his head. "It's not nasty. God made us,
>just as he made everything. Our Father doesn't make nasty things. His
>creations are beautiful, as you are beautiful."
>
>"Then why?"
>
>"Do you remember the story of Adam and Eve, and the Garden of Eden?"
>
>"I think so."
>
>"Well, you recall that God the Father told Adam that all he saw in the
>beautiful garden, all the plants and animals and insects and birds
>and, yes, even Eve, was made for him, for his Father loved him so.
>Adam and Eve were innocent, just like little children. God the Father
>wanted to know if Adam would obey him, just as you obey your Daddy. So
>The Father warned Adam that he shouldn't eat from a particular tree or
>
>"The apple tree." Nigel finished.
>
>The priest smiled.
>
>"Korrekt! It was the tree of knowledge. Still, Eve took a bite of
>the fruit. It was delicious! When she didn't die, she had Adam take
>a bite, too. And what do you think happened?"
>
>"God threw them out of the garden." Nigel answered.
>
>"When Adam and Eve had eaten the fruit, they weren't innocent anymore,
>like small children. They could know good and evil. All of a sudden,
>they knew they were naked, and they were ashamed of their bodies, so
>they put on leaves to cover themselves."
>
>"Really?" Nigel asked, looking quite baffled. "So being naked IS
>nasty, but Adam and Eve just didn't know it because they were like
>little children, and then they ate the apple and they knew it was
>nasty?"
>
>"More or less, and from that day, people have covered themselves up."
>
>"So God doesn't want me to take my clothes off?"
>
>Father Arnie hedged the question.
>
>"It's seen as immodest and immoral, particularly if boys and girls are
>together," he explained. "So, do you see why your mummy and daddy were
>so concerned for you?"
>
>"I guess so, Father Arnie." Nigel began fidgeting though his short
>
>"What is it, Nigel?"
>
>Nigel heaved a long sigh.
>
>neighbour."
>
>The priest leaned back, both mystified and intrigued.
>
>"What do you mean?"
>
>"I picked some flowers from her garden for my mum. I knew it was
>wrong because Mrs. Whitby told me 'You better stay out of my garden,
>nasty little boy', but she didn't ever say why I had to stay out or
>what she'd do if I got in."
>
>"I'm not sure I understand your parable," Father Arnie smiled.
>
>"My daddy sometimes punishes me when I'm bad and he says if you don't
>take out the rubbish then you will have to sit in a corner for a time
>with Pooh. He always says what he's going to do if I'm bad. Mrs.
>Whitby didn't say she'd take me over to Mum and say terrible things
>about me in front of her. Isn't that what God did to Adam?"
>
>
>"God made Adam go away from his garden and all his animal playmates
>and he didn't even tell him that he'd do that." Nigel continued, "And
>it wasn't even his fault, was it? Eve tricked him, because she wanted
>to be his only playmate-she didn't like all the animals. I don't
>think girls like animals very much."
>
>
>"Well, it's not fair. God is supposed to be fair. She did a bad
>thing, and God made both of them leave forever, and now no one can go
>in the garden, not even the animals. My Daddy just makes me sit in a
>corner with Pooh. He doesn't lock me out and say 'Go and don't come
>back.' Adam's father should have told Eve to go, and then let Adam
>stay. It was her fault."
>
>Nigel looked up from his lap at Father Schroeder. The priest was
>sitting there, speechless.
>
>
>Somewhat encouraged, Nigel continued.
>
>sat for a time that I have to apologise , and then everything is
>alright and we sit and watch William Tell on the tellie and eat ice
>cream with butterscotch. God didn't let Adam apologise and say he was
>sorry. He just made him leave forever and ever."
>
>"But, Nigel." Father Arnie whispered, "It is hard to know God's will,
>but we know God the Father loved his son Adam, and he loves you, too."
>
>"Well, I think he's not a nice father at all." Nigel set his jaw and
>nodded firmly to himself. "I like my daddy much better."
>
>"Oh, Nigel," Schroeder murmured sympathetically. "You're still very
>young, and it is hard to understand these things when you are a
>child."
>
>Nigel gave him startled look.
>
>"But didn't Jesus say he wanted everyone, even the grown ups, to be
>like a kid?"
>
>"Yes, certainly true."
>
>"I don't think grown ups understand." The boy reasoned, "They're too
>grown-uppily."
>
>"Yes, "the priest confessed, opening the lamp table to fetch out an
>aspirin. "They can be very grown-uppily, I'm sorry to say."
>
>made Adam and Eve and everyone naked, then why did he say it was nasty
>
>Nigel stopped and glanced away, wrinkling his nose and trying to get
>the right idea. Then his eyes lit up.
>
>"It's like when I bring Mummy a particularly good colouring picture I
>drew at school and she always says how pretty it is, even if I was
>scribbly, and then she puts it up on the refrigerator with cellotape
>pretty!' and then put it away in the wardrobe?"
>
>Nigel giggled. "I think that's silly!"
>
>
>think he can see through everything like walls and doors and
>bedclothes and underpants and mountains and train cars. I don't think
>he cares if people wear clothes. I think it's the grownups that care
>because Jesus said he likes little kids better than them. What do you
>think, Father Arnie?"
>
>"Nigel," Father Arnie admitted, shaking his head, "I suddenly have no
>idea."
>
>HMSVV2010
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