“I, I experienced some, domestic violence too,” hissed Lawrence, “I mean, I, I was the victim.” He was rolling his champagne-yellow eyes hither and thither. After listening to Lawrence’s story of his past years spent drinking and gambling for some dozen minutes and for the dozenth time maybe, Benedicta, about a dozen years older than he, had just made a short remark on her personal hardships as a woman.
“I couldn’t acknowledge it openly, and I couldn’t make myself acknowledge it personally…”
“Oh,” replied Benedicta in a graceful, civilized, and very much reserved manner. Then she said nothing more. I could sense with the skin on my face his eyes desperately searching for a sign of empathy from me this time, a young man who may well have been two dozen years younger than he was. There was nothing I could say for a moment and nothing I wanted to say to him before and after that moment, yet his balding rosy forehead, furiously oozing out drops of perspiration, was inching towards me. The heat and smell gushing out of Lawrence, in the kindest expression that I could think up, was terribly unpleasant.
“Well, I heard that fathers of the past could be very, very strict, and beating children was pretty common, but I think you knew that he still loved you, right? How was the relationship between you and your father?”
I replied with feigned innocence. My intention was to make Lawrence perceive me as an idiot, too immature to grasp what he was implying. I hoped that hearing my words, his last remaining bit of masculine pride would stop him from straightforwardly expressing the yearning for attention and affection. His gaze was fixed for some seconds on me. I thought that I would finally be able to take a sip of coffee in peace.
“No, no… I, I mean, I am afraid, it was my wife…”
“Did someone hurt your wife? That sweet pie? What kind of a monster would hurt such a lovely, petite woman? What were you doing then?”
Benedicta jumped back into the conversation with Lawrence. She had been hardly listening to what Lawrence had been saying before he mentioned his wife. It was always the same story since we first met, so Benedicta seemed capable of calmly praying on the rosary while she was seated in front of ever-babbling Lawrence.
“No, as I told you, I was the victim, and my wife, she did, things to me…”
First time in hours, a thought regarding Lawrence crossed my mind. We had all heard from Lawrence himself that he was happily married to a loving wife with three daughters. He kept boasting about what he had done for his wife and daughters that day and how tiring yet rewarding it was. Then Benedicta or I would answer him back with a few words of pleasantries. He did not seem to be satisfied with our replies at all.
Could it have been all a lie? I thought, or, is he lying now, so that we would finally care about him?
There was another possibility though. His marriage could have never been a happy one, but no domestic violence had ever taken place in it.
Then what could have really happened to his wife?
“My, my wife, could get so angry, so angry from time to time.”
“Did you ever hit her back?” Benedicta interrupted.
“Please don’t stop the rosary!” Lawrence shrieked back at her question.
“Okay, okay, could you ask him the questions now, Officer?”
“This is crazy,” I murmured.
“Oh, I’ve seen worse. You get used to it as you age, as death approaches you.”
“No, I don’t think I will ever get used to it as I age. I hope not… Do you mind if I take my shirt off? I wonder how you can stay so peaceful in this room with those clothes on.”
“I am a chaste old virgin,” Benedicta chuckled.
“Say the Ave! Please!”
“Alright, Lawrence! See? I’m doing it!”
“Is that a yes or no, Miss chaste?” I was already unbuttoning my shirt.
“Do as you wish young man, but I would prefer to be called a Sister than a Miss.”
“Okay, Sister Benedicta.”
I threw my shirt away thoughtlessly as if I had been in my own home. The shirt landed on a sofa. I sighed in regret, shirtless and only with a wife beater on. The sofa was stained with chocolate-brown blood. The test result had been that the blood mostly belonged to Lawrence’s wife.
“So Lawrence, you see, frankly speaking, it’s still awkward to talk to you, let’s say, in this state, and I am not sure if you have Miranda rights, but you are going to say whatever you want to say, right?”
Lawrence’s face brightened up a bit.
“Oh yes, yes, yes, so I should tell you first – ”
“Lawrence, where is your wife?”
“My wife is such a beautiful woman. Not, not only the beautiful face. Her, her soul too. I was baptized at last, thanks to her. Have, have I ever told you that I’ve been coming to a church for thirty years but could not muster the courage to –”
“Lawrence, where is your wife?”
“I mean, I was playing poker every night, drinking every night, there would be a phone call every, every night, even on the eve of my baptism… But I could finally say no, no, no, thanks, thanks to God’s grace and my beautiful wi –”
“Sister Benedicta, stop the rosary!” I yelled.
Benedicta hesitated.
“Please, Sister Benedicta. I haven’t slept for two days already. We’ve had enough. Just a short break. Please.”
I saw Benedicta nod to me and sigh. The next moment, small flames that were whirling around Lawrence’s feet burst. Now a blazing inferno was burning Lawrence from head to toe. I jumped back, screaming and frightened from the sudden burst. However, I was sure that Benedicta could not hear my scream, as Lawrence was screaming like all hell broke loose.
“Make it quick, Officer, for the love of God!”
I could come to my senses, thanks to Benedicta shouting into my ear. I tried to ask Lawrence the same question, but it was all to no avail. Lawrence could not give any answer to us. He was too busy being burnt by the flames of the Purgatory. Only after Benedicta returned to praying the rosary Lawrence could interact with me again.
“Okay, Lawrence! I still can’t believe what I’ve been seeing, but you see, no more gibbering please, got it? Please don’t hold a grudge against us. The Purgatory does exist after all, and technically I am not torturing you, but your sins… Maybe I could even bail you out of there, with the rosary, holy water, holy salt, holy mass, whatever holy that works! Only if you will cooperate, of course. Sister Benedicta, isn’t that right?”
Benedicta frowned at me and continued praying the rosary without answering me.
“Maybe I am talking nonsense now… but forgive me, this is my first time ever interacting with um, a soul of the Purgatory, so please be charitable. So, where did we lose you? Oh, yes. Lawrence, tell me now: where is your wife’s body?”
My eyes fixed on the crying face of Lawrence, I stretched my hand towards the table. I had to take care, so that I would pick up the coffee mug instead of a holy water bottle.
If you enjoyed my work, you can buy me a cup of tea. I am not a coffee person, by the way.
That went a very different direction to what I expected! Now I need to read it again..
That was a fun read! The ending caught me off guard, well played.