I was resolved not to tell anyone about Norah Rigby. Not that either of us was doing anything wrong. It’s just…what would you think if you saw a priest eating ice cream with a layman? And a woman at that?
“Forgive me, Father…for I have sinned. It has been…a week since my last confession. Ben? Ben, is it you?”
“It’s me, Norah,” I whispered. There was a sense of urgency in her voice that prompted my whispers.
“Oh, God, Ben!” She sounded drunk. “A few ‘Hail Marys’ won’t fix this one.”
I felt like I was going to throw up.
“What do you mean? Where is he?”
Norah’s mad laughter filled the room.
I punched through the screen and shook her shoulders.
“Eleanorah Rigby, where is he?”
“He’s fine!” Norah pulled away, pouting. “He’s fine. He’s just gonna have one hell of a headache.”